Kate the Great, Except When She's Not

by Suzy Becker

  Now I want to laugh, plus I can see Brooke’s shoulders shaking, but I don’t want Mrs. B. to think I am having a meltdown. I try to imagine something extremely sad (besides sitting next to Peter Butt—forever) like … being Mrs. Petty’s chair. “Last year I was section leader, not co-leader,” I say, leaving the Nora part out.

  “You two play the flute, right?” Mrs. B. says. “I used to play the flute. So did my sister. When I was in sixth grade, my fifth-grade sister was section leader. So I suppose you’re right—I don’t know what it’s like to have to share the top spot, but I do know what it’s like to feel disappointed.” She slides off Peter’s desk.

  “Do I smell an egg sandwich?” Mrs. B. asks. “A little breakfast couldn’t hurt.”

  In a way, the conversation with Mrs. Block helps, though probably not the way she hoped. Now Brooke and I know things nobody else knows about her. I would’ve offered her half my egg sandwich if it hadn’t been flattened by my water bottle.

  “Congratulations, Kate!” Elsa Adler says from the doorway. I fake-smile and say thanks.

  I have to do this about twenty more times, mostly at lunch. I am seriously considering making a sign.

  After lunch, Mrs. Block hands out timelines. “Please use these to begin to organize your colony research.”

  Hui Zong and I have put together a page full of pictures of colonial Maryland facts and pictures.

  I study it. “Tobacco, slaves, churches. Let’s see—the governor with some Indians—”

  “The Yaocomico”—she spelled the name for me—“Indians. They all died from the settlers’ diseases.”

  “Maryland: Land of Smoking, Slaves, and Settlers’ Diseases. Did I miss any good parts?”

  “We have the Chesapeake Bay, and lots of rivers and water.…”

  There were literally three interesting things about Maryland.

  If you decide to believe, like Einstein said, that the universe is a friendly place, then Hui Zong and I are lucky Maryland is not the most interesting colony. For example, if there had been twelve interesting things, we would never have finished early and had free choice time until the end of the day.

  “Congratulations, Thomas,” Mrs. Block says when Thomas Bergen hands in his Virginia timeline. Then she announces to the entire class, “We have TWO section leaders in 5B, Kate and Thomas!”

  I make a beeline for Brooke’s desk. “Congratulations, Thomas? I never even looked to see who the other section leaders are.”

  “I did,” Brooke says. “They’re all sixth graders except you, Nora, and Thomas.”

  “Gimme five!” my dad yells downstairs. He means five minutes; he is still working in his office.

  “I’ll give you five hundred!” I yell up. I’m not really looking forward to telling him. I know it isn’t bad news—Mrs. Block, or Brooke, or a lot of other people would’ve been happy to be co-leader. I’m not and that actually makes me look bad.

  Rocky gives me his usual greeting. He doesn’t care about tryouts or Einstein. He has way more important things to think about.

  “Well?” my dad says after he hugs me. He is standing with his legs apart like a short capital A so he can read my expression.

  “Co-leader,” I say.

  “That’s GREAT, Kate!” he says. “No, wait, that’s not great; it’s, it’s—let me see, who’s the other co-leader?” He is still reading my face. “Give me one guess.” I give him half of an eye roll. “Nora Klein!” I nod. “Ah! I won the Grand Prize!”

  “Dad, I am getting used to the idea. I just wish you would tell Robin and Mom. It’s not the best news.”

  “Roger that,” my dad says. “I’ll make a sign—naah, too best news-ish. I’ll write a note and tape it to the door so Mom and Robin will see it on their way in.”

  I go up to my room to change, and then I check the note on my way into the garage.

  “Thanks, Dad. I’m going to ride around Oak Hill. I’ll—” And we both say, “Be back by five-thirty!”

  “Jinx! I believe you now also owe me a Coke!” he says, pressing the garage door opener.

  I ride my bike down three driveways and cross the street into Oak Hill. It’s an excellent place for biking. No cars, three cul-de-sacs, and six side streets so far. The real hill they named Oak Hill after is pretty steep; it’s actually nice to have something to mull over as you ride up it.

  I ride around the circle at the top, and then I ride down all the side streets, which are also named after trees. Still mulling.

  By the time I ride down Hickory, I am mulling over what’s for dinner. I look at my watch: 5:29! and race home.

  “Sorry about Nora,” Robin says when I walk in.

  “Well, I think it’s wonderful,” my mom says. “The wonderful part.” She lifts my chin, and I can see from her eyes that she really means it.

  “Are we having pie?” Fern asks, hugging my waist.

  “Robin made brownies, Fern,” my dad says.

  Fern lets go of me and runs to hug Robin.

  My dad waits until the table is cleared and everybody has a brownie sitting on the plate in front of them, then he looks at my mom and says, “Einshtein?” Apparently she is the genius behind the Einstein quote.

  Mom says, “Neither your dad nor I are scientists, but we both love Einstein,” which explains the bike poster in the bathroom.

  “Einstein was a brilliant philosopher, in addition to being a scientist. And when Robin was in my belly, your dad and I agreed that helping you look at the universe as a friendly, not-hostile place—this was how we were going to raise you. And Kate—”

  “And me.” Fern smiles.

  “Yes, we’re doing such a beautiful job with you.” My mom holds her napkin in front of Fern’s face.

  I guess it’s good to know their thinking, kind of like knowing what is going to be on a test before you take it. Otherwise I might’ve wondered whether putting my napkin on my lap and being kind were the most important decisions I’d ever make.

  “Robin?” my dad said.

  “I’ll go,” I said. “Mine isn’t really about Einstein or the universe. It’s about the decision. People congratulated me all day long. I know a lot of people would be happy to be co-leader, but I was still disappointed. Until I was riding my bike and I decided I’m over it. But I still have to deal with Nora.”

  Dad says, “It’s not always easy living in a friendly universe.”

  “Congratulations!” Robin says. At first I thought she was talking to me, but she is looking right at my mom. “Fern is the friendliest kid on the planet, and Kate and I both believe in the universe.”

  It was like someone had suddenly turned her into a grown-up.

  “Well,” my dad says. You can tell he is feeling proud of himself, and my mother, and the rest of us. “I have nothing more to say … except pass the brownies.”

  Therefore it is kind of shocking to see Nora Klein at band, but at least I haven’t wasted the rest of the day dreading it. I am sitting there next to her putting my flute together and I think I hear her say, “I’m sorry.”

  So I say, “What?”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Sorry?” I can think of a million—okay, exaggeration— at least ten reasons why she should be sorry, but I want to know hers.

  “Sorry I made co-leader. I didn’t deserve it. You’re way better than I am.” She hesitates. “Did you really mess up or something?”

  So much for Nora’s apology, but I am looking right at her and I can tell she’s just curious. “Nope, I did pretty well.…”

  Just then, Mr. Bryant raises his music stand. “Congratulations to all of you for choosing band and enriching your school experience. And congratulations to my section leaders. I see that everybody has music, stands, instruments. Let’s begin!”

  “How was band, Kate?” Mrs. Block asks when we are lined up at the end of the day.

  I feel my face get red as I say “Good.” I’m not sure if it was good or just a hundred times better than I thought it w
ould be.

  Or maybe it was good compared with what is coming next: “introducing” Nora at Junior Guides. I remind Brooke that Nora is joining Pod 429 on our way to the cafetorium. “Since when does she do Junior Guides?” Brooke says.

  “Since her mom signed her up. Probably the night my mom saw her at the supermarket.”

  “Look.” Brooke elbows me as we walk in. Nora is sitting in the far corner reading. Allie and Faith are helping Mrs. Hallberg with the snacks.

  And then out of nowhere, Mrs. Staughton comes barreling toward us like a runaway train.

  “The traffic was deplorable!” she complains, dropping her load on the cafetorium table for a grand total of fifty more exclamation points. “I’ll be with you in four minutes.”

  “You have to say something about Nora.” Brooke nudges me. I am just about to get up anyway.

  “Excuse me, um, Mrs. Staughton?” She doesn’t look up from her piles. “I was wondering—”

  “I will be very eager to know what you were wondering once I am finished getting myself organized, Kate.”

  “It’s just that Nora—”

  “Nora, good heavens, I forgot Nora!” She snaps out of pile-organization mode and into fetch-Nora mode.

  “Girls”—she has her left arm around Nora and her right arm raised for quiet—“I want everybody to give a warm Pod 429 welcome to Nora Klein, our newest member.”

  “Heavens, I thought we were Junior Guides, not cheerleaders!” Mrs. Staughton looks uncomfortable. “Well, you girls have so much to teach me.” Mrs. Hallberg offers Nora her seat, and Nora escapes from Mrs. Staughton’s underarm to take it.

  “I have a couple of announcements. After much careful thought and deliberation, I have decided we’re going to have rotating presidents instead of squad leaders this year. I know this comes as a disappointment to some of you …

  “Heather will be our first guinea pig president.”

  Heather does not look super-excited. “The president will lead us in the promise and perform the other duties formerly assigned to the squad leader, and naturally, this will continue to evolve with your help.” Mrs. S. unveils a monthly president chart.

  February, as in the shortest month of the year before you take away the vacation?! “Mrs. S., you can give February to Nora, and I’ll take May.”

  “Kate, I specifically gave you February because it is the month of our father-daughter dance, a very big responsibility.”

  For some reason, maybe having the words “res-ponsibility” and “father-daughter dance” so close together, I think of Nora. “Nora’s father will still be in Hong Kong,” I whisper to Brooke.

  “I’m sure she doesn’t do dances.” Brooke is right.

  Mrs. Staughton’s idea of a Junior Guide craft project is making calendars where we can write in all of our meetings, the Big Spring Camp-In, school vacation days, everybody’s birthdays, holidays, etc. We have just barely started when it is time to put everything away so Heather can be president.

  “We have to pick a Saturday for our Fall Fun Day,” Heather orders. “The first weekend is out; I’m going to New York. And the second weekend is Columbus Day. That leaves the third and fourth weekends. Let’s have a vote.”

  Allie raises her hand. “The third weekend is my grandmother’s seventy-fifth birthday.”

  Brooke is staring at me and I really, really want to say I’m having my birthday party on the fourth Saturday, but I can’t since not all of the voters will be invited.

  President Heather says, “Then it’s decided. Mark your calendars. The fourth Saturday.”

  “But—but—” I stammer. “That’s practically Halloween.”

  “Everyone can come in costume,” Mrs. H. chirps. “Now let’s join hands for the closing circle.”

  “Pardon me, Mrs. Hallberg,” Mrs. S. interrupts. “I thought we’d try something a little different this afternoon. Let’s close our eyes and reflect on our promise for a minute.”

  Something on Mrs. Staughton starts beeping and we get to open our eyes. “I would like each of you to share one thing you will do in the coming week to uphold your promise. Heather, why don’t you get us started?”

  There have been times I wished I was Heather, but this is not one of them. Heather doesn’t seem to mind; she must be used to being a guinea pig. “I am helping everybody right now by going first.” I have to admit that was pretty funny, but nobody is smiling.

  “Thank you,” her mother says, and she says it exactly the same way four more times before it is my turn.

  “I will feed Rocky every day without having to be asked.”

  “Thank you.”

  Brooke says she will remember to turn out the lights when she leaves the room. And then it is Nora’s turn. “Pass.”

  “Hmm?”

  “Pass,” Nora repeats, looking right at Mrs. Staughton this time.

  “Oh no. No passing,” Mrs. Staughton says. Nora just keeps looking. “It doesn’t have to be something big; it can be something small. Anything, anything at all.” Mrs. Staughton is making it into something big.

  Nora is looking down now, and I think I see a tear fall out of her left eye. Personal weakness: I cannot stand to see anyone (except Fern sometimes) cry. “Mrs. Staughton,” I say, “you may not know this, but you can always pass. I mean, you shouldn’t pass every time, but it is an option.”

  Mrs. S. adjusts the zipper on her fanny pack. Elsa takes her turn. Mrs. Staughton says “Thank you” so Faith can go, and then we are done.

  “How’d it go, girls?” Brooke’s mom says after we are buckled in.

  “Can Kate come over for dinner?” Brooke asks, which is a very diplomatic answer.

  “Not on a school night.” Then Mrs. Johnson turns on NPR and seems to have forgotten her own question.

  When my mom asks, I say it went deplorably. It is kind of a gamble since I haven’t had a chance to look up “deplorable” yet.

  My mom shakes her head, half smiling. “You have to give Mrs. Staughton a chance. Let her get a few meetings under her belt—”

  “Under her fanny pack!” Robin interrupts from the table side of the kitchen.

  “You’re not helping.” My mother hands Robin a stack of napkins. “Mrs. Lawrence is a hard act to follow.”

  “How’d our friend Nora do?” my dad asks.

  “Fine.” I decide to save her from any further embarrassment.

  I give Rocky his dinner (without being asked) and go up to my room.

  My mom says, “Deplorable, huh?” I look up.

  “No more closing circle. No more pod squad leaders. We’re having presidents, a different one each month. I got February, which Mrs. Staughton says is important because of the father-daughter dance.”

  “I was thinking—”

  I know what she is thinking: “Please do NOT volunteer Dad to take Nora.”

  “That isn’t what I was thinking. How about leaving off the ‘father-daughter’ and just calling it a dance? Girls can bring their fathers or another special grown-up.”

  Then Rocky barges in on the conversation. “I’m taking Rocky,” I say.

  “Uh-oh, something deplorable’s happened to deplorable,” my mom says, pointing at my dictionary. Rocky’s dance has defaced my “department” to “derive” dictionary page.

  “There was another thing,” I say, in case my mom is thinking about leaving the room. “Heather decided that Fall Fun Day is going to be the same Saturday as my sleepover.”

  “Slumber parties don’t usually start until late afternoon, Monkey. We’ll work it out.” She squats down to mess up my hair. “Hey, if you’re not too busy, Fernie could use a little help with her fort downstairs.”

  “Rocky and I are extremely busy. Did you say something, Mom?” She went straight for my tickle spot.

  Nora and I say hi to each other on the bus in the morning. It isn’t like I sit with her or plan to have her over or anything, but it isn’t like it’s nothing, either.

  Brooke and Eliza agree
that having Fall Fun Day on the Saturday of my sleepover is not a big deal. “And if I had to skip one, I’d definitely skip the Fall Fun Day,” Brooke says.

  “I don’t think so. You’re president in October,” I remind her.

  “You two have to promise you won’t skip—I wouldn’t skip if you were president.” Eliza and I pinky-swear we won’t.

  Mrs. Petty’s three-word lesson plan is on the TV in her room: self-portrait noses. We are all gathered around for her nose-drawing demonstration. “Are we going to rush right in and scribble a nose?”

  Zombie chorus: “NO!”

  “We are going to very carefully draw our noses like this.”

  Before she starts, I raise my hand to make a suggestion: “There is more than one way to draw a nose.”

  Mrs. Petty smiles and says, “Let’s see if we can’t all make a nose this way before we start branching out, Katie.”

  She gives us our self-portraits. I can’t; I am literally unable to put a nose that does not look like my nose or my drawing on my so-called self-portrait.

  I show Brooke my masterpiece.

  Mrs. Petty is very pleased with everyone’s nasal progress until she gets to my portrait. “You’re Robin Geller’s sister, aren’t you?” bringing the grand total number of times she’s asked me this question to fourteen.