by Rachel Vail
“Hey,” Sienna and I both said.
“Hi,” Dorin said. “Want to see the baby Russian torts? They just arrived this morning.”
“Yeah,” I said. We went to where she was standing. There were three tiny tortoises in a tank by her side, still as statues.
“Oooo, so cute!” Sienna said. “They’re like pebbles!”
But my attention was caught by the slightly bigger tortoise in the tank closer to me, who looked like he wanted to dig his way out of there, and was determined to do it if it took all night and he had to go straight through the glass.
Dorin pointed at that busy tort. “The speed demon, we call that one. She’s got a lot of go in her.”
I silently apologized to the speed demon for assuming she was male. “What do you mean?” I asked Dorin. “A lot of go?”
“She was in that tank there, see?” Dorin pointed at a tank by our feet that had a scary lizard in it. “See the sliding door? Torts are not supposed to be able to open those. But this smarty-pants tort, she just opened it up and was marching around, totally freaking out Big Guy, as you called him. His name is actually Belvedere, the big guy, by the way.”
“Like Belvedere Castle?” I asked.
“Yeah,” Dorin said. “How it looms over Turtle Pond in Central Park?”
“Sure. Perfect name. Do you . . . work here?” I asked her. Can eighth graders in Manhattan have jobs? Is that a thing and I’m just too veal child to know?
“My parents own this place,” Dorin said. “So, sort of?”
“That’s so cool!”
Her nervous fingers flickered up to her hair, and she seemed suddenly awkward again, like she is in school. It wasn’t until then that I realized how different she had seemed, in the muggy basement of the weird pet shop. Comfortable. Confident.
Maybe, like a reptile, she needs heat and humidity to thrive.
“Wait,” Sienna said. “The little guy scared the huge tortoise? Or is scared of him?”
“She scared him! Look! He’s hiding from her!” Dorin nodded, the awkwardness gone again in a flash. “You want to see her go? I can take her out if you want. I’m allowed.”
“Sure,” I said.
Dorin lifted the lamp off the top screen of the doorless tank the speed demon was in, turned the screen perpendicular, and, with expert hands, no hesitation, lifted the tortoise. “You want to hold her sort of as if she were a hamburger,” Dorin explained. “Some of them, like the red-eared slider?” She pointed to a tank across the room. “They don’t really like being held much, but this one is so sweet and friendly. Aren’t you?”
Dorin put her nose right next to the tortoise’s nose, and they stared at each other across the millimeter and the species divide.
Then Dorin sat down cross-legged on the painted concrete floor, so Sienna and I did too. She put the tort down in the middle of our circle. The tort charged right toward me. I know tortoises are supposed to be slow, but this one, not even kidding: she was sprinting. She climbed up onto my foot, lifted her Yoda head, and looked me in the eye.
“Hello, you,” I said. I rubbed her shell lightly. I don’t know if tortoises can even feel that kind of thing, but it seemed like, an animal looking up at you all sweet like that, you should pet it.
“She likes you,” Dorin said.
“It’s mutual,” Sienna said. “Look at them. True love at first sight!”
They laughed, and I smiled. True love. Careful what you wish for, I guess. The tortoise climbed over my foot, belly-flopped onto the hard floor, and started dashing across the room. “Easy come, easy go,” I said. “Shortest love story ever.”
“She just, you know,” Dorin said. “Why are you here?” Hands in her hair again.
“It’s Gracie’s birthday Saturday, and she loves tortoises, so we’re celebrating.”
I loved that Sienna didn’t mention anything about my party. She knows who’s invited and who is not, obviously. She is such a good person.
“I know you sometimes raise money for the New York Turtle Conservancy,” Dorin said. “But you have a lot of causes you raise money for, so I didn’t know that was a special one to you.”
I shrugged.
“You’re buying her a tortoise?” Dorin asked Sienna. “That’s really generous. They’re not cheap, you know. Plus all the stuff you need. I know you’re rich, but . . .”
“No,” I said. Sienna hates when people notice she’s rich or say anything about it. “We’re just visiting. I’m not allowed to get one anyway. No pets.”
“Wow, really?” Dorin asked. “I’m so sorry. No pets at all? That’s horrible. My half brother would literally die if we couldn’t have pets.”
I smiled at her, hoping she wouldn’t realize about the whole sibling-literally-dying issue and we could just fly right past it. “You must have a lot of pets.”
Dorin nodded. “Yeah, but anyway, the speed demon you liked, where is she? Wow, she is really an escape artist! Oh!” Dorin skipped across the room to where the speed-demon tortoise was climbing onto the huge tortoise’s foot. “She’s already on hold. You couldn’t have bought her anyway. So don’t feel bad. Even a fish?”
“What?”
“You can’t even have a fish? We have some bettas, if you want to look. You don’t need a filtration system for them, so . . .”
“Can I hold her?” I asked.
Dorin put the speed-demon tortoise in my hands. We stared at each other as her little dinosaur legs swam in the air. “Things I can’t get,” I said to the tortoise. “One—you. Two—boys—”
“Gracie,” Sienna tried to interrupt.
“Three,” I counter-interrupted. “Factoring.”
“You totally get factoring,” Sienna said. “And any boy would—”
“Four . . .” I said, moving on.
“Gracie,” Sienna tried. “Remember? We’re not—”
“Upset,” Dorin said.
“Huh?” I asked.
“You never get angry. Or sad. Or . . . You’re the happiest girl I know.”
“Ha!” I put the wriggling tortoise down onto the floor. She climbed up onto my foot and stopped, exhaled like she was a bus parking, and stayed there, resting on my sneaker.
Never sad or angry, huh? Weird what people think. I’m the most see-through person ever, but people kept getting me wrong all day long.
“Thanks for standing up for me today,” Dorin whispered toward the tortoise, as if the speed demon had been the one to say the minimal necessary nothing to Riley. “I mean, I know she’s your friend, but—”
“She is not,” Sienna said. “We’re not friends with her at all.”
“Oh,” Dorin said. “I guess I just think everybody is friends with everybody above a certain popularity level.”
“Riley is a nasty, boring girl who thinks she’s all that, but she’s so not,” Sienna said. “Don’t take anything she does personally.”
“My mom said Riley was probably just jealous of me,” Dorin said. “Do you think that’s true?”
Awkward. Um. Sienna and I both shrugged.
“I don’t think so either,” Dorin said. “My mom always says that when girls are mean to me. That they’re jealous.”
“Grown-ups always say that,” I said.
“They think they’re being nice, maybe,” Sienna said.
“She told me to say that to some girls in my camp last year,” Dorin said. “‘You’re all just jealous of me!’ It didn’t go well.”
“Oh,” Sienna said.
“Yikes,” I said.
“My mom is really sweet?” Dorin said. “She thinks saying everybody is just jealous of me will make me feel better, but it doesn’t. It just makes me feel like she’s either lying or stupid. Why would Riley be jealous of me?”
“Well, plenty of reasons,” I said. “It’s not l
ike Riley gets to hang with all these animals anytime she wants.”
Dorin smiled. “That’s true.”
“But still, yeah,” I said. “It’s not necessarily about her being jealous of you, why Riley was mean.”
“She just has the personality of a blister,” Sienna said.
“I’m not criticizing your mom,” I said. “But, like, are you really supposed to say, Hey, Riley, you’re just jealous of me? Because, don’t do that.”
“Okay,” Dorin said.
“Yeah,” Sienna said. “If Riley says anything else rude, just look at her like, Eww, what is wrong with you? And move on with your day.”
“Good advice,” I said. Advice I should’ve taken earlier in the day. Where is that time machine when you need it?
“Okay,” Dorin said again.
“I’m sure your mom just wants you to be okay,” I said. “I think maybe parents hate to see us sad or hurt so much, they’re like, No! if for a second we feel not okay.”
“Does that happen to you, too?” Dorin asked, her pale eyes wide.
“My parents say, ‘It’s not the end of the world,’” Sienna said.
“Mine just need me to be happy,” I said. “All the time.”
“Yeah, I definitely didn’t think my hair looked as good as my mom said it did,” Dorin said, fingers working in the mess of short hair. “But that was a horrible way to start the day, and it felt like everybody agreed with Riley’s opinion until you—”
“It looks great,” Sienna said. “Makes your neck look long and pretty.”
Dorin turned bright red.
“It does,” I agreed.
“I just . . .” Dorin said. “You know, my uncle.”
Sienna and I looked at each other. We don’t know Dorin’s uncle.
“He died,” Dorin said.
“Oh,” I said.
“Sorry to hear that,” Sienna said.
“Yeah,” I agreed. “Sorry to hear that.”
“Five years ago,” Dorin said.
“Oh,” Sienna and I both said. Even the tortoise on my foot sighed.
“But I was thinking about him a lot lately, and wishing, well, like everybody, that I could think up a cure for cancer, because wouldn’t that be so amazing? And I guess, selfishly, like, Hahaha, all you people who aren’t so nice to me? I just thought up the cure for cancer! Boom! What do you think of me now?!”
“Sure.” I knelt down to look at the tortoise because it was too awkward to make eye contact with Dorin and I wasn’t sure what else to say and there was a slight risk I could burst out laughing if I looked at Sienna, which you cannot do while in the midst of a cancer or bullying conversation.
“So what I thought,” Dorin continued, “was, well, maybe my brain can’t think up the cure for cancer right now, but I do have all this hair. I could get some chopped off and donate it, for cancer-people wigs. So I did. Not to Locks of Love—the other one? But instead of people being like, Oh, cool . . . I mean, not that that’s the only reason why I did it. I honestly wanted to be generous, but you know. But instead I made such a mess of myself, people barf at the sight of me. And when I get upset, I actually puke—it’s like an allergy? Like, my half brother is allergic to peanuts, except not like that exactly, because he could actually die from a single peanut and he has had to go to the hospital just from peanut dust and get a shot and it’s terrifying because he swells completely up? Like an Oompa Loompa except dangerous and nonfictional? But I just puke. That’s it; I’m done. From anxiety. So I ended up getting sent home for throwing up in the nurse’s office, where I just went to cry about Riley fake-puking at me. Oops, sorry, I didn’t mean to say something about, you know, because your sister died. I just meant . . .”
“It’s okay,” I said.
“Oh my gosh, did your sister die of cancer? Or peanuts? Because I didn’t—”
“No,” I said. “Neither of those.”
“Oh, good,” Dorin said. “I mean, not good but—or puking?”
“No,” I said again.
“I always say stupid stuff,” Dorin said. “When I’m nervous, especially.”
“Don’t we all?” I said.
“I don’t know,” Dorin said.
“We do,” Sienna said. “Everybody does.”
“Oh, thank you,” Dorin gushed. “So much. That’s very reassuring and nice of you. Both. Thanks. You’re the nicest girls in school.”
I shrugged. “We just don’t want you to puke.”
“Oh,” Dorin said.
“Just kidding,” I said.
Dorin smiled, even though the bright-red patches on her pale cheeks glowed like fresh burns. “I’m so sorry you can’t buy that tort. You really belong together.”
“We should go,” Sienna said.
I handed the tortoise back to Dorin.
“Yeah,” Dorin said, more to the tortoise than to me. “Have fun.”
“Your hair looks cute,” Sienna said. “It really does.”
“And you’re awesome, donating it like that,” I added.
“Riley was just being mean because she’s mean,” Sienna said.
“And had gotten some disappointing news,” I said. “And she took it out on the first person she saw. It had nothing to do with you.”
Sienna started to ask, “What news—”
“Are you just saying that?” Dorin interrupted, luckily. “Just kidding?”
“No, I’m also meaning it,” I said.
Dorin got busy putting the tortoise I loved back into the tank. I turned around so I wouldn’t have to look at anybody, and walked up the steps ahead of Sienna.
“Hello,” the parrot called to us.
“Good-bye,” we both said back.
“Hello,” the parrot insisted as we left. “Hello!”
15
SECRETS
I once found a small blue box in my mother’s sock drawer. I held it in my hand for a minute before I dared to open it. It looked like a box of stationery, nothing I wouldn’t be allowed to see. But why would Mom have a box of stationery hidden at the bottom of her sock drawer? I tried to just put it back without looking but couldn’t. I opened it.
It was full of pictures. Bret and Mom, Bret and Dad, Bret and Mom and Dad, Bret and Grandma and Pops, just Bret and just Bret and just Bret, all ages, up to seven.
I’d been looking for a pair of cozy socks. I was in third grade. I was eight.
It felt like I’d stumbled onto a pirate’s treasure chest. Or maybe something secret and scary. In the red album next to the couch, I’m in most of the photos. In the stationery box hidden under Mom’s socks, there were zero pictures of me.
There are lots of pictures of me in frames around the apartment. It’s not that.
I sat there looking at every picture while Grandma, who was babysitting, was in the bathroom. After the flush, I quickly put them back, in the same order, and tucked them under Mom’s socks, my heart pounding. I didn’t take a cozy pair for myself. I closed the drawer and tiptoed out fast.
Sometimes when Mom and Dad are out, I look again. Not that often. I always feel bad about myself when I sneak in there, like I’ve violated Mom’s privacy.
I tell Sienna pretty much everything, but I never told her or anybody about that. Not sure why. I guess everybody has secrets.
And not just about why Riley was actually mad, or a recipe for red velvet cupcakes.
16
SERIOUSLY
While the fourth batch of cupcakes was baking, Sienna’s phone buzzed.
AJ.
We stared at each other, then down at the phone, then at each other again. He was asking if the math test was tomorrow.
“What should I say?” she asked me. She didn’t even know I had experience with AJ asking if the math test was tomorrow.
“Say yeah,
” I suggested. “Because, yeah.”
“Yeah or yes?”
“Either?”
“I don’t want to sound stupid, but I don’t want to sound, you know, annoyed.”
Good thing I am not the one who has to flirt. What had I answered when he asked me? Nope, nope, nope. No backsies. “Maybe yeah, and then put an emoji?”
“Okay,” Sienna said. Finding the right emoji was a project. Then she hit send and we waited, staring at the phone, for AJ to respond.
Nothing.
Nothing.
Sienna and I sat, her quiet phone between us, wondering how do other girls know how to flirt? The Loud Crowd, for example. They’ve been flirting and going out with one another since, like, sixth grade. Michaela and David seem so happy and maybe even in love, like they’re seventeen or something. Maybe she and Beth, who flirts with all the guys, no problem, could tutor us, or there could be a class on flirting instead of volleyball?
Because, really: When is volleyball going to be useful in life?
On the other hand, I had to point out, maybe the fact that Sienna was good at volleyball in fact was helpful in getting AJ’s attention. Maybe good at volleyball is what boys actually like? A lot of the Loud Crowd is on the volleyball team with Sienna.
Sienna had stopped talking, I noticed. She looked miserable.
“How cute was that tortoise?” I said, to change the topic.
“Super cute.” Sienna smiled, relieved to get back to normal conversation about tortoises and my birthday and the bake sale. “How sad is it that so many kids own zero books and have nothing to eat tonight for dinner?” she said. “When our big problems are how to flirt and too many cupcakes for available Tupperware carriers?”
“Seriously,” I agreed. But we both kept looking at that phone, silent and dark between us. The house phone rang. We both jolted back, confused.
It was Sienna’s doorman, calling up to say my mom was downstairs. I told him I’d come down and meet her, because right then their nanny, Manuela, was opening their front door. She was coming back from Chelsea Piers with Sienna’s twin brothers, so things were chaotic enough. I can’t always tell the twins apart, except when they are together, and even then, they are in constant motion, so sometimes, like suddenly in the kitchen, they just look like a boy-infused blur. They immediately started playing catch with the two eggs we had left over from all our batches.