I'm Becky, I'm about to start 7th grade, and guess what? I'm not even nervous! I can hardly believe it. If you'd have asked me three months ago, in May, how I was, I would have said "awful! My best friend Sarah is cuter than me, plus I have freckles that I hate, my grades are terrible, Daddy lost his job, and Mom and Dad are always arguing and blaming each other for everything." Could anything be worse? You bet. I'll lay it out for you. Daddy moved out. He was drinking every day and gambling on sports. Mom told me he bets money he can't afford to lose. I was sure it was all my fault. I was getting terrible stomach aches and headaches; I figured if I could just get better grades, Mom and Dad would be happier and maybe everything would get better. To top it all off, my parents came up with the brilliant idea of sending me to Australia for the summer to stay with relatives I hardly even knew. No way! It's 1972 -- what parents would send their child half-way around the world, to the middle of nowhere? Well, I was in for some big surprises. By the end of the summer I'd found out my relatives had some of the same problems as my own family -- and I learned there are healthy, useful ways I can deal with it all. I learn it isn't my fault. And I come to have hope, one day at a time. And that boring island country they shipped me to? I had a blast! We spent weeks snorkeling off a deserted island, and played tag with fish of every color in the rainbow. I found deadly cone shells, camped with tons of other travelers waiting for flooded bridges to reopen, saw huge sea turtles lay eggs, caught the biggest grouper fish with only a hand-line, netted yabbys, survived a scary speedboat ride in the middle of an ocean storm -- and that's just the beginning. Join my adventure. You too might find joy and magic mixed with hope, and the understanding that one day at a time each of us can find peace. P.S. I've ended up loving my freckles!

BECKY FINDS HER WAY

By RUSS TOW

AuthorHouse

Copyright © 2013 Russ Tow
All right reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-4817-0433-5

Contents

Acknowledgement...........................................................vChapter 1 Upheaval – However You Spell It............................1Chapter 2 No Appliances for Me, Thanks....................................7Chapter 3 Questions and Plans.............................................13Chapter 4 Lies and Warm Beer..............................................19Chapter 5 My Father Is a Gambler and a Drunk..............................29Chapter 6 Goodbye.........................................................35Chapter 7 Seventeen Hours and Eight Cokes Later...........................43Chapter 8 Family..........................................................51Chapter 9 Mackay and Surprises............................................57Chapter 10 Snakes, Stockings and Shells...................................65Chapter 11 Oreos, Locks and BBQ'ed Roo....................................75Chapter 12 Tryon Island...................................................85Chapter 13 Island Adventures..............................................97Chapter 14 Tag and Turtles................................................107Chapter 15 Storm..........................................................115Chapter 16 One Hundred Sixty Eight Hours and Counting.....................121Chapter 17 Yabbies and Goodbyes...........................................129Chapter 18 Homeward Bound.................................................137Chapter 19 Lost In Addiction..............................................145Chapter 20 Works in Progress..............................................153About the Author..........................................................159

Chapter One

UPHEAVAL — HOWEVER YOU SPELL IT

School. Who needed it?

12-year-old Becky May sat disconsolately in Mrs. McCruder's sixth grade class. She tried to imagine something to cheer her spirits. At least it was Friday. That made her feel a little bit better.

At the front of the room Mrs. McCruder passed out paper while she addressed the class. "Number your paper to 30 and let's stop the talking please. The spelling test begins in two minutes."

Becky gazed out the window. She hadn't studied her words. Several times in the past week she had intended to, but it was the same old story. Becky would spread her work out on the kitchen table, and her mom and dad would start bickering about something stupid like money, her dad's sports bets, or drinking. Within minutes they'd be yelling. Try doing homework when the two people you love most in the world are screaming at the top of their lungs about how much they despise each other.

"Are you listening, Becky?"

Startled, Becky came back to the present. Mrs. McCruder stared at her with a slight frown. Mumbling something about not hearing the directions, Becky quickly hunched over her paper.

When Mrs. McCruder got to the fourth word, Becky knew she was in trouble. The word was "upheaval." Becky rolled it around in her mouth and wrote UPHEEVEL. She knew it was wrong. There couldn't be three "e"s. Still uncertain Becky rewrote UPHEAVEL. What was the use? This test was going to be a disaster. Maybe Mrs. McCruder would give her credit for knowing the definitions. Becky's life was in upheaval, even if she couldn't spell it.

Thirty minutes later Becky dismally looked at the results of her self-corrected paper. 12 wrong! She'd be lucky to get a D-minus.

The two-thirty dismissal time finally came. Gathering her books Becky joined the rush toward the door. Mrs. McCruder's voice halted her hasty exit.

"Becky, could I talk to you for a minute?"

Becky groaned inwardly. What now? She stood aside watching the rest of her classmates file outside.

Mrs. McCruder eyed Becky closely. Becky tried to muster a reassuring smile. It didn't work.

"Something's wrong, Becky. We both know it. Your grades have fallen and you've been moody. I'm concerned. Is there anything I can do? Any problem at home? Or at school?"

Partly, Becky wanted to blurt out the truth, but she felt too embarrassed.

"Honest, Mrs. McCruder, there isn't anything wrong. I just haven't been feeling too well lately. I've got a doctor's appointment today," she lied. "Can I go?"

Becky didn't wait for an answer. She felt like she was going to explode. Her heart pounded crazily; her stomach started aching. Tears welled in her eyes. She had to escape. Brushing by Mrs. McCruder, she raced out the door yelling a hasty, "I'm sorry," in retreat. With that outburst Becky disappeared into a crowd of homeward-bound, joyful, chattering students.

Normally it only took Becky ten minutes to walk home. Today she was slower, trudging with head dropped, oblivious to the sights and sounds around her. Becky stared at her scuffed loafers. Her legs felt leaden. Tears rolled off her cheeks, splotching her velvet skirt.

How could she have lied to her favorite teacher? To make matters worse, she had run away like a little kid. What would happen when she faced Mrs. McCruder on Monday? Becky's mind whirled—and what about her parents? That was the biggest problem of all.

Becky knew they couldn't seem to get along. For that matter, she could hardly remember when they had. They'd been arguing and yelling for so long, she had almost forgotten what it had been like in a normal household.

Two years ago their lives had been so different. Becky recalled the family outings she liked so much, and special Sunday breakfasts of pancakes with chocolate syrup. Best of all, her folks had lots of time to spend with her. What had changed?

Becky figured it had to do with that word adults used but she never really understood. Her dad called it a disease—inflation. He explained it simply as prices go up but income does not. The worst thing of all was her father was now laid off his job.

His unemployment required her mom to find temporary work. Things changed dramatically. Sunday breakfasts disappeared. Her parents entertained less. Evening meals were almost always casseroles.

Less time with her folks was an adjustment, but what hurt most was how her parents treated one another. In the past Mom had managed the budget and paid the monthly bills. Dad had always said she would do well running a business. Now her father would start yelling about all the clothes being charged on the credit card, and about the unpaid bills. Her mother would explode by angrily shoving the bills in Dad's face. To make matters worse, she'd mutter, "What are you doing to help pay for these? You sit there and watch sports. Hour after hour. Who cares who wins or loses? You get so worked up and the phone calls to what is that guy's name at the bar, Stan, he's like your new best friend. You need to get a job!"

That would be the last straw. Her father, once a gentle soul, would scowl. Angrily he'd storm through the house swearing at everything in his path. Daddy would pause long enough to grab a beer out of the refrigerator before rushing out of the house. Moments later there would be a squeal of burning rubber. Becky would stand by the window watching her father's car disappear around the corner. The empty street would fill her with sadness. Then the stomach aches would begin, and the worry. What could she do to make them happy?

Becky often heard him arriving home late at night. Stumbling through the house, he would curse his way to the master bedroom. He'd be grumbling about some sports team she'd never heard of, mumbling about a strikeout, or error, or someone losing the ball in the last second. Breakfast the following morning would always be strained. Dad would drink black coffee and a glass of Alka Selzer. Becky never said anything to her mom but it was clear they both knew her father had been drinking.

As Becky reached the corner of Madrone and Glenwood Streets, she was startled to see her mother's car in the driveway. That was unusual. Normally her mom would be working.

Becky's spirits lifted. Ordinarily when she arrived home the house was empty. Forgetting her problems momentarily, Becky raced up the front steps. She walked quietly into the living room.

Her mother sat on the couch. Spread before her were stacks of bills. She remained unaware of her daughter's presence. Becky quietly studied her mother's profile. Red-rimmed eyes and tear-lined face meant she had been crying. Her mom's once glossy blonde hair hung in dull strands. She looked older.

Dropping her books, Becky greeted her with a kiss on the cheek. Her mother dabbed her eyes while she inquired, "How was your day, Becky?"

Becky shrugged off the question. "Fine, Mom. What are you doing?"

"Oh, just trying to satisfy our creditors. It seems like it never ends."

Becky plopped down on the couch looking briefly at the stacks of bills. She suddenly thought of something she could do to help out.

"I have a great idea, Mom. How about if I get a babysitting job? Lots of kids have them. With the money I make you and Dad could pay bills or take off for the weekend. I'm old enough to take care of myself. What do you think?"

Her mother blinked away tears. For a moment she smiled, and didn't look so sad.

"That's a beautiful thought, Becky. But I can't let you do that. Somehow we'll work everything out. Your father and I will get that weekend. Just remember one thing. I love you dearly and so does your father."

Her mother looked lovingly at Becky. "Now how about helping me by cleaning the kitchen while I decide which bills to pay first?"

Becky gathered her books and walked toward her room. That's odd, she thought. She couldn't count the number of times her mother had told her how much she was loved, but not in such a serious tone, with such a sorrowful look. Who knows, Becky figured. Sometimes adults were just plain confusing.

She tossed her homework across the bed. It could wait. After all with the grades she was getting, doing it now or later wouldn't make much difference.

As usual the kitchen was a mess. Crusty, egg-caked frying pans filled the sink. Bits and pieces of vegetables lay scattered across the stove and countertop. Becky knew her mother was a great cook, but why couldn't she have been neater when cooking last night's stir-fry dinner with Rice-a-Roni?

I must have spent a lifetime washing dishes, Becky grumbled to herself. Someday she'd have a maid, maybe two: one to clean her room while the other looked after the kitchen.

After sweeping the linoleum floor, Becky put Tuesday night's meatloaf in the microwave oven. She set the timer for three minutes and grimaced. Was there anything worse than leftover meatloaf?

While her mother set the table, Becky headed to the bathroom. As she combed her hair, she closely examined the face staring back at her. Thank God! No new freckles! Becky didn't care whether Mrs. McCruder thought they were a sign of intelligence or not. She hated them!

"Becky, time for dinner," her mother's call interrupted her freckle search.

The two of them ate in silence. Becky tried to coax her mother into a conversation, but it was no use. Her mom barely acknowledged her presence. Becky's attempts at humor fell flat. She unhappily finished her meal, washed the dishes, and retreated to her room.

Friday nights she normally went roller-skating, to a show, or talked on the phone with girlfriends. Tonight none of these activities interested her. Becky curled up on her bed with her stuffed animals. Friday was a great television night. She loved watching "Bonanza," especially in color. "All In The Family" was one of the hit sitcoms. It used to be one of her family's favorites but they didn't watch TV together anymore. Edith and Archie, the parents, sometimes reminded Becky of her family. The difference was they always made up and hugged by the end of the show. Becky wished her parents would remember how to do that. Holding back a yawn, Becky sprawled across her Snoopy quilt.

* * *

"Stop screaming! You'll wake Becky!"

"So what? She's heard it all before."

Becky snapped awake. In the darkness she listened to her shallow breathing. What woke her? On top of her desk the portable TV broadcast a silent picture, which sent an eerie light across the room. Becky realized she had fallen asleep during a rerun of "All In The Family". Throwing aside the quilt, she reached across her desk and flipped off the TV switch.

Harsh voices echoed from the hallway. Her mother's scathing words tore through Becky.

"Why don't you stay home for a change? What do you ever do around here except leave me empty beer cans and sports sections to clean up?"

Her father's biting tone matched his wife's. "Why should I stay home? Because of you? I'm just on a losing streak."

Becky blinked away the tears. Her stomach churned. How many more nights would it go on? The arguments between her parents seemed to get worse and worse. Angrily she stuffed a pillow over her ears. What did her dad mean? "A losing streak?"

The voices, now unintelligible, droned on. Maybe if she got better grades they'd get along better. What could she do so that they'd stop arguing? I need to be better, Becky concluded. Sleep came slowly. Becky twisted and turned as images of a recurring dream appeared. She would rise, throw on a robe, and then walk sleepily to the breakfast table. Becky picked at her lukewarm eggs. Her parents knowingly glanced at one another. Quietly they finished their coffee. In unison her parents rose, each stopping to kiss Becky on the cheek. With mounting fear Becky watched them walk toward the front door. The bulging suitcases waited in the hallway. With a wave, each parent picked up a suitcase and disappeared out the front door going in opposite directions, leaving Becky standing alone and forlorn by a deserted breakfast table.

Chapter Two

NO APPLIANCES FOR ME, THANKS

Most weekends Becky slept late. But this Saturday she woke early. Her mind was still filled with memories of last night's dream. A tightness gripped the pit of her stomach. Becky felt tired and irritable.

Half awake, she fumbled for her robe and slippers. Quietly she padded down the hall to her bathroom. Grabbing a tube of Crest from the medicine cabinet, she stared at the full length mirror while vigorously brushing her teeth. She wasn't foxy like her best friend Sarah Perkins, but at least she had great teeth.

Becky turned to examine her profile. From the looks of her figure she decided it was time to cut down on her afternoon snacks of Oreo and peanut butter sandwiches. Summer was right around the corner. Bikinis looked bad enough on a freckled, skinny body; but on a fat one, grody! Her pudgy body was going to start going without junk food or she'd turn into a human blimp.

She assumed her parents were still asleep. Carefully she tiptoed toward the kitchen. The aroma of freshly perked coffee tingled her nose. She was surprised to find her parents sitting across from one another, sipping mugs of coffee.

Becky's mood brightened. Had her parent's problems been solved?

"Morning, Dad. Morning, Mom. What's for breakfast?"

Her mother mustered a smile. "Well, you're bright and cheery this morning. How about an omelet?"

Becky nodded, hoping it would be filled with chocolate syrup. Maybe the weekend breakfasts were back! Her eating habits could change tomorrow.

Her father set down his coffee cup. Pushing himself away from the table, he opened the refrigerator door and carefully took six eggs out of the bin. After cracking the contents into a Pyrex bowl, he whipped them into froth. Solemnly he handed the bowl to his wife.

Becky could hardly contain her joy. The family was back together. Everything was going to work out. She could feel it.

While setting the table, Becky dreamily imagined they were about to start a lengthy meal. If only Mom and Dad would pepper her with questions about school, boys, and the latest movies. Anything but grades. Following breakfast her parents would leisurely read the New York Times. The rest of the day was the family's. Maybe they'd go bicycling at the lake or go browsing downtown (although Dad could stand only so much of that). He'd find a store with TVs and just stand there mesmerized by some game. It didn't matter if it was in black and white or color.

Her mother dished up the omelet. Becky seated herself at the head of the table. She hid her disappointment that the eggs were missing chocolate syrup. While Becky ate her breakfast, her parents nibbled at theirs, in between sips of their morning coffee.

Becky eyed her folks. Some of her happiness faded. Dad's puffy face meant he'd had a sleepless night. Her mother's eyes were dull looking with dark shadows underneath.

Her father set down his coffee cup. In a serious tone he said, "Becky, your mother and I want to discuss something with you."

She could feel a mounting tension in her stomach.

Her father nervously drummed his fingers on the table. It was obvious he was having a difficult time continuing. He looked at his wife for support.

She took over, saying "Becky, you know your father and I are having problems. There are a lot of reasons for them. Some we haven't much control over. But at this point in our lives we feel it's best to spend some time apart. Your father is moving out of the house. He'll move into an apartment temporarily until he can find a house of his own."

Becky looked from one parent to the other. Two expressionless faces stared back at her. Everything she feared most was coming true. The dream had become real life. Pretty soon she bet her mother would leave, too. All the recent "I love you's" from her parents didn't mean a thing. They just felt guilty, Becky figured.

With fists clenched her words rushed out, "I'll do more chores, cook, clean, give you two more time to yourself. I'll baby-sit. Minimum wage is over $2.00 an hour.

"That's sweet of you, honey," her mom responded, "but it's not really about the money."

"I'll ... I'll ... No No, No!! I won't let you do it!" screamed Becky.

Kicking aside her chair she ran sobbing into her bedroom. In a tearful rage she flung her stuffed animals to the floor. Becky threw herself across the bed, crying hysterically.

A few minutes later she sensed her father's presence. His voice seemed far away. Choking back tears he pleaded with Becky. She tried not to hear him but it didn't work.

"Becky, we know how you feel. But your mother and I need to live apart for a while. It doesn't mean we don't still love each other. I've got to find a job, too. I won't be far away. You'll visit me, won't you Becky?"

(Continues...)

Excerpted from BECKY FINDS HER WAYby RUSS TOW Copyright © 2013 by Russ Tow. Excerpted by permission of AuthorHouse. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
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