When I went back to the store with the sandwiches, Mom hung her back in an hour sign on the door, and we sat down to eat. “What’s the matter?” she asked. “You look upset.”
“Nothing,” I lied. I didn’t want to get into it with her. I pointed to the bolts of crimson, white, and teal fabrics stacked neatly behind the counter. “Are those for the new order?” I asked.
That was a subject Mom was happy to talk about. She got up and went to the counter. When she came back she had a large notebook. “These are the designs,” she said as she showed me pages filled with skirts, tops, and pants.
“They look great!” I said to Mom.
“Thanks, honey.” She smiled like she really did appreciate my stamp of approval. “I’m pleased with how well everything is going. It’s a dream come true, really.”
Talking about Mom’s hopes and dreams was a welcome distraction from everything I’d been thinking about lately. “How did you know what you wanted to be?”
Mom took a long sip from her water bottle before she answered. “When I was a little girl, I used to spend hours at the sewing machine. I’ve always wanted to be a fashion designer, even when I was your age.”
As I ate my sandwich, I tried to picture my life. It wasn’t hard to do. I saw myself tangled up in all the drama that’s been swirling around me for a while now. I can’t say I liked what I saw.
You can be the moon and still be jealous of the stars.
—Gary Allan
Thursday, February 5, 10:42 p.m.
May just left my room
“Shouldn’t you be asleep?” I asked May when she came into my room. It was a school night and was way past her bedtime.
“I can’t fall asleep,” she said.
I could tell with one look there was a problem. “What happened?”
May sat down on the edge of my bed. “I made the middle school softball team.”
“I know.” We’d already celebrated her accomplishment at dinner tonight. “So what’s the problem?” I was starting to lose patience.
I watched as May picked at a scab on her ankle. “The problem is that Krystal Connery is on the team too, and after Coach Newman announced the sixth graders who made the team, Krystal came over to me and said I really do look like a boy. She asked some of the other girls to raise their hands if they thought so too.” May paused. “I think I should grow out my hair.”
I let out an exasperated breath. “May, I thought you weren’t having any more problems with Krystal.” It was a question, not a statement.
“I wasn’t.” May shrugged. “Until now.”
I scooted down to the end of the bed and looked at May. “You don’t need to grow out your hair if you like it the way it is. It looks cute short.” Then I looped an arm around her. “Don’t worry,” I said. “We’re going to take care of this problem.”
Once and for all.
Saturday, February 6, 4:45 p.m.
Post-dance competition
Post-home visit to Krystal
When I got home from the dance competition today, I didn’t even bother to change out of my leotard and tights. I threw on some jeans and a sweater and grabbed my jacket. “Let’s go,” I said to May. We walked together to Krystal’s house. When we got there, I rang the bell.
“You’re not going to do anything crazy, are you?” May asked as we waited for someone to answer.
“Like what?” I’d told her on the way over that all I was going to do was talk to Krystal. I don’t know what May was thinking, but it was easy to see her imagination was working overtime.
May visibly stiffened when Krystal’s mom answered the door. “Aren’t you May? The young star on Krystal’s soccer team?” she asked.
May shrugged like she was too modest to answer that question. I could tell she was uncomfortable and unsure where Krystal’s mom was going with that, but Krystal’s mom was sweet. “Well, I recognize you from the games. Faraway Middle is lucky to have you. Hold on,” she said with a smile. “I’ll get Krystal.”
“See, so far so good,” I said to May.
She kicked me in the shin to be quiet.
“Watch it!” I said. “I’m not a soccer ball.”
May smiled at my attempt at humor, but her smile vanished as soon as Krystal opened the door. “What are you doing here?” she asked looking at me.
I made a mental note that apples actually can fall far from the tree. Krystal clearly had none of her mother’s warmth. “I came to talk to you,” I said to Krystal.
She started to close the door like she wasn’t interested in hearing what I had to say, but her mother came up behind her before she could shut us out. “Invite your friends inside. I’ll put out some cookies.”
“That sounds great!” I said to Krystal’s mom. Krystal rolled her eyes as we all followed her mom to the kitchen. She knew she didn’t have a choice.
May, Krystal, and I sat down. “I’ll leave you girls alone,” said Mrs. Connery after she put a plate of oatmeal raisin cookies and a pitcher of lemonade on the table.
I took a cookie from the plate and took a bite. “Mmm,” I said.
Krystal looked at me like she didn’t care what I thought of the cookie.
I cleared my throat. “I brought May here today because I think the time has come for the two of you to be friends.”
Krystal and May both looked at me like they were shocked that’s what I’d said. “You’re the two best athletes at the middle school. You have a lot of years of sports ahead of you, and it will be good for your teams if you get along.”
Krystal didn’t respond, and neither did May. I kept going. “Krystal, you’re an incredible athlete and everyone knows it. You’re amazing at whatever sport you play. Before May got to the middle school, you had to carry whatever team you were on by yourself. Now you and May are both great in your positions. Think how much better your teams can be if you work together.”
Krystal didn’t respond. I could see she was taking in what I’d said. I didn’t want to get too philosophical on her, but I knew it was now or never. “Jealousy is an ugly emotion. It exposes your fears. It will ruin your life.”
May looked like she was going to throw up and Krystal looked doubtful. “Isn’t that a little dramatic?” she asked.
I had to give her that. “Maybe, but trust me when I tell you jealousy can mess things up in a big way.”
“How do you know?” asked Krystal.
I thought about telling her what happened with Brynn when she got jealous about Billy and Sophie’s relationship, but it was TMI and beside the point. “It happened to a friend of mine.”
I looked at Krystal and waited. I’d said enough, so the next move was hers. But to my surprise, May spoke up. “Krystal, you’re a great athlete. It’s awesome having someone so good on the soccer team. I think we have a strong softball team too.” May shrugged. “I’m glad I get to play with you.”
Krystal smiled and looked pleasantly surprised. She hesitated. “You too, May. Teammates?” she said.
“Teammates,” said May.
Krystal grinned and so did May. I had a mouth full of cookie, so it was a little hard for me to, but as soon as I washed my cookie down with some lemonade, I high-fived them both. Then I told May it was time to go.
In the big sister department, I’d done enough good for one day.
6:25 p.m.
Disappointed
I just called Leo. I wanted to tell him what happened with May, but I got his voicemail.
I left a message. Maybe he’ll call back.
Or maybe he won’t.
10:49 p.m.
Asleep
Awake
Leo called back, but I was actually already asleep. “What’s up?” he said into the phone. I did my best to shake myself awake, but as I started telling him what happened with May and Krystal, I heard laughter in the background. I finished the story, but when I did all Leo said was, “That’s great.”
I guess that’s how most people would respond.
From most people, that would be fine. But Leo always has something witty, unique, or insightful to say.
So hearing him say, “That’s great” . . . just wasn’t so great.
Most folks are as happy as they make up their minds to be.
—Abraham Lincoln
Tuesday, February 10, 7:09 p.m.
Billy’s big news
Since we’d worked so hard to prepare for the competition on Saturday and don’t have another one coming up for over a month, Ms. Baumann gave us the week off of practice. Yesterday, it felt weird leaving school and going home at 3:15, so this morning I asked Billy if he wanted to hang out after school.
We went to his house, and it was a lot like old times. His mom gave me a big hug when I got there and said how happy she was to see me. Billy and I ate popcorn and mini Reese’s, and drank lemonade at his kitchen table. Then we hung out in his room, looking at old photos and listening to music. That was our pattern for as long as I can remember. The only thing that was different this time was that it didn’t include Brynn.
Since third grade, it had been the three of us. We did everything together, even over the summers. I have so many memories of my arms linked through theirs as we walked the path from the Arts and Crafts shop or the tennis courts back to our bunks at camp. We were the Three Musketeers for a long time.
I took a box of old photos of us from grade school from a shelf over Billy’s desk and settled into the floor of his room next to him. “It’s kind of weird without her,” I said. Billy knew who I meant.
“Yeah,” he said. But he didn’t make a move to look through the photos. I wasn’t sure he felt as nostalgic as he sounded.
“Do you miss being friends with her?” I asked.
Billy let out a sigh. “I’ve tried talking to her,” he said. “I even went over to her house on New Year’s Day after the confrontation at the diner. I wanted her to know I was really sorry about what happened between us. But her mom came to the door and said Brynn didn’t want to talk to me.”
“Was Mrs. Stephens mad?” I asked. I’d wondered what Brynn’s mom knows about why Billy broke up with her or how our friendship fell apart. Whatever she knows, it’s only from Brynn’s perspective, and I’m just not sure she has any idea how overly dramatic and frustrating Brynn can be.
“Mrs. Stephens is always nice, so it was hard to tell,” said Billy. “I told her to tell Brynn that I’m sorry about everything. I think she understood.” He shrugged, then kept talking. “I miss the way we used to be. You know, the Three Musketeers. But it hasn’t been that way for a while.”
I stood up and put the box of photos back on the shelf. Billy was right. A lot changed when he and I started going out at the end of the summer before eighth grade. It got even more complicated when he and Brynn started going out this past summer.
When I sat back down, Billy exhaled. “I’ve done everything I can,” he said, like he was through trying to make things better with Brynn.
“I get it,” I said to Billy. “I’ve tried to talk to Brynn too. There are lots of things I’d still like to say to her. But she’s made it clear she doesn’t want anything to do with me.”
When I finished talking, Billy cleared his throat. “April, I’m going to ask Sophie out.” His words sat between us for a second, and I could tell he was waiting for my response.
“Finally!” I said.
We both laughed. Billy was relieved, and in a way, I was too. I waited to see if he was going to give me details. How. When. Where. But he didn’t, and I didn’t feel like I could ask. Even though we’re friends again, we used to go out, so it just felt weird to ask him how he was going to ask out another girl.
“Want to listen to some music?” I asked Billy.
He grinned. “You know I do.”
Some things will never change. Billy will always love listening to music. As we sat side by side listening, I felt happy for Billy.
It’s a little weird that he went out with me, then Brynn, and now Sophie. I guess weirder things have happened. (I’m not sure what.) But he and Sophie seem to fit. And best of all, the truth will be out and hopefully everyone can move on.
Including Brynn.
Wednesday, February 11, 5:44 p.m.
Sophie is a rule-breaker (in a good way)
Today in Bio, Sophie asked me if I would go with her after school to the Cold Shack. “I have something important to tell you,” she said.
I tried to get out of her what it was about, but she wouldn’t say. I thought it might have something to do with her parents. Valentine’s Day is Saturday, and I had a feeling she was thinking they’re going to get back together or something, but Sophie said she wasn’t saying a word until we were settled into our favorite booth with a scoop each of our new favorite flavor, Mocha Chip.
By the time we got our ice cream, I couldn’t wait a second longer to hear her news. “Spill it,” I said.
Sophie took a bite of ice cream. “Mmm, delicious!” She was enjoying this way too much.
“Out with it!”
“Patience is a virtue,” said Sophie. She took another bite. And another.
“C’mon!” I said. “You have to tell me now.”
Sophie smiled and pushed her cup aside. “OK,” she said. “What I wanted to tell you is that I’m going to ask Billy out. On Valentine’s Day.”
Even though it’s hard to choke on ice cream, I’m pretty sure I did. “Like out on a date?” I asked, though I was pretty sure that wasn’t what she meant.
“No, silly, I’m going to ask Billy if he wants to be my boyfriend.”
Part of me wanted to tell her Billy was already planning to ask her out. But I knew I couldn’t betray his confidence. And I didn’t want to spoil it for her.
“Sophie, you know Faraway is pretty old-fashioned, right? Usually, the boy asks the girl out, not the other way around.”
Sophie shook her head at my explanation. “That’s ridiculous.”
“I agree,” I said. “But I don’t make the rules.”
“Well I don’t care who makes them. I like Billy, and I’m going to ask him out on Valentine’s Day.” She was actually blushing. “I thought about different ways of doing it. But everything I thought of seemed like it belonged in a bad movie. I’m just going to go to his house, ring his doorbell, and ask him if he wants to go out.”
As Sophie talked, it was easy to see how much she likes Billy. And I know he likes her. I don’t think it matters who asks who out.
Something tells me they’re going to be happy together.
9:17 p.m.
Just hung up with Leo
Leo called to say he’ll be home for the weekend on Friday, and we made a plan to meet in the park. “I can’t wait to see you,” he said.
I wanted to say something light or clever in response. Even something simple like, “Me too!” But those words wouldn’t come out. So many times when I’d called him, he couldn’t talk or didn’t return my call for days. It was confusing to hear him say he’s excited to see me. I wasn’t sure what to say to him, so I went with the truth. “Leo, we have stuff to talk about.”
Leo laughed. “April, we always have stuff to talk about.” I couldn’t tell if he was being straightforward or sarcastic.
I guess I have to wait until Friday to find out.
Life moves pretty fast. If you don’t stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it.
—Ferris Bueller
Friday, February 13, 6:55 p.m.
Home from the park
I’d been worried about meeting Leo in the park since we’d talked the other day. I had an idea of what I wanted to say to him. I’d even rehearsed it in my head on the way to the park. I just wasn’t confident it would come out the way I wanted it to. Plus, it was Friday the 13th, which I took as a bad sign. Good things never happen on Friday the 13th.
But as I walked toward the slide on the playground where we’d agreed to meet, Leo smiled and waved me over, and my anxiety melted into excitement.
“April Elizabeth Sinclair, in person!” he said and gave me a hug.
I smiled. Leo’s hair was longer, and he looked cuter than I’d remembered. Plus I couldn’t believe he remembered my middle name. I was pretty sure I’d only told it to him once.
He tapped the side of his head, like he’d read my mind. “It’s a little embarrassing to admit this, but I’ve got a knack for remembering all the little things you tell me.” He motioned to a nearby bench and we sat down.
“Hmm,” I said flirtatiously. “Is that a sign of liking someone?”
Leo raised a brow at me like the answer to my question was obvious. But it wasn’t. At least not to me.
“Leo,” I said tentatively.
“Henry,” he said. “If you’re wondering, my middle name is Henry. I’ve always thought it’s a handsome name, in a British sort of way.” He cleared his throat. “Leo Henry,” he said with a British accent.
I laughed. It was so silly and so him.
He kept talking. “As I’m sure you know, Elizabeth is also a British name. I like that we both have British middle names. It’s just one of the things we have in common.” Leo looked at me like he was gauging my reaction.
There might be some things we have in common, but we also have some pretty big differences, like the fact that I’m still in high school, and now, he’s a college student. And possibly, a college student with a girlfriend.
“Leo, we need to talk.” I launched into the speech I’d rehearsed on the way to the park. “Since you went to college . . . you say you’re going to call, then you don’t. I try to tell you things, and you don’t really respond.” I paused. “I’m sure college is a lot of work, but I think there’s more to it.”
“You’re right,” said Leo. “There is.”
I waited for him to say what I was pretty sure was coming next.
But he surprised me. “I didn’t like going to high school because I didn’t fit in,” Leo said. “I thought college would be better.” His face crinkled like he was having a hard time saying what came next. “But I’m still two years younger than everyone else there. To be honest, I’m not really making many friends.”
Too Much Drama Page 8