“Ha-ha. Nope, just . . . friends doing something. You can hang out with us when you get home.”
“Maybe Edie and I will join you guys in the library?” says Naomi E., like she’s not sure.
I shrug and smile. Two different things at the same time. “Sure, that would be nice. You’re always welcome. And no pressure.”
“You know I want to be there for you, right?” she says quickly. “I’m learning how.”
“I know, and I appreciate that. And I appreciate you.” I say. Sometimes workshop talk, well, works. “I want to be there for you too.”
The lunchroom is starting to empty as people head to the yard for recess.
“I’m on board with anything that’s important to you,” says Naomi E.
“I want you to be on board with things not just because of me, but because they’re important to you,” I say. “And if we have different ideas about what’s important, we’ll work it out. We’ve got time.”
“Let’s just do it ourselves, though,” she says. “If the parents find out, you know we’ll be in a workshop in minutes.”
I nod. “Sisterhood in a New Hood: Navigating the Rocky Waters of New Spaces and Places,” I say, giggling.
“Finding the Third Way for Blended Families: When the Best Choice Is None at All,” she says.
“And we’d have to keep dialogue journals,” I say. “Which I actually love. Me and Momma do one.”
“I know,” she replies. “She asked me if I wanted to do one too.”
I wonder if that’s going to be weird, Momma doing a journal with Naomi E. I think it’s just going to be more. Maybe good and bad, up and down, itchy and scratchy— Wait, that’s the same. Maybe I won’t mind as much as I would have before. Like Yes, AND. Like complicated, in a good, growing way. Like sisters.
“Here’s a tip,” I say. “Mention Morningstar at least once a week. I always do that for Shelly Ann’s.”
“Nice,” she says. “And then we can coordinate and get both.”
Different, but together. Working on it.
We hug, and then I head upstairs to my meeting. I don’t know if Naomi E. will make it, but that’s okay. I’ve got people there, and I’ll see her at home. And we’ll talk some more.
Momma picked up Bri after school to give me a little freedom to travel home with my real best friends and not Bri’s invisible ones, who are okay most of the time, but still.
Me and Gigi head over to the Walgreens near my subway stop to wait for Xio. I’m excited, but a little scared that
Xio will talk about all the things we used to do (back in the day) and make Gigi feel left out.
Gigi will talk about all the new people in my life that Xio doesn’t know, and make Xio feel left out.
I won’t know what to say or do, so Gigi and Xio will realize that the one thing they have in common is thinking I’m not cool, and I’ll be left out.
I wish Naomi E. were here; she’d remind me to be all nonchalant and say that it’ll all work out if I just go with the flow. Hearing her imaginary voice in my head saying exactly that helps.
What ends up happening is that Xio gets to Walgreens at almost the same exact time as we do and we all hug and laugh and scream a little, and Mrs. Lowe waves from her steps, and then the three of us walk home together like we’ve been doing it all our lives.
Momma makes Xio and Gigi call their parents (“No texting”) as soon as we get in the doorway. Xio gives her “a gift from my mom,” a bag of frozen pasteles en hoja—yes! Momma really came through with the snacks. Mini beef patties, hummus from Sahadi’s, and cheese samboosak from Damascus bakery. She’s got cut-up veggies in a muffin tin, and there’s even a tea tray with a pot of ginger tea and homemade apple cake.
“Save some for your sister,” says Momma. “Girls,” she says to Xio and Gigi, “I’m putting some beef patties aside for you to bring home.”
“Where is Naomi E., by the way?” asks Xio. “I took pics of my room to show her. I want to give it a makeover.”
“She’s at Drama Club, but she’ll be here soon,” I say. “And you’ll get to meet her friend Edie; she’s coming over too. She’s cool; she knows the value of a good cheese-and-tomato sandwich.”
“Mmmm,” says Xio, right as Gigi says, “Yuck.” Guess they’re not totally in sync.
Momma says just this once we can bring some snacks into the bedroom if we spread a picnic blanket. Woot! She heads to Bri’s room to play Buffaloes in Space School. We hid that book about teaching a buffalo to play drums, but Bri memorized it anyway.
“I have an important question,” I say. “Do you want to form a team for the citywide Geography Bowl competition?”
Gigi and Xio look at each other.
“Will you think about Vocalympian Round One auditions?” asks Xio.
“Oooh, I LOVE Vocalympians!” says Gigi.
“Do you mean coming with you for moral support, or actually, like, singing?” I say.
“Singing!” they both say.
“I’ve already picked out a name: Threedom,” says Xio.
“Did you just make that up right now?” I ask.
“Three of us, freedom . . . ,” she replies. Gigi nods like it all makes sense.
“Well, we should ask Naomi E. and Edie if they want to do it,” I say. It sounds like maybe the last thing Naomi E. would want to do. Like maybe even after writing a book report. And Friday Laundry Night. But still. I’m always going to ask.
“Okay then, Fifth . . . Dimension!”
“The Tesseract!” says Gigi, and we explain to Xio why that works in a “Wrinkle in Time” way.
We start brainstorming about Global Girls topics that will be interesting to girls our age around the world.
“Can we take a break to talk integers?” says Gigi after a while. “Because I need help with the math homework.”
“And why do they call them rational numbers?” Xio says. “The whole thing is seriously irrational!”
“I know it’s Friday, but . . .” I’m a little embarrassed, but I remember what Naomi E. said on the first day at school about giving myself a chance to just be. “I mean . . . we could do some homework. Just for a little while, until Naomi E. and Edie get here.” I hold my breath.
“Perfect!” says Gigi. And she’s not joking!
“I figured you’d say that, and my mom said I had to do at least one assignment, so I’m ready,” says Xio. “And it’s more fun to do it together anyway.”
Which is what we do. It feels like two minutes go by, and suddenly Naomi E. and Edie are in the doorway.
“Are you guys doing homework?” asks Naomi E.
I nod. “Would you like to join us? How was Drama Club?”
“As you can see, the party never ends around here,” Naomi E. says to Edie, who smiles and waves. Naomi E. turns back to me. “And I think we will join you. I mean, more homework now means less on Saturday morning.”
“You never do homework on Saturday morning,” I say.
“Okay, okay, Sunday,” she says. “I was just trying to sound supportive.”
“Thanks,” I say, laughing. “And I do want to know about Drama Club. I still think you should audition for a part.”
“And I still think doughnuts should be three of the four food groups, but no one agrees with that either.”
“I do,” says Edie.
“Me too,” says Gigi.
“Can’t say you’re wrong,” Xio chimes in.
“Doughnuts and cake,” I say. “Bam!”
“Are you guys ganging up on me?” says Naomi E.
“Of course not,” I say. “We’re being supportive.” I wiggle my eyebrows.
Before we get back to integers and rational numbers, I think about this show that Momma lets me stream for Friday-night TV choice time. In the theme song, there’s a line like “I’m glad I’ve got my girls.” And that’s how I feel.
Really, really glad.
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
Naomi E.
The yellow house is ove
rfull, but in the very best way. It’s filled with friends—with Edie, and Xio and Gigi. Next time everyone gets together like this, we’ll have to do it when Annie can come too. Seeing Xio and Gigi together makes me realize that Yes, AND works, even beyond the rules of a new family coming together.
I can’t help wondering what year-ago me would have thought of all this. It would have seemed absolutely impossible. I loved my life then—the quiet, the way it was so predictable. But there’s something really nice about this sweet yellow house filled with life—messy, random, not-always-easily-resolved life.
I’m trying to spread out this giant piece of fabric on the blank wall in our room. It needs to look really good but not so good that it’s distracting for the Global Girls vlog. Xio and Gigi are still working on the theme song, but today we’re putting together a video asking girls from different parts of the world to send us videos explaining what their lives are like.
I wonder how many we’ll get. And how specific they’ll be. I wonder if two same-named people from different races are learning to be a family on the other side of this earth. Or in New Jersey. Or are we the only two people to ever go through something exactly like this?
“Please, please, please can I come out now?” Brianna calls from the other side of her door, even though Valerie is in there with her, probably telling her she can’t. “I never get to see Xio, and I want to get to know Gigi and Edie and—”
I open the door. Brianna stumbles a little—I guess she was right up against it. “I need your help,” I say. “Need” might not be the actual truth, but I know it’s nice to feel needed, like an important part of a family.
Valerie smiles at me. “Come back when you’re done, Brianna,” she says.
“I won’t be done for a long time, Momma. You don’t need to wait.”
While everyone else is rooting about in the kitchen, scraping out every last crumb of that delicious apple cake, I show Brianna how I need her to tack the fabric to the wall behind the dresser, where none of us can reach.
“Save me some apple cake,” I yell.
“Probably not happening,” Edie yells back.
“Too good to share,” Gigi says.
Brianna sighs. “I’ll do this,” she says, her hand and part of her head behind the dresser, “but then I want to do better things.”
Yeah, me too. Like get my hands on that cake.
She’s reaching out her hand for the second tack when Naomi Marie, Xio, Gigi, and Edie come back into the room. “Got it,” Brianna says, and crawls back out.
“Oh look,” Edie says. “It’s the third Naomi.”
Brianna smiles but then sort of shakes her head like she’s changing her mind. “Actually,” she says, “I don’t really want to be a Naomi anymore.”
Xio laughs. “No. You just want to be with them all the time and hang out with their friends all the time and EAT OUR SNACKS!” She’s laughing. But Brianna isn’t.
“I mean it,” Brianna says. “Naomis have fights; one was so big that White Naomi went home sick from school even though maybe I’m not sure she was sick. And Naomi Marie didn’t eat any of her lunch that day, EVEN THE CAKE—she brought it all home! And she thought nobody could tell she was crying in the bathroom and not peeing, but I know the difference. But you know what I’m talking about,” she says, looking at Naomi Marie, “when you used your grown-up Serious voice,” and then looking at me, “and you were both crying?”
The room was already pretty quiet, but it goes a whole other kind of quiet. And then, at the same instant, everyone tries to fill the silence. Edie apologizes for finishing the apple cake and Xio is asking Naomi Marie if everything is okay. And I’m sure that’s what everyone is wondering after Brianna’s report from the dark side.
“Everything is okay,” I say. “We had some stuff, some really hard stuff to work out. And we’re still working on it,” I say.
“And we always will,” Naomi Marie says. “I mean, we always will talk it out. Or work it out. Or wait it out, until we do . . . that other talking-and-working stuff.”
“But for now,” Xio says, “we should get started, because that . . . tapestry or whatever it is you put on the wall is a perfect backdrop for our intro.”
“And we’re almost done with the theme song,” Gigi says.
“I want to hear it!” Brianna says. And then she looks at Edie and says, “Did you say you ate all the apple cake?”
Edie looks so guilty, like she ate up every little kid’s Halloween candy and left them only the little root-beer-flavored lollipops.
“Momma! Where are you hiding? You have to take me to Shelly Ann’s. I didn’t get any cake, and it’s not fair!”
“Well done, Edie,” Naomi Marie says.
“Let’s do this while we still can,” I say.
And I feel this wave surge inside me, the excited feeling of being part of something new. Not just this family, but this group of friends that wants to create something together and to hear other people’s stories, to share them. And to appreciate the wonder of apple cake and other delicious baked goods. Together.
EPILOGUE
NM: Hiiiiii.
NE: . . . I thought I was supposed to be doing this dialogue thing with your mom. Are we going to do this every night?
NM: Isn’t this exciting? It’s like old-school texting!
NE: Why don’t we just text?
NM: This is more fun. But we have to come up with a system.
NE: A system of what? Also we’re sitting right next to each other doing this. Doesn’t that defeat the purpose?
NM: Okay, okay . . . I’ll take it over to my bed first. . . . So, we should have special notebooks, and pens. . . .
NE: Special pens?
NM: Oooh! And a special code word.
NE: Don’t even use the word CODE. The parents might hear.
NM: Sorry to break it to you, but we’re totally doing the GGTS Winter Break workshop.
NE: Nooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!
NM: It’s going to be great. We should start making a list of game ideas. Xio’s doing it too. Maybe I’ll ask Gigi. I bet Edie would be in.
NE: I hate to say it, but you could be right. . . . She just might be.
NM: Of course I’m right!
NE: Uh-huh.
NM: Are you just agreeing because you’re sleepy? EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!
NE: Sorry. And I hate to admit it, but E doesn’t bother me as much as it used to.
NM: Oh. Then I’ll come up with something else.
NE: You really are a big sister.
NM: And now, so are you!
NE: Listen, I just want you to know that I’d never try to take your place or anything.
NM: It’s not EITHER/OR. . . .
NE: I know, I know. Yes, AND. We should get T-shirts.
NM: YESSS!
NE: I was kidding.
NM: We’ll revisit. So . . . have you decided what to call Momma? She just wants you to be comfortable.
NE: My mouth can’t call her Valerie yet. But maybe someday.
NM: True. Maybe come up with something totally new. We’re making exceptions, building new traditions, remember?
NE: Yeah . . . I’m just nervous. Every step in our new life feels like a giant step, and I don’t want to . . . misstep, you know?
NM: That was kind of poetic, E! You’re going to get an Honors in Creative Writing.
NE: All I did was use the word STEP a lot.
NM: Let me compliment you, please. Anyway, I feel the same way. New family, new house, new school . . . it’s like you think you’re going to fall off into nothingness. Into a great void— Hey! No trying to grab the dialogue journal!
NE: I got the point, okay?
NM: Okay, okay. Brown thumbs-up emoji
NE: You can’t write “brown thumbs-up emoji.” And again, we could just text instead of throwing this notebook back and forth.
NM: Side-eye emoji
NE: Stop.
NM: Let’s decide now t
hat any time we’re mad at each other, we go to Shelly Ann’s AND Morningstar to work it out over cake.
NE: Deal. And when we’re happy with each other too.
NM: Deal. So, you’re loving this, aren’t you?
NE: If I say yes, can we go to sleep?
NM: Just say yes first.
NE: Yes.
NM: Yes, AND . . . laughing emoji. Okay, good night.
NE: Sigh. But okay: laughing emoji. Good night.
Acknowledgments
We owe a great debt of gratitude to Kristin Daly Rens, who always saw through to the heart of the story. Kristin, your ever-patient, thoughtful, and loving care of the Naomis was a constant boost, and we are so grateful that no one has to know what a mess this book was until you unraveled, appraised, and guided us to fix it. You even made the conversations about all the work we had to do engaging. We will be forever thankful.
Kelsey Murphy: many thanks for the abundance of assists and all your good cheer along the way.
Renée Cafiero and Andrea Curley, sorry we made you work so hard, but thank you very much for your invaluable assistance.
To Erin Murphy, thank you for remembering the Naomis on that fateful day and knowing Kristin was the right person for the job.
To our Balzer + Bray family, thank you so much for supporting the Naomis, spreading the word, and being so wonderful to work with.
To the We Need Diverse Books team, thank you so much for shining a light on our stories, and for centering all the beautiful stories that are often pushed to the margins.
To the Nerd Camp crews in New Jersey and Long Island, the #BookJourney team, Donalyn Miller, John Schumacher, Preeti Chhibber, Ann Marie Wong, Dhonielle Clayton, Ellen Oh, and all the teachers, librarians, parents, and friends who have brought the Naomis into libraries, classrooms, and homes: We have so much appreciation for you and the work you do every day. Thank you for having hard conversations with hope, for celebrating the power of story, and for empowering young readers.
And finally, to the readers of all ages who embraced the Naomis, who believe in the power of books—each and every one of you shines so beautifully and powerfully. Thank you for reading and sharing your thoughts, and especially for inspiring us every day.
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