“Thanks for everything this week,” I said to both of them at the end of one of what we’ve affectionately termed my “boy therapy sessions.”
“No biggie,” said Gaga. I know she’d heard Brynn and me say that for years and was trying to show me she’s capable of being cool.
“You know, I don’t really say that anymore,” I told Gaga.
She nodded like she got it and put her arm around me. “We all grow up. It isn’t always easy,” she said. “But we all do it.”
It was kind of a sappy thing to say, but it made me feel better.
Lately, growing up has sucked. I felt like I was in love with Matt. I still feel that way. At least I think I do. Every time I thought about it this week, I would get emotional. Part of me is so mad. Another part wishes we could just go back to how we were when Matt said he really liked me. But whenever I’d start to think about it and tear up, Sophie and Gaga would look at me and say, “Keep knitting!”
Here’s the good news: if Matt and I ever do get back together, I’ve got a nice ski cap for him.
Sunday, July 20, 12:45 p.m.
Sophie’s going-away brunch
This morning we had a family brunch at the diner for Sophie. She’s flying back to New York this afternoon, and everyone wanted the chance to tell her good-bye. When it was time for her to go, everyone hugged her and told her how much they’d miss her.
“It was fun having you here,” said June. She gave Sophie a big hug and thanked her for playing Barbies with her while May and I were at camp.
Amanda, who is typically not a hugger, gave her a hug too. “I’ll miss your makeup tips,” she told Sophie.
“We’ll miss you,” said Charlotte.
“And your brownies,” said Izzy.
“Yeah,” said Harry. I wasn’t sure if that meant he’d miss her or her brownies, but it was one of the nicest things I’d ever heard Harry say.
I raised a was-there-anyone-you-didn’t-hang-out-with-this-summer eyebrow at her. Sophie shrugged like she got it and laughed. It was infectious. Even though I was sad she was leaving, I was smiling too.
Sophie’s grandpa gave her a big hug and said, “I’m not going to miss you one bit!” But he was misty-eyed when he said it, and everyone knew he was joking. She gave him a big squeeze as Gaga held out her arms for a hug.
“It was so nice having you here,” Gaga said to Sophie. It was easy to see how much Gaga loved her visit.
“I’m going to miss being here.” I could tell by the way Sophie said it that she meant it.
I waited until everyone was done before I said my good-bye. “I’m going to miss you so much!” I whispered in Sophie’s ear as I hugged her.
She hugged me back. Hard. I felt myself getting emotional again. I looked at Sophie. There were tears in her eyes too. “C’mon,” she said, like she didn’t want to leave me like that.
“We have to get going,” said Uncle Drew, who was driving Sophie to the airport in Mobile. Sophie and I gave each other one last hug as she got into Uncle Drew’s car. I stood outside the diner and waved to her until the car was no longer in sight.
Then I walked home with May and June while Mom stayed to help Dad clean up.
It was a quiet morning in Faraway, and I actually enjoyed the quiet walk home with my sisters. I guess they were enjoying the solitude too. It was the first time I’d felt peaceful in a long time.
It felt good.
Follow the yellow brick road.
—The Wizard of Oz
Friday, July 25
In my room
Can’t believe what I just heard
One minute I was talking to May about starting middle school, and in the middle of our conversation, she burst into tears. “What if I start my period at school?” she wailed. I knew what she was thinking. I remember being terrified of blood running down my legs and everyone laughing.
“Don’t worry. It’s normal to think the worst will happen, but it almost never does.” I looped a big-sisterly arm around her. “Brynn and I used to worry about the same thing.”
I think that made her feel better. We had just gone back to talking about switching classes and cafeteria food when my phone rang. It was Sophie. “I have some bad news and some good news,” she said. Then she added, “I guess it’s all in how you look at things.”
She sounded like Gaga. I’m sure she heard her say that this summer. I couldn’t believe what she said next.
“My parents are separating. They told me when I got home from Faraway,” said Sophie. She told me how she cried all week and that the only thing that’s kind of good is that it’s a “trial” separation. Sophie said the word like she’d heard it a lot. I wanted to ask her exactly what it meant, but I had the feeling I shouldn’t.
“I’m so sorry,” I said quietly into the phone.
“I just don’t understand it,” she said. “I thought my parents were head over heels for each other. I mean, everyone always says how amazing they look together.”
I thought about the first time I met Sophie and her parents at Gaga and Willy’s wedding. I thought her mother was so beautiful and her dad was so handsome, and they had Sophie, a perfect-looking daughter. They were the most stylish, chic family I’d ever seen.
“I guess it wasn’t enough,” Sophie said and then paused. “Before I left, I thought things were a little tense. I was surprised they let me come to Faraway, but I didn’t know they had real problems.”
Then Sophie started filling me in on the details. How her parents took her out to dinner to her favorite restaurant when she got back from Faraway and how she thought the night was going to be a coming-home party so they could hear all about her summer. “For most of the dinner, they didn’t even say anything. They just kept looking at each other funny, and when dessert came, they told me, and I’ve hardly stopped crying since.”
I felt terrible hearing how upset she’d been. “You should have called me.”
“Yeah.” Sophie sounded like she appreciated what I was saying. “I guess I wasn’t ready to talk about it. I thought I could talk some sense into my parents. You know, convince them to stay together or something. But I couldn’t.” She paused. “I kind of feel like it’s my fault. Maybe if I hadn’t come to Faraway, they’d still be together.”
“Sophie, it’s not your fault. Your parents probably had a lot to talk about this summer, you know? Maybe it was better that they didn’t do it in front of you.”
Sophie accepted that explanation without argument. “My dad is moving back to Paris.”
“What about you and your mom?” I asked. I was thinking about how much Sophie loves New York and how different it would be without her dad there.
“Well,” she said slowly. “My mom is pretty upset about the whole thing. She doesn’t want to be alone in New York City. We moved there for my dad’s job. It’s not like she has a lot of close friends or family there.”
“So would you and your mom move back to Paris too?” I asked.
“My mom doesn’t want to go to Paris.” She was quiet for a minute. “I told her I think we should move to Faraway. You know, like a ‘trial’ move.” Sophie paused. “She knows how much I liked it over the summer. Plus, it would be good for both of us to be around people who care about us.”
I didn’t say a word.
“So we’re going to live at Gaga and my grandpa’s house, at least for now. And I’m starting school with you in the fall. April, we’re going to Faraway High together!” Her words bounced around and bumped into each other in my brain, like too many little kids on a trampoline.
I said the first thing that came to mind. “But what about your art school? You love it.”
“Well, I’m kind of bummed about that.” Sophie paused. “But how cool is it that we’ll be going to school together?”
“Wow! It’s like … going to be great!” I was fumbling. I knew that’s how I felt—how I should feel—but I couldn’t put my words together in a way that sounded good.
Sop
hie was quiet for a minute, like she was taking in my response. “Are you sure you think so?”
“Of course!” I said. “I’m really sorry about your parents, but I’m super excited you’re moving to Faraway. I mean, I can’t even believe it!”
It was the right thing to say, because when I finished, Sophie said she was glad I’m excited. “I have to go,” she said. “But we’ll talk soon.” Then she laughed. “Soon we’ll be talking all the time. How cool is that?”
“Very!” I said. Then we hung up, and I sat down on my bed. I’m still sitting here. I’m not even sure how long it has been. But when Sophie told me her news, it’s like my brain split and went into two directions.
One part went right to thinking about Matt and how he’s going to feel when Sophie’s going to school with us this fall. He liked her. It would be hard for any boy not to. She’s so cute and cool. He said we’d see how things are when school starts, but he didn’t anticipate starting school with me and Sophie. Even though I’m starting to think maybe I’m better off without a boyfriend to worry about, I’d be lying if I didn’t say that I’m more freaked out than ever about what’s going to happen with Matt with Sophie in the picture.
But I hate myself for even thinking like that when Sophie just told me her parents are separating. She was there for me when Matt and I broke up. That was nothing compared to what she’s going through. I need to be there for her now. And I want to be.
So I’m picking the other path. The path of possibility. Sophie is moving to Faraway! She’s going to be my new almost-family best friend, and I honestly can’t wait.
I hope Matt doesn’t fall madly in love with Sophie. That would be weird in lots of ways. But I’m not going to think like that. As I told May earlier, it’s easy to think the worst will happen, but it almost never does.
Bottom line: I’m ready to move forward. High school, here I come.
About the Author
Laurie Friedman has a lot in common with April Sinclair. She was the oldest of three girls, grew up in a small Southern town, and kept a journal in which she wrote about the excitement of falling in love for the first time and the heartache of breaking up. She remembers that time as being completely awful—but is grateful for all the material it gave her to write about.
Ms. Friedman is the author of the Mostly Miserable Life of April Sinclair series as well as the popular Mallory series and many picture books. A native Arkansan, she now lives in Miami, Florida, with her family and her adorable rescue dog, Riley. You can find Laurie B. Friedman on Facebook or visit her on the web at www.lauriebfriedman.com.
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