“And you’re really excited about that?” I half say and half ask.
“Yes, because she’s going to stay in my apartment!”
“I thought it was really small,” I say. When I imagined my visit to California, I saw it as a long relaxing party, both of us in lazy-day clothes, lying around, eating popcorn and takeout, everything within reach.
“It is. And so is her place.”
“I remember,” I say. It smelled like cat.
“But I don’t think that will bother me too much when I live there this summer.”
And now I understand why Mom needed to see my face, because I’m pretty sure it looks like I won the Showcase Showdown and the lottery and a free lifetime supply of cupcakes and five puppies at once. I’m like a one-girl party, jumping up and down and only half listening as she explains that she couldn’t figure out how to make my visit to California work, since she was going to work on one job and then another right away, but then after she talked to Myla, who talked about wanting to break into TV and movies, she was able to pass her next job along to Myla. Which gets us to the important part: she’s taking off all of July so she can have a whole month with me!!!
As we’re saying good-bye and I’m saying, “I love you and I’m so happy and this is the best news ever,” I hear Annie talking to my dad in the kitchen, so I make Mom wait so Annie can say hello because I think maybe Mom misses Annie too and maybe Annie misses my mom and they have this awkward hi, hi conversation and then Mom has to go and I say, “Guess what!” to Annie, who forgot to bring a raincoat or umbrella and looks like she walked through lawn sprinklers. On her hands.
“Um, I get to meet that other Naomi?”
“WHAT?” I ask. “Let’s go in my room,” I say, so we leave the not-even-close-to-being-a-library/TV/music/relax-and-also-we’ll-be-allowed-to-eat-in-there-but-at-least-there-is-a-computer-in-there room.
We flop down on my bed, which is wrinkly and gross because I haven’t made it in weeks, and I tell her about my mother’s plans for July, and we think about some of the things we can all do together on the days Annie doesn’t have soccer camp.
And then I pull out a stack of picture books. “Please?” I say.
She looks through the pile, laughs her sort of crazy laugh, and pulls out one book. She takes a look at the first illustration and then holds it out for me to see, like she’s a teacher and I’m . . . kindergarten.
Showing me the cover, she says, “A boy and a nice lion look out a window.”
She opens the book. “A squirrel is in a tree. A boy takes his lion to school. A girl brought her bunny. One boy has a backpack on his head, and he’s maybe a zombie.”
She turns to the next picture and grins. “In the classroom, there are books and weather things. The boy and lion stare at a spider. An alligator might eat a cat.”
And then we’re both laughing.
“Can I do the next page? I ask. She hands me the book. We could do this all day. We could do this forever.
Before long, Annie’s hungry, and we go searching through the pantry until she finds some probably-too-old Girl Scout cookies.
“You go first,” I say, offering the box to her. She’s a brave eater.
“How’s stuff with the other Naomi?” she asks, sniffing at a Thin Mint.
“Where did that come from?” I ask.
“You spend a lot of time with her. I think it would be cool to meet her.” She bites into the cookie and her face makes me think we’ll be throwing out the whole box, but then she reaches for another.
Dad walks in and says, “Aren’t those cookies from last year?”
Annie and I nod. She asks, “Want one?”
Dad takes one.
“Mmm . . . cookies,” he says. “Oh! Before I forget, I was on the phone with Valerie, and we were talking about having a celebration after your last club meeting.”
“What would we even be celebrating?” I ask.
“Your hard work and open minds? And isn’t that the day your projects are due?”
Ugh. That project. I told the other Naomi I would add a list of possible quizzes and I didn’t. I shrug. “I guess.” Now I feel bad. I have to get back to that stupid project.
“So we can all celebrate that.”
Right. Sure. We can celebrate. My hard work.
Annie elbows me. And then elbows me again. And then I get it and ask, “Can Annie come?”
“I think that’s a terrific idea,” Dad says. “The more the merrier.”
I wonder if that’s always true.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Naomi Marie
“Nice pants, Bennett,” says Mikey as he runs by. I look down at my leggings. The pattern is just like the black-and-white-marbled composition notebooks we use at school. They ARE nice pants, so I don’t know why he thinks that’s an insult. Oh yeah, right—this is Mikey we’re talking about: he doesn’t think.
I ignore him and turn to Xiomara as we leave the classroom. We figured out today that there are only twenty-seven more days of school, and it’s Friday, so no Mikey for two days—I want to celebrate! “Hey, do you think our moms will let us go to the playground for a little while?”
Xiomara nods. “My mom will say yes if your mom does, so let’s go ask your mom together first. I’ll sing for her; she can’t resist that!”
“Yeah, you’ll win her over with the . . . power of your voice,” I say as we walk down the hall to the library.
“Can you start calling me Xio?” says Xiomara, drawing it out in a really dramatic way, like SEEEE-oh. “It sounds like I’m already a star that way.”
“Um, okay,” I say. “I guess it’s a good idea to have a nickname ready just in case you have to spend every Saturday with a girl who has the exact same name as you someday.”
“Come on, you have to admit Naomi Marie sounds kind of elegant. And you said she’s not that bad,” says “Xio.” “Are you almost ready to introduce us? I think it would be so cool to hang out together!”
“Well, she was telling me about her friend Annie,” I say slowly, lowering my voice as we walk into the library even though school’s over. Momma has a rep to protect, so I try to follow the rules even when I don’t have to. “Maybe it won’t be awkward with all four of us. We can take Shotsie for a walk . . . maybe go to Shelly Ann’s.”
We walk into Momma’s tiny office, and she’s not there.
But Tom is.
“You must be Xiomara,” Tom says, like he belongs in my school. At Momma’s desk.
“Xio, actually,” says Xiomara. She lifts up her head like she’s fancy. “And you are . . . ?”
“Tom,” he says, smiling. He turns to me. “Hi, Naomi Marie. Your mom had to run Bri over to Dr. Johnson’s. She got sick and threw up at school. Val asked me to meet you, and here I am.” He holds up a white paper bag. “I’ve even got Shelly Ann’s.”
“WHAT?!” I drop my backpack, and the water bottle inside makes a big clank. “Is Bri okay?” I ask. “How come nobody told me?”
“Tom’s telling you now,” says Xio, oh so helpfully.
“It sounds like she’ll be fine,” says Tom quickly. “Don’t be scared.”
“I’m not scared,” I say, but I know my voice is shaking. “But I can feel any way I want to—it’s my sister!” And you’re in my mom’s office like you belong, and I just want to cover my ears and scream.
“I mean . . . your mom just wanted to be careful. There are so many viruses going around right now. She checked in a few minutes ago, and she said you can call her if you want.”
“I do want,” I say, picking up my backpack and trying to speak past the lump in my throat. “I mean, this is my family. And Bri doesn’t go to school, it’s playgroup.” I know I sound worse than snotty, but it’s like there’s a different me in control. Momma’s gone, and my little sister’s sick. . . . Tom’s trying to be . . . dadly, saying “Bri” and wanting to bribe me with Shelly Ann’s. I’m not having it. And he shouldn’t know doctor stuff. That’s
personal.
“Sorry. Playgroup,” says Tom. “Wherever she was, she puked. Big-time.” He smiles. I don’t.
I can hear Xio hold back a giggle.
I turn my back on Tom and call Momma.
“Hi, sweetie pie, I’m so sorry to surprise you like this, but I had to pick Bri up from Little Nubians, she threw up during free play, but she’s fine, they think it’s a twenty-four-hour bug, and Tom was around—” Momma sounds breathless, and I know I should say, How’s-Bri-I’m-okay, but . . .
“Why didn’t you get Daddy?” I blurt out. “Since this is a family matter.” I look right at Tom when I say that, and it feels good when he looks down. That other me has taken over.
She sighs. “Well, your father was tied up on a conference call. I had to run . . . and I didn’t want to leave you hanging, honey.”
“Why was he visiting you?” I ask. “Did he get fired from his job?” I hear Tom snort behind me, so I guess he knows what we’re talking about. I move a little farther away. “I mean, I’m just thinking about him and his daughter. He has to spend so much money buying all those frozen dinners since we already know he can’t cook.”
“Naomi Marie—”
“See!” I say. “You’re saying it when you’re upset!”
“Ugh, sorry, sorry,” she says, and sighs again. “My dear sweet Naomi Marie, I know this was a surprise and maybe not the kind you usually hope for. I didn’t want to just text you and have you deal with this all alone. It’s a little crazy right now, and I have to pay attention to your sister. It sounds like we’ll be home this evening. Tom can tell you everything. You can make it work right now, yeah? I know you can. Tom can take you over to your dad’s if you want.”
“I just—”
“Thank you, honey. The doctor’s back. I love you.” She hangs up.
“I love you too, Momma,” I say slowly, even though she can’t hear me anymore. “And I hope Bri’s really all right.”
I stand there with my back still turned, but now it’s mostly because I need to fix my face before I look at Tom or Xio.
“Everything okay?” asks Tom softly. “I wrote down everything your mom reported after the doctor checked Bri out. Even her ‘ums.’”
“Momma hardly ever says ‘um,’” I say, looking at him and trying to smile a little. “Everything’s okay. But . . . I’d like to see your notes.”
He hands them over, and they’re in a list, nice and numbered, just the way I like. I wonder if he found that out about me or if it’s just a coincidence, but I don’t ask. Xio reads over my shoulder.
“Thank you,” I say, very softly, but I know he hears. “Um, can you take me to my dad’s apartment?” I look at Xio and raise my eyebrows. She gets it right away.
“And me?” she asks quickly. “We can do our homework together.”
I smile and mouth, Thank you. I’m not ready to be by myself in Tom’s car.
“Sure,” says Tom. “As long as you guys can direct me.” At least he doesn’t know that. Then it would be too weird.
“I’ll, um, call my mom first,” says Xio. “I’ll tell her that I can walk home from your dad’s place.”
While she does, Tom and I stand there, not really looking at each other. I don’t feel like that other me anymore, but I don’t feel like myself either.
Tom’s car radio turns on when he starts the engine, and it’s loud—I bet he was singing, because he shuts it off real quick, like he’s embarrassed, and clears his throat. He glances at me in the rearview mirror, but I look out of the window and pretend I don’t feel Xio nudging me. I give him Dad’s address, and he puts it in his GPS, which I’m surprised this car has because it looks OLD.
“How old is this car?” I ask. “It doesn’t seem safe.”
Tom looks at me sideways. “I don’t have a car, actually. This one belongs to my neighbor George. I wanted to get to you right away, and he came to the rescue. He calls it the G-DOGmobile, and I have every confidence in it.”
I turn away and think eye-rolly thoughts.
“So, Xio,” he says. “Has Naomi Marie told you about the coding club? You might be interested in joining the girls for the next session.”
“It sounds really cool,” says Xio. “I was thinking that I could make a karaoke game or something.”
He says “the girls” like we’re a pair or something. NOT.
“What do you think, Naomi Marie?” he asks. “Maybe you three can all work together. And Naomi’s friend Annie—the four of you could be a team.”
“That’s exactly what I was thinking!” says Xio, and I glare at her.
Tom clears his throat again. “The girls have a project presentation coming up. Maybe you can join our little celebration afterward.” He pauses. “How’s the project going, Naomi Marie? Naomi doesn’t say much about it.”
Because she doesn’t do much about it is what I want to say, but I don’t. I won’t sell her out like THAT. “It’s fine. My dad will help with it too. It’s a good thing he’s always here for me,” I say, a little more loudly than I need to. “I don’t know what I’d do without him. He’s the best father a girl named Naomi could have.”
Xio elbows me hard, but I just blink a few times and stare straight ahead.
“Your father is a great guy,” says Tom quietly. “And we have a lot in common.”
“How do you know?” I ask, not caring how rude I sound. Xio’s staring at me with her mouth open.
“We’ve met,” says Tom. “We’ve talked.”
What? Now my mouth is open.
“He certainly loves you and your sister very much,” Tom adds as he pulls up in front of Dad’s place. “And I can see why.”
Well, now I know Tom’s a total liar, because I’m not that nice to him, especially today. But I don’t really know what to do except mumble “Thank you” and follow Xio out of the car. Tom smiles, and waves at my dad when he opens his door and waves me and Xio inside. My dad waves back at Tom. All this waving is making me feel sick.
“I don’t feel so good,” I say to Xio. “Maybe you should go home now.”
Xio looks at me for a minute and then says, “I have to walk Shotsie anyway.” She stomps off, and I want to run after her.
But I don’t.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Naomi E.
When Mom and I talk or Skype now, it’s all about plans—what we’ll do when she’s here. For a whole month! We’re going to drive to Jones Beach. And she’s going to take Annie and me to a place with indoor trampolines, and we can stay as long as we want, jumping for hours, because Mom always wanted to have a trampoline for me but our backyard wasn’t big enough.
“So how’s that class going? You haven’t talked about it at all, but I’ve been wondering. Did you end up liking that girl you told me about?”
That girl. The other Naomi.
“I guess. It’s just . . .” And I can’t even think of what it just is, but I know it has something to do with the work I haven’t done on our DuoTek project. “I don’t really like the class,” I say. “Or I guess it’s okay, but I wish we didn’t have to do a project.”
And that’s not even the whole truth. I feel guilty, very guilty, that I haven’t done any work.Tomorrow’s the last class before the whole big presentation thing we’re having on the last day, and so far, we’ve made no progress. Naomi Marie wants everything to be so complicated! Like instead of having to go through a maze, she wants it to be a maze within a maze with three puzzles hidden inside and a quiz at the end.
“When’s it due?” Mom asks. “You’re not going to let it turn into a whole Vasco da Gama thing, right?”
Okay, so maybe I put off my explorers diorama in third grade and maybe we didn’t even have a shoe box in the house and it’s possible we sent my dad to the store just to buy shoes at five o’clock the night before it was due. And there may have been some crying and freaking out involved too. Maybe. But I guess Mom forgot her promise not to bring up my most epic meltdown ever again.
“Do what you need to do. The class is over in two weeks, Naomi. Just get it done.”
Dad always leaves me alone when I’m Skyping with Mom, but he walks right in and lowers his head so she can see him. “Hello, Sarah,” he says.
“Hi, Tom. Oh, wow. Your hair got long!”
“Did it?” he asks, reaching his hand up to the back of his neck. “Yeah, I guess it did. When you have some time, I’d like to talk to you about some things.”
Hello? Mom? Dad? This is my time to talk with Mom. I clear my throat the way Ms. Gomez does when she wants the class to stop talking. They ignore me.
“Well, sure. No problem. I’ll see you in July.”
“I know,” Dad says. “There are a few things I want to discuss before then.”
“A man of mystery,” Mom says.
“Who probably wants to let his daughter talk to her mom for a little while,” I say.
Dad sort of fake-punches my head the way he and his friend Loofie give each other noogies, but then he smiles and waves good-bye to Mom and leaves the room.
Mom sips from the mug next to her, then makes a face. That means her coffee got cold. She pushes the mug away and says, “I wonder what that’s about.”
I am nearly sure it’s about Valerie. I wonder how much Mom knows. If she even knows anything. She’s heard me talk about Dad’s friend Valerie’s daughter. But does she know that friend is maybe more than friend? “Very serious,” even?
“Well, one thing I know for sure. There’s no way it’s about him and Valerie,” I say. “Because he hardly ever wants to talk about her, and he definitely never wanted me to be instant best buddies with her daughter. He finds it totally boring to talk about her.”
Mom doesn’t say anything, doesn’t even laugh, and I think I might have taken some steps in the way-wrong direction.
More silence.
Of course she doesn’t want to think about the man who used to be her husband being in a relationship or whatever with some other woman.
“We never really talk about that, do we, Naomi?” she says.
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