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To Night Owl From Dogfish

Page 15

by Holly Goldberg Sloan


  I’m guessing your dad doesn’t have a headache right now. But we do.

  2 MONTHS LATER

  * * *

  From: Bett Devlin

  To: A. Allenberry Bloom

  Subject: Dead center

  Dad + Javier are meeting in Oklahoma. It’s DEAD CENTER in the middle of the country. We have to hope they have a horrible time.

  I once thought you + me + our dads might live there someday as a family + we’d get tickets to the Oklahoma Thunder + hunt for dinosaur bones on the weekends. They have them there for real.

  * * *

  From: A. Allenberry Bloom

  To: Bett Devlin

  Subject: Re: Dead Center

  Oklahoma? I just looked and the state bird is a scissor-tailed flycatcher. The state flower is a rose. You could ask your dad to bring one back so you could try and press it, but on second thought we don’t want negative memories to be part of our collection.

  * * *

  From: Bett Devlin

  To: A. Allenberry Bloom

  Subject: Re: re: Dead center

  I didn’t ask for the Oklahoma rose. He brought back a little stuffed-animal buffalo. He told me Javier picked it out. I put it on my bed + about an hour later Junie ripped it to pieces. It didn’t have a squeaker inside, but I guess it looked like a dog toy. She really feels my deepest thoughts.

  I’d hoped the Oklahoma trip would be boring, but they loved it + went sightseeing, including to the National Cowboy & Western Heritage Museum (which had the gift shop where they got the buffalo) + they took all kinds of pictures, including one where you put your face in a hole + there’s a painted picture of a person’s body below it. It makes them look like they are 2 cowboys swinging lariats. They both look so happy.

  It’s a TOTAL NIGHTMARE.

  Now Javier’s flying out for just 2 nights in the middle of next week because that’s when he has a break from dancing + Dad is sending me to my friend Pippa’s house for a sleepover! A SCHOOL NIGHT SLEEPOVER?!?!!? That’s just plain wrong + maybe even against school rules. I could report him.

  Dad took a duffel bag yesterday from the hall closet + started packing my stuff. You would think he was a pile-packer, which he is NOT. The Javier visit is NOT UNTIL A WEEK FROM NOW! That’s how excited he is. He can’t wait to get me out of here.

  When Dad was in my closet he found one of the CIGI T-shirts. He said, “We’ll have to think about sending you to camp again this summer. Of course, CIGI will never let you in again, but there are lots of camps, so you can go someplace else.” I was caught off guard, but I said, “I’d like to go to camp again, if Avery goes, too.”

  He looked sort of in pain + he said, “You CANNOT go to the same camp as Avery. First of all, she lives in New York. You need to find a place in California. Second of all, it’s not a good idea.”

  What do you think? If we can’t get THEM back together, maybe at least WE can find a way to see each other.

  Do we both go to the same camp this summer + not tell them???

  * * *

  From: A. Allenberry Bloom

  To: Bett Devlin

  Subject: Camp

  I told Papa, in a super-casual voice, that I was looking forward to camp this summer. I didn’t say a word about going with you. I let him know that I’d like to pick the place myself, since he set up everything last year with CIGI, and doing research is my favorite way to relax.

  But then later, when we were in the kitchen, he said, “You wouldn’t be thinking of going to camp with Bett Devlin—right? That wouldn’t be a great idea.”

  Sometimes he’s like a mind reader. I’m lucky that it’s not very often.

  I just stared at him and said, “Bett and I aren’t friends.”

  He looked totally relieved, and he smiled as if a bag of rocks had been lifted off his back. But then I added, “We’re more like sisters.”

  * * *

  From: Bett Devlin

  To: A. Allenberry Bloom

  Subject: Re: Camp

  Dad says that he’s not sure now about camp because we’ve got a lot of expenses this year. These are all Javier’s fault, but he didn’t say that. I’m going to ask Gaga. She’ll know what to do.

  You + I agreed to tell the other person every little thing that happens, so here’s something: Javier sent my dad a honey-baked ham yesterday! Who sends someone a ham? It’s not even Easter yet + we’re not near another ham holiday.

  You don’t eat meat, so you would REALLY NOT like this present.

  Okay, the ham tasted pretty amazing. But still. Dad’s at the market right now getting stuff to make split pea soup. He’s never made split pea soup before. He’s so out of control.

  * * *

  My darling baby girl, Betty II,

  I’m sitting down in the doorman’s little room in the lobby of the building on West 88th writing this. It’s my day off. Since I can’t pull weeds in my garden (which must have nothing BUT weeds in it now) I made walnut butterballs from my special recipe, and I’m sharing them with Dinos and Mateo (he’s the FedEx man). He wears shorts no matter what the weather, and I like that about him.

  I can only eat the walnut butterballs when I’m not working, because I feel allergic after a few of them and my tongue gets all thick! I’d be slurring my words onstage!

  So the play’s run got extended, did you hear? Those reviews really helped, especially that nice Jesse Green in the New York Times, who said I was “both old and young, and definitely an original.”

  I get stopped sometimes on the street now and people want to take a photo! I don’t mind posing with folks. Why not? They get a little thrill, and so do I.

  I saw Javier last week. I thought we were going to get to know each other (Hey, I speak Spanish, too), but instead, he was out on that little balcony for the longest time talking to your daddy on the phone.

  I know you & Avery both want your dads to get back together but honey, I think you’re going to have to let that go. It doesn’t mean you girls can’t be close.

  Bett, I can explain life to you, but I can’t understand it for you. We’ve all got to get to that place ourselves. But I’ve got some extra money and I want to put it to good use. So here’s what I’ve decided:

  I’m going to pay for you to go to summer camp. Pick any place you want.

  Follow your heart, darling. That’s what I was writing to say. If you & Avery want to go to the same camp, that’s fine by me. I’m not telling, and I mean that. I’m not great at keeping secrets, but you’ve got my word.

  Love you forever,

  Your Gaga

  * * *

  From: Bett Devlin

  To: Betty Devlin

  Subject: You’re amazing, Gaga!

  Thank you so much! I’m so so SO HAPPY!

  I know camp costs a lot + even more if I leave the state. I told Dad about your offer to pay for it + he put his fist up into the air + pumped it + shouted: “YES!”

  Anyone watching would have thought that HE was going to camp. I hope he’s happy for me, not that he’s just EXCITED TO GET ME OUT OF HERE for the summer.

  I’m going to find a really good place. You + I won’t be together like last summer, but you will be there with me on the inside (people always say “in spirit” but I think that’s awkward to say to someone who’s old because it sounds like they died + are now a ghost).

  You’re not OLD-OLD. I mean you’re OLD, but not REALLY OLD. Plus you’re in a Broadway play! That’s the youngest thing ever.

  Thanks again, Gaga.

  Love you, which I already did before you agreed to pay for camp. I’m not going to write that I love you MORE now, because loving someone should never be connected to money or what they can do for you. That’s a bad attitude.

  Little Betty Devlin

  * * *

  From: A. Allenberry B
loom

  To: Bett Devlin

  Subject: Picking a camp

  I sort of wish we could go back to CIGI, but we are banned for life, even though we were the victims of Camp Director Daniel’s harsh judgment, which ended up being the greatest thing ever.

  I’m making a spreadsheet of possible places for us to go. It’s got categories that include the following:

  Activities

  Location

  Size

  Special focus

  And whether they have a Parents’ Weekend—we definitely don’t want that!

  * * *

  From: Bett Devlin

  To: A. Allenberry Bloom

  Subject: Re: Picking a camp

  Could you add in a category for caring for animals with hooves?

  * * *

  From: A. Allenberry Bloom

  To: Bett Devlin

  Subject: Re: re: Picking a camp

  I just put in one for animals. I don’t think we need to be specific about hooves. Kristina says I should go to a place with no rules. Are there summer camps with no rules? She also said it should be a place in the mountains, where you can yodel, or at least learn a new voice approach.

  She sometimes has an unrealistic view of the world.

  * * *

  From: Marlow Devlin

  To: Betty Devlin

  Subject: Camp for Bett

  Bett told me that you’re paying her summer camp bill! I can’t tell you how grateful I am. Last summer she talked about burning down the house if I sent her away. It’s just great that she’ll be able to have another chance at a camp experience. You’ve come to the rescue, Mom. Not just for Bett, but for both of us.

  Javier and I are trying to take things slowly, but an opportunity came up. I’m going to come to NYC for the summer. Bett will be in camp (now I’m thinking the East Coast would be best), and Javier and I can see what it’s like to be in the same city. I think I told you I just built a big fountain down in Riverside. The same company asked if I’d oversee a project for them in Brooklyn. It should take three to six months, and I’ve said I can do the first three. Dee is going to run the office and take care of the dogs. Thank God I didn’t let Bett talk me into the miniature goats.

  So I’ll be getting paid. I’ll be with Javier. And near you, of course. Who knows, maybe Sam and I can even figure out how to be friends. Or at least friendly. That’s the report from here. But this is all just a big THANK YOU.

  Love you, Ma.

  Doug aka Marlow, but to you, always Doug

  * * *

  From: A. Allenberry Bloom

  To: Bett Devlin

  Subject: I’ve found the place!

  Dogfish—

  We talked about the farm camps (too many hooves for me) and the bike camps (we don’t want to pound the pavement for miles, and that’s too much exercise and sun exposure and also unsafe). Papa would probably pick a language-immersion camp, where they don’t give you your cereal in the morning unless you conjugate a verb. Kristina’s been pushing for the nonexistent, no-rules, arts-are-everything camp.

  But here’s what I think. If you study the spreadsheet I’ve attached, you’ll see that the best match right now is a place called Camp Far View Tarn. It’s for Girls Ages 7–15, in Bannister, Maine. It’s basically the most traditional camp in the universe and it’s been around forever.

  The cabins look rustic. Everyone wears these green shirts and shorts. And the activities haven’t changed in seventy-five years and they’re proud of that. I find this attitude interesting, but it would also help our plan. They say there’s no Wi-Fi. At first that sounded risky. But now I’m thinking that this means no pictures posted of us doing activities. Which means that we will be in no danger of our dads finding out we are together. There’s so much to think about, living in a cyber world.

  Hayley Bellinger went to a camp last summer where her parents could sit at home in front of their computers all day and watch the camp dining room and the boathouse in real time. Whenever they saw Hayley walking by the camera, they started screaming and jumping up and down and shouting her name as if she could hear them. Hayley’s little brother, Owen, told Hayley that it was like she was a celebrity on a red carpet. That’s so embarrassing.

  If we pick Far View Tarn we will be in our own little cocoon away from the world, which is so filled with breaking news that it makes people (me) anxious.

  What do you think? A very traditional summer camp could be right for us. After all, everyone tells us we don’t live in “traditional” households even though my papa is about as conventional as they come. A lot of people don’t realize a dad is a dad is a dad.

  Should we give Far View Tarn a try?

  * * *

  From: Bett Devlin

  To: A. Allenberry Bloom

  Subject: Re: I’ve found the place!

  I trust you, Avery. As long as you know they have horses + hiking trails I say yes.

  I’ll tell Dad (+ also Gaga) the news tonight. My dad is so distracted now with Javier + going East for the summer that he will probably just nod + say, “Let your Gaga know. She’s sending the check.”

  I talked to Gaga about my dad + your dad + how sad we were that it didn’t work out. She said I had to accept that my dad has someone new in his life + that kids can’t make their parents do anything when it comes to “matters of the heart.”

  But what if Dad’s relationship with Javier means I’ll have to move to Cuba? At least I speak Spanish. I asked my dad + he said, “Oh, no, Javier would NEVER move back to Cuba, he’s an exile.”

  So am I, now that they’re playing online chess every night + talking for hours. But at least Far View Tarn means you + I will be together ALL SUMMER LONG.

  B

  2 MONTHS LATER

  * * *

  From: Bett Devlin

  To: A. Allenberry Bloom

  Subject: ON MY WAY

  I am at the airport + I have a plastic badge around my neck that says Unaccompanied Minor. It’s so limiting. There’s a woman who’s traveling with a service dog (named Tommy) + I already went to the counter + said I’d sit by Tommy if that would help out. Some people don’t like to be next to animals while flying. I don’t understand that.

  Dad got me here early. It’s the NEW DAD. He’s now on time + he’s growing his hair into a MAN BUN just like Javier. I like his hair short, but I told him it looked GREAT because he needs my support.

  New T-shirt idea: LOVE MEANS NOTHING IN TENNIS. SO DOES HALF THE STUFF I SAY.

  * * *

  From: A. Allenberry Bloom

  To: Bett Devlin

  Subject: Re: ON MY WAY

  I’m typing this on the bus. It actually wasn’t that hard to get Papa to let me ride up to Maine by myself. Kristina kept saying that if Papa drove me, she would insist on joining us. So that helped.

  Whenever I think of all the lies I’ve been telling about the summer, I feel guilty. But maybe it’s not actual lying. It might be only giving partial information. The planning that goes into hiding something is extreme. Most criminals must be hard workers.

  Pretty much all of the girls on this bus already know one another, because they’ve been “Tarnies” since they were seven years old. So no one sat next to me when we got on. They are now all jammed together in the back, which is unsafe because it unbalances the bus. They must have a lot of catching up to do.

  It made me feel bad at first. Like I was a little kid and no one picked me for a dodgeball team. (Okay, obviously that’s happened to me before. But there’s nothing worse than dodgeball, so it wasn’t tragic.)

  I guess even at thirteen you’re not too old to feel left out. But probably that’s true at any age. Even when we’re really old and in a nursing home there will probably be cliques.

  * * *

  Dear Parents,

&nb
sp; I’m writing to let you know that all our campers have arrived safely and settled in well. Just a reminder that Far View Tarn believes our girls need to take a break from screens and give themselves over to nature, friendship, and character growth. The only communications you will receive from your daughters will be in handwritten form. Each girl is required to send at least two letters a week. We hope they send more! We provide stationery, and we check to make sure the envelopes are properly addressed and stamped.

  I urge you to write back promptly to your girls, as they so look forward to receiving mail. But please, no care packages, and no photographs (including pets) that might make the campers homesick. We want to keep everyone focused on the Far View Tarn experience.

  You have sent us your daughters, and we will return them to you at the end of the summer as fully formed “Tarnies.”

  Sincerely,

  (Mrs.) Chessie Leonard, Camp Director

  * * *

  Dear Kristina & Papa (alphabetical order),

  I’m writing you one letter. Papa, will you please scan it and email it to Kristina right away?

  I made a big mistake coming here. I can live with the fact that my cabin has no electricity, and I can live with the very limited food options (which are not great for a vegetarian). But there’s one thing I cannot live with.

  The Tarn.

  Do either of you even know what a “tarn” is? It’s the word for “lake” in Scottish. The whole camp is focused on this huge body of water that’s twenty or thirty miles across. And it’s required that every camper row in a two-person canoe to the other side (which you can barely see) on the last week of camp. There are no exceptions.

 

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