Kate the Great, Except When She's Not

by Suzy Becker

  “Robin was a very good art student,” Mrs. Petty says sadly, like Robin is dead or has actually gone to live with her biological artist parents. “Why don’t you come see me during recess on Monday? . . .”

  “. . . That way everybody will be on the same page next class.”

  Mrs. Petty collects our papers. She holds up Peter Buttrick’s portrait before putting the pile on the shelf.

  Hui Zong was supposed to come over on Saturday to work on our Maryland project, but she has a “family obligation.” We are mostly caught up, so it was really just an excuse to hang out. I had invited Brooke to hang out with us, but she actually has to stay home to work on her project. It’s kind of funny (strange, not ha-ha): I was jealous Brooke was partners with Colin, and now Brooke is jealous I am partners with Hui Zong. I’m not really looking forward to the weekend.

  “Exciting finish, Champ!” my dad says as we head for my soccer bag on the sidelines.

  I agree. I mean, it’s always exciting to finish soccer.

  “One minute to go, Heather scores the tiebreaking goal, and your friend Brooke has the assist! Where did she disappear to? I wanted to congratulate her—”

  “Brooke had to leave right away. Her mom said we could have a sleepover if she and Colin are all caught up on their colonial project.”

  “I’ll congratulate her tonight, then,” my dad says. “Listen, your mother texted me, seems Mrs.—”

  “Adam! Adam!” The red sweat suit is speed-walking toward us.

  “Help me out, Champ,” my dad says. He is very bad with names.

  “Heather’s mom, Mrs. Staughton, as in our new Junior Guide leader?”

  “Right. First name?”

  “Mrs.?”

  “Thanks!” He gives my ponytail a yank. “Great game!” he greets Mrs. Staughton.

  “Terrific team effort!” says the mother of the star of the game. “Is there any chance I can send Heather home with you two? I’ve got to run to a coaches’ meeting.”

  “Unfortunately, not this morning—my wife made other arrangements.” Dad looks off in the direction of my soccer bag. And then I see the Other Arrangements.

  “No problem,” Mrs. Staughton says. “I’ll take Heather with me.”

  “Dad?!”

  “I started to tell you, your mother texted—Mrs. Klein has a mall event today, and Lexi has an all-day soccer tournament. Mrs. Klein asked if we’d keep Nora until lunchtime.”

  “Did anybody think about asking me?”

  “You mean, ‘TIME OUT, COACH DAVE! I HAVE AN IMPORTANT QUESTION FOR KATE!’ You were playing soccer. We’re talking about a total of an hour of your time, Kate. C’mon, Mom and Nora are waiting.”

  “Good game, Kate!” My mom gives me a hug. If it weren’t for Nora, this would be a special occasion. My mom never comes to games. “I brought your sneakers.”

  I sit down next to my bag to change my shoes and Nora looks up from her book. “Do you actually like soccer?” she asks.

  “My dad loves soccer. What are you reading?”

  “The Witch of Blackbird Pond.”

  “Me too! Wait, what colony did you get?”

  “New Hampshire.”

  “I have Maryland. Boring,” I say.

  “Only the boring are bored,” my dad says. He hands me money for the ice cream truck. “Can we get you an Eskimo Pie?” he asks, looking at Nora. It’s supposed to be a joke—she’s all bundled up like an eskimo.

  “Screwball,” she says. It’s not supposed to be an insult. It’s an ice cream.

  “Do those still have gum in the bottom? Your mother mentioned something about braces,” my mom says.

  “Mom, the gumball is all crumbs; it’s been frozen for a hundred years. You can’t really chew it.”

  “All right, Gum Police Officer Geller, are we trading cars?” Dad says. “I’ll go grab Fern’s booster seat.”

  “Screwball for the screwball?” It’s Heather. She and Allie are laughing.

  Nora is exchanging her orange screwball for a raspberry one. I can’t tell whether she heard what Heather said, so I don’t bring it up on the way to the parking lot. Instead I ask her about her braces.

  “I have a retainer,” she says. She opens her mouth.

  Fern’s booster is still sitting on top of my dad’s car. I look an extra-long time at Nora’s rainbow-colored retainer so Nora completely misses the part where my dad is bagging up all the disgusting stuff that piles up under Fern’s seat.

  “That bag does not go anywhere near my car,” my mom says. “Right into the trash! And please, please do not move my files.”

  “Yes, sir, officer,” my dad says. He goes to put a towel down, but Nora has already flopped in on Fern’s side of the backseat.

  “Are you friends with Heather?” Nora asks while I’m belting in, and then she mutters to her window, “She asks the girl who’s friends with everybody.…”

  “Not exactly,” I answer the girl who’s friends with nobody.

  “Is she invited to your slumber party?”

  Another good question. “I’m not sure,” I say, and I ask my mom to turn on the radio, which is another synonym for “end of conversation.”

  “How about a car game instead?” my mom says.

  “How about Kiss 108?” Nora says, and my mom actually puts the radio on.

  “What time are we meeting Nora’s mom?” I ask as we pull into the mall’s parking garage.

  “One-thirty. I have a couple of errands—you girls can grab slices at the food court.”

  “Pizza gives me acne,” Nora says. “We’ll go to guest services; I’m sure my mother ordered special lunches—”

  “We can’t bother your mother today, Nora. It doesn’t have to be slices. You girls can get whatever you like at the food court,” my mom says.

  Nora gets out of the car without answering.

  I pray my mom will say something. It’s so embarrassing. Maybe no one will notice. Maybe I should’ve warned Nora about Fern’s side of the seat.

  “All right, everybody back here, Macy’s entrance, at one-thirty,” my mom says.

  I set my watch alarm for 1:30. “We have a little extra time.…” Here’s something you may never hear me say again: “Do you want to go shopping?”

  “I hate shopping,” Nora says. “Besides, I’m hungry. It’s lunchtime—the food court is going to be packed.”

  I am praying that the Macy’s mirrors will say something ABOUT THE STAINS as we cut through on our way to the food court.

  I give it another shot on the escalator. “This place is always so hot,” I say, wrapping my sweatshirt around my waist.

  “I never get hot,” Nora says, stuffing her hands in her sweatshirt pockets. It actually pulls the sweatshirt down in front, worsening the situation in back.

  All the kiosk people say hi to Nora on our way to the food court—she is a Mall Celebrity. Maybe that’s why she doesn’t mind being a total loner at school. I have to stop looking to see if anybody is noticing her shorts when she asks me what I am looking at.

  Nora is still waiting in the Cinnabon line when my slice is ready, so I pick a table and am considering getting myself another sample of orange chicken when someone puts their hands over my eyes. “Guess who!”

  “Brooklet?!” I reach behind my head for her braids. “Are you and Colin all finished?”

  “Oh no, no, not even close. He’s here somewhere. We’re on a project-supply run,” she says, and helps herself to the first bite of my pizza. “Hey, there’s Nora Klein! A rare mall-sighting … what’s today? Mark it on your Junior Guide calendar!” Nora is in front of Colin, who is carrying an OfficeMax bag and an Orange Julius.

  “Actually, Nora comes here all the time. Watch this!” We watch as Nora takes three more samples of orange chicken.

  “Miss Nora?!” Brooke imitates the sample lady.

  “Her mom works here,” I say as Nora puts her Cinnabon on the table, with a ketchup cup full of extra frosting.

  “My mom h
as some work thing today, so the Gellers are babysitting me,” Nora says to her tray.

  And before anyone can say anything else, Colin says:

  “Nora, you have a big brown spot on the bu—back of your shorts.”

  Nora freezes. Colin tries not to laugh. I can’t look at Brooke.

  Nora backs out of her seat, leaving her Cinnabon on the table.

  “It’s chocolate!” I say to Brooke and Colin. “And it’s really not that big.” And I don’t say, “Smell it!”

  “How do YOU know?!” Nora says, glaring at me.

  “It’s one-thirty! We have to go. Nora’s mom—”

  I walk backward with Nora until Brooke and Colin and the food court are out of sight.

  “Stop for a second. Try this.” I yank her sweatshirt way down.

  “No, you stop!” she says angrily, pulling away. “You got me back for the not-bringing-the-instrument thing, okay! We’re even, or you win, if that makes you feel better!”

  It takes me a few seconds to get it. “You think I did that? On purpose?” Nora doesn’t answer. “You chose to sit on Fern’s side of the seat—”

  “You chose not to say anything!”

  “You were already buckled—”

  “You could have said something about THE SPOT!”

  “Everything okay?” my mom asks when we walk up, the way she does when she can tell it’s not.

  “Where’s my mother?” Nora asks.

  “She’s running late. She’s going to pick you up at our place.”

  “I need to see her now,” Nora says.

  My mom looks at me for an explanation. “Dad didn’t put a towel down.…” I point to Nora’s shorts.

  “Oh dear,” my mom says. She takes her sweater off and ties it around Nora’s waist. “You can change when we get home. Kate will loan you a pair of shorts.”

  Nora heads toward guest services. My mother hasn’t let go of her sweater. “This way, girls,” my mom says, and shoos us toward the car.

  I sit on top of a plastic bag on Fern’s side. Nora inspects every square inch of the other side before she sits down.

  Fern is riding her bike in circles around my dad when we pull into the driveway. Nora and my mom go into the house.

  “Don’t you think you better go in, Champ?” my dad asks.

  My mom comes back out. “Nora’s alone in there.…”

  “She thinks I did it on purpose,” I say.

  “Did what?” My dad looks at my mom.

  “Go in and tell her you didn’t.” My mom walks me to the garage.

  Nora isn’t technically alone. Rocky is sitting with her. “I’m sorry,” I say, patting Rocky so I don’t have to look at Nora. “I’ll go get you a pair of shorts.”

  “I’ll go with you,” she says, and follows me.

  I grab three pairs of shorts from the laundry basket at the top of the stairs. Nora is standing in the doorway of Robin’s room gazing up at the horses on the shelf that runs around the top of the room. “This is your room? It used to be such a pigsty.”

  I don’t say that it is. Or isn’t. I hold up the shorts. “Here—you can wear any of these.”

  “Oh, I don’t wear other people’s clothes,” Nora says, and makes a yuck-face. I am starting to think the silent treatment would be an improvement when she adds, “Skip the shorts, I’ll take a horse. That is, if you’re really sorry.”

  “Kate, Nora! Mrs. Klein is here!” my dad yells up from the kitchen.

  I stand on Robin’s desk and grab the closest horse.

  “Seriously?” She puts the horse in her sweatshirt pocket. “Thank you!”

  “No big deal,” I say, because I don’t want her to think it is.

  “Seriously?” Brooke says. We are up in my room after dinner. “What were you thinking?! Why didn’t you just tell her the horses weren’t yours?”

  “You must’ve missed the part where I didn’t tell her the room wasn’t mine,” I say.

  “Kate?” my mother calls upstairs. “Come down and say goodbye. Grammalolo is getting ready to leave.”

  “Oh, Nancy, I don’t know why you always make such a big deal of goodbyes. Snickelfritz here hardly had time for hello, she’s been so busy with her little friend,” Grammalolo says with a fresh lipstick smile, as if I wasn’t sitting right next to her all through dinner.

  “And please tell your sister Princess Hyacinth I would love it if she’d honor me with an appearance one of these Saturday nights,” Grammalolo says.

  “Or,” my dad says as we watch Grammalolo go down the front walk, “your mother could do the honors and miss her TV show one Sunday night and have dinner with Princess Hyacinth and the rest of us instead.”

  My mother changes the subject. “Adam, Fern is ready for you to read to her. She can sleep in her own bed, and I’ll have these two sleep in Robin’s room.”

  “Ooh, the scene of the crime,” Brooke whispers.

  “Not funny,” I say. (Translation: Funny, but stomachache-making.)

  I actually forget about the crime while we all watch America’s Funniest Home Videos.

  Then Brooke and I help my mom make Brooke’s bed. “Good night,” my mom says, and gives Brooke a hug. “I’m glad you and Colin caught up on your project. You two can chat a little longer, but not too late. And I don’t need to remind you not to get into anything. This is your sister’s room.…”

  As soon as my mother shuts the door, Brooke says, “You can’t leave that hole up there.” She stands on the desk and starts rearranging the horses. “Or you might as well put a big sign—”

  “Kate?” My mother knocks and opens the door enough to stick her arm in. “Here’s your water bottle. Brooke, can I get you one?”

  Brooke is shaking her head no, crouching on the desk. “All set, Mom, thanks.” My mom shuts the door. Brooke slides off the desk.

  “This is a nightmare,” I say.

  “Night mare,” Brooke neighs. And she has to say “Get it?” because I am not laughing. “Look,” Brooke says, admiring her work. “I don’t think Robin will even notice. It was pretty dusty up there.”

  We got ready for bed and I had every intention of making it a late night.

  It turns out Brooke and Colin aren’t exactly caught up, so Brooke has to go home right after breakfast. “If you’re still planning on marrying Colin,” she says, “plan on doing ninety percent of the work.”

  Brooke calls at four to see if Robin noticed the horse was gone. “She’s not home yet,” I say. And even though we don’t have much to talk about, we end up talking about not much for twenty-seven minutes.

  An hour later, Robin gets home from Grace’s. “Thanks for setting the table, Katester!” she says. “I’m just going to run upstairs and dump my bag; then I can finish the rest.”

  “It’s all done,” I say. “But I’ll take your bag up for you, if you want.”

  She hands me the bag and says, “Is she feeling all right?”

  “Kate’s been very helpful all day.” My mom smiles.

  Next morning, two historic firsts: FIRST #1) Nora says hi to me when I get on the bus (before I say hi to her). She may even have smiled. (It’s hard to tell; her hoodie covers her mouth.)

  I can barely say hi back. Then, FIRST #2) She waits in the bus circle so she can walk with me (and Brooke) into the building.

  We are literally just walking, not talking, and Nora walks with us all the way to our lockers. Finally Nora says “See ya,” and doubles back to her own locker.

  “Is that the—?” Brooke asks.

  I nod slowly.

  “Does Robin know?”

  “Not yet,” I say. “I have to get the horse back today.”

  After morning meeting, Mrs. Block reminds me (and Peter Buttrick) that I will be spending my recess with Mrs. Petty.

  Five minutes later, we hear a gag. Mrs. B. says, “Brooke, you better go see the nurse.” She hands a hall pass to Brooke. “Do you want to choose someone to walk you down to Mrs. Kerr?”

 
; There aren’t a lot of hands. “Kate, why don’t you go with Brooke to the nurse’s office and come right back?”

  Once we are out in the hall, Brooke says, “If you want to get the horse from Nora, you have three options: 1) tell the truth, 2) lie, or 3) steal it, unless you know where we could get a new horse, then there could be a number four.”

  I shake my head. “I don’t even remember exactly what it looks like.”

  “Then tell Nora the truth and just ask for it back.” Brooke makes it sound easy.

  “Don’t think of it as stealing!” Brooke says. “Think of it as returning the horse to its owner. To the rescue!” Brooke puts her left hand on her hip with her right fist outstretched and practically gallops right into Mrs. Kerr, who is stepping out of the main office.

  “I believe one of you is on her way to see me with a stomachache?” Mrs. Kerr says.

  “Uh, it comes and goes,” Brooke says. The whole horse conversation was actually giving me one, but I don’t say anything.

  “I see. Comes and goes.” She signs Brooke’s pass and returns it. “You can go straight back to class now, girls. I’ll tell Mrs. Block you’re on your way.”

  In the hall, I get back to our conversation. “If I took her horse, Nora would say something to somebody*.”

  “But it’s not her horse, Kate!” Brooke says, and we’re both quiet until we reach the door. “I guess it’s decided, then: option two, lying,” she whispers. I feel my face turn red just thinking about it.