“Gee, thanks,” he said, laughing. “This is a pretty spot; I can’t believe I haven’t found it before.”
“Yes, we like it,” Amy agreed, looking around to appreciate the view. “I’m trying to draw it, but I can never really capture the sky properly.”
“We’ve been coming up here every summer for a long time,” Beth confided to Laurie. “We like to dream when we’re here,” she whispered, feeling a little embarrassed even though it was only Laurie she was talking to, and he was the nicest boy any of them had ever met.
“Dream about what?” Laurie said, lying back to check out the shapes in the clouds.
“Fame and fortune,” Amy explained confidently.
Jo giggled and threw a blueberry at her. “The future,” she said. “I’m going to write eleven bestsellers and get my pilot’s license and fly all over the world and then buy a big farmhouse out in the country with bookshelves from floor to ceiling in every room, including the kitchen and bathroom.”
“So modest,” Meg said, teasing her. “What about you, Laurie? What do you want to do when you grow up?”
“I want to move to New York and be a musician, but Grandpa will never allow it,” Laurie said, sighing deeply. “Instead he says I have to get better grades in math so I can study business in college. What about you, Meg?”
“I want to stay here in town after college. I mean, in my own house, not Mom and Dad’s. I think I’d like to be a teacher, but for older kids, not preschoolers or anything.” She shuddered, thinking of the misbehaving King twins, whom she was again babysitting most days now that they were back from the shore. Their latest prank had involved pressing as much Play-Doh as they possibly could into the rug. Meg hadn’t discovered the extent of their shenanigans until nearly an hour after they’d finished, when it was mostly dry and nearly impossible to clean up.
“I want to go to Italy and be a world-famous artist,” Amy piped up, though no one had asked her. “I’ll live in one of those grand salons like you see in pictures in the travel magazines, with gold leaf on the walls and a huge canopy bed with ruffles falling all over the place like a waterfall. And I’ll have gelato for dessert three times a day, and every evening, I’ll eat in a different restaurant in Rome.”
“You’ll have to learn Italian,” Meg said sensibly.
“No problem,” Amy answered. “Prego!”
Laurie smiled, sure that if anyone could figure out a way to live such a life someday it was pretty, clever Amy. “What about you, Beth?”
Beth blushed. “I never really think about it very much, but I guess I’m like Meg. I want to stay here in our town forever. Maybe I could do the same kind of job Mom does when I finish school. I think I’d like that.”
“You’d be wonderful at it, Bethy,” Jo agreed, smiling at her sister. And she would. They all imagined that Beth would never leave home, and all inwardly agreed that was perfectly fine. “I just know that all of these dreams will come true. We should all meet here in exactly twenty years to see if we got our wishes!”
“I hope I’ve done something impressive by then,” Laurie said, “but I’m afraid I won’t.”
“Sure you will! Why are you worried about it?” Jo asked, puzzled.
“Because Grandpa is so determined for me to get good grades and become a businessman like him. But I’m not interested in any of that. I only want to play guitar and soccer and be happy.”
Laurie spoke quickly and with great agitation, as if these thoughts had been bothering him for a long time. Jo felt badly for her friend. She never got perfect grades either, and neither Mom nor Dad bothered her about it. They saw how truly devoted Jo was to her writing. They didn’t worry about her being lazy or unmotivated if she forgot she had a geography quiz; they understood she was forging her own path, and it didn’t always include straight As. She felt glad her parents didn’t care what she decided to be when she grew up, as long as she was happy.
“Well, when you finish high school, you should just skip town and do whatever you want,” Jo advised. “What can your grandfather say about it? You can come back here when you’re a rock star and see what he says then. I’ll be your roadie in between my book tours! We’ll see the whole world!”
“Jo! That’s a terrible idea,” Meg said, horrified. “Don’t listen to her, Laurie. College is important, and I’m sure your grandpa wants you to be happy. I bet he’ll let you choose your major. He’s just trying to make sure you have a good life, and so he’s showing you the way he understands. He’d be so upset if you ran away.”
Meg was being sensible, but Laurie wasn’t ready to take her advice. He much preferred Jo’s adventurous plan. “I doubt it,” he scoffed. “You sound just like Brooks,” he added.
Meg blushed. “I don’t mean to lecture,” she said quietly. “I just think running away would be scary, and that your grandfather needs you.”
Laurie looked at her shy face and felt his cheeks redden. “Hey, I’m sorry, Meg. I’m just stressed out because Grandpa’s been saying I have to take algebra this year and I barely understand fractions.”
“I know what you mean,” Meg said kindly, accepting his apology with a nod. “School would be a lot more fun if we didn’t have to have grades. Or tests.”
Everyone agreed with this except for Amy, who got nearly perfect grades without trying.
Laurie still felt bad, but tried to just think about the warm summer day and not his entire future. Sometimes it was fun to dream about the days and years ahead, and sometimes it was better to leave them alone to take care of themselves. Jo caught his eye and winked conspiratorially. She wanted Laurie to know that no matter what happened, she’d be around to make sure he wasn’t sad or bored. He winked back at her and felt a lot better.
The mood lightened and Jo and Laurie got up to throw a Frisbee for a while. Meg completed her puzzle, Beth almost finished one sock, and Amy made good progress on her sketch.
As the sun set, they all felt it had been an afternoon perfectly spent and promised each other they’d have at least one more picnic together before the weather turned cold and the leaves fell from the trees.
Potato Salad Even Jo Could Love
1 pound red potatoes
1/4 cup olive oil
1 tablespoon balsamic vinegar
2 teaspoons salt
1 teaspoon pepper
1 teaspoon tarragon
1/4 cup finely chopped chives
1/4 cup finely chopped fresh parsley
1/2 cup cooked and chopped bacon
1/2 cup grated sharp cheddar cheese
In a large pot, boil the red potatoes. This should take about 20–25 minutes. Remove from heat and cut them into cubes with the peels still on. Place potatoes in a large bowl and add all of the other ingredients. Mix up using a wooden spoon or flexible spatula and serve. Makes approximately 6 servings.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Growing Up Is Hard to Do
“Perhaps if I make myself write I shall find out
what is wrong with me.”
—Dodie Smith
The week before school resumed in the fall, Jo spent every spare moment in the attic, writing her latest poem in a frenzy. When a fit of writing came on, Jo gave herself up to it completely, abandoned to the words swirling around in her brain until they landed on the paper in front of her in the correct order. Jo was a superstitious writer that summer, always trying to wear the same baseball cap each time she sat down at her desk, and the same T-shirt. She was determined to submit something for publication before the summer ended, and she succeeded.
Her latest work felt like her best yet, so Jo submitted it to the local alt weekly’s young writers contest. Though she sent it in online, she wanted to make sure the newspaper received her work. One day, she resolved to bike all the way downtown just to double-check at their offices.
She set off, determined, and reached the address in record time even though it was a very windy day. It was only late August, but some of the leaves were already f
alling off the trees and swirling around the streets in minicyclones. When Jo reached the offices, she felt confused because there was no door on the street. Instead, she had to enter a boring-looking building and find the name Worchester Weekly on a list by the joyless elevator. She saw that the paper was on the fourth floor and almost lost her nerve.
Jo went up to the correct floor and spoke to a very nice receptionist, who was able to check their recent writing content submissions list and assure Jo that her work had indeed been received. Jo felt relieved and glad she’d made the journey. When she went back outside to retrieve her bike, she was so full of distracted energy that she ran directly into another young passerby, who was coming out of his Tae Kwan Do studio.
“Laurie!”
“Jo! What are you doing down here?”
“I came on my bike to visit the newspaper,” Jo explained to her friend. She unlocked her bike and walked it, keeping step with Laurie. “I’ve entered their contest for young writers and I wanted to make sure they got my poem. I really want to win,” she added, feeling thrilled.
“Nice!” Laurie said enthusiastically. “Jo March, Great American Writer. I’m sure you will win. Will they print your writing in the newspaper?”
“Yup! How was your class?” Jo asked, looking back to the studio.
“It was really good today,” Laurie said. “I’m pretty close to getting my blue belt.”
“That’s awesome. You have to show me some stuff so we can add stunts to our next film production.”
“Sure. Hey, you want to hear something funny?” Laurie said suddenly.
“Always.” Jo grinned.
“You know how Meg couldn’t find her sunglasses last week?”
“Yeah . . . ,” Jo said, not really remembering. Someone in her house was missing something pretty much every single hour of the day. Mom was always saying they needed “a system” for managing belongings more efficiently, but thankfully so far no such system had been implemented.
“I know where they are!” Laurie smiled. “Brooks had them!”
“What? Why?” Jo was truly baffled. What use would a boy have for Meg’s sunglasses? It’s not like he was going to go around wearing them or anything. If Jo remembered correctly, they had either white or pink frames. Or white and pink striped.
“She left them behind at our party and he’s been meaning to return them to her like a knight in shining armor, I guess.” Laurie laughed. “But he forgot all about it until I saw them in his bag yesterday. Now he’s embarrassed that he’s had them so long and doesn’t know what to do. So he gave them to me to give to you. Here.” He pulled them out of his backpack and gave them to Jo. “You’re supposed to put them in the house somewhere and, like, pretend they’ve been there all along, I guess. Isn’t that hilarious?”
Jo hooked the glasses onto the collar of her T-shirt and looked dismayed. She didn’t say anything.
“What?” Laurie said, seeing her odd expression. “I thought you’d think it was funny. I had a good time teasing him. It was a completely excellent way to avoid doing math.”
“Yeah, yeah, it’s kind of funny,” Jo said. “It’s just that Meg is waaaaay too young to have a boyfriend or nonsense like that.”
“She is? I thought she turned fourteen last spring. Is that too young?”
“Absolutely,” Jo said firmly. “Brooks should really find someone else to like. I mean, Sallie Gardiner is okay. I guess. He could kidnap her stuff.”
Laurie laughed at this but stopped when he saw Jo’s furrowed brow. He let out a low whistle then, and looked at his friend from the corner of his eye.
They walked in silence for a few blocks. Laurie felt Jo was being extremely weird for no reason at all, but he couldn’t figure out how to snap her out of it, so he let her be.
Girls were so confusing sometimes, he decided.
Jo was glad Laurie was being quiet and letting her think. All she kept coming back to was that she missed Dad, who by now had been gone for what felt like an eternity. His e-mails and letters were still regular and celebrated, but the more time that went by, the more important stuff he was missing. The stuff it was hard to explain in an e-mail. The stuff you told the people you loved with a flick of your eyebrow or the tilt of your head. The stuff you saw in each other’s eyes. How could Jo ever catch him up?
As she walked with Laurie, Jo forgot all about the excitement she’d felt about the writing contest and felt worse and worse.
Why did everything have to change?
“Let’s race,” she mumbled to Laurie, out of the blue. The only thing between them and their houses was a big hill.
“What?” he asked, startled. They were almost home.
“Let’s race!” Jo repeated. “I’ll come back for my bike later. Now!”
“Okay,” he said, and was off, a full two paces ahead of her.
Jo caught up and passed Laurie, happy to let some of the bad feelings escape as she ran her heart out and filled her lungs with the crisp air. They were breathless when they reached the top of the hill and tagged Laurie’s front porch at exactly the same time.
“See, that’s why I like you,” Jo said to Laurie after waiting a moment to catch her breath. “You don’t let me win, even when I’m being crabby.”
“I never will,” Laurie said solemnly, and opened his front door.
“Later.” Jo nodded, and walked the quarter mile back to the place where her bike lay by the sidewalk. She rode it home and put it away in the garage, thinking as she went about the poem she’d written and how much she hoped it was good enough to be published.
The Space Between
by Jo March
The space between myself and the world
Is really wide indeed.
The world is stress and calls and jobs to do
While I am life and need.
The world can be a little rough
And must keep moving on.
While I can be a little soft
And want to watch the dawn.
I miss someone so dear to me
But the world doesn’t care a lot.
It offers me some empty words
But doesn’t stop the plot.
I wonder about the world
About how it’s always been.
The loving and the fighting
I capture with my pen.
The grown-up world? No friend of mine
I’ll find a different way.
All that stuff will hurt you
I’d rather stop and play.
The inside to the outside
Is a schism that can’t be crossed.
I wish I had more sense in me.
I wish I wasn’t lost.
When Jo entered the house for dinner, she was unusually quiet. Amy and Meg were arguing about what to watch on TV and Beth was busy in the kitchen, slicing some zucchini bread she’d baked that day, so no one noticed Jo’s moodiness except for Mom, who’d had a quiet day at work for a change and asked Jo if she wanted to help her set the table. Jo nodded silently and set out place mats, plates, silverware, and glasses for everyone.
“How was your day, sweetheart?” Mom asked her second-oldest daughter.
“It was okay,” Jo said.
“What did you do?”
“I biked downtown to make sure the newspaper got my young writers contest submission. Then I ran into Laurie and we raced home.”
“That sounds fun. Did Laurie do something that upset you?” Mom pressed. “You seem a little quiet.”
Jo sighed massively and shot a look at Meg, who was still wrestling for the remote with Amy in the living room.
“Not exactly. He just mentioned something that reminded me Meg is starting high school in a few days and it made me grumpy thinking about it again,” Jo confessed in a voice low enough that her sisters wouldn’t hear.
“I get it,” Mom said sympathetically. “I know it will be strange not to be at the same school with your sister. I’m sorry you’re feeling sad.”
Mom hugged Jo, letting her know that she understood her daughter’s mixed-up feelings and fears about the future.
“I just want things to stay the way they are,” Jo whispered, feeling comforted by Mom’s embrace, but still unsettled. “I don’t want Meg to make a bunch of new friends and abandon me. Abandon us.”
Mom nodded. “Meg isn’t going anywhere, sweetheart. Not really. And besides, what if growing up makes life better?”
“There’s no way,” Jo said, frowning deeply.
“Sure there is,” Mom said. “Think about your writing contest. Could you have entered it when you were only, say, five? Of course not. Getting older does mean that things change, but it also creates more exciting adventures and big opportunities . . . especially for the brave and the bold. I promise, growing up is not all bad.”
“Mmm,” Jo said, doubtful. “I don’t think Meg is ready for high school.”
“It is sweet of you to be concerned about her, dear,” Mom said, not contradicting Jo, but not agreeing with her either.
“And I don’t know if I like Brooks. As a person,” Jo added.
“Have you gotten to know him? Has Laurie said something negative about him?” Mom was curious, but very calm.
“I guess I don’t really know him, no. And Laurie seems to think he’s okay. But still,” Jo said, pursing her lips and looking unhappy.
“I see.” Mom nodded. “Everyone always says you’re so tough, don’t they, honey? I bet it feels strange to be told that all the time and then not feel it all the time.”
“Yeah,” Jo said, sniffing.
“That happens to me sometimes, because I’m in charge of the Center,” Mom said. “I’ll be feeling overwhelmed or even a little scared or unsure what to do next, but everyone else who works there acts like I’ll automatically have all the answers. It’s scary.”
“It is. I liked being at the same school as Meg,” Jo grabbed a Kleenex from a box on the shelf and dabbed her eyes. “I don’t want her to get a boyfriend and stop doing our ’zine and our film productions and picnics and stuff. I think all the regular high school stuff might be a form of brainwashing.”
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