by Lin Oliver
“I have a question, I have a question,” they both said at once. Just like they promised, they had my back.
As I left, I heard Brooke asking, “So what’s the deal with King Tut dying when he was still a teenager? Did he do drugs or something?”
I slipped into the hall, looked around, and breathed a sigh of relief. It was empty. Quickly, I tiptoed to the open door of the teachers’ lounge. I stuck my head in. No one was there, so I darted inside and closed the door. It was half the size of a classroom, with a couple of couches, some orange plastic chairs, a computer on the desk, and a huge copy machine. At the far end of the room was a half-open door. I assumed it was the closet with the files.
I walked toward it quickly and went inside. Five metal file cabinets lined the wall. I picked one and counted three drawers down. The plastic blue label on the front said NEWHART. I slid the drawer open, hoping it wouldn’t make a noise. It was quiet, just a tiny rolling sound as the drawer glided along its tracks.
The drawer was jam-packed with folders hanging from a small rod. Each folder was neatly labeled with a plastic tab. They said things like Ancient Civilization Pop Quiz, Roman Empire Essay Questions, Greek Philosophers Unit Test. Then I saw it, halfway back in the drawer.
Egypt Unit Midterm.
My heart was beating so fast I thought it was going to fly out of my chest and take off for Mars.
I put my hand on the file and pried it open. Inside there were probably fifty copies of the test. It was a thick stack. Mr. Newhart would never notice one was missing. I reached my hand into the file and tugged on one of the stapled tests. Then I stopped.
In my mind, I saw the stern, angry face from my dream.
“What are you doing, Charlie?” she said. “You can’t do this. You don’t steal.”
Suddenly, that face was gone, and the smiling face blowing kisses popped up.
“But Lauren’s your best friend,” she said. “She even said so. She needs your help.”
I stood there in the closet, frozen in fear. The clock on the wall clicked as the minute hand moved forward. I had to decide quickly. It was dangerous to stay there any longer.
With a deep breath, I closed my eyes, plunged my hand into the file and pulled out a test. I didn’t even look at it. I didn’t want to see it. Shaking like a leaf, I stuffed the paper under my sweatshirt and slid the drawer closed. In two giant leaps, I was across the room and at the door. Checking to make sure the paper was securely hidden and tucked into my shorts, I opened the door and stepped out into the hall.
No one was there. I had done it.
I walked shakily to the water fountain, took a long drink, and even splashed some of the cool water on my sweating face. I don’t usually sweat. Sammie is the sweater.
Sammie. What would she think of me now? What would she say if she knew what I had done?
In a flash, it all became clear to me. I couldn’t go through with it. I had to return the test. It wasn’t me doing this. It wasn’t the Charlie Diamond I knew.
I turned to cross the hall, to go back into the teachers’ lounge. I was so crazed with guilt and fear that I didn’t see the figure coming toward me and smacked right into someone. I gasped.
“It’s okay, sweetie. It’s just me.”
It was Brooke, coming out of Mr. Newhart’s room, carrying her big designer purse with all the gold buckles hanging off it.
“What are you doing here?” I whispered.
“Bathroom pass,” she said. “I sort of implied that I had my period. It works every time.”
Before I could say anything, she reached out and touched my sweatshirt. The test paper crinkled underneath.
“Way to go,” she giggled. And in one swift movement, she grabbed the paper from me and stuffed it into her purse. “We’ll get this to Lauren. And don’t worry, you’ll get the credit for doing it.”
Then, without another word, she trotted off to the girls’ bathroom.
I stood in the hall trying to recover. It was done. Out of my hands now. There was nothing I could do. History had been written, and I couldn’t go back and rewrite it now.
Smoothing my hair and taking a deep breath, I headed back to Mr. Newhart’s class. Everything looked normal. The gardener was trimming the hedges just outside the door. The California flag was waving in the sea breeze. Students were sitting at their desks, taking notes, and writing down homework assignments. It was just another day at Beachside Middle School.
Everything was going to be all right.
Chapter 7
“We’re here, Cinderella!” Lauren called from the porch. “Your pumpkin coach awaits you.”
I spit the toothpaste into the bathroom sink and checked myself out in the mirror. I had put on a little mascara, and Lauren had loaned me her new pale- purple eye shadow. She said it would make my eyes look brighter blue than they already are. She was right. I was happy with the way I looked. My cheeks were still rosy from the tennis match, where Sammie and I played several great sets. Actually, Sammie played great—I was just okay. I was still shaky from the teachers’ lounge thing and my reflexes were way off, but Sammie covered for all my mistakes. Spencer came to see us, and after we won, he proclaimed us the “awesome twosome.”
I hurried out of the bathroom and found Lauren in the living room talking to Dad and GoGo. Ryan was shoving in a last-minute taco at the kitchen counter just in case he couldn’t get enough food at the game. Sammie was sprawled on the couch, eating a tangerine.
“Who are you playing tonight?” my dad was asking Lauren.
“Lincoln Middle School.”
“I bet they’re plenty intimidated after the way my girls whipped them today in the tennis match,” he bragged.
“One of your girls,” Ryan observed. “The other one seemed a little distracted. Right, Charles?”
“None of that on Sunday,” my dad said, giving me the big stink eye. “In tournament play, there’s no room for distraction.”
“Yeah, you’d better get your game face on,” Ryan warned, popping the last of the taco in his mouth and coming to join Lauren. She didn’t seem to mind that he had a few shreds of lettuce still hanging off his lower lip. If he were my date, I’d mind for sure.
“Well, tonight Charlie has her party face on,” GoGo said. “And she looks lovely.”
“Come on, you two.” Lauren grabbed my hand and headed for the door. I noticed she grabbed Ryan’s hand, too. “Spencer and his dad are waiting in the car.”
“Sammie, aren’t you going?” GoGo asked.
“Nope. I have plans.”
“She and I are watching some tennis videos,” my dad explained. “She’s got some work to do if she wants to improve her second serve.”
That seemed like a rotten evening, and I felt bad for Sammie. I thought at least she’d have something fun planned with Alicia or Sara.
“You can come with us, Sammie,” I offered. Okay, I’ll admit it. I didn’t sound very convincing. It was a halfhearted offer at best, and she knew it.
“Come on,” Ryan urged, with more enthusiasm than I had managed to muster. “Bring your tangerine. Bring two. Let’s make it a party.”
“There’s no time,” Lauren said, heading out the door and yanking us out after her. “We’ve really got to hurry. Next time you can go with us, Sammie. Promise.”
And just like that, we were in the driveway and climbing into Spencer’s dad’s car.
“Hey, Diamond kids. Great to see you,” Mr. Ballard said in his big, booming voice as he rolled down his driver’s side window. “One of you up front, the others in back.”
“My legs and I will take the front,” Ryan said. He’s tall for his age, which helps in volleyball but means he’s always squinched up like a pretzel when we’re in the backseat of the car. I could see that Lauren was disappointed about th
e seat arrangement. No doubt she was counting on cuddling up close to him in the backseat. But she was really nice and let me go in the middle next to Spencer. I confess, I was pretty happy at the idea of being squished up next to him.
As we drove to the school and Mr. Ballard rambled on about how he thinks sports are the answer to society’s problem with young people, I thought I felt Spencer’s arm drape around me and land on my shoulder. Was it intentional, or was it just too crowded in the backseat and he needed a place for his arm? I glanced over at him, and he raised his eyebrows at me in a playful little gesture. From that adorable move, I knew that it was intentional.
Sometimes, life is just that good.
The football game was even more fun than I had imagined. Because Ryan was with us, we sat with the eighth-graders and no one even teased us about being seventh-grade punks. During the first half, a few more of our group joined us—Brooke and the General, Sean and Jillian and a baseball player named Dan White, who, Lauren says, has a crush on me. He’s really nice and all, but let’s face it, he’s missing a dimple. My entire group seemed glad to be sitting with the eighth-graders, and I was happy that us Diamonds could bring them that kind of status.
At halftime, Lauren and I went to the bathroom. It was the first time we had been alone together all day.
“You are the best friend any girl could ever have,” she gushed the minute we got inside. “I know what you did for me today, Charlie, and I want you to know I’ll never forget it.”
Two girls were washing their hands in the sink near us, and I saw them look up. Naturally, they were curious about what I had done that was so unforgettable.
“Let’s talk about this another time,” I whispered to Lauren.
“Oh, right.” She nodded. The girls lost interest, dried their hands, and left. As soon as they were gone, she whispered to me again. “Listen, I was thinking, do you maybe want to come over and study for the history test with me tomorrow? I have something we can both share.”
She giggled. Suddenly, I felt so ashamed—even though no one was there to hear or see anything.
“Lauren,” I said. “I don’t want to see the test. I don’t want to know about it. I feel bad enough that I took it. So let’s just forget it and move on, okay?”
“I thought you wanted to get it for me. For us.”
“I did it for you, Lauren. Not for me.”
Before she could answer, a group of girls from Lincoln came in. They were all wearing their school colors, purple and white, and were talking excitedly about the game. When they saw me, they giggled.
“Hey, aren’t you that tennis player?” one of them said, looking at me in the mirror. “The one with the identical sister?”
“That’s me. We played at your school today.”
“Yeah, you guys rock. I’ve always wanted to know . . . do twins have the same thoughts and everything?”
I laughed. That question didn’t bother me because Sammie and I get it all the time. People have weird ideas about twins. Some people think we’re freaks, and other people get all supernatural about it. For us, it’s just who we are and have always been.
“We look alike,” I told her, “but we’re two very separate people.”
I thought about my answer as Lauren and I walked back to the field. Sometimes Sammie and I actually do have the same thoughts. We both love sushi and hate asparagus. We both cry at exactly the same places in sad movies. We both say gesundheit after anyone sneezes and jinx when two people say the same word at the same time. And we share pretty much the same beliefs about family and friends and stuff. At least we did up until today. I couldn’t stop wondering if Sammie would have done the same thing I did for one of her friends. I bet she would do anything for Alicia, too. Wouldn’t she?
Sammie was in my thoughts, too, when we went out for pizza after the game. Mr. Ballard ordered two large sausage and mushroom pizzas, which is the kind Sammie and I always share. After the first piece, I excused myself and went to the bathroom, closed the door to the last stall, and called her.
“Hey, party girl,” she answered.
“How’s your night, Sammie?”
“Couldn’t be better. Dad and I had a fascinating discussion about racket positions. Then we did some footwork drills. It’s a real party atmosphere here.”
“I wish you had come with us.”
“Thanks, but we both know I’m not the football type.”
I heard the bathroom door swish open.
“Charlie? You in here?” Lauren called.
“Be right out!” I hollered back. “Listen, I have to go,” I whispered into the phone.
“Okay. But you have to swear to me, Charlie. If you kiss that hot Spencer, you have to tell me everything, okay?”
Sammie and I had always promised each other that whoever got kissed first would describe every detail, no holding back. So far, neither of us had.
If you’re wondering if Spencer kissed me when he dropped me off back at the club after pizza, the answer is no. But he did say that he’d try to stop by the Sand and Surf Club on Sunday and catch some of the tournament. When I said, “Wow, you’re turning into a real tennis fan,” he whispered back, “And a Charlie fan, too.”
I don’t know if that was better than a kiss, but it was right up there.
All day Saturday, I alternated between studying for my midterm and practicing for the tournament. If it were up to my dad, he’d have us working out all day every day because our tennis is the most important thing to him. We just got our ranking in the Under-14 Doubles category, and his goal is for us to be in the top ten in the state. Then we’d be assured college scholarships. My mom is more into our academics, and when she left for cooking school, she made GoGo promise that she’d see to it that we kept up with our studies. So when I wasn’t on the court with Dad, GoGo quizzed me about Egypt.
“You know a lot about these guys,” I told her, slurping down a slice of the juicy honeydew melon she had carved up for us.
“The Egyptians had a fascinating culture,” she said. “I studied them when I was learning to make jewelry. Do you know they made some of the most beautiful golden body decorations ever?”
Then we googled Egyptian jewelry and looked at the rings and bracelets and even pure-gold masks they made. I liked it so much that after dinner, I spent the whole night reading about ancient Egypt.
When I was in our room reading, Sammie asked if Alicia could sleep over. My dad said no, just as I thought he would. It was one of his rules: No sleepovers the night before a tournament. We had to get our rest. So Sammie just had some lean protein (that’s my dad’s word for chicken breasts) for dinner, then hung around and watched TV. During one of my reading breaks, I tried calling Lauren to review our double date, but her mom said she had gone to the mall with Jillian and then was sleeping over. I was surprised that she was out all day. She said she was going to spend the day studying for history. I mean, even if you have the test, you still have to look up the answers and memorize them.
Our tournament was being held at the Sand and Surf Tennis Club, which is a couple of miles up Pacific Coast Highway from the Sporty Forty. It’s a deluxe, old-school place with a mahogany wood lounge and red leather chairs and a snack bar that serves iced Cokes in real glasses and the best sweet potato fries ever. Because they have ten tennis courts that are brand-new, it’s where the Tennis Association holds their big satellite tournaments.
The fog was just burning off when we arrived at the Sand and Surf Sunday morning at ten. Dad parked the car while Sammie and I went to register. Ryan was coming later. He was going to jog down the beach after volleyball practice and watch our afternoon match.
“Don’t want to miss out on those sweet potato fries,” he’d said as we left. “I’m ordering a double humongous basket.”
“Why don’t you ask them to throw the
m in a trough, and you can snort them down like a pig?” Sammie said.
“Excellent idea, Sam. I’ll stop at the hardware store and pick up a trough on my way over.”
You can’t insult Ryan. He has a comeback for everything.
When we registered, we found out that our first match was against Caroline Huang and Erin Knight from the Los Angeles Racquet Club. We had played them before, and they had beaten us, so we knew they were solid players. But we both felt that we had improved since then, and if we were really on our game, we could beat them this time. We weren’t scheduled to begin until eleven fifteen, so even after we warmed up, we still had a half hour to sit in the lounge and wait for our court time. I pulled out my phone and checked my texts. There was one from Lauren.
Bought you something in the mall last night. To say thanks to my new BFF.
“Thanks for what?” I heard Sammie’s voice say. I jumped so high I almost dropped my phone. I spun around in my chair, and there she was, hanging over my shoulder staring at my phone.
“Since when do you read my texts?” I snapped.
“Since when do you have secrets?” she snapped back.
“Sammie, we’re about to play a big match. We have to focus.”
“I am focused, Charlie. You’re the one who’s been all spacey the last couple of days. What’s going on, anyway? I can feel something’s not right.”
“Everything’s fine. I just have a lot on my mind.”
Sammie looked me in the eyes. I don’t know if it was one of those “twin moments” people talk about. Maybe it was. But she could tell I was lying.
“If something’s wrong or if you’re in some kind of trouble, you can always talk to me,” she said. “I love you, and I’m here for you.”
I felt my eyes well up with tears. She had no idea how much I wanted to tell her what was wrong. How my life was changing so fast. How confused I was about everything. How much I felt I was leaving her behind. How much I wanted to share everything with her, even borrowing the test, the thing I had done that I was most ashamed of.