“I didn’t do anything wrong… I promise.” Mara’s gloved hands gripped the top of the seat. Her upper lip trembled, and she hoped her dad wouldn't notice. “Jujee’s a total drama queen, and she’s also jealous. She’s had a crush on Gabe… uh… Gabe Sanders since school started. I wasn't doing anything to make her jealous, but Jujee hates it when a boy she likes is nice to other girls.” 
 

Her father’s profile was lit by the ivory glow of the dashboard. Mara thought he looked more curious than annoyed, and she felt encouraged to continue. “Lots of girls like Gabe – he’s funny and…”
 

“Hot,” Scott Devlan interrupted. “That's how Jujee described him, and I'm not too old to know that means good looking.” He looked in the direction of the side entrance through which Jujee disappeared only a minute before, then back at Mara. Reaching across and folding his palm over her fingers, he continued, “What’s important to me… and your mother... is whether the concert was as much fun as you hoped it’d be.” He squeezed her hand and grinned, “Hearing Skillet in person… was that not awesome?”
 

Mara’s heart swelled with relief. “I didn’t want the concert to end, Dad,” she said in a spilling of images and words that she knew could never match the experience. “I was just blown away by how great a band they are. They did four encores because we just couldn’t stand to let them leave the stage.”  
 

Scott Devlan was smiling as he reached into his pocket, pulled out his cell phone and punched in a number. “Since the concert was all your mom's idea, there'll be no living with her now. I need to let her know we’re almost home,” he said. “I’m sure she’s got her nose glued to the window, waiting for us to pull into the driveway.”
 

As the car's engine idled, Mara’s thoughts folded inward. She fiddled with her faux-fur trimmed gloves and picked lint off her purple tights. The memory of Gabe's warm brown eyes and the way his hair curled around his ears kept popping up like bubblegum.
 

I wasn’t totally truthful with Dad. I’m one of those girls with a crush on Gabe. But how much do I need to share with my parents? Can’t I keep some feelings and thoughts to myself?  
 

Her dad's chuckle pulled her back to the moment. "She had a great time and, apparently, made a new friend. What? Why don't you ask her? I'm passing the phone back.”  

 

Mara always held the phone slightly away from her ear when talking with her mother. Kris Devlan had been a professional singer and, when excited, tended to project her voice – a habit attributed to her extensive vocal training.  

 

"You had fun, honey?” Mara met her father’s eyes in the rearview mirror and fought the urge to laugh when he grabbed his head. They often joked about the volume of her mother’s voice which, right then, was louder than usual.
 

“I totally did, Mom. Except for something that happened because of Jujee. But I can tell you and Dad all about it when I get home.”
 

“Okay, but I’m not surprised there was a problem.”
 

Mara sensed anger in her mother’s voice, but for once she didn’t feel like defending Jujee. ”I didn’t let it ruin the concert for me, Mom.”
 

“That’s my girl,” Kris Devlan replied. “Your father says you’re about ten minutes away, and I’m guessing you might be hungry since you didn’t take the time to eat dinner before the concert. Do you want a turkey sandwich?"  

 

"That'd be great. Now that you mention it, I am hungry." 

 

"Mayo or mustard?"

 

"Um... mustard with a smidgen of mayo.” 
 

“You got it… see you in a few…”
 

                                                                                     *****

 

The smell of simmering peppermint and her mom's heart-shaped face, wreathed in a smile, greeted Mara as she came through the back entrance. 
 

 "You look tired," Kris Devlan remarked. She helped Mara out of her jacket and hooked her arm through her daughter’s, leading her through the living room and into the kitchen. The table was set for three -- the plates loaded with sandwiches and potato salad. The source of the peppermint smell came from a copper pot on the stovetop.

 

"Great, you made a batch of my favorite hot cocoa," Mara gushed. For as long as she could remember, holidays and special events included a batch of her mother's peppermint cocoa. 

Mara dropped into the chair at the center of the table and bent over to wrestle with her shoes. Once off, she pushed them underneath the table and rubbed her sore and swollen feet. When her stomach announced its need for food, Mara fought the urge to snatch the sandwich from the plate and wolf it down. Instead, she kept her hands in her lap and watched her mother pour cocoa into the mugs. When her father entered the room, and they were all seated at the table, the three of them linked hands. Scott Devlan spoke his gratitude, “Thank you, God, for this food we eat and for the abundance of your love that it represents. Amen.”

 

Mara was into the third bite of her sandwich when she felt her mother’s eyes on her. “Your father tells me you made a new friend at the concert. I’m thinking that means Jujee took off on you again, leaving you to sit alone.”
 

Not for the first time, Mara was shocked by how her mother knew things without being told. She set her sandwich on the plate and swallowed a few times before meeting her mother’s gaze. This is it. I need to get this right. 
 

"Before the concert started,” Mara began, “we met up with some kids from Mt. Zion. They… like… talked Jujee into sitting with them.” She felt embarrassed to admit that her best friend couldn’t wait to ditch her in order to hang with the cool kids. I should leave it at that, but I need to own this part. Looking from her mother to her father and back again, she added, “Jujee did ask me if it would make me mad if she wanted to sit somewhere else.” She looked down before continuing so her parents wouldn’t see the pain that caused her. “I told her she was free to sit wherever she wanted.”
 

Kris Devlan reached over and stroked her daughter’s arm. "Mara, a friend that has been gifted with a concert ticket to celebrate your birthday wouldn't have considered sitting with someone else even if you were generous enough to offer. I know she's been your friend since kindergarten, but you need to address this issue with her, and soon!"
 

"I know, Mom. It's just hard to get the right words out... she's been there for me lots of other times." Mara took a bite of her sandwich and a sip of cocoa to steady herself before continuing her story. "A boy I recognized from Spanish class overheard the conversation and asked if he could move into the empty seat next to me. He's writing a review of the band for a small local paper devoted to music and asked me a lot of questions about Christian rock music. He even suggested attaching one of my pictures to the article."
 

"Is this ‘hot’ young man a Christian, Mara?" Scott Devlan asked. He winked at the surprised look on his wife’s face and mouthed, “Later.”   
 

"He said he doesn't attend any special church, Dad. I'm not sure he'd have stayed for the whole concert if we hadn't, sort of, made a deal that he’d consider using some of my photographs. But he did stay, and I hope he writes a great article that gets people more interested in awesome messengers like Skillet."
 

Mara’s father leaned back into his chair, sipped his cocoa and smacked his lips with satisfaction. “It sounds to me that God placed this young man in your path tonight for a reason, Mara. Your mother and I feel you’re too young to date, as you know, but this sounds like a sharing of ideas and creativity. That’s always the best way to do God’s work -- by listening and sharing.” He nodded his head in a non-verbal passing of the baton to his wife.
 

Kris Devlan rose from her chair and stepped behind her daughter. Kneading the knots from Mara’s shoulders, her words held both a soothing and comforting note. “I agree 100% with your father. You made lemonade from lemons, and we’re just glad you found a way to enjoy yourself.” Grabbing up Mara’s plate, she set about clearing the table, adding, “I’m sure all you want right now is a hot shower and a nice, warm bed."
 

“I’m totally ready to crash,” Mara agreed. Exhaustion had snuck up on her now that the truth was out and the adrenaline high of the evening had burned down. She rose from her chair and kissed her parents good night. With a hand to her chest, she added, "I'll remember this night for a really long time and... um... thanks, you guys, for all of it...the concert and the understanding."  
 

                                                                                         *****
 

Mara placed the Bible she'd been reading on the bedside table and turned off the light. A soft, white glow from the night's full moon penetrated her window shade. She pulled her blanket up under her chin and snuggled deep into her menagerie of pillows and stuffed bears. Shutting her eyes, the concert's closing scene rose up in her mind.
 

Hundreds of Bic lighters pierced the darkness of the auditorium as Skillet looked out on a hushed crowd. In a mingling of voices, strangers and friends