Too Much Drama

by Laurie Friedman

  So Leo came to pick me up this morning, which was pretty exciting because it was going to be the first time I’d been anywhere alone with a boy in a car. I didn’t want to make it seem like a big deal, and I was hoping Mom and Dad wouldn’t think it was either. What I was really hoping was that by the time he came to get me, Mom and Dad would be long gone. But somehow they both picked this morning to get a slow start.

  When Leo came inside to say hi to Mom and Dad, they were having coffee at the kitchen table. When I told them what we were doing, they thought it was a huge deal that Leo would be driving us to the mall.

  “How long have you been driving?” Dad asked.

  “Have you had any accidents or gotten any tickets?” asked Mom.

  I was very irritated and more than a little embarrassed that my parents were grilling Leo about his driving habits. “Leo has a license,” I said. “Do you ask everyone who has a license how long they’ve been driving or if they’ve had accidents or tickets?”

  Mom and Dad both shot me a look that said they didn’t like my attitude but didn’t want to say anything that would embarrass me in front of Leo. I guess I should be grateful for that. I gave Leo a tell-my-parents-you-know-how-to-drive look, but he handled the situation in his typically unique and highly effective fashion.

  “I completely get why you’d be worried,” he said. “There’s nothing scarier than teen drivers.” He paused and looked at my parents. “Of course old people behind the wheel and black bears on the loose are pretty scary too.”

  Mom and Dad both laughed. I smiled too. It was hard not to appreciate Leo’s attempt at humor.

  “I’m a very careful driver,” said Leo. His face had turned serious. “One of my greatest accomplishments is that in my first nine months of driving I’ve had no accidents and gotten no tickets. But I woke up this morning thinking about how hard it’s going to be to find a parking spot at the mall during the holiday time.”

  Mom and Dad both nodded like they understood that.

  “I don’t want to inconvenience either of you,” said Leo. “But if you have time to drop us off, I’d be happy to leave my car here. Or we could take the bus,” he said looking at me. I nodded like that was fine, even though that was definitely not how I’d pictured our day.

  “You don’t need to take the bus,” said Dad. “I’m leaving for the diner now, and I’d be happy to drop you off.”

  “And I can pick you up later when I close the store,” said Mom.

  “Great!” said Leo as he followed Dad to the garage. I was too shocked to speak. I never thought my first car date (if this was a date, which I wasn’t even sure of) would include my parents, but Leo was totally cool with it, and it made me not mind so much. Leo chatted with my dad on the way to the mall and with my mom on the way home. I liked how comfortable he seemed around my parents.

  But that wasn’t even what I liked most about the day. There was a whole string of little things that Leo did.

  When we were shopping for a scarf, he asked the sales lady if she thought aqua or peach was a better color for him. He held two scarves up to his face like he couldn’t decide. The lady told him he was looking at scarves for women. The way she said it was condescending, like either he didn’t know what department he was in or he did know and was making a questionable choice.

  Some people would have gotten embarrassed or felt stupid, but not Leo. He told her that he’s always thought a scarf seemed liked a fairly unisex product but that he happened to be looking for his mother, who has the same coloring he does. When she pointed to the aqua scarf, Leo very nicely thanked her for her help even though she’d been pretty rude to him.

  And when we were walking to the food court to get lunch, Leo suggested we stop in the candy store on the way.

  “Doesn’t dessert come after a meal?” I asked.

  Leo grinned. “It’s the holidays—let’s live large,” he said as we sampled the peanut butter fudge on the counter.

  “That’s really good,” I said. Leo agreed, and he asked the guy working behind the counter if we could take another sample.

  “Sure,” he said. He seemed surprised Leo had asked.

  “Thanks,” Leo said as he handed me a piece of mint fudge and took one for himself. Then he told the guy that he works in a deli and that his pet peeve is when he puts out a plate of samples and someone stands there eating them all.

  “I know what you mean,” said the guy.

  He thanked Leo and wished us a happy holiday. As we left the store, I was thinking how much I liked how polite Leo was to everyone, especially at holiday time.

  But I guess the thing that really stuck in my mind was what happened when I was buying mittens for May and June.

  As I was looking through the piles of mittens and slipping my hands into pairs I liked, I couldn’t help noticing that Leo had gotten quiet and was staring at me. It was kind of embarrassing. “What are you looking at?” I asked. The words sounded harsh, and I wanted to reel them back in as soon as I’d said them.

  But Leo didn’t seem to mind my question. He just answered it honestly. “You have pretty hands.”

  I’d never thought of my hands as anything other than functional, so I liked the thought that I could add “nice hands” to my list of good features. Then, to my surprise, Leo took my hands in his and inspected them. “Really nice mitts,” he said.

  The way he said it made me laugh. It was a reference to a baseball catcher’s mitt, and I couldn’t help but think of all the times Matt Parker had said stuff about baseball when we were going out. Most of what he had to say was about how he was good at it. It usually left me feeling cold and thinking that the main thing he liked talking about was himself. Leo’s reference had the opposite effect—I felt all warm.

  And I don’t think it had anything to do with the mittens.

  In the book of life, the answers aren’t in the back.

  —Charlie Brown

  Monday, December 8, 6:05 p.m.

  Babysitting

  I’m sitting on the couch with May and June, watching SpongeBob, eating Domino’s, and thinking about my hands. The ones Leo said were pretty. I’m still kind of hung up (in a good way) on that comment. I’m also hung up (in a bad-phone-joke way) on why he hasn’t called since we went shopping on Saturday.

  Is he busy getting ready to go to college in January? He said he had a lot to do, but still, I would think he’d have time to make a phone call. I have no idea what someone has to do to get ready to go to college. It must be very time consuming.

  Here’s an idea: I’m going to call him and find out.

  8:30 p.m.

  Calling Leo was a good move. As soon as I called, he said he was sorry he hadn’t called and that the reason he hadn’t is because his grandparents showed up yesterday for a surprise visit. “One of the drawbacks to being an only grandchild is that when they come to visit, I’m the one they want to visit with,” he said.

  “Do you like your grandparents?” I asked.

  “Yes,” said Leo. “. . . and no. They’re intense.”

  “What do you like best about them?” I asked.

  “They like to talk to me about science, which I like talking about. My grandpa is a physicist, and my grandma is a neurosurgeon.”

  “I see why you’re a chemistry genius. It must be genetic,” I said.

  “Quite possible,” said Leo.

  “So what do you like least about them?” It seemed only fair to ask.

  Leo laughed. “What I like least is that when they come to visit, they don’t like me spending my time with anyone but them.” Then he told me he had to go but promised he’d call tomorrow night, as soon as his grandparents leave.

  Tuesday, December 9, 10:02 p.m.

  In my room

  Leo called. But it’s a shame he called when he did. I must have seemed distracted, because he asked if I had something on my mind, which I did, and we spent the whole call (which only lasted six minutes) talking about what happened in dance today.r />
  The worst part is that it was so stupid, and talking about it made me seem stupid. I had told Leo about the recent drama with my friends on Saturday when we went Christmas shopping. So tonight I told him how Emily came up to me during our break at dance and said Brynn told her it was my fault that Billy broke up with her.

  “What did you say?” Leo asked.

  “I asked her what exactly Brynn had told her. She said Brynn said she should ask me why I would do something like that.” I described how she put her hand on her hip and looked at me like I owed her some kind of explanation. “It had nothing to do with Emily,” I said.

  “Hmm,” said Leo. “That sounds pretty complicated.”

  “Right?” I was glad he got it. “I mean, it was wrong for Brynn to drag her into it. Don’t you think?”

  “Yeah,” said Leo. I waited for him to make one of his insightful comments about how silly it was that Brynn was bringing other people into something they had nothing to do with, but he didn’t. “April, I’m not very good with girl stuff,” he said. Then he told me he had to go. After we hung up, I looked down at my phone.

  If it had a do-over button, I would have pushed it.

  Wednesday, December 10, 6:17 p.m.

  Not-so-secret Santa

  My problems with Brynn are getting worse by the day. She’s going person-to-person on the dance team and dragging them into her warped thinking that I caused the breakup with Billy.

  I know this because today we were drawing Secret Santa names, and when Vanessa Mendez picked, she looked at me, which I was pretty sure meant she drew my name. I also saw Brynn, who was standing next to Vanessa, look over Vanessa’s shoulder and frown, which made me doubly sure Vanessa had picked me.

  Then after dance, Vanessa came up to me and said Brynn told her I caused the breakup with Billy. It was the same thing that happened with Emily.

  “I didn’t cause any breakup,” I said. “How could I do that?”

  What I’d meant was that one person can’t make another person break up with someone else, but that wasn’t how Vanessa took it.

  “Exactly,” said Vanessa. “When Brynn told me, I said the same thing. How could April do that?” She paused and looked at me like she was waiting for her words to sink in and then continued. “I get that Sophie is kind of like family to you, but we’re a team, and we’re supposed to be a family. Maybe you should apologize to Brynn,” she said.

  “Sure,” I said to Vanessa.

  “Great,” said Vanessa, like she’d done her job.

  As I walked home, I was thinking two things.

  One: there’s no way I’m apologizing to Brynn. Two: Vanessa doesn’t know sarcasm when she hears it.

  Friday, December 12, 5:58 p.m.

  It’s a wrap

  In more ways than one

  Today after school, SGA had a wrap party for the toys they collected from the toy drive, and Sophie asked me if I’d stop by and help wrap. Everyone on SGA brought in Christmas cookies, and a bunch of kids were coming to help wrap. We didn’t have dance practice, so I was happy to pitch in. Apparently, so were Emily and Vanessa.

  I was kind of surprised they came. They’ve both made it pretty clear they’re allies with Brynn on the breakup issue. They know Billy is on SGA, so I would have thought it was an event they would boycott in support of Brynn.

  But as we started to wrap gifts, I started to get paranoid that they came because of Brynn. I couldn’t help but wonder if she’d sent them as spies. They were both watching Billy the whole time. He and Sophie stood side by side wrapping presents, eating cookies, and laughing, and Emily’s and Vanessa’s eyes were glued to them.

  Billy’s always a comic, but today when he told a joke, his friend Jake Willensky said, “Dude, that’s the dumbest joke,” and a couple of kids actually booed and gave it a thumbs-down sign. No one thought it was funny—except Sophie. She actually put her head back and laughed out loud like she thought it was hilarious.

  I hadn’t meant to, but when she started laughing, I looked in Vanessa and Emily’s direction. It was pretty obvious they had taken note of Sophie’s reaction, because when I looked at them, they were both looking at me. Vanessa rolled her eyes, and Emily shook her head. Neither of them said anything to me, but they didn’t have to.

  I knew exactly what they were thinking.

  9:02 p.m.

  Looking for answers

  I was sitting on my bed thinking about everything that’s happened lately with Brynn and Billy and Sophie and Leo and even the girls on the dance team, and my brain filled up with questions.

  Are Billy and Sophie going to end up together? How will Brynn react? What’s going to happen with the girls on the dance team? Is Brynn going to try to turn them all against me? Will it work? And what about Leo? Do I like him as more than a friend? Does he think about me that way? What’s going to happen when he goes to college?

  Those were just some of the questions bouncing around in my brain when May came into my room and wanted me to help her with her math homework.

  “It’s Friday night,” I reminded her. “You have until Monday morning.”

  “I know,” said May. “But I have a soccer tournament all weekend.” She put her book down in front of me. “Please, April. I’m really confused. I could use some help.”

  I groaned. I wasn’t in the mood to do math. “You know, the answers are in the back of the book,” I said.

  May shook her head. “Just the odd ones. What do I do about the other problems?”

  “That’s hard,” I said. But I wasn’t just talking about math. It’s life in general. Friends. Boys. Relationships. There are always lots of questions.

  But not nearly enough answers.

  If we did all the things we are capable of, we would literally astound ourselves.

  —Thomas Edison

  Saturday, December 13, 3:30 p.m.

  Annoyed

  Today Mom had to be at her store all day, and Dad took May to her soccer tournament, which meant I was stuck at home babysitting June. It shouldn’t have been a big deal. The plan was that she would read while I studied for my Bio test. But June had other plans in mind. “We should bake Christmas cookies,” she said.

  I don’t love to bake, but it’s better than studying Bio. “Sure,” I said.

  So June and I congregated in the kitchen, and she read the recipe while I got out the ingredients and started mixing things together. We stirred red and green M&Ms into the dough, and I had just put the tray in the oven when my phone rang. It was Leo.

  “I have to get this,” I told June.

  “What about the cookies?” She looked alarmed.

  “Don’t worry,” I mouthed to her after I’d said hello to Leo. I walked to my room and shut my door. I hadn’t spoken to Leo since Tuesday when I’d told him about the drama in dance and he’d said he wasn’t good with girl talk. It wasn’t our best talk, and I wanted this one to be better. “What’s up?” I asked in a cheerful voice.

  “I spent the morning slicing five pounds of ham, six pounds of turkey, and four pounds of roast beef,” he reported. Then he told me he has twelve days left of work, which means if he slices approximately fifteen pounds of meat each day, he will be retired from the deli business “in exactly one hundred and eighty pounds.”

  “Of meat?” I asked.

  “Of meat,” Leo confirmed.

  I giggled. “What’s it like slicing all that meat?” I asked Leo.

  He cleared his throat and was talking in an authoritative sounding voice. “That depends on which meat you’re talking about.”

  I sat back on my bed and listened as Leo talked about the different slicing challenges inherent in ham and turkey. He’d just gotten to roast beef when June barged into my room. “April, the cookies are burning!” she said.

  “I have to go!” I told Leo. I dropped my phone and raced to the kitchen, but it was too late. The Christmas cookies June and I had baked were black.

  “Crap!” I said as I took the tra
y from the oven.

  “You’re not supposed to swear,” said June. She looked like she was about to cry.

  “I’m sorry,” I said.

  “About burning the cookies or swearing?” asked June.

  “Both.”

  “Can we make more?” June asked.

  “Not now.” I told her. I really had to study. “Maybe Dad will help you bake some more when he gets back after the tournament.”

  June seemed content to wait. But it was a mistake to tell her to wait for Dad to bake more, because when he got home, she told him that we baked cookies, and I let them burn.

  “April, that’s not like you to allow cookies to burn,” said Dad when he came into my room after June told him what happened. It was annoying that he’d decided to read into why I’d let the cookies burn.

  “It wasn’t a big deal,” I said glancing up at him from my textbook.

  But Dad seemed to think it was a bigger deal than I was letting on. “Was there something on your mind?” he asked.

  “Yeah,” I said. “Biology.” I didn’t think I needed to share with him that it wasn’t the only thing on my mind.

  “April, I know you and Brynn have had some issues lately. You’ve been friends for a long time. Why don’t you try talking to her?”

  Dad paused like he was debating if he wanted to say more, but I beat him to the punch. I really didn’t want to get into a whole conversation about Brynn with him. “Dad, I really need to study.”

  “OK,” he said. “Focus on school.”

  “I’m trying to,” I said. I was proud of myself for not saying that it would be a whole lot easier to do that if he’d stop trying to talk to me and go.

  But before Dad left my room, he gave me a look. “April, I’m always here if you want to talk.”

  “Thanks, Dad.” I appreciated that he wanted to help. There have been lots of times when talking to Dad has been helpful. But I didn’t feel up to it today. I don’t know if I was annoyed by the topic or by Dad’s prying.