Ring. Ring. Ring.
LESLIE: Don’t worry about putting them on a cool-looking plate. We’ll arrange them in the basket using special cookie sleeves. Robin’s mom is a florist. She has an eye for that stuff.
Ring. Ring. Ring.
LESLIE: Do your parents hate answering the door or something?
ME: They’re gone.
LESLIE: Wow. You’re lucky. My parents didn’t leave me home alone on weekends until this year. ME: It’s not like they do it all the time.
Ring. Ring. Ring.
LESLIE: I’m so torn right now. I totally have to go. But I think I should stay on the phone with you. Until you answer the door. Because what if it’s a psycho person?
ME: It’s probably just FedEx.
LESLIE: Not this late. Are you expecting anybody? Do you read the police crime log online? There’s been a ton of break-ins on the west side of town. Don’t you live on the west side? I probably shouldn’t be talking about those.
I took a deep breath and began walking toward the door. I didn’t even know the police kept a crime log. I mean, I rarely ever thought about crime. Unfortunately, I did live on the west side.
Ring. Ring. Ring.
LESLIE: So creepy! It’s like whoever is on the other side of that door is pathological. Because they won’t stop ringing your bell. Okay. Don’t freak out.
Leslie must have watched a ton of horror movies, because she was totally freaking out. She was starting to freak me out. I tried to look through the peephole, but I wasn’t quite tall enough.
LESLIE: Could it be your grandma?
ME: No. All my grandparents are dead.
LESLIE: That’s so tragic. Okay. Are you looking through the peephole yet?
ME: I can’t see anything that way. I have to look out the window.
LESLIE: Okay. Keep talking really loudly into the phone so they don’t think you’re alone.
That was a good idea. So I yelled.
ME: I am pretty tired from our kung fu class. What about you? Maybe we should feed the dogs and go to bed.
LESLIE: You are great at having fake conversations. What do you see?
As quietly as I could, I moved the curtain in the front window and tried to take a very quick peek.
ME: It looks like a girl.
But instead of an answer from Leslie, all I heard was silence. I kept reporting what I saw into the phone anyway. “She’s about my height. And she has a duffel bag.”
I stared at the girl outside my house. “She looks familiar. Wait. It might be my cousin. Angelina?” I said.
“Lane!” the voice cheered. “I thought I saw you peeking out the window. Open up! After two plane flights, I’m finally here!”
This didn’t make sense. Why was Angelina by herself? “Where are my parents?”
She shrugged. “They didn’t pick me up. I had to take a taxi.”
Since Leslie was completely nonresponsive, I ended the call and slid my phone in my pocket.
“They’re at the airport right now,” I explained.
“Oh,” Angelina said. “I arrived two hours ago. And just waited.”
I stared at my cousin underneath the yellow puddle of light made by our porch lamp. She didn’t look at all like I remembered her. She had long dark hair and bright pink lips, and her eyes were basically the greenest eyes I’d ever seen in my life. Greener than the eyes of Rachel’s Siamese cat, Petunia. There was no doubt about it, Angelina looked cute.
“Can you let me in?” Angelina asked. “I’ve had a long day.”
And since she was my cousin, I unlocked the dead bolt and opened the door. The first thing I noticed when she walked inside was her clothes. Her pants looked either stained or painted, and her shirt had a picture of a mean dog on it. Then I noticed that her mouth looked really small. Not to get all judge-y, but it was incredibly tiny. She probably had to visit a special dentist who had undersized hands.
Angelina set her duffel bag down and gave me a huge hug. “It is so great to see you!”
I did not return that compliment. I said, “We should probably call my parents.”
“I already tried,” Angelina said. “Your mom didn’t answer.”
That didn’t sound like my mom at all. She kept her phone’s volume turned up to the max, and she always picked up every call. Even telemarketers. So I pulled my phone back out and dialed her up.
ME: Mom—
MOM: I can’t talk right now. We can’t find Angelina. She took an earlier flight in her connecting city. They’ve lost her!
ME: She’s here.
MOM: What? How?
ME: She waited for two hours and then took a taxi.
MOM: Thank goodness! This is the best news I’ve heard all year. We’re on our way.
I was surprised to hear my mother say that it was the best news she’d heard all year. Because I’d told her a bunch of newsworthy stuff that I thought ranked much higher.
“Can I get you anything to eat?” I asked. “Are you hungry?”
Angelina shook her head. “I bought a shrimp dinner at the airport.”
That was an interesting choice. I would have bought pizza or ice cream. It wouldn’t even have occurred to me to buy a shrimp dinner.
“I think I’m ready for bed,” Angelina said.
“Um,” I said. “Maybe we should wait for my parents? They’ll probably want to say hi to you and stuff.”
Angelina sat down in the wingback chair I was writing my poem about.
“I feel eighty percent dead,” she said. “I wasn’t built to fly.”
The more I looked at her, the more I noticed her weird dog shirt. It was sort of frightening. Like maybe it had rabies.
“Do you want to watch TV?” I asked.
She shook her head. “I don’t really watch TV. Do you mind if I give myself a quick tour?”
“Um,” I said. It seemed weird to request to snoop around my house by herself. But before I could tell her a good reason to stay put, Leslie called me back. “I have to take this call,” I told Angelina.
“No problemo,” my cousin said cheerily, flashing me a thumbs-up sign.
“Did you hang up on me?” Leslie asked.
“I don’t think so,” I told her. I watched Angelina wandering through the living room, pausing in front of our framed family photos. “It was my cousin.”
“Lane, you totally should have told me you were expecting a cousin. You gave me a serious freak-out.”
“She’s unexpected,” I said. But then I worried that wasn’t the right thing to say. Because my mom wanted Angelina to appear very expected. And permanent at my school.
“Okay,” Leslie said. “I gotta jam or I’ll miss my movie. Don’t forget the vegan cookies. Hope your cousin isn’t a drag! Later.”
I had no idea that Leslie was so spastic. When I walked into the living room to talk to Angelina, she wasn’t there anymore. “Angelina?” I called.
“I’m checking out the kitchen,” she said.
I walked into kitchen, but she wasn’t there.
“Angelina?” I called.
“Now I’m in the garage!”
She sure seemed comfortable in my house. As I headed toward the garage, my phone buzzed and I saw that I had a message from Todd. It was so exciting.
Todd: Is your cousin there yet?
That was not a very exciting message.
Me: Yes. In my garage.
Angelina reentered the house and popped through the doorway to the kitchen. “Who are you texting?”
I shrugged. She didn’t need to know who I was texting.
“Do you want me to try to guess?” Angelina asked. Her face lit up with excitement and she sat down at the kitchen table.
But I didn’t want her to guess. I wanted her to stop being so nosy. “It’s just a friend,” I said.
My phone buzzed again. I loved seeing Todd’s name light up.
Todd: Can you send a picture?
Me: Of what?
Todd: Her!
Me: No.
Buzz! Buzz! Buzz!
Todd: I’m at Jagger’s. We want to see what she looks like.
“What are you and your friend texting about?” Angelina asked.
Were all people from Alaska this intrusive? Rather than lie or dodge everything, I decided it was easier to answer honestly. “My friend Todd wants me to send him a picture of you.”
“Ooh,” Angelina said. “Is your friend Todd cute?”
What? Was my cousin crazy?
“Um,” I said. “You are asking too many questions.”
“You’re right,” Angelina said, popping out of the chair. “Okay. My left is my good side. How should I pose?”
This was so weird. I couldn’t believe that I had to send my secret boyfriend a photo of my Alaskan cousin’s good side while she posed. But I didn’t see a better option. As soon as I had her focused in the frame I realized her dog shirt looked super creepy, and so I chose to take a close-up of just her face. Click!
“Okay,” Angelina said. “Now we should send him a picture of both of us.”
“That’s not really necessary,” I said. Because Todd already knew exactly what I looked like. I was pretty sure he thought I was cute and that was part of why he liked me.
“It’s totally necessary,” Angelina said, taking my phone and holding it at arm’s length from us. “We will never repeat this moment. It should be recorded.” Click.
“You need to count to three,” I said. “My eyes were closed.”
Angelina and I both looked at the picture. She had a great smile, and if you cropped out everything below the neck, she looked cute enough to be a model on the cover of a teen magazine. For some reason, in addition to having half-open eyes, I seemed to have discolored skin, as if I was green.
“The lamp muddied your light. Do you want to take another one?” Angelina asked.
I shook my head.
“Are you going to send your friend the first picture or the second one?” Angelina asked.
“The first one,” I said. There was no way I was sending Todd a picture of me looking sleepy, green, and ugly. And then, right as I was sending it, my parents came home.
“Unbelievable!” my mother said as she hurried in the front door. “How could they let you board an earlier flight and not notify me?”
Angelina shrugged. “They just did.”
“Luckily, all our complaining got us a free voucher for another ticket, so you can come visit us again,” my dad said.
“So cool!” Angelina said. Then she raced over and hugged him.
“Angelina,” he said as he returned her hug for, like, forty-seven seconds. “Forget the rocky start. We are so excited to have you as a guest. Make yourself at home. Mi casa es su casa. Right, Lane?”
I was surprised at this statement for several reasons. First, when did he become the kind of person who returned hugs for forty-seven seconds? Second, when did we as a family decide any of these things? And lastly, when did my dad start speaking Spanish? I’d never even heard him say adios or amigo. Mi casa es su casa? When my dad wanted to say crazy things in a foreign language he usually chose German. Bis bald! Danke! Mach’s gut.
“Yes,” my mother encouraged her. “He’s right. For the next month I have two daughters.” I watched as she sappily scooped a beaming Angelina into her arms.
My stomach flipped. Were my parents losing their minds? I understood that we needed to make Angelina comfortable. But I didn’t think we needed to convince her she was my sister. Not to be rude. But Angelina Mint Taravel didn’t exactly look like sister material. She was more like a special project. Maybe a broken doll you find in the street and you take it home and fix it up and then give it to somebody else. The doll gets a second life. And you feel really good about yourself for taking pity on a broken doll in the first place.
“You guys are the best,” Angelina said. And then she walked over and wrapped her arms around me and hugged me. And I hugged her back a little, but I also held back. Because in addition to having boundaries, I also wasn’t sappy.
“I’ve never had a sister!” Angelina said.
Hearing this made everything feel extra dreadful.
“Aren’t you going to say anything to Angelina?” my mom asked.
It felt as if she wanted me to declare that I considered Angelina my sister. No way. Not happening. So I said something else. I asked a practical question.
“Where are all your suitcases?” Because I didn’t see anything besides a duffel bag. Had she come with only a duffel bag? Didn’t she own cute clothes? Where were they? Not on her.
“I only brought what I need,” Angelina said.
All three of us stared at her bag. That contained everything she needed for a month?
“I’m sure if you forgot something, Lane can lend you whatever you need,” my mom said.
This was not ideal news.
“I am so tired,” Angelina said. “I think I’m ready for bed.”
“Of course!” my mother agreed. “Lane will show you to her room.”
Suddenly, I felt very burdened. Angelina Mint Taravel was my sole responsibility. Like an exchange student. Or a high-needs dog. She’d been deposited into my care, and now it was my job to look after her and show her EVERYTHING.
As I led Angelina down the hallway to my room, she began to whistle. And something about the pitch of that sound made the hair on my arms stand up. It was as if I knew on some level what was coming. As if I understood that my life was no longer going to be my life.
6
I sort of assumed that Angelina would just sleep in her dog shirt. I figured that she was traveling in stuff that was almost pajamas anyway. But that wasn’t what happened. As soon as we got to my room, Angelina asked if she could borrow a coat hanger. I gave her one right away, because I had a pile of about a dozen on my floor.
“Unpacking?” I asked. I was curious to see what clothes she’d brought from Alaska. But instead of opening up her bag, she took off her weird T-shirt and put it on the hanger. I was relieved to see that she was also wearing a bra.
“I’m wearing this to school the first day,” Angelina said, hoisting the shirt above us. “Do you think all the wrinkles will fall out by then?”
I gasped a little. She shouldn’t have been worried about whether the wrinkles would fall out over the weekend. First, she should have worried about whether it smelled. My mom used dryer sheets, so all our clothes smelled like baby powder, and we only wore our clothes once and then tossed them in the hamper. Didn’t Angelina’s family follow that rule too? Second, she should have been worried about how weird and ugly her shirt would look to people at my school. But as soon as I thought these things, I felt bad for judging Angelina. I mean, maybe it was a picture of her dog on the front. Maybe she was homesick and so she thought wearing his photo would improve her mood. I pointed to the awful-looking gray dog on the front. “Is he your dog?”
Angelina gave me a confused look and shook her head. “It’s a wolf.”
I glanced at her shirt again. She was right. That weird dog did look like a wolf. And there was also a giant full moon on it.
“Oh,” I said. “You don’t want to show up in your wolf shirt. Nobody in my school wears those.”
I thought Angelina’s smile would fall right off her face. But it didn’t. It stayed there. “Ooh. So I’d be the first?”
That was when I suspected that teaching Angelina how to act like a normal sixth grader and make friends at Rio Chama Middle School was going to be pretty difficult.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” I said. “People at my school wear plain T-shirts. I mean, sometimes they have stripes or a pocket on them. But not wild beasts.”
“Interesting,” Angelina said.
“I have plenty of shirts I can lend you,” I offered, even though I didn’t really want to lend her my clothes. I didn’t even lend them to my friends. We each had ou
r own style, so we didn’t really share.
Angelina kept staring at her wolf shirt like she was in love with it.
“I’m having some friends over tomorrow night for a sleepover,” I said. “We can have a fashion show. My friend Ava will bring over a ton of clothes for you to try on.”
“How many friends?” Angelina asked.
“Ava, Rachel, and Lucia,” I said.
“That’s cool,” Angelina said. “I love meeting new people.”
I looked at her duffel bag again. “Anything else you want to unpack?”
“Just three things,” she said.
I watched her unzip the bag. I was dying to see what was inside it. But she didn’t open it all the way. She just pulled out a tank top and a small notebook and a toothbrush.
“My pajama top and my diary and my toothbrush,” she explained.
Her pajama top looked almost normal. Except it had weird ink stains on it.
“I’ll be right back,” she said.
“You can’t leave my room wearing just a bra!” I said.
Angelina’s face look horrified. “I know that.”
She slid her inky pajama top over her head and ran out of my room. And then she returned.
“Where’s your bathroom?” she asked.
“Across the hallway,” I said. I followed her. “Don’t use the toothpaste in the blue tube. It’s got special foaming action for people with sensitive teeth.”
“It’s okay if Angelina wants to use my toothpaste,” my dad called.
I couldn’t believe he was eavesdropping on us.
“Use the plain white tube,” I said. “It tastes better. And it’s less expensive.”
“I have so much to learn,” Angelina said as she slammed the bathroom door.
Then, as if she was competing in the tooth-brushing Olympics, she swung the bathroom door open about five seconds later. “Finished!”
I didn’t bother to ask her if she’d flossed. We went back to my room and Angelina turned down the blanket on the left side of my queen bed. She’d taken off her bra in the bathroom, and she placed the carefully folded square of straps and cotton cups on the table beside my bed. I climbed into my spot and kept my night-light on so she wouldn’t stub her toe on anything if she had to get up.
Too Cool for This School Page 4