by Niki Lenz
I wrinkled my nose. Cod liver oil and menthol did not sound like fun. And it also didn’t seem to be keeping Dad from his date.
Dad stared. “Are you truly sick? I mean, sick enough to cancel our plans?” Our plans? Sick enough to cancel on Rachel is what he meant. He was more worried about canceling his dinner with some stranger than he was about his sick child? How rude.
I had to consider my options. It didn’t seem like he would forget the whole date thing. So I was either stuck with Miss O’Connor, pretending to be sick, or I could wave the white flag.
I sighed. “I guess not. I’m probably just tired. Some takeout and movies will revive me.”
My history teacher grinned like a baby-kissing politician. “My, such a fast recovery. Have a great night, both of you.”
She smiled at my dad as she walked away, and he grinned after her.
“So I guess we should go home,” I muttered. “Maybe I’ll see if Bea wants to come over and keep me company.” Dad nodded and put his arm around me.
“Tell ya what. I’ll buy you this very dusty George Washington book, since you’re feeling bad. Deal?”
I shrugged but grabbed the book. “Deal.” I needed to study up on war strategies, apparently.
* * *
Bea arrived right on time hauling a stack of teen magazines and a giant bag of Skittles. She bounced into the living room and plopped on the couch where I was “resting.” Actually, I was pouting, but Dad didn’t seem to be catching on.
“Hayley Mills or Lindsay Lohan?” she asked, kicking her sneakers up on the coffee table.
“Huh?”
“I thought we wanted to watch The Parent Trap for prank-spiration while your dad is on his date?”
“Oh. Right. I don’t care—pick whatever you want.” I knew my mind wouldn’t be able to focus on anything other than my dad breaking up Team Gravy.
Dad sprinted downstairs wearing clean jeans and a button-down shirt. He had gel in his hair and he’d shaved, and it wasn’t even Sunday.
“Well, girls, I hope I can trust you to stay out of trouble. I’ll be home early. Like by ten. Everything in Springdale is closed by ten, isn’t it?”
The two of us are pretty much never out late on a Saturday night, so I had no answer for him.
“We’ll be fine, Pastor Davy,” Bea said.
“Have fun with the woman you hit on at the grocery store.” I crossed my arms over my chest.
“What?” Dad spurted.
“Oh, sorry. Did she hit on you first?”
Bea’s eyebrows shot up, and she watched us go back and forth like she was watching a tennis match. I was pretty sure she’d never witnessed me and my dad fight in the whole six years she’d been my friend.
“Nobody ‘hit on’ anybody, Grace. Geez, how do you even know that expression?”
I rolled my eyes.
“Will you two be all right here?” He stuck his chin out at me, daring me to tell him to stay home. I wanted to. I wanted to so very, very badly. There was no way Rachel-from-the-grocery-store could ever make us as happy as my mom had. My mind searched frantically for some stick of dynamite to throw at this situation, but I was coming up blank.
“Fine. Go on your ridiculous date. I hope you have a wonderful time and fly to Vegas to get married.”
“Grace…”
I buried my face in a pillow while Bea walked him to the door. Dad pulled a crisp twenty out of his wallet and handed it to Bea for the pizza delivery. It was just the inspiration I needed.
I hopped up and gave my dad a quick and furious hug. It took him a second or so, but then he squeezed me back hard. He was so distracted by my light-speed mood change he didn’t notice when I snuck his wallet out of his back pocket. He turned toward the door, and I tossed my prize on the couch before giving Dad one last wave.
And then he was gone, and my half of Team Gravy curdled.
“So I guess our plan was a dud?” Bea grabbed the remote from the table.
I smiled. “Operation: Stepmom Shake-Up is in full effect. Although somewhat delayed and not very well thought out.”
Bea scratched her head. “Huh?”
I snatched up the wallet I’d tossed on the couch and waved it at her.
“I snagged this. Guess dinner is on Rachel.” I chuckled at my own genius.
Bea shook her head as she ate a handful of purple and yellow Skittles. “That wasn’t on the list.”
I shrugged. “Sometimes you have to improvise.”
While we watched the clueless twins prank each other at camp, I told Bea about my failure to fake the flu in the bookstore.
Bea scratched Potus behind the ear. “But, you know, you could get a stepmom out of this whole thing. That could be kinda…nice.”
“Stepmoms are never nice. Take the Cinderella story, for example. Plus, me and Dad have worked overtime to stay afloat after the accident. We don’t need anyone messing up our system.”
Bea nodded in agreement and gave me a big hug. “I know what you mean. Family situations can be so…wobbly.”
I made a sound somewhere between a huff and a sigh. “Not your family.”
Bea fiddled with the edge of the blanket that was wrapped around her knees.
“What’s up?” I asked, losing all interest in the singing and dancing on the TV and studying Bea’s face.
“My family is about to change. Big-time. I have a cousin, Julian, who’s two. I’ve never actually met him because he and his mom live in California.”
I wasn’t sure where Bea was going with this, but I nodded to encourage her.
“I guess his mom got into some trouble. She’s going to jail for a really long time. And she gave up parental rights to Julian. Family Services called us because we’re his only other relatives, to see if we would consider adopting him.”
Whoa. She wasn’t kidding. That would be a huge change for sure.
“Well, what did your parents say?”
“They thought about it and asked me how I felt….”
“How do you feel?” I asked, leaning closer.
“Honestly? Not great! I begged for a sibling for the first ten years of my life, and now that I’m over it and happy to be an only child, they’re gonna adopt some screaming, pooping toddler. Plus, you know I’ll get stuck taking care of him all the time.”
I nodded. I couldn’t imagine having a younger sibling either.
“But in the end, they said they would always regret it if they didn’t step up and help the little guy in his time of need. He is family, after all.”
“So he’s coming to live with you? Like permanently?”
Bea nodded. “My only-child status expires next Friday.”
I tried to imagine my life getting overturned like Bea’s was about to be, and then a lump grew in my throat ’cause it was possible that it would. “I’m really sorry, Bea. I don’t know what to say. That is just…unreasonable.”
We hugged, and Bea sniffled a little bit, so I handed her a tissue.
“I can’t help thinking that maybe…I’m not enough? You know? Like, why can’t my parents just be happy with the one kid they have?”
I leaned over and put my head on her shoulder. “You are more than enough, Bea. Your parents are just trying to do the right thing.”
Her voice was so quiet I almost didn’t hear her say, “It doesn’t feel like that.”
I knew exactly what she meant.
Dad and I spent all Sunday afternoon squishing itchy pink insulation between the studs of the attic walls.
“Are we done yet?” I grumped, adjusting my goggles as we pushed another big roll of the stuff up through the floor hatch.
“Oh come on. It’s not so bad,” Dad said, but then he started to itch furiously at his armpit and we both laughed.
I collapse
d on the floor. “I want to get to the fun part. Power tools and paint.”
“One step at a time, Giblet. We had to get the electrical all up to code so the house didn’t go up in flames. And now we have to ensure that you don’t freeze to death up here.” His voice was muffled by the paper masks we had to wear to keep from breathing in the stuff.
“Minor details,” I said. I was definitely more of a big-picture kind of person, while Dad liked to check each individual element off his to-do list. I liked the planning and dreaming about how it would all look when we were done, and he liked carefully completing each step. I helped him not get bogged down with the details, and he helped me not to skip steps.
It felt good to be spending an afternoon with Dad, just the two of us, like usual. I studied his face in the slanting attic light. He had dark circles under his eyes, and he seemed more distracted than usual.
I finally got up the nerve to ask him. “So, how did your date go last night?”
He sighed, pulling down his mask and pushing up his goggles. “Terrible.” He rubbed his hand over his face and instantly realized he’d made an itchy mistake. He used the bottom of his shirt to try to undo it. “Would you believe I forgot my wallet?”
I avoided his eyes, suddenly very intent on holding up my rectangle of pink insulation.
“Oh wow. That’s terrible. That must have really killed the mood,” I said, trying to make my voice even.
“But honestly, the conversation wasn’t going too well before that. She didn’t even know which war Zachary Taylor fought in.”
I snorted. “You talked about old Rough and Ready, huh?”
“Well, I mean…briefly. I didn’t really know what to say. You know, it’s been a long time since I’ve been on a date.”
I let the sad note of that last sentence slide over me, like I was wearing armor. I couldn’t go feeling sorry for him now, or I’d quit my sabotage plans and Team Gravy would fall to pieces.
“So she wasn’t into history trivia? Shocker.”
“It wasn’t only that. It was a lot of things. I tried to picture her here, with us, watching documentaries or eating burnt Pop-Tarts, and I just…couldn’t. Plus she has a cat, and we are clearly dog people.” Potus lifted his head off his paws and blinked sleepily at us.
Dad’s face crumpled, and for a second, I felt terrible for stealing his wallet. I reached out and patted his arm, and a cloud of debris puffed off his flannel shirt, which made us both laugh, and then cough, and then laugh some more. The guilt melted away as tears of laughter, or maybe choking, ran down our faces. I would steal his wallet a million times if it meant he wouldn’t go out with any more boring women he met in the produce section. Maybe things didn’t have to change after all.
We worked in near silence for a few more minutes. Dad started humming a song from his favorite band, the Presidents. And that made me think of Teddy Roosevelt. And that made me remember the other thing I’d been working on.
“Hey, Dad,” I said, giving my insulation a last shove into place. “Did you know they re-create the World’s Fair in St. Louis every year? They have vendor booths and rides and stuff, and it’s in the same place they had it in 1904.”
“Huh. Cool. What made you look into that?” Dad laid his piece flat on the floor so he could cut it to the right length.
“Great-Granny’s journal. I think the building she stood in front of in the picture is the art museum. And it’s still there! Wouldn’t it be cool to get my picture in the very same spot?”
Dad looked up from his cutting and grinned. “Sounds like someone’s planning a road trip!”
Dad and I have a bucket list of historically significant places we want to visit. Some of the best destinations are Mount Rushmore, Abe Lincoln’s bronzed log cabin foundation, and the Upside-Down White House. There’s even a statue of a billiken in St. Louis that’s supposed to resemble President Taft (if he were part troll doll). We’re going to rub its belly for luck.
I helped Dad haul up two more bundles of insulation.
“I’ve also been studying the fashion of the turn of the century,” I said. “I need to get better at my sewing now that I’ll have all this awesome space to set up my machine and dress form and stuff.”
Dad nodded, and then his face lit up. “Hey, what do they call the guy who invented denim pants?”
“I have no idea,” I said.
“A jean-ius.”
“Good one, Dad.” I grinned and shook my head. “But what would you think about a three-piece suit? There’s a job at the World’s Fare Heritage Festival I think we’d be perfect for.”
He squinted. “Do they need me to baptize people in the fountain?”
“No. We could apply to be reenactors. They hire people to dress up like famous visitors from the original World’s Fair in 1904.”
“So I’d have to wear a suit, but I’d get paid.”
“Yup. Just like every weekend.”
“I’ll think about it.”
Which was as good as a yes.
I worried about Bea all week. She’d been quiet at school, but I’d tried to make her smile. I dropped a handful of purple and yellow Skittles into her hand whenever I got the chance. On Friday, Bea wasn’t at school, and I knew it was because little Julian had arrived.
Saturday afternoon was cold and cloudy, so I bundled up to walk across the street to her house. I wanted to check on her and see how everything was going. As soon as my front door closed, I spotted her, shivering on our front porch, hugging her knees.
“Bea! What’s wrong?” I asked, jogging over to where she sat and joining her on the steps. I put my arm around her shoulders and felt her trembling. My heart felt like it was being squeezed to bits.
“Everything.” She shook her head, her eyes rimmed with red.
Bea was more of a crier than me, so it wasn’t the first time I’d seen her sobbing, face dark like a thundercloud. But the fact that she was freezing on my front porch when she had a perfectly warm bedroom right across the street was new.
I had a sinking feeling why she might not want to go inside. “He’s here now, isn’t he?” I said, studying her face. “Tell me everything.”
“Well, my mom had to get him from California. All Dad talked about while she was gone was how excited he was about Julian.”
“That seems normal, though. You wouldn’t want him to be unexcited, right?”
Bea shrugged and sniffed. “And then once Mom got back…it was like everything changed. My whole life was just dumped on its head. Julian has both of my parents wrapped around his little finger.”
My nose was frozen and I couldn’t feel my backside anymore, but I wanted Bea to keep talking. Maybe it would make her feel better to tell someone who cared.
“It’s not how I thought it would be,” Bea sniffed.
“How’s that?” I asked.
“Well, I knew toddlers were a lot of work. And I was prepared to help. I read a book. I made lists. But what I didn’t realize was that once Julian arrived, my parents would completely forget I exist.” She smiled weakly. “Silly, huh?”
“But, Bea, I’m sure your parents appreciate your help,” I offered.
She shook her head. “No. Not really. Since the minute he got here, they’ve barely noticed I’m alive. The few things I’ve tried to do to help have been wrong. I made a bath too hot, and I forgot to cut the grapes in half. My parents have been so busy.” She gulped.
This was exactly what I knew would happen. Bea’s parents got caught up in the new situation and left her out completely. Just like my dad would do to me if he got a new girlfriend.
When Bea first started playing the guitar, she was, like, obsessed. She would play all day every day. When I would invite her to come over or go to a movie or go play in the park, she’d say, “I can’t right now. I have to practice.” It had been
rough for a while. I worried that I might lose my best friend to an instrument. But after a while the newness wore off, and Bea started showing up again—with gross calluses on her fingers, but still. I hoped this was like that. Maybe her parents were just obsessed with Julian because he was new. Maybe once they’d mastered the basics, they could find more time for Bea, just like she’d found her way back to me.
I tried to think of something to say to cheer my best friend up. “Things will probably settle down eventually. And then your parents will realize what a big help you’ve been.”
Bea’s voice took on a high, strained tone. “They don’t even know where I am right now! I just walked out the door and nobody even noticed or asked where I was going!”
Bea’s parents always know where she is. They’re kind of worriers and make her call if she goes anywhere besides school, church, or my house. It’s not that they don’t trust Bea, they say; it’s that they don’t trust the rest of the world.
One time we’d decided to go to a movie after church on a Sunday and Bea forgot to tell her mom. Halfway through the movie an usher with a flashlight and a very angry Mrs. Morrison interrupted the show. Bea was grounded for a week.
But on the whole, Bea’s house is always a soft place for us to land. Her parents are kind and loving. They play board games and make hot cocoa. They show up for Bea’s games and concerts and gymnastics competitions. Up until last night, Bea had been the center of their world.
I let out a breath that hung foggy in the cold air. “Well, I know where you are. You’re right here with me.” My head rested on her shoulder, and I gave her knee a squeeze. She sniffed again and leaned her head on me. We would lean on each other. And we wouldn’t forget each other or replace each other. No matter what.
* * *
Dad stuck his head outside a few minutes later and told us to get our frozen rear ends inside. Bea and I didn’t argue. My house felt warm and inviting after the shivery porch. Bea had finally stopped crying, and she reached for a cookie off the plate my dad put in front of her.