Let's Pretend We Never Met

by Melissa Walker

  “It’s okay,” she says, going into her robot voice again. “Mom and I have been here together. Nothing is different. Dad likes Boston, and now I have two places to be.”

  I think the robot voice means that Agnes is repeating what she’s been told, and that’s okay. It helps her, just like the smiling-to-make-yourself-happy trick Maeve taught me for when I’m nervous.

  Now it’s Saturday on the last weekend of spring break, and Agnes and I are painting big blue polka dots on the wall behind my bed. Mama helped us move the mattress, desk, and dresser to the center of the room, and Agnes brought over a drop cloth for the floor. Turns out her leftover blue, called Peacock, goes really well with my golden Wonderstruck walls.

  “These can be like thought bubbles or dream clouds,” says Agnes, and that’s just how I was thinking about them. Like my own curiosity rising up above my sleeping head onto the wall. Maybe the bubbles will even carry away my worries—some of them are fading already, like the ones about Mama and Daddy fighting, and the one about Agnes.

  “So I have something to tell you about Maeve,” I say. I haven’t wanted to talk to anyone about my grandmother moving, really. I think part of me is pretending it won’t happen. But somehow I’m ready to tell Agnes.

  “What?” asks Agnes, and she stops painting, like she’s nervous.

  When I say it, I can see her lip tremble. Agnes knows it means that the house, the place where all the treasures are and where Maeve has lived for more years than I can even imagine, will be gone forever.

  “That’s sad, Mattie,” she says.

  “I know.” Somehow, even just telling Agnes makes it feel better. She’s sharing the sad part with me now.

  Suddenly, though, Agnes brightens. “Don’t worry. We’ll make sure Maeve’s treasures don’t disappear.”

  “How?”

  “I have an idea,” says Agnes. But she doesn’t tell me what it is. She changes the subject.

  “Has Shari seen your room?” she asks, and I get a nervous tickle inside.

  “No. She hasn’t been here.”

  “Maybe we should invite her over,” says Agnes.

  I get quiet. This week has been really fun. Agnes and I wrote messages to each other with her invisible ink set, pretending we were detectives solving a murder case. We followed footprints we discovered outside in the gardens to find out who’d been walking on the grounds where they shouldn’t, and we tracked them to . . . Sam, the grounds guy who handles the window boxes on the first floor. We also decorated Agnes’s door with shiny wrapping paper cut into Easter eggs, baked brownies in the shapes of animals, and blew giant bubbles out her living room windows into the courtyard below, which made people look up at us like we were magicians.

  I keep painting, filling in the blue circle on my wall until it gets darker and darker. Even though I want Agnes and Shari to be friends, I’m not ready to attempt it, like, today.

  “I think Shari’s still on vacation,” I finally say.

  “Oh,” says Agnes. Then she pauses and holds up her paintbrush. “But one day let’s show her what we do.”

  I smile and nod. “Okay,” I say. And I mean it. I will try. But I can’t help wondering if Agnes and school friends will ever work.

  I realize that Easter at Maeve’s may be the last holiday we have in her old house. But when I get there and rush into her Shalimar-scented hug, I remember that it’s not the house that’s the treasure—it’s my grandmother.

  Elodie and Aunt Cindy and Uncle Jay drove in for the holiday weekend; they’ve been staying at Maeve’s, so it’s a full house, and Agnes is here with her mom too. We invited them to come with us, since an Easter table set for two didn’t seem festive enough.

  My cousin greets Agnes and me coolly at first—she’s like that—but when Agnes finishes the scavenger hunt Maeve set up for our Easter baskets in under twenty minutes, Elodie gives her a look of respect.

  “She’s a clue genius,” Elodie whispers to me, and all I can do is nod in agreement.

  When we sit down at the table, Maeve pats the chair next to her. “For Lightning Bug,” she says, and I have a feeling . . .

  Yup! Immediately Agnes picks up her knife to see if it rattles—and it does. My grandmother may be forgetting stuff, but not the important things.

  We eat ham and creamed spinach and green beans and sweet potatoes with marshmallow fluff before we’re allowed to tear into our Easter basket candy. Maeve got a special basket for Agnes, and it has another one of the marble eggs in it—a purple one. Agnes holds it up to the light like it’s the most beautiful thing she’s ever seen. “Are you sure?” she asks Maeve.

  “Those eggs are heavy,” says Maeve with a wink. “I’ve got too many of them to carry in the move. Do me a favor and lighten the load.”

  Agnes smiles at Maeve, and I see Elodie watching them too.

  Later, Agnes gets out an orange pen and her spiral-bound notebook and walks very slowly around Maeve’s house. When she starts up the stairs, I open my mouth to ask her what she’s doing, but before any sound even comes out, she turns and says, “Treasure list.” I know just what she means, so I let her go.

  When Aunt Cindy and Uncle Jay pack up their car to head back to Vermont, I give Elodie a hug good-bye and she whispers to me, “Your friend is cool.”

  I know she doesn’t mean it in the regular way, like the kind of cool you’d call a popular girl. Elodie means it in an even better way. She means core cool, like underneath it all. And my cousin noticing that makes me feel a little better about facing school tomorrow with Agnes. Which is good, because I know that this part of my plan is going to be the hardest.

  Chapter 27

  I knock on Agnes’s door at 8:10 a.m., just like I said I would, and we take the elevator down to the lobby. She’s carrying a big sculpture she made of Billie the bird, and it’s covered in bubble wrap. We wave to Doorman Will and push open the double doors with our backs at the same time, stepping into the yellow April morning.

  I don’t hesitate when I see Marisa’s lip turn up at the sight of us. I don’t meet her ice-blue eyes, even though I can feel her staring. I think about how she’s probably still sad about her parents splitting up, how maybe she had a hard morning. And although I can’t quite bring myself to smile at her, I don’t let her stare get to me.

  “Hi, Finn! Is that for me?” Marisa’s voice is bright and loud behind us, and I resist the urge to turn and look at them to see what she’s talking about. Maybe he brought her a present from his trip to North Carolina, which might make me upset later but not right now. My face is relaxed. I’m standing with Agnes.

  “No, it’s for someone else,” he says.

  Agnes and I both spin to face him.

  “Hi, Finn,” Agnes says first.

  He looks surprised, but he smiles at her.

  “Hi,” he says.

  Then he turns to me, holding out a small, wrapped box. “This is for you, Tar Heel.”

  I reach out and open it before I can tremble, but I feel the tremble coming. And when I lift up the box top and see a tiny little gold necklace in the shape of my old home state, I almost feel like crying in the good way.

  “What’s this for?” I ask him.

  “We visited my uncle over break,” says Finn. “I spent a lot of time at the mall.”

  I raise my eyebrows. That still doesn’t really explain it.

  “It made me think of you,” he says, reaching out to lift it from the box. “Want to wear it?”

  I nod, glad to have a reason to turn my back to him as my face turns red. He opens up the clasp, and I pull my hair around to one side as he reaches around my neck to fasten the chain in the back. I let out a quiet sigh before I steady myself and face him again.

  “Thank you,” I say.

  “Treasure,” whispers Agnes. She’s standing close to us.

  “What?” asks Finn.

  “She just means it’s really cool,” I say, and Agnes nods up and down, up and down really fast.

 
; Finn smiles. “I’m glad you both like it.”

  When we get on the bus, Agnes and I sit together in a seat behind Finn. Marisa slides in next to him, but he turns to talk to us the whole time. She faces forward, and I can sense anger vibrating off her. I almost feel bad about it.

  The bus ride gives me more confidence. Agnes and Finn are talking, sort of. At least through me. He asks about the bubble wrap, and Agnes tells him it’s a sculpture of the baby bird. “Want to help us set it up in Mr. Perl’s room?” I ask him, and he nods. Agnes raises her hand in a stop motion, and for a second I get nervous—what if she screams or shouts that it’s not okay?—but then she says, “Finn can carry Billie. She’s heavy!” and we all break up laughing.

  By the time the morning is starting and everyone is filing into class, Agnes has talked more to Finn than I have. They both know a lot about the How to Train Your Dragon movies, so they’ve been reciting lines by heart while I stay out of it. “I’ve seen those, like, twice!” I say when they sniff at my lack of knowledge.

  I’m starting to feel comfortable, sort of, but when Shari walks into the room, I can see the question on her face, even though she doesn’t ask it: Why are you guys with her?

  “Mattie!” She rushes up to hug me and she’s all hand gestures and hair—her long braids are back and she has “a million stories” about the Bahamas. “You would not believe how blue the water is—it’s almost green,” she says. “And I got to touch a dolphin, which felt like rubber, and there were six waterslides and one was really really tall but I went down it anyway and it never rained and the ocean felt like a bath and my dad even let me pull the handle on a slot machine and I won forty-two dollars!”

  “It sounds amazing!” I say, and then I see that Agnes is standing really close to us. Shari gives her a curious look, and when she asks how my break was, I turn to include Agnes. “It was great! Agnes and I painted my room in this really cool way that you’d love. Plus, we baked delicious brownies and made up detective games and did a bunch of art projects.” I’m talking so fast that I’m not giving myself time to see how Shari’s responding, but I can tell that Agnes is smiling a mile wide and nodding along with what I’m saying and I feel like I’m finally being wonderful, or at least better.

  When I pause for a breath, Agnes herself jumps in. “Shari, you should come hang out with us at Butler Towers. There are doormen and an elevator, and we could even go up to the roof maybe to see the whole town. I bet we could see your house from there.”

  And I almost want to side-hug her for trying.

  But Shari crinkles up her face like she’s not sure what to say, like she doesn’t understand why we’re talking to Agnes. Why she’s talking to Agnes.

  Then Mr. Perl asks us all to take our seats, and my heart is pounding hard because I don’t know if this is working.

  The morning lesson starts, and Shari and I don’t get to talk more. When the bell rings for lunch, we usually walk out together to meet Robin and Emily. Today, I wait for Agnes.

  “Want to sit with us?” I ask.

  “Yes!” She does the nodding-up-and-down thing again.

  Shari doesn’t say anything, but that means she doesn’t say no.

  At the table, Emily and Robin give Shari a questioning look when Agnes puts down her tray, and I see Shari shrug.

  Agnes digs in, eating fast and furious.

  Everyone is really quiet.

  Agnes vacuums up her food in about two minutes, and then she says, “I need to go talk to Mr. Perl about something.”

  “Okay, see you later,” I say, and she bolts from the table.

  My stomach tightens. I wanted this to be easier for me. For Agnes. It was brave of her to sit with us for the first time, and I didn’t help her fit in.

  “What’s the deal?” asks Robin, and when I look at her face, it doesn’t quite look mad, just confused.

  “Yeah,” says Emily. “She is super weird.”

  “I know. . . .” I’m not sure what to say. I didn’t practice for this part. But I remember how Maeve said that kindness creates confidence. And so I’m thinking of all the things I like about Agnes, and I’m about to speak up, but then I hear Shari.

  “I think . . . ,” she starts. “I think Mattie is friends with Agnes. Maybe she has been for a while?”

  She looks at me, like she’s waiting for me to confirm that. And there’s a moment where it seems like I’m walking on a fence, and if I deny this, I’ll fall back into my friendships with these girls, who welcomed me as the new kid this year. But if I jump the other way, if I say that yes, I am friends with Agnes, I’m not sure where I’ll land. And I may land alone.

  I open my mouth to speak—I know what I need to do—when Marisa breezes by our table. “Finally eating with your best friend?”

  She’s staring right at me and her face looks mean, as usual, but I notice something else too. She looks pathetic. Like she has nothing better to do at lunch than walk by and start something with me. It’s sad.

  “Yeah,” I say. “Agnes is my friend. We spend a lot of time together, actually.”

  Marisa smiles smugly as she looks at Robin, Emily, and Shari with triumphant eyes.

  But they’re not looking at her. They’re looking at me. Waiting.

  “Agnes is definitely weird,” I say to them. “But weird isn’t bad. She’s really smart, for one.”

  I see Shari nod slightly, and that gives me courage to go on.

  “Also, she’s fun. She lives next door to me, and her door is always decorated for whatever holiday is next in this really elaborate way,” I say. “Like she made shamrocks for St. Patrick’s Day and George Washington’s head for Presidents’ Day—”

  “What about Abraham Lincoln?” Robin chimes in, and when I look at her I see she’s smiling. Maybe she’s about to make fun of Agnes, so I barrel over her because I think that sometimes if you keep going in the right direction, people will come along.

  “His too!” I say. I’m on a roll now. “And she’s so creative—you guys should see her room. It’s full of rainbows and the best kind of crazy stuff. Her design philosophy is that a space should be ‘an ordered collection of magic and wonder.’” I do air quotes.

  Emily laughs. “I like that.”

  I can feel Marisa fuming at the end of the table, but I don’t even turn to look at her. She walks away silently, and Emily rolls her eyes. “Marisa’s so mean,” she says.

  Shari is still looking right at me, and her expression is hard to read. Is she mad? Confused? She looks away before I can tell.

  Then Robin starts talking about how they changed the theme song to her favorite TV show, and Emily wonders why the best YouTube makeup star hasn’t done a new video in, like, two weeks. Our lunch table returns to normal, and I don’t bring up Agnes again. That’s enough for now.

  Soon the bell is ringing to send us back to class. When Shari and I walk down the hallway to Mr. Perl’s room, she slows down before we get to the door. “Why didn’t you tell me about Agnes?” she asks quietly as we stop walking.

  Her eyes are on the floor, so I look down there too. Staring into the sparkle of her purple sequined Vans, I know I need to tell the truth.

  “I was afraid to,” I say.

  “Why?”

  Her head picks up, and so I lift my eyes too. “I thought maybe you’d think I was weird. Or you wouldn’t want to be my friend.”

  She looks annoyed. “I’m not a mean person,” she says.

  “I know!” I say. “I didn’t think that. . . . It’s just . . . Agnes is so different.”

  She takes a deep breath. “Yeah,” she says. “But I still wish you’d told me.”

  Then she turns and walks into the classroom, and Agnes is there sitting at her desk already. I see Shari wave to her, and Agnes lights up, giving a big smile and a huge wave back.

  I slink into my seat, feeling both proud and icky. Because I think I’m doing the right thing, but maybe it is too late.

  Shari doesn’t whisper funny
things to me that afternoon like she usually does while Mr. Perl teaches. Agnes has to go home early today for a doctor’s appointment—I know it’s an added therapy session, and I give her a big wave and smile when she quietly leaves class. Bryce notices and squints up his eyes like, What is going on? But he doesn’t say anything.

  The bell rings, and this is a time when Shari and I always wait for each other to get our stuff in order and walk out to the bus circle together. Today, though, she hurriedly packs up her backpack and starts walking out.

  But then I see her stop just inside the door. She doesn’t turn around, but it still feels like she’s giving me a chance.

  I walk up behind her. “I’m sorry,” I say, and I feel the wonder of those two words. They come easier this time.

  Shari nods, and then she starts walking. She’s going slowly, staying by my side. When we get out to the bus circle, she bumps me from the side. “I knew you were weird from the first day you walked into class, by the way,” she says, giving me a small sideways grin. “Being normal is so boring anyway.”

  Chapter 28

  The smell of sugar and lemons fills Blue Sky Bakery as Shari, Agnes, and I slide into a booth by the big window.

  “Okay, girls, I’m trying out a new recipe—sugar cookies with citrus,” says Mama as she emerges from the kitchen. She sets up three plates for us with lemon-shaped cookies that have sparkling yellow-and-green sprinkles on them.

  When I told Mama that I wanted to have Shari and Agnes hang out together, she suggested she show us the bakery, and she picked us all up at school.

  Agnes has been eating lunch at our table every day this week. She’s mostly quiet, which is okay, but when she talks everyone seems to listen to what she has to say, even when what she has to say is weird, which it just is sometimes. That’s Agnes.

  “Mmm . . . ,” says Shari after she takes a bite of the cookie.

  “Really good, Mama,” I tell her. All of her recipes are yummy, but something about this one is extra delicious.

  “The touch of sour makes the sweetness stand out even more, Mrs. Markham!” says Agnes after she finishes her cookie in three quick bites.