by Lisa Graff
Bernetta swallowed. “What was that about, Colander?”
“Aren’t you gonna get all scared and scream, Bernie?” he asked. “I’m an alien! I mean, eek ack woo ha-ha.”
Bernetta bit her lip, but she couldn’t stop smiling. “Oh,” she said. “Yeah, Coliseum, you’re really scary. I mean, bim bam beeple snartz.”
After dinner was over and the dishes were washed and dried, Bernetta went up to Elsa’s room to keep her company while she packed. Bernetta sat on the bed with her fingers woven between her toes while Elsa squatted on the floor in front of her duffel bag, folding T-shirts.
“Do you really have to go to camp?” Bernetta asked as Elsa tucked a stack of shirts neatly inside the bag. “I mean, you don’t really need to, right? You already know how to play volleyball. You’re pretty good at it.”
“Not compared to all those college girls. You should have seen them, Netta. I told you about that game Dad and I went to when we were visiting. I’m serious, those girls are on a whole different level. They’re practically professionals.”
“Still,” Bernetta said, scratching the underside of her foot, “you don’t want to be gone the whole summer. Aren’t you going to be bored out of your mind, playing volleyball all day long? And they’re going to make you do all those drills, and you hate drills.”
Elsa shook her head as she began folding shorts, but she was smiling. “And what would I do here all summer, hmm?”
Bernetta shrugged. “I don’t know. Play cards with Colin? He’s getting really good at war. Plus, you know”—she hooked her pinkie fingers around her little toes—“you could hang out with me. It’s our last summer together before you go to college.”
“That’s true,” Elsa said, shoving her neat stack of T-shirts into a corner to make room for the shorts. “But even if I was here, I’d hardly get to see you anyway, now that you’re babysitting so much.”
“Yeah, I guess,” Bernetta said with a sigh.
Elsa leaned back on her heels and looked up. “What was that giant sigh about, Netta?”
Bernetta puffed out her cheeks and tried to put the thoughts swirling around in her brain into words. “It’s just—you’re leaving, right? You’ll be in a whole different state next year, and I won’t get to talk to you anymore.”
“Netta, what are you talking about? We’ll talk all the time. There’s this nifty new invention, you know, called the telephone?”
Bernetta rolled her eyes. “But I won’t see you ever.”
“I’ll be home for Thanksgiving.”
“That’s practically a million years away!” Bernetta cried. “And what if you make tons of cool new college friends, and get a boyfriend, and pierce your nose or something? Then you’ll come home and I won’t even recognize you.”
Elsa just laughed. “Now you sound like Dad,” she said.
“But aren’t you worried?” Bernetta asked. “I mean, you don’t even know anyone there and you’ll have to live in a dorm room, with strangers. What if you hate your roommate? What if the food is awful, or you get lost somewhere, or—or anything?”
Elsa shook her head as she began to roll up pairs of socks. “I guess I’m just excited, that’s all,” she said. “I mean, I’ve gone to the same school for thirteen years and lived in the same house for eighteen. I guess I’m ready for a change.”
Bernetta frowned. Mount Olive’s not so bad, she thought. We’re not so bad either. But she didn’t say it.
Elsa stood up and headed over to the dresser. “Let’s do our nails. I need a break.”
“Okay,” Bernetta said. She ran a finger over her blue toenail polish, already chipped in two places after only three days. Maybe she was being a tad overdramatic about the whole college thing. It would all work out. Isn’t that what their mom always said?
“What color?” Elsa asked her, shifting through the contents of her top drawer.
Bernetta bit her lip and thought about it. “Um, Rustic Red, I think.”
“Knew it!” Elsa cried. She turned around with a smile and stretched out her hand toward Bernetta. She was already clasping a bottle of burgundy-colored polish.
Bernetta frowned. “How’d you know I was going to pick that one?” she asked.
“Because I know you, Netta,” Elsa answered as she produced the nail polish remover and cotton balls. “You always pick the same colors.” She plopped down on the bed. “Rustic Red when you’re worried about something, Blueberry Bramble when you’re angry, and Tangerine Delicious when you have good news.” She unscrewed the lid of the polish remover. “Same old Netta. Here, give me your foot.”
Bernetta wrinkled her forehead and slowly wrapped her arms around her legs.
“Netta?” Elsa asked. “Is something wrong?”
Same old Netta? Is that what Elsa thought of her? Elsa could go off to camp and then move to a different state and forget all about everything back at home, and Bernetta was just supposed to stick around and take it? Same old Netta? “Actually,” Bernetta said softly, “I think I’m kind of tired. All that babysitting, you know?”
Elsa frowned. “Oh.” She put the cap back on the bottle. “Okay. If you’re sure.”
“Yeah. Anyway, good night, I guess. Have fun at camp.”
They both stood up then and hugged, but it was forced, like they’d never hugged before and didn’t know who should lean in which direction and how long they should stay hugging before they broke apart.
As Bernetta headed for the door, Elsa said, “Netta?” Bernetta turned. “You sure you’re okay?”
“Yeah,” Bernetta said.
“Well, I’ll miss you, you know?”
Bernetta nodded, her chin scrunched up tight. “I’ll miss you too,” she said. And she headed off to her room.
Thirty minutes later Bernetta was in her pajamas, bundled under her covers with her old worn copy of A Wrinkle in Time resting against her knees. But she wasn’t enjoying the story as much as she usually did. It didn’t even taste as good.
There was a knock on the door, and her father appeared in the doorway.
“Hey, Bernie,” he said. “Can I come in for a sec? I have a trick I’ve been wanting to show you.”
She snapped her book shut. “Sure.”
He sat down on the edge of her bed and pulled out a quarter. He held it up with his left hand, then reached across and grabbed it with his right. He closed his right hand into a fist and pointed to it with his left. Then he opened his right hand slowly, one finger at a time.
The quarter had vanished.
Bernetta smiled at him, her anger at Elsa melting away. “Nice.”
“Where do you think the quarter went?” he asked her.
She thought about it. “Still in your left hand?”
He raised an eyebrow and smiled. “Very astute, Bernie. Yep, I never grabbed it. That’s the French Drop. It’s the oldest trick in the book, practically, but anyone will fall for it if you pull it off correctly. People are practically dying to fall for it, really.”
“Yeah?”
“See, once you bring your right hand over to your left one, your audience is expecting you to transfer that quarter. They’ve got no reason to think you’d do anything else. That is, unless you give them some reason, like staring at your left hand when they think the coin’s moved on to your right. Never look at the wrong hand, Bernie. That’ll ruin your trick in a heartbeat.” He handed her the quarter. “You want to try it?”
Bernetta studied the quarter a moment and then tried the trick, just as her father had showed her. Left hand, quarter. Right hand, sweep and close.
“Bernie!” her dad cried. “That was amazing! Almost perfect. I’ve never seen anyone pick it up so quickly. You really are a natural. I couldn’t believe that trick you pulled the other night at the club.”
“Yeah?” Bernetta smiled.
“
Bram’s still talking about it.”
Bernetta laughed.
“Listen,” her father told her, “I know your mother and I agreed that you should take a break from the club this summer, but I really think you should keep practicing your magic, regardless. You have a real talent. And who knows? When the school year starts back up again, we just might be able to work you into more of the show.”
Bernetta clapped her hands. “Really? Are you serious, Dad?”
“Absolutely. If you keep practicing.”
She gave him a hug, and then he wished her good night. “Did you say good-bye to your sister?” he asked on his way to the door. “You probably won’t see her tomorrow.”
“Mmm-hmm,” Bernetta replied, whacking her pillow into its fluffiest position.
After her father had closed the door behind him, Bernetta took up the coin again and felt the weight of it in her left hand. She studied it there. Never look at the wrong hand, her father had said. Strange, Bernetta thought, but what her father had taught her that evening was so similar to what Gabe had shown her that afternoon. Distraction, making others look only where you want them to. She set the quarter down on her bed and rustled through her backpack until she found a ten-dollar bill. Then, with her stuffed pink pig as a cashier, she practiced the moves of the shortchange over and over, until she knew she had it down better than even Gabe did.
When the clock read 10:02 and her yawns were starting to stretch her jaw farther and farther down, Bernetta stuffed the bills from her shortchange practice into her top desk drawer. As she snuggled under her covers for a good night’s sleep, the quarter for the French Drop rolled off her bedspread and onto the floor with a soft clunk, but Bernetta didn’t bother to pick it up. It had been a long day, and she was, at last, ready to go to sleep.
When Bernetta woke up the next morning, she found a note on top of her desk.
Dear Netta,
Thought you might want to use this while I was gone. Have a great summer! I’ll see you in five weeks.
Love,
Elsa
Next to the note was a half-empty bottle of Rustic Red nail polish.
Bernetta picked up the bottle and stared at it for a moment. Then, very slowly, she crossed the room and dumped the bottle in the trash can.
Elsa didn’t know everything about her, Bernetta realized. Not even close. Maybe her sister was going off to college soon, but she wasn’t the only one doing new things. She wasn’t the only one who was changing.
As Bernetta passed her dresser, she noticed last night’s quarter on the floor, next to her bed. She scooped it up and added it to her Mount Olive fund in the desk drawer. Every little bit helped.
13
SHORT CARD n: a card that has been slightly shortened, making it easy to locate within a deck of otherwise unaltered cards
With each day that passed, Bernetta found that she was getting better and better at pulling cons. She and Gabe made excellent partners—he’d been completely right about that. He was a whiz at reading people, and she wasn’t too shabby either. She had those lightning hands, and he had a way of turning his voice silky smooth, so that people couldn’t help trusting him. Gabe didn’t want to stay in one location too long, so they’d spend a couple of days at the Championship Mall and then switch to the movie theater or the strip mall across town. A few times they even took the bus to the pier twenty minutes away, where there were loads of tourists just waiting to hand them their money. No matter who had raked in the most money that day, they always split the take evenly when they parted ways for the evening—exactly fifty-fifty. By early July, just three and a half weeks after Bernetta had joined forces with Gabe, she’d made over a fourth of her tuition money. Mount Olive was waiting for her with open arms.
One Thursday night during dinner Bernetta was busy composing the speech she’d make to Ashley Johansson the day she waltzed back into school. She couldn’t decide if it should begin with “So who’s the idiot now?” or the slightly more humble “I guess you thought you’d gotten rid of me for good, huh?” She was trying to imagine the look on Ashley’s face—mostly shock, probably, with a good mix of scorn and confusion—when Colin poked her in the side with a spoon.
“BernieBernieBernie, did you go to Saturn?”
“Huh?”
Their father laughed and twirled his spaghetti on his fork. “I think he’s wondering if your mind’s in outer space.”
“Oh.” Bernetta wiped a glob of sauce she’d just noticed on her elbow. “No, I was just thinking.”
“Well,” her mother said as she poured dressing on her salad, “your father and I were just talking about your babysitting money.”
Bernetta’s head shot up. “Oh?”
“Yes. I opened up a savings account for you this afternoon. I think it’s best if you put the money the Nortons have been giving you in the bank. That way you can earn a little interest off it too—won’t that be nice?”
Bernetta nodded. “Um, yeah. Thanks, Mom.”
“Tomorrow, when you’re done babysitting, I’ll take you to make your first deposit, all right? After that you can go yourself after the Nortons pay you each week. How does that sound?”
“Great.” She took a slurp of spaghetti, a noodle worming its way up her chin.
The phone rang in the living room, and Bernetta’s mom left the table to answer it.
“Hey, Bernie!” Colin called out suddenly. He held up his left hand, which was sporting a flowery oven mitt. “Give me two!” he shouted.
“What?” Bernetta asked.
“Give me two,” Colin repeated. He looked at her like she was an idiot and pointed to the oven mitt. “Like, give me five. But it looks like I only got two fingers.”
Bernetta rolled her eyes. “Brilliant, Colinization.”
“Really? You think I’m brilliant?”
“Yes. You’re a genius.”
“Nah,” Colin said, scratching his head with his oven mitt hand. “I don’t even have a bottle.”
“What?” Bernetta said.
Their dad put his hand in front of his mouth and stage-whispered, “He thinks you said genie.”
“Oh.”
Bernetta’s mother walked back into the kitchen then and let out a puff of air as she sat down at the table. “I have to go in to school tomorrow morning,” she told everyone. “Mrs. Eddleman was supposed to administer the proficiency tests to the new special ed students, but apparently she’s come down with the flu.”
“Is she okay?” Bernetta asked.
“Is she barfing all over everywhere?” Colin said.
“She’ll be fine,” their mother replied. “But Herbert, do you think you can take Colin to rehearsal with you tomorrow?”
“I’d love to,” he said. “Only I’m not going to rehearsal tomorrow. Roger’s buying a new illusion from a seller out in Crestlake, and he asked me to go with him.”
Bernetta’s mother twisted her spaghetti around on her plate. “I see. Well, Bernetta, maybe you could take him with you to the Nortons’ house then?”
Bernetta accidentally bit her tongue instead of her food. “No!” she cried. She stuck her tongue out, rubbing it between her fingers. “I meem—” She took her fingers out of her mouth and tried again. “I mean, um, I don’t think the Nortons would really—”
“I’m sure they’d understand,” her mother said. “I’ll call them.” She got up and walked back toward the phone. “Where did you put their number, sweetie?”
“Mom, wait!” Bernetta cried, leaping out of her chair. “Um, I’ll call them.”
Bernetta’s mother nodded. “Okay.”
Bernetta held the phone tight to her ear, her mother lurking at her elbow. “No, really, Mrs. Norton, that’s okay,” Bernetta said into the receiver. “Don’t worry about it at all.”
“And this Tuesday is Family Fun Night!” the robotic
voice on the other end informed her. “Tickets for parents and children are only four dollars each for the six-P.M. screening of Little Choo Choo’s Big Achoo.”
“No, that’s fine,” Bernetta said. “If Colin really can’t come over tomorrow, I’m sure my mom can drop him off at a friend’s house or something.”
Bernetta’s mother shook her head. “No,” she said. “Zack’s family is at the Grand Canyon, and the Cartwrights have company this week.” She reached for the phone. “Here, let me talk to her.”
Bernetta coughed. “Um, what?” she said into the receiver. “What’s that, Mrs. Norton?” Bernetta held her hand over the mouthpiece and turned to her mom. “She’s talking to her husband. I think she might be changing her mind.”
“Oh, good.”
A minute later, after listening to all the listings for A Long, Long Way to Jupiter, Bernetta hung up the phone and informed her parents that the Nortons had agreed to have Colin over for the day. She couldn’t think of anything else to say.
“Oh, good,” Colin said. “I want to play board games with Hank. Board games with lots of pieces.”
Bernetta didn’t even have the strength to muster up a sigh. Tomorrow was going to be one interesting day.
Early the next morning Bernetta sat on the floor of her room, tying her shoelaces and thinking. She’d been up thinking most of the night, actually. But so far she hadn’t come up with a way around her predicament. She’d promised Gabe that she’d meet him at the pier that morning, and she desperately wanted to go. She hated the thought of Gabe stuck out there all morning, waiting for her, wondering why she hadn’t shown up.
But then there was Colin. Her little brother might not be the brightest star in the cosmos, but he wasn’t a moron either, and when she failed to take him to Hank and Yolanda’s house, he was going to figure out that something was up. And then he was going to tell that something to their parents.
There was a knock on her bedroom door.