Annie is the worst liar. This hardly ever comes up—the only time I saw it was one huge lie about Halloween candy she was supposed to share with her brothers. But it’s like she’s playing freeze tag. Right here on the sidewalk, Annie has stopped walking, dribbling, talking. My best friend the statue.
Not that I know exactly how to handle this. I wasn’t counting on parents.
“Are you staying here now? Naomi, should I call your father?” her mom asks.
“NO!” I say—too loud and too fast, and just way too too.
“We were about to . . .” Maybe she won’t notice that it’s not a complete sentence.
Her mom looks. And looks. And finally says, “Well, Annie, since you’re home, you may as well come with me to pick up Chase. I was going to call now anyway. We can give you a lift if you’d like, Naomi.”
“No thanks,” I say. I should probably say more, but maybe saying less is the way to go with . . . lying. I don’t have a ton of experience. I wave and smile and keep walking, even though maybe it’s a little weird that I’m heading in the opposite direction of home.
When I reach Scary Boulevard, I’m thinking about what I want to say to Naomi. I know I at least owe it to my dad to cross at the corner, wait at the light, and be as careful as I can be. And I am. It’s no big deal, really. It’s not like I’m six. I can cross big streets. This shouldn’t even be something I have to worry about my father getting mad about.
As I walk up to the Y, I’m trying to remember if there’s a directory about which class meets in which room. And—uh-oh—did all classes end the same week as Girls Gaming the System? Is this the stupidest idea ever? I brace myself for the awful smell and walk in, hoping I’ll figure it out, and suddenly there’s someone wet wrapped around my waist, jumping up and down and saying, “White Naomi! White Naomi! What are you doing here?”
Valerie turns the corner from the other hallway, saying, “Brianna, don’t run—” and then she sees me and says, “Naomi! What are you doing here?”
The question of the day! Which I answer with a question of my own. “Is Naomi here? I wanted to talk to her.”
I wish I had a stopwatch so I could tell you exactly how long Valerie stands there staring at me. I also wish I had a towel, because Brianna is getting me soaked! She finally unhugs and takes a step back and looks at me the same way her mother does.
Valerie’s shaking her head as she asks, “Is your father here?”
“No,” I say.
She tilts her head a little and then asks, “Does he know you’re here?”
This is bad. “Not exactly,” I say.
“And the reason you’re here but he doesn’t know is . . . ?”
This is very bad. “I wanted to talk to Naomi. I had a feeling she’d be here.”
Brianna keeps looking back and forth between us. Her mouth is wide open.
Valerie holds her phone. “Do you want to call your dad or do you want me to?”
I don’t want either of those things.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Naomi Marie
It’s one thing being the New Naomi Marie when I don’t have to see Ms. E(vil); it’s not so easy when we’re on our way to meet her for the first time since she made me look stupid in front of everyone.
“Please don’t pout, Naomi Marie,” says Momma. “It’s over. Let it go.”
“Easy for you to say. You weren’t completely destroyed in front of the whole world.”
Momma raises her eyebrow and turns to me as we walk to the parking lot. “Destroyed? The whole world? Don’t you think you’re being a little dramatic?”
“Drama Queeeen, you’re a super-fiend,” sings Xio under her breath. She flinches when I glare at her. “Sorry. It’s just one of George Henderson’s verses on Adedayo’s—” She stops. “Never mind.”
Momma unlocks the car door, and we all buckle up.
“We should have just canceled, not postponed,” I say. I’ve been very happy to not think about last Saturday all week. Now every mortifying moment is coming back in a rush like a waterfall. “There’s nothing to celebrate about that . . . that . . . debbuckle. Let’s just forget the whole thing. Can’t we just go to the park by ourselves?”
“You mean de-BAH-cle, honey,” Momma says softly, looking back and smiling.
Humph. I thought that sounded weird. I fold my arms and look out of the window as we get onto the highway.
“I liked what you made,” Momma says. “I don’t want to forget it. And neither do you. Maybe you can do a presentation at school or something.”
“Don’t say ‘presentation’! And we missed the showcase deadline. We were the . . . the Fools Not Gaming the System!”
“Fool’s gold never gets old . . . ,” sing Xio and Bri. I turn to them.
“Sorry,” says Xio. “It’s just, not many people say ‘fools,’ . . . and also, that was one of—”
“ADEDAYO! I know, I know,” I say. “How do you know that song?” I ask Brianna.
“I know everything,” she answers. “I have graduation soon.” Then she turns it into a song. “I have graaaad-yooooo-A-shun SOOOOOON!”
I cover my ears and turn back to the window.
“Hey,” says Momma gently. “We’re celebrating your hard work, that you tried a new thing. We’re going to your favorite park, and we even got your favorite Zipcar!”
“It doesn’t even smell new anymore,” I grumble. “That’s what I hate about Zipcars—everybody uses them, and then they get old.”
Momma glances at me in the rearview mirror but just keeps driving.
“I bet there’s a way to make this fun,” whispers Xio. “You know you always come up with something. Do you have any game ideas?”
Xio’s got my back. I try to smile as I shrug. “Forget it. It’s not a big deal.”
She squeezes my hand, and I add, “Thanks.”
As we head across the bridge, Brianna spots another Zipcar in the lane next to us and waves. The driver doesn’t wave back, so I stick out my tongue on my sister’s behalf, and that makes me feel a tiny bit better.
My best friend is here.
We’re going to my favorite park, in a Zipcar.
With a picnic cooler full of treats.
And I WILL NEVER HAVE TO COLLABORATE AND COOPERATE WITH THE OTHER NAOMI AGAIN.
I guess there’s still plenty to celebrate.
We get to the park first, and the sprinklers are on, so me, Xio, and Bri start running through the one shaped like an octopus. When Momma and Dad were getting divorced, I got to use some “take a break days” and skip school; I asked to come here every time. You can do things like run through the sprinklers without wondering if someone’s mom is going to complain loudly about “big kids” being too rough.
Kids are already wearing shorts and flip-flops, and screaming like someone just announced a free lifetime supply of ice cream for everyone. We’ve got a few more weeks of school left, but this park always makes me feel like summer. I can breathe deeper near the river; it’s like I put my problems on one of the little boats leaving the harbor, far away and getting farther by the minute.
“Tom!” Momma yells, waving frantically and smiling.
They’re here. Yay. Tom smiles and starts heading toward us. Naomi Edith is being draggy behind him. Another girl, who I guess must be Annie, is kind of walking between them, looking like she doesn’t know how she’s supposed to look.
Tom flops down on our blanket. “Ugh, it feels like the middle of summer already!” he says. “I packed sunscreen!”
He looks a little red already. Momma must agree, because she says, “I’ll help you with that,” which is my cue to run far, far away. I can feel Xio and Bri running with me, but when I turn to them, it’s her.
I slow down.
“Hi,” she says. “You run pretty fast.”
“I’m in the Mighty Milers club,” I say.
“I’m not,” she says, bending over. “I’m more in the Super Sitters.”
S
he looks up like she’s hoping I’m going to laugh.
“So . . . how was your week? I mean, after . . .” She clears her throat.
“The total fail?” I finish. “The complete mortification?” I guess I’m still a little upset. I look around to make sure Xio’s not close enough to hear me.
“Well, I was just going to say kind of bad,” she says. “But, um, okay, if you want to go in that direction . . .”
“Why did you have to say anything?” I ask. “It was YOUR idea to work together. Then you didn’t want to help at all! And after I did all the work, and I did a good job too, if I do say so myself—”
“You’ll definitely say so yourself,” she says, but I keep going.
“I did a GREAT job, and then you had to go and mess it up in front of Julie and everyone!” I take a deep breath. “And my dad was going to come, but he didn’t because of YOUR dad, and—”
Then the worst happens. I start crying.
And so does she.
Bri comes running up. “Are you guys playing tag? Because if you are— Oh Naomis, are you crying?” She looks really worried as Xio and Annie come up behind her.
“Um, Bri, let’s go back to the sprinklers, okay?” says Xio.
“Yeah!” says Annie quickly. “I’ll show you how my flip-flops change colors when they get wet!” They both grab Bri by the hand on each side and hustle her away.
After a while, the Other Naomi says, “Xiomara seems cool.”
“It’s just ‘Xio’ now. . . . Annie seems cool too.” We lean against a tree and watch them play with Brianna. A few pigeons wander over, but they stalk away once they realize we don’t have any snacks.
“I’m sorry,” we both say at the exact same time.
Then we laugh. And laugh, and laugh, until we’re both laid out on the grass, looking up at the sky.
“It’s so funny how you can be crying one minute and then laughing the next, right?” I say.
“I know!” she says. “My mom says—” Then she stops.
“How’s your mom?” I ask after minute. And before she even lifts a shoulder, I add, “And don’t SHRUG!”
“You really do have this bossy-big-sister thing down, don’t you?” she says. And we giggle until she almost whispers, “I miss her.”
I lie really still, like she’s a deer that might run away if I move too fast.
“And I thought I would have visited her by now and we hardly get to Skype and I used to be able to talk to my mom whenever I wanted but now I never get what I want and everything’s already decided before I even realize what I want.” She says that all in one breath.
It’s a risk, but . . . “You sure do sound like an only child,” I say. She looks at me for a beat, and then she laughs. Whew.
“Hey, did you notice the weather?” I ask.
“Huh?”
“It’s not raining.”
“You’re right,” she says. “That’s a good sign.”
We’re silent for a while.
“Did you like that class?” she asks.
It’s my turn to shrug. “It was okay. At first, I was really like NO. It was not how I planned to spend my Saturday mornings. But . . . it got kind of interesting. And when I tried making my own project, I . . . I showed it to my dad, and he got really into it, and it was like how we do puzzles and board games together, but we never have that much time now. . . .” I trail off. “Anyway, I always figure if I have to do something, I might as well make it good.”
“You mean make it THE BEST,” she says. “You’re kind of competitive.”
“I just want to do MY best,” I say.
“I guess my ideas weren’t up to par,” she says.
“What ideas?”
“The ones I put in the Brain Dump,” she says. “About the stairs and stuff?”
“I never saw that,” I say slowly. “Is that the note you were talking about? I sent you some messages in the Dump and you never answered, so I stopped checking after a while.”
“Ohhh . . .” She nods like I’ve just explained the mysteries of the universe to her. “Well, do you think maybe you gave up on me too soon?”
“. . . Maybe. But do you think maybe you didn’t exactly give me that much to work with? Like, ideas that stayed ‘in your head’? I mean, I know I’m magic, but . . .”
We look at each other for a while. I bite my lip, and then she bites hers. A giggle escapes and I clap my hand over my mouth, but it’s too late. We’re both laughing again.
Bri runs over. “THEY STOPPED CRYING,” she yells over to Xio and Annie, who are sitting on the swings.
“They look like friends,” says the Other Naomi, watching them walk over to us.
“We have good taste,” I say.
We play Lava Monster together until we hear the ice cream truck. We all look at each other.
“What do you think? Should we ask?” says the Other Naomi. “We brought a lot of good stuff from Morningstar.”
“It IS supposed to be a celebration,” I say. “But we brought Shelly Ann’s triple-chocolate cake too.”
“We’ll ask,” says Xio. “Parents always say yes to the guests.”
“I like the way you think,” says Annie. The two of them head toward Momma and Tom, while the Other Naomi and I take turns pushing Bri on the swings.
Xio and Annie come back, and they’re not smiling.
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
“The ice cream man left!” cries Bri, looking around. “That’s what’s wrong.”
“Um. Well, no, that’s not it,” says Annie, looking at Xio. “It’s, um, well . . .”
Xio’s looking back at Annie, and both of their eyebrows are about to leap off their heads. Then they start signaling to each other in fake sign language like the rest of us aren’t even there, and this is so silly that both the Other Naomi and I say “WHAT?!?!” at the same time. And laugh.
Annie starts. “It’s just . . . your parents—”
“—they were really looking at each other,” blurts out Xio.
“So?” says the Other Naomi.
“Xio, you know Momma believes in eye contact,” I say.
“I mean really looking,” says Xio. “Like on those book covers in the teen section.” She turns to Annie. “Which is the only section that looks interesting.”
“I know, right?” says Annie.
The Other Naomi and I share an eye roll.
“They keep holding hands,” says Annie.
My stomach hurts.
“And touching foreheads,” adds Xio.
Wait, no, it’s my head.
“They’re doing it now!” shouts Bri.
MY EYES.
We all watch for a while, and it’s pretty gross. I mean, it kind of always is, but . . .
The air is gone. I can’t breathe. What happened to the air?
“They’re in love,” Annie whispers. The Other Naomi opens her mouth like she wants to say something, but nothing comes out.
“Your mouth is open,” Bri says to me. “But nothing’s coming out. You’re gonna catch flies in there!”
“Be quiet, Bri,” the Other Naomi whispers, just as I was about to.
“Yeah, Bri,” I say. “Just be quiet.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Naomi E.
“Bessie, this must be your lucky day,” Sheera says as we walk into Morningstar.
Morningstar!
It smells so good. There’s a coffee smell, of course, but also baking bread and sweet chocolaty things and all-around goodness. Oh my. So good. But maybe better—getting hugged by Bessie. “How has it happened that I’m never here when you are anymore? Look at you! I bet you’ve grown two inches!”
“Hello? I’m here too,” Dad says.
“Yes, you are, Tom,” Sheera says. “But Bessie missed Naomi more.”
I doubt I could smile any bigger. This is exactly what I need. Everything has felt so wrong since Dad and Valerie got all . . . gross at the park. And before that, a different ver
sion of awful, with Dad mad at me for going to the Y.
“So what will it be, miss,” Bessie asks. “Croissant or bagel?”
Would you believe I can’t choose? Like, seriously can’t? Bessie starts laughing. Sheera says, “Now, come on! Do you want both? Because I can make that happen.”
Finally, I hear myself say, “Chocolate chip scone, please.”
Dad starts slow-clapping. “Change!” he says. “Change is good!”
“I don’t know about that,” Sheera says. “But I do know our scones are good.”
Bessie takes off her apron and sits with Dad and me. She tells me about her little dog, Kerfluffle. She shows me at least seventeen pictures on her phone. She asks about Mom and says, “Oh, good!” and gives me a one-armed hug when I tell her Mom will be home for a whole month.
Dad sips tea and listens. I find myself telling Bessie about the whole mess with the DuoTek project and how things were pretty bad between the other Naomi and me but are now getting better. I skip over the part where Valerie called Dad and waited for him to show up at the Y to walk me home, when we had the first of about four billion conversations about street safety and trust. I jump ahead to how we had a There Are Plenty of Other Things to Celebrate get-together in the park with my friend Annie and Naomi’s friend Xio and I definitely skip over the disgusting Dad-and-Valerie part.
A few people are waiting for coffee, and Sheera holds up Bessie’s apron. “Break’s over,” Bessie says. “But it sounds like you have an awful lot to look forward to. I’m happy to hear that.”
Before we leave, Dad lets me pick out cookies, which is very happy making. Maybe we’re finally getting back to normal. I hope I can still recognize normal.
There are a dozen in the box when Dad says, “Whoa, whoa, whoa. That’s a lot of cookies for three people.”
“Three?”
“Valerie’s coming over.”
First of all, he is so wrong about that being a lot of cookies. Because even if it were three people, that’s four cookies each, and that’s not a lot. Math, Dad! But why isn’t he counting us? Am I supposed to watch Valerie, Brianna, and the other Naomi eat cookies?
“Five,” I say. “Five people.” And then, turning back to Sheera, I say, “And two of the butterscotch chip, please, and do you have that one with chocolate sprinkles?”
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