“You’re my best friend.”
“That’s not a secret. That’s a fact.”
“Okay … I think I helped someone who was really sad.”
“Who?”
“Noah Zullo.”
“That’s pretty cool, Calli. It really is. I mean it. What was he sad about?”
“That’s his secret.” I look down at the floor. “But I guess what I did … it’s not like being a star in an improv show, huh? Or shooting the winning basket, or getting first place in skating.”
“Forget about all that.” Wanda takes my hand. “You know what you did.”
“You’re right,” I say as we come out from under the booth. “It’s just hard.”
Tanya Timley is standing in front of us. Her face is red and there are blotches of mascara underneath her eyes. “No one is coming to my booth,” she sniffles.
“Oh, get over it, Tanya,” Wanda snaps.
Tanya huffs at Wanda and turns to me. “I don’t get it. Go under a sheet and tell a secret? What’s the big deal?”
“It’s fun!” Wanda says.
“Yeah,” I add. “You want to go under? There’s no line right now.”
“I don’t think so.” Tanya looks away. “I left Ashley alone.”
“Maybe later,” I offer.
Tanya’s lip trembles but then she swings her hair and stomps away, heels clicking noisily on the gym floor.
“ ‘No one is coming to my booth,’ ” Wanda says, imitating Tanya’s high voice.
“You’re the best, Wanda.” I watch a mom and dad duck under the sheet with their daughter, a second grader from Mrs. Bezner’s class. I let out a big sigh.
Wanda nods. “You have a right to be mad. It stinks, you know.”
“What does?”
“That your family isn’t here.”
“I guess.”
“There’s still time. Maybe they’ll show up. How long could a basketball game and a skating competition take?”
I shrug so it looks like I don’t care. “Let’s have some cookies,” I say, and the two of us go find Claire.
s Wanda, Claire, and I are sitting on the floor in the refreshment area, eating chocolate chip cookies and drinking fruit punch, the same feeling comes over me that I had when the three of us went sledding. I look around the gym, at all the booths and the people, wrapped in the snug, winter-warm glow surrounding us all. I found Noah, and my two best friends in the entire world are right by my side. Maybe that’s enough. I want to hang on to this moment forever.
“WC Squared,” I say, and reach my hand into the middle of Wanda, Claire, and me. They pile their hands on top of mine, and we say together, “WC Squared.”
“No matter what happens in junior high,” Claire says.
Wanda starts giggling, and I hear several loud burps behind me. Then I feel a light kick on my back and turn to see two enormous basketball shoes. When I look up, my heart soars, the same as when Noah laughs. My brother is towering above me, holding a bottle of grape Fanta, his favorite soda pop, and burping, as Grandma Gold would say, as if there is no tomorrow.
I leap up. “You’re here!”
“Cal, I wouldn’t miss this.” Alex is sweaty and covered with melting snow but I hug him anyway. He’s still wearing his basketball uniform. “I wanted to leave the game early, but Dad wouldn’t let me. Mom dropped me off. She was mad; there weren’t any parking spaces.” He takes a huge gulp from the bottle and burps again. Wanda bursts into a new fit of giggles.
A surge of happiness skips across my heart again. “Alex, I’m really glad you came.”
“So show me your booth already.” He grins.
I pull Alex over to the Secret Friendship Booth. On the way, I tell him about Noah and how he came up with the idea, the display board with our own sayings added in, and the pile of money we’ve collected. “We’re donating the money to the school library. Mrs. Lamont was going to count it a little while ago. I wonder how much there is.”
“Cal.” Alex looks over the booth, nods, then gives me a light punch on my arm. “Pretty good job here. Everyone seems to like it. You should feel really proud.”
“I do,” I say. And I whisper it again to myself. “I do.”
Just then, Mrs. Lamont and Mrs. Bezner, who are standing in the middle of the gym with a microphone, call for everyone’s attention.
“If we can have just a minute of your time …” Mrs. Lamont is saying. I realize that she is wearing real high-heel shoes tonight, and she has on sheer black tights instead of insect socks.
“We’re so glad that all of you are here tonight.” Mrs. Lamont’s voice echoes across the gym. “Thank you for braving the snowstorm to share this wonderful occasion with my fifth-grade class and Sherri Bezner’s second-grade class.”
A few people clap; then Mrs. Lamont continues. “When Mrs. Bezner and I first came up with the idea of a fair devoted to celebrating friendship, we weren’t sure how it would turn out. But I think you can agree that our students have worked very hard, and our Friendship Fair is an undeniable success!”
Now a lot of people clap, and some whistle.
“Every single exhibit tonight is special.” Mrs. Lamont gestures in a wide circle. “But there is one particular booth I do want to mention because of its simple, heartfelt message.”
Wanda sprints over to me and I feel all jittery inside. Is it possible that Mrs. Lamont is talking about Noah’s and my exhibit?
Mrs. Lamont opens her mouth to continue, but then the sound of a slamming door reverberates from outside the gym. Everyone hears when someone yells, “Well, it’s about time you got your shameful behinds down here. What’s wrong with the two of you, missing this important night? Don’t look at me like that, Larry! I’m still your mother and I can still lecture you if you need to be lectured.”
Of course I know that voice, and of course I know who Larry is. I’m filled with a jumble of embarrassment and shock and happiness as the gym doors burst open. I step behind Wanda, and when I peek over her shoulder, I see Mom, Dad, Becca, and Grandma Gold marching into the gym as if everyone was waiting for their arrival.
Everyone stares at them for a second and they stare back. The entire gym seems as frozen as the snow outside. Mom’s mouth hangs open in a small O. Dad has his hands on his hips. Becca is wearing her new skating costume and curly ponytail but her eyeliner is smudged and she looks like she’s been crying.
“Sorry to interrupt,” Mom says politely.
Mrs. Lamont clears her throat and nods at Mom. “As I was saying, one of our booths tonight has made us all—young and old—remember the very special feeling of sharing a secret with a friend.”
I can hardly breathe as Mrs. Lamont says, “Calli Gold and Noah Zullo? Can you both raise your hands?”
I’m at one end of the gym and Noah’s at the other, but we both slowly put our hands in the air while Mrs. Lamont goes on. “Calli and Noah’s booth not only portrays the beautiful meaning of friendship, but they raised twenty-seven dollars and fifty cents for our school library.”
People start clapping. I see Dad punch his fist into the air and hear him shout, “That’s my daughter! She’s a Gold!”
Mrs. Lamont waits until the clapping stops. “Please enjoy the rest of the fair tonight, and, again, thank you for coming. Oh, and drive safely!”
I’m still standing right in front of the Secret Friendship Booth with Alex and Wanda as Mom, Dad, Becca, and Grandma push their way toward me. Mom almost flattens someone with her purse as she barrels through the crowd. I touch Wanda’s arm. “Don’t leave.” She nods.
In another second, they’re all next to me, Mom and Dad crushing me with hugs and shouting in my ear. “The best exhibit in the whole place.” Dad beams. “There wasn’t a doubt in my mind!” He’s acting like himself again.
Mom dabs at her nose with a tissue. “We are so proud of you.” She glances at Becca. “Aren’t you proud of your sister?”
“Sure,” Becca sighs.
Mrs
. Lamont makes her way over to the booth.
“All this time,” Dad says, “we’ve been signing you up for all those extracurricular activities, sports and whatnot.” He smacks his forehead with the palm of his hand. “I should have known. Why didn’t I see it? You have a head for business.” He grins and pokes me with his elbow. “Just like your old man.” He winks at Mrs. Lamont.
He bends down, inspects the booth, and taps his knuckles on the tabletop. “I’m very impressed,” he says. “Terrific concept.”
“Thanks, Dad,” I say.
“Maybe you’ll start your own business one day,” he continues. “We can kick around some ideas. Lots of kids like you get going pretty young.”
“Dad … I’m not starting a business right now.” I knew he wouldn’t hear me, so I say it louder, as loud as any other Gold. “Dad, listen to me. I’m not starting a business. This is just a school project. I think it’s pretty good for what it is.”
“It’s not pretty good,” Mrs. Lamont pipes up. “It’s great.”
“Besides,” I say, “it wasn’t even my idea. It was Noah’s. He was the one who came up with the whole thing.”
Dad looks startled, taking in the fact that a Gold isn’t behind the idea. “It doesn’t matter who came up with the idea,” he says at last, “it’s what you do with it.”
I can feel Wanda’s breath on my cheek, she is so close to me. “What I want to do,” I say, “is have the memory of how everyone had so much fun tonight and how they shared secrets with each other. I think that’s enough.”
Mrs. Lamont is smiling at me. She turns to my parents. “I hope you know that you have a very special daughter here.”
Dad cries, “Of course we do!” Then he chuckles. “You know, we pride ourselves on achievement in the Gold family. We’ve been a little worried about Calli, I’ll admit, because she doesn’t seem to have found a passion like her brother and sister.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Alex shake his head.
“Oh, I think she has a passion,” Mrs. Lamont says, putting her arm around my shoulders. “You could call it compassion.” She looks down at me. “Do you know what that means, Calli?”
“Sort of.”
“Concern for others,” she says. “Putting their needs and feelings before your own. Understanding that sometimes, another person is more important than yourself.” She looks across the gym toward Noah, then turns back to Dad. “It’s not the kind of thing you can learn in a class. It’s just in here.” She taps her heart.
For a moment, we all stand there, quiet. Finally, Mrs. Lamont waves to Mrs. Bezner across the gym. “Excuse me now. It’s certainly been nice to visit with you.”
My eyes meet Dad’s but we don’t know quite what to say.
Grandma Gold breaks the silence. “Enough with the schmaltziness here, let’s get a picture.” She pulls her camera from her purse and motions me toward the booth. “Go stand in front.”
I take a few steps toward the booth, then stop. “I need Noah. Noah has to be in the picture too.”
He’s still across the gym, and his parents are walking on either side of him as if they think he’ll suddenly decide to run away again. I stride over.
“Can I get a picture with Noah?” I ask his parents. “In front of our booth?”
His mom is holding tightly to his hand. “I don’t know,” she says hesitantly.
“It’s fine,” Noah’s dad says. “Let him go over there.”
After a moment, she places Noah’s hand in mine carefully and gently, like she’s handing over something breakable.
“You okay?” I ask him as we’re walking toward the booth. His parents are a few steps behind us.
He shrugs.
“You look really good in the shirt.”
“I do?”
I nod and gesture to the booth. “Look,” I say. “Noah, look what you did.”
The two of us stand and watch people ducking into and out of the sheet.
“Uh-uh.” He shakes his head. “Look what we did.”
“Am I ever going to get this picture?” Grandma Gold calls.
I tug on Noah’s hand and we stand in front of the booth, him on one side of it, and me on the other. As Grandma snaps the picture, I think about the family photo on my dresser and Noah under the hockey-foosball table. I realize that neither one of us is hiding anymore.
At last, the night is winding down, and people are starting to leave. There’s no one in line at the booth. I turn to Mom and Dad. “Do you want to go in the Secret Friendship Booth with me?”
Wanda gives me a thumbs-up as I part the opening between the sheets and my parents and I duck under the table. We sit down cross-legged.
“It’s a little cramped in here,” Dad observes.
“Larry,” Mom scolds, then turns to me. “So what do we do?”
“We tell each other a secret,” I say. I draw in a deep breath. “I’ll go first.” My words tumble out in a rush. “I’m not sure I fit in with our family.”
“Oh, honey, that’s not true,” Mom says, leaning toward me, her eyes sad.
“I’m not like the rest of you. I don’t do anything special. And you’re disappointed in me. You said it that night … when I didn’t go to the improv class.”
Dad straightens his back and bumps his head on the table. “Ow.” He strokes a spot on the back of his head. “Calli, all I really wanted was for you to find something you love to do.”
Mom is nodding. “And after tonight, after what your teacher said about you, how could anyone say you’re not special?”
“I’m not, though,” I answer. “I’m just regular. And I think that’s okay.” I take another breath. “Do you?”
Mom creases her eyebrows together. “Yes,” she says. “Of course.” She looks at Dad.
He nods, then taps the underside of the table. “But I still think you—”
“Dad …”
“Okay, okay.”
“Here’s another thing,” I say. “Can we stop doing the dinnertime ABC game?”
He looks pained now. “You really don’t like it?”
“I really don’t like it.”
He sighs but doesn’t answer.
“I have a secret,” Mom whispers, and winks at me.
“Tell,” I say.
“I’ve signed up for piano lessons.”
“Oh, Mom!” I inch toward her and give her a hug. “That’s great!”
“What?” Dad exclaims. “Karen, how are you going to have time to learn to play the piano?”
“I’ll make time.”
I glance at Dad. “Do you have a secret?”
“Me?”
“Why not?”
“A secret … Well …” He turns to me and I’m surprised to see a sorrowful look in his eyes. “I have several. Maybe too many to reveal under this table. I’ve been doing a lot of thinking, and … you were right … about a lot of things. Marjorie, for starters … How do we know she’s not exactly who she wanted to be? You know something? None of us ever asked her.”
Mom nods.
“And Joel,” he says. “I wasted a lot of time trying to live up to my brother when I could have just been myself.”
Mom and I wait. Then she says, “Anything else?”
He ruffles my hair and shakes his head. “I disagreed with you that night when you said it, but you are like me. We’re more alike than I ever realized. I kept trying to push things on you, but you were always just fine the way you were.” He sighs. “In a way, Calli Gold, I think you’ve got it all over the rest of us.”
he snow has just about stopped and Grandma Gold insists on driving home. Dad helps her clear off her car. She settles herself inside and waves goodbye. “It’ll probably take me hours to get home. If you don’t hear from me by tomorrow, call the police!”
The five of us start walking through the snow. “We left the cars in the garage,” Dad tells me. “The lot was full, plus it was easier to walk through this stuff than drive.”
/> Alex’s cell phone rings and when he answers it, covering the phone with his hand, Mom says, “Who’s calling you now?”
Alex pulls the phone away from his mouth and grins. “My, uh, girlfriend.”
Dad stops and looks at Alex, who shrugs. “There’s more to life than basketball, Dad,” he says happily, and strides ahead of us.
Becca has barely said a word the entire night, and now Dad puts his arm around her. “I’m sorry,” he says.
“I’ll live,” she drawls.
“What happened?” I ask.
Becca turns to me. “I didn’t skate, okay? Not a huge deal.”
“You didn’t skate?”
“The coach put in the alternate,” Dad says.
“Which was fine with me,” Becca interrupts. “But then Dad had to go and yell at Coach Ruth, in front of everyone. Dad, you know, your screaming was worse than the fact that I didn’t skate.”
“What can I say?” Dad mumbles. “I got a little crazy when I didn’t see you out there on the ice. You’re good, Bec, you’re a part of the team.”
“Dad,” Becca says, stopping him. “It was the right decision to put in the alternate. Even though she’s new to the team, she’s … a better skater. The coach has basically been telling me that all season, but I didn’t have the guts to tell you.”
Dad looks crushed.
I remember that the alternate is Noah’s sister and I glance at Becca. For just one second, she catches my eye with a not-so-mean look.
Alex trots back to us and says, “What did I miss now?”
Mom shakes her head. “Oh,” she sighs. “Just some honesty.”
“You’ll work harder,” Dad says. “I’m sure you can earn your spot back.”
“You know,” Becca says, “to tell you the absolute truth, I’m not sure I want to.”
We all look at Dad standing there like his entire family has turned against him, snowflakes dotting his hair and his jacket.
“Larry?” Mom says softly.
He nods at Becca. “If that’s what you want,” he says. “It’s okay with me.”
As we start walking again, I don’t even mind that I’m not by myself and can’t do my usual thinking. There’s something different with my family. I can feel it.
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