The Paris Project

by Donna Gephart

  “Hey, Cleveland,” Todd said. “Did you know the Eiffel Tower was the world’s tallest building until 1930?”

  At first I thought Todd was mentioning Paris to make me feel bad because I’d been so upset lately about not knowing how I was going to afford going to school over there. But then I realized Declan must’ve shared my Paris plan with Todd, and he cared enough to learn something about the City of Lights.

  “Yeah, I did,” I said. “But that’s a really cool fact.” If Todd could do that for me, I could try to be nice to him. For one lousy night. For Declan.

  Todd nodded. “It seems like a really great place to want to live, Cleveland.”

  I opened my mouth. Then closed it. Then opened it again, but nothing came out.

  Declan tilted his head at me, as if to say, See, I told you he was cool.

  It would take more than one interesting fact about Paris to change my mind about Todd Baker. I stormed up the long walkway to the first house, squeezing my whisk a little too tightly, trying to hang on to my anger. Todd was not cool. He was not thoughtful. He was the son of the guy who’d put my dad in jail. He was a traitor to me and my family. I had to remember that.

  Because on top of everything else, he was now ruining Halloween for me too.

  * * *

  “So how’d you do?” Mr. Maguire asked when we approached the car with full pillowcases and tired feet.

  “Très bien!” I said at the same time Todd said, “Merveilleux!” which meant “wonderful” in French.

  Dec and I both looked at him.

  He shrugged. “I know a few French words. No big deal.”

  “Yes, big deal,” Dec said.

  I shook my head. “Why?”

  “Hmm?” Todd asked.

  “Why did you learn some French words?”

  Todd tugged on the rim of his baseball cap. “Because Dec told me you love everything French.”

  Dec looked at me.

  “I do.” But that didn’t mean Todd Baker had to go and learn some basic French. But he did.

  “Get in, kids,” Mr. Maguire said. “I’m ready to go home and raid your candy stash. Don’t forget you owe me twenty percent of everything.”

  “You said ten percent,” Dec reminded him.

  “No one likes a know-it-all, kid.”

  We piled into the car, laughing.

  It didn’t feel so bad being in the front seat on the way home because Declan and Todd included me in their conversation about the world’s best restaurants. I didn’t have much to add, but the talk was making me hungry.

  * * *

  Back at Declan’s trailer, we dumped out our bags of candy on the kitchen table.

  “Yes!” I snatched out two Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups and set them aside for Dad.

  Declan and Todd were staring at me.

  “My dad loves those,” I said, immediately wishing I could take back the words. I didn’t want to talk about my dad, especially in front of Todd.

  Before I knew it, Todd had handed me the two Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups from his pile.

  It felt like an apology, those candies. I didn’t want to accept them, but Dad once told me it was hard for people to apologize, and the right thing to do was to take someone’s apology when they offered it. He’d been referring to the one time Georgia and I got in a fight over using the bathroom: she apologized to me but I stayed angry. Dad wasn’t having it.

  I took Todd’s candy and added it to my “Dad” pile. “Thank you.”

  Todd nodded.

  Declan nodded too.

  In that moment, over a couple of Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups, something shifted between me and Todd Baker.

  And it felt good.

  Maybe Halloween wasn’t a complete waste after all.

  * * *

  Declan and Todd walked me home, because sometimes at night certain people drank beer outside their trailers and were kind of loud. It was better not to walk by myself.

  Back home, Mom was already in her room.

  I knocked on her door.

  “Come in.”

  She had the blanket pulled up to her neck and was looking through a photo album. She moved over and patted the space beside her.

  The photos were of all the crazy costumes Dad and she had worn on Halloweens past.

  Mom patted my hand. “I’m really missing him tonight.”

  I squeezed her hand. “Me too. I saved his favorite candy for when he gets home.”

  Someone knocked on the door.

  “Come in,” Mom and I called at the same time.

  Georgia stood in the doorway in her pajamas and fuzzy purple socks. “Move over, Cleveland.”

  The three of us squished into the bed and looked through the photo album together.

  “This is so tough sometimes,” Georgia said.

  “Really tough,” I agreed, wishing I’d taken a minute to grab my beret, because it would help make me feel better.

  “At least we’re together,” Mom said, leaning into me. “That helps.”

  I leaned into Georgia. She leaned back.

  Miss Genevieve let out a fierce snore from the foot of the bed, and we all laughed.

  Something Changed

  THAT MONDAY IN SCHOOL, EVERYONE had Halloween candy in addition to their lunches.

  I wished someone else were at my table, because it would be fun to see what candy they had and trade with them. All I could do was watch the other kids doing this at their tables. Lunch dragged on forever. I nibbled on the peanut butter and jelly sandwich Georgia had made me and wished I had a book with me, like Madeline, but that would give people like Jenna Finch another reason to be mean to me. But I still wished I had one, especially the story where they adopted the hero dog, Miss Genevieve. That was my favorite.

  At least I had my beret.

  The rest of the school day was quiet, but at the end something happened.

  I was at my locker when Jenna came over to her locker. She was ignoring me as usual.

  Then Todd Baker approached.

  At first my stomach clenched at the sight of him, but he walked toward me with a big grin on his face.

  “Scout!” he shouted.

  Todd Baker had called me Scout. It made my heart thump the same way it did when Declan said it.

  He leaned over and gave me a big hug… right in front of Jenna and her perfect hair.

  His hug completely surprised me, but it made me feel good, too. Wanted. Cared about. And the best part was how big Jenna’s eyes grew. She looked more surprised than I felt.

  Before Todd walked away, he said, “Hey, come over to Declan’s later. He’s trying out a new recipe.”

  “Oh… okay.”

  Then Todd high-fived me and walked away.

  He’d used my special name, hugged me, invited me to Declan’s, and high-fived me. All those things had happened right in front of Jenna Finch.

  I smiled on the walk home and realized something amazing. When Todd Baker came into Declan’s life, I’d thought I was losing my best friend. I wasn’t. I was gaining a new one.

  Todd wasn’t just Declan’s boyfriend.

  He was also my friend.

  Mon ami.

  Thankful, But…

  THANKSGIVING WAS WEIRD.

  Dad used to make the meal, and Mom would get a salad together. Georgia and I usually relaxed all day and didn’t do anything, which was glorious.

  Not this year.

  Since Mom had the day off from cleaning people’s houses, she took a nap in the afternoon. Georgia and I made dinner for the three of us—noodles with Newman’s Own tomato-and-basil pasta sauce, green beans, and a sweet potato pie that Declan gave me the recipe and the sweet potatoes for.

  I peeled the potatoes into a bowl with great vengeance. “I don’t think I’m going to get to Paris.”

  Georgia knocked her hip into mine. “Don’t say that, Cleve. Just keep doing the things on your list. It’ll happen… someday.”

  I stopped peeling. “That’s e
xactly it, George. I’m stuck. How am I going to eat at a French restaurant or go to a museum and see works from famous French impressionists? Not to mention get the money I need to go. It’s soooooo expensive.”

  Georgia leaned on the counter. “Hmm. I’m not sure. But we’ll figure it out.”

  It made me feel good that my sister said “we’ll figure it out.”

  “Hey, I got my application, fee, and essay in to the University of Vermont way ahead of the deadline, so that’s awesome.”

  “That is awesome!” I was excited for my sister, even though I wasn’t excited for myself because that meant next year I’d be here without her.

  “Thanks, Cleve. I probably won’t hear until late February, but at least I did my part. It’s all I can do for now. Except wait.”

  I sliced the peeled sweet potatoes and dropped them into a pot of water, then set it to boil. “I’m going to miss you.”

  “Huh?”

  “When you go to Vermont. I thought I’d be off to Paris when you went to the university, but now…”

  Georgia wrapped her arms around me. She accidentally banged my head and knocked my beret off. My naked head reminded me of that awful day at dance school with Jenna Finch, who was probably having a perfect Thanksgiving dinner with her whole family in their fancy house.

  “Sorry,” Georgia said.

  “It’s okay.” I put my beret back on.

  “You’ve still got plenty of time to get to Paris, Cleveland.”

  “Yeah, but nothing is going like it’s supposed to. Maybe someday I’ll be Mom’s age, looking at travel magazines and still not going anywhere.”

  My sister didn’t say anything after that, and we cooked the rest of the meal with the only noise coming from Miss Genevieve’s quiet snoring.

  That is, until Georgia put on some holiday music. That lifted my mood a little.

  When everything was ready, Georgia set the table and took the pie out of the oven. “Go tell Mom dinner’s ready.”

  I shuffled to her door and knocked softly in case she was still napping.

  “Come in!”

  Mom was sitting up in her bed, thumbing through a magazine. “Dinner ready?” She put the magazine on her nightstand.

  I nodded, but a tidal wave of emotion spewed out. Mom. The travel magazine. Dad’s empty side of the bed. It was too much to take today. My breath caught and my shoulders hitched. Before I knew it, tears streamed down my cheeks like someone had opened a spigot.

  “Oh, Cleve. Come here.”

  I climbed in and pulled the blanket up to my chin.

  Mom slid an arm around my shoulders. “Now, you tell me what’s the matter.”

  “I… I…” I couldn’t stop crying long enough to tell her, and I wasn’t even sure exactly what it was. Everything was all jumbled up inside.

  Mom whispered into my beret, “We’re going to get through this, sweetheart.”

  The truth of it brought a fresh round of tears. I nodded hard, then choked out three words: “I… hate… this.” I grabbed a tissue off Mom’s night table and wiped my eyes and nose.

  Mom pulled me closer. “I hate it too, Cleveland.”

  “Me too.” Georgia leaned on the doorframe. “Can I join the party?”

  Mom made room for Georgia on the other side of her. It was just like Halloween. Miss Genevieve hopped onto the end of the bed where he used to curl near Dad’s feet. Then he snorfled himself into a cozy heap.

  “Only a little over two months till he comes home,” Mom said.

  I nodded.

  “And there’s something else.” Mom pushed my hair out of my eyes. “When he comes out, he has to go to Gamblers Anonymous meetings.”

  “He does?” Georgia asked.

  Mom nodded. “That should help Dad stay on track. We’ll be okay, girls. Just have to hang on a little longer.”

  I sniffed.

  We all squished closer to each other.

  It made me feel better. All of us together; four peas in a pod. And hopefully, Dad having to go to a program would help him not gamble. Maybe we wouldn’t have to worry so much. I had saved a lot of money from all my dog walks—I was at almost a thousand dollars—and I didn’t want anything to happen to it.

  We ended up eating Thanksgiving dinner in Mom’s bed.

  It wasn’t such a terrible holiday after all.

  Another Holiday That Wasn’t Entirely Terrible: Part 2

  WE GOT THROUGH CHRISTMAS TOGETHER too.

  Mom put extra money in Dad’s account at jail so he could buy himself some holiday treats. When we visited, he said they were planning a little party there. Mom and I wore Santa hats for our visit. (I wore mine over my beret.) The sheriff at the visitation center let us wear them, and I’m glad because they made Dad laugh out loud.

  On Christmas, Aunt Allison came over with my cousin, Ellen, who just turned six. I wished they didn’t live so far away so we could see them more often.

  Ellen spent the whole time twirling and telling us how much she wanted to be a ballerina. I gave my cousin the bag with all my ballet clothes, and I’ve never seen a person so excited. She put the clothes on—which were way too big on her, especially the ballet slippers—and danced the entire rest of the time. I almost told her to be careful about getting runs in the tights, but I didn’t. I let her enjoy herself, like a person should when they’re dancing.

  A while later Declan and his dad came over.

  The trailer was cramped with all of us inside, but I didn’t mind. It felt cozy and filled with joy. Everyone seemed genuinely happy for the first time in months.

  Declan had made two strawberry rhubarb pies, which were of course delicious. I had seconds, and Ellen had thirds, but it was wasted on her because she ended up barfing it all up in our bathroom.

  “It’s from all that twirling,” Aunt Allison said.

  “And pie!” Ellen said helpfully.

  We laughed.

  Then Mr. Maguire played his fiddle late into the night.

  I sat next to Declan on the kitchen bench seat. It felt good leaning against him, listening to the music, being surrounded by family and friends.

  Mom and Georgia bought me a cute outfit with black leggings and a red-and-white-striped top they said would be perfect to wear on my first day in Paris.

  “It’ll match your beret,” Mom said.

  “You’ll look like a mime,” Georgia added, so I pretended to be stuck behind a glass wall, knocking on the air between us.

  This made Mom smile.

  Georgia shook her head at me.

  I didn’t tell them I thought I’d never get a chance to wear it because I was absolutely stuck on how I’d accomplish the other items on my Paris Project list and also the money thing. Instead I gave them each a bone-crunching hug.

  Declan gave me a book about visiting Paris. It had maps and lots of photos. I gave Declan a French cookbook I’d been saving from the library book sale last year.

  “I’ll start in on these recipes,” Dec said, “as soon as I finish the ones in my mom’s cookbook.”

  I nodded quietly, realizing Dec was probably thinking about his mom the way I was thinking about my dad today. No matter how much fun we were having, there was always that part of us missing the people who weren’t here. Except next Christmas my dad would be with us. Declan’s mom never would.

  I couldn’t understand how anyone would walk away from them. They were two of the best people I knew. Then she left forever. I don’t know how I would be feeling if I knew I’d never be able to see Dad again.

  Life could be so hard sometimes.

  That was why it was smart to focus on the good moments when you could.

  I decided to focus on the positive things during our Christmas celebration.

  There was a lot to be happy about.

  Plus, we were getting closer to Dad’s release date.

  A little over one month to go!

  Home

  ON THE DAY OF DAD’S release, Mom went to the jail by herself
to get him. She took the day off from work. Georgia and I stayed home from school.

  Fortunately, Miss Lola Lemon decided to behave that day and started with no problem.

  That morning I counted how much money was in my Eiffel Tower tin. I hadn’t checked in a while and was delighted that the amount totaled $1,870.

  I put my money back inside and shoved it under my bed, thinking I should find a better hiding place now that Dad was coming home. Even though it wouldn’t get me to Paris yet, it was a lot of money and I didn’t want to lose it again. Of course, thinking that made me feel guilty. I should be able to let it go and trust Dad. Right?

  I knew I should give him the benefit of the doubt, especially since he’d be going to Gamblers Anonymous meetings. Mom had explained that wouldn’t keep Dad from wanting to gamble, but it would help him if he decided to help himself. Only Dad could make the decision not to gamble each day, Mom said. All we could do was hope he stayed away from the dog park.

  Georgia and I kept getting in each other’s way as we cleaned the trailer, cooked lunch, and baked two trays of oatmeal raisin cookies made with bananas—Dad’s favorite.

  At one point I accidentally stepped on Miss Genevieve’s paw, and he yelped. “Sorry, boy.” I patted his soft head until he settled back down.

  Then I looked at my sister. “You nervous?”

  “Yes!”

  We laughed, but it didn’t ease the tension.

  As the delicious smell from the cookies baking wafted through the trailer, I heard Miss Lola Lemon pull into the gravel driveway.

  “They’re home,” Georgia whispered.

  I gulped.

  Miss Genevieve was going nuts at the door, running in circles and barking. Very un-Miss-Genevieve-like. Napping was Miss Genevieve’s preferred state of being.

  Georgia and I stood behind Miss Genevieve at the door.

  My sister chewed on a fingernail. “You ready for this, Cleve?”

  I wasn’t but nodded anyway.

  Georgia opened the door.

  There in front of the steps was Dad… dancing with Mom. He twirled her in circles again and again, and when Mom finally lost her balance and wobbled, they cracked up. Mom looked ridiculously happy. Happier than she’d looked during the past seven months.