by Dee Romito
“Kenzie, are you listening?” he asks.
“Yes, sir. You have my undivided attention.” I can sound fancy too.
“To be honest, my first thought was not why you didn’t tell anyone, but why your father didn’t happen to mention you would only be here six weeks.”
And, at this moment, I can’t believe I’ve never had that thought. Why didn’t Dad tell them?
“Maybe he didn’t think you would accept me for such a short time?” I say.
“We have to take you in,” he says. “Your dad is a smart man, and I imagine he’d know that.”
Now I really should be paying attention, but I can’t get past what he said. Why wouldn’t Dad have told them?
“I honestly don’t know, sir,” I say. “We haven’t really talked about it.”
Mr. Kumar moves some papers out of his way and leans forward on his desk. “We have some other matters to deal with here first. I understand your role of Dorothy has been reassigned.”
“Yes,” I say. “Mrs. Summers told me yesterday.”
“And your position as co–vice president has been taken care of,” he says. “Paul Vangen will take over as sole vice president.”
“Heard that, too,” I say. And this chair I’m sitting in? Not the most comfortable in the school. I start to fidget.
“I’m also going to suggest that you no longer attend book club, since you won’t be an official student here much longer,” he says.
“Book club?” I ask. I’m not sure why that one hurts the most, but it does. There’s a stabbing pain suddenly making its way through my body.
Mr. Kumar makes a tent with his fingers. I swear they must have a class at Principal School on how to act exactly the same as all the other principals. Not that I’ve had a principal to observe in a few years.
“And it might be a good idea to sit out the open skate this weekend.”
Now I can’t keep myself under control. I stand up. “Seriously? But I set that up. It’s an open skate. Open to everyone.”
He gives me a minute to sit back down and take a breath. “Well, I suppose that’s true,” he says. “But it would probably be best if you give your fellow students some time to digest this new information.”
Like that’s going to make a difference. “Is that all?” I ask, not sure I can take much more of this let’s-ban-Kenzie show.
“That’s it,” he says. “I will, of course, need to speak to your father soon as well.”
I stand up again, this time with no intention of spending one more minute in this office. “I understand,” I say. Because, yeah, before he can get to him, I’m going to need to speak to my father too.
chapter twenty-two
I didn’t even see Dad last night. Some big thing at work has had him working super late, and, lucky me, I’ve had chaperone Alexandria to keep me company. (Although I still call her Alex, since she insists my name is K.) And a text is definitely not the way to ask Dad why he never told my school we wouldn’t be here very long. Ha. My school. More like a temporary place for me to study.
And now it’s Friday. Status update: My new spot for lunch is the library. Also, Ashia is still avoiding me. Bren and Divi are apparently too busy with book club (which I’m no longer allowed to go to) to talk to me. But I have to give Bren some credit, since I’ve gotten a few encouraging texts from him. I haven’t even seen Tate in two days—I swear he changed his route to classes to avoid me. And I have nothing to do since I’ve been kicked out of every activity that’s been keeping me busy lately. Plus, tomorrow is my birthday, and I have no friends to invite to celebrate it with me.
The good news? I have one more week to endure this place, and then I’m gone and I never have to look back.
When I get to my house after school, the front door is open, which means Dad is home early. Great, we can finally have a chat, because there are about a million things we need to talk about. But when he pops his head out the front door and quickly shuts it, I get a weird feeling about it all.
I take my time walking up the front steps and try to peek through the small opening between the curtains in the front windows. Nothing. But there is some noise. And not Dad noise. It’s twelve-year-old-girl voices.
For a minute, I wonder if it’s all been a hoax. If my friends have pretended to be mad at me so they can throw me a surprise party. I remind myself that that’s what people do to throw you off track. I bound over to the door and slowly turn the handle to give everyone time to hide. And then I stop. There’s no surprise party here for me. What was I thinking?
I go in the house like any normal day for the last five weeks and drop my bag on the floor. Yup, nobody is hiding behind anything, and Dad is probably in his office, working from home or something. “Hello? Dad?” I say, stepping into the living room. Nothing. “Dad?”
But I was wrong. From behind the couch, the chair, and the coat rack comes “Surprise!”
I stand there, stunned. It’s not Ashia or anyone from school. Not this school anyway. It’s Erin and Caitlin from my old school in California and Mayleen all the way from Washington, DC.
“What are you guys doing here?!” I ask. Mayleen hugs me first since she’s closest. I run to hug my old friends, who, even though they’re here with me now, I miss more than ever.
“Your dad arranged it all,” says Caitlin.
“I can’t believe it. I’ve been meaning to call you guys,” I say, as Caitlin’s mom and Erin’s mom suddenly pop out from behind the furniture.
“Mrs. Estes! Mrs. Kim!” I shout, running to hug them too.
I finally notice that Dad is standing behind me, recording the whole thing on his phone. “I thought you could use a nice surprise,” he says. “And since I couldn’t convince you to invite your friends from here to a party, I came up with a different plan.”
I can’t stop smiling. And the roller coaster of emotions from the past week is taking a backseat to what’s happening in front of me.
“We have the whole weekend planned,” says Erin. “Pedicures, shopping, movies—”
“Gossiping about boys,” Mayleen interrupts.
“Hey, where’s your dad?” I ask Mayleen. But I get the answer before she has time to tell me.
“Happy birthday, Kenzie!” shouts Kuan-yin. “Sorry, I had to take a phone call. Looks like I missed the surprise.”
Dad elbows him. “You were in charge of pictures.”
Kuan-yin holds up his camera. “Well, then I better take a million extras this weekend. That okay with you, birthday girl?”
Ten minutes ago, I thought I’d lost everything. But now I’m reminded that I’ve only lost something I didn’t really have to begin with. In this room are my friends. The ones I’ll stay friends with long after I leave this place. Maybe talking to Dad can wait a few more days. Right now, I just want to enjoy this moment.
“That’s perfect,” I say. I grab the girls’ hands and squeeze tight.
* * *
By Sunday afternoon we are all wiped out. I’d say we’ve covered most of Vegas in the last two days, and I’ve loved every single second of it. Before Caitlin and Erin leave, we swear to each other that we’ll never, ever drift apart again. I mean, really, with all the technology there is today, there’s no excuse. We exchange all necessary info, and when they leave for the airport, I’m already in tears. Mayleen puts an arm around my shoulder.
“We have two hours,” she says. “I want updates.”
We didn’t talk about school at all over the weekend. Whenever it came up, I passed it off as nothing interesting to tell, and Mayleen caught my cues not to mention the musical or the election or anything else related to this whole disaster. The dads are in the kitchen having coffee and reminiscing about college, so we head up to my room and flop on the bed.
“Tell me everything,” says Mayleen.
So I do. Everything from the last update I gave her. Eating in the library. Tate’s silent treatment and avoidance techniques. Ashia needing space from me.
“Over being here?” she asks.
“No, I actually really like it here. Liked it here, I guess,” I answer. “And I know what I did was wrong, I do. But is it really so bad that the entire school never wants to talk to me again?”
“People might need time to get past it,” says Mayleen.
“Well, they can have all the time they need,” I say. “But by the time they’re over it, I’ll be gone. So, time to move on, right?”
Mayleen sits up and grabs a pillow to put on her lap. She leans forward. “Are you really okay with leaving things like this?”
I take a minute to think about it. Am I?
On one hand, I’ve had such a great time here. The lead in a musical. Co–vice president of the seventh-grade class. Skating-party organizer. On the other hand, none of it was real. It’s like I was Judy Garland, playing a role for a short period of time. Will people remember me? I have no idea. But right now, I’m not sure it matters.
“Yes,” I say. “I’m okay. Right now, I just want to go back to my old life.”
“You should still send the letter,” says Mayleen. “You might regret it if you don’t at least apologize.”
I think about what she’s saying. I wanted to wait until I had the chance to apologize to Ashia in person, but since that’s done, I guess it’s time.
“Yeah, you’re probably right,” I say. I pick up my phone and send a text to Divi, asking her to send my apology letter. “Might as well start wrapping things up around here.”
We’re interrupted when Dad calls up the stairs. “You girls ready to go?”
We turn to each other and laugh, because it’s as if Dad has been listening to our conversation.
“Yes,” I call down. And then, quietly, to Mayleen I say. “We most definitely are.”
chapter twenty-three
Monday morning. Five days left.
When I get to my locker, Bren sneaks up behind me and makes me jump. “Hey, sunshine,” he says.
“Oh, are we still doing that?” I ask. “You’re okay with being seen with me?”
Bren tilts his head. “I was pretty busy last week, but I did text you,” he says. “And as I recall, it wasn’t me who skipped out on lunch or ignored me in English class.”
I guess I was looking at the whole thing from a different perspective, convinced he was only trying to be nice. And it’s true, I did pretend to be working on an overdue assignment. Like I’ve ever had overdue assignments.
“I was trying to save you the trouble of having to act like you weren’t mad at me,” I say, getting my books in order.
“Kenzie, I’m not mad at you,” he says. “I’m really going to miss you. You’re only here five more days.”
A huge wave of emotion hits me out of nowhere. I stand there, amazed that he’s counting down too. But his is a very different kind of countdown.
“Oh” is all I can manage to spit out.
“Come to lunch today,” he says. “I’m sure everyone has read your letter by now, and I think Ashia might be ready to crack.” Within seconds he’s gone. Someday, someone is going to discover secret passageways to another world in these middle-school hallways.
I still haven’t talked to Dad, but I made him swear he’d be home for dinner tonight. Then we’ll have the big talk. There’s so much I haven’t told him.
As I head down the hall to homeroom, I catch a rare glimpse of Tate. And while I absolutely should run in the other direction, even if it means being late, I kind of miss bold and brave Kenzie. Besides, she has less than a week to be brave before she leaves.
I’ve learned enough about middle school, and middle-school boys, to know you don’t actually let them know you’re there until it’s too late for them to pretend they don’t see you. “Tate, wait up!” I shout.
“I have to get to class,” he says, clearly attempting to avoid me.
“Just let me apologize. Please,” I say. I’m not even sure why I care. Tate loved the attention, but as soon as things got bad, he turned on me. Although I guess I can’t blame him.
“I read your letter, Kenzie, and A-plus for the effort, but it’s simple,” he says. “You’re not who I thought you were, okay?”
I figure I’m going to have to be satisfied with that, when he drops a bomb on me.
“I liked you, Kenzie.” He stands there as if I’m supposed to give some kind of response, but what could I possibly say right now? “And if you had liked me, you would have told me the truth.”
I’m completely frozen, but as soon as he takes a step away from me, I reach for his arm. “I’m sorry. I did—I mean I do like you, but I also wanted to know what middle school was all about,” I say. “It was the only chance I’m ever going to get.”
Tate doesn’t shake my hand away, but he doesn’t reach for it either. “Yeah, I bet you’ll really miss the homework from Mrs. Pilchard when you’re staying in fancy hotels and flying first class.”
And this time I don’t try to stop him. The warning bell rings, and I consider it a save so I can go hide in the classroom. What I can’t figure out is how I can be so torn up about leaving and not care one little bit at the same time.
* * *
I stand at the doors of the cafeteria, willing myself to go in and sit down. At least Bren’s will be a friendly face, but I’m not so sure about the others. Ashia might finally be ready to talk to me, but I don’t even know what to say to her anymore.
I get the courage to take that first step, when the last person I want to see walks in front of me and blocks my way.
“What do you want, Shelby?” I ask, somewhat curious what the answer is.
“I wanted to thank you for giving the role of Dorothy back to its rightful owner. Me,” she says, as if it wasn’t clear enough to begin with. “You and your ridiculous stage fright never would have made it through to the end anyway. We’re all better off with you leaving.” I want to be the better person here, I really do, but when she throws out those bully moves, I can’t stand here and take it.
“Yeah, the only thing is that you aren’t the rightful owner,” I say. “I was assigned that part because I had a better audition than you did.”
“A better audition?” she says. “You mean with the help of a fancy hotel, a pianist, and a yellow brick road? I’m surprised they didn’t actually install gold bricks for you.”
“I have a good voice,” I say. Do I really need to defend myself here?
“You had a whole production put together for you,” she says. “I’ve seen the video.”
Could she be right? Maybe they regretted their decision once they heard me sing for real. I’m trying to be strong here, but what if none of this was real at all? What if they were all just interested in what the new girl had to show them? That’s what I’ll always be no matter where I go—the new girl.
“What? Are you gonna run home to your mommy now?” Shelby’s eyes are cold, and she’s standing there like a statue with her arms crossed.
There’s so much wrong with that question.
I freeze, trying to decide how to answer. I swear my heart has sunk into my Mary Jane shoes, and the bottoms of my eyes are blurring from the tears fighting their way out. But this is a speak-up-or-slink-away moment, and there is no way I’m letting her keep me down.
“Go ahead, Kenzie. Run home to Mommy,” she says again.
I consider thanking her for doing me a favor, because that last dig breaks me out of my haze and puts me in full-out combat mode. I lean forward until our noses are almost touching and lock eyes with her to be sure she understands how bad her words hurt. “I wish more than anything that I still had my mother to run home to.”
She clearly doesn’t know what to say, and I am not letting her off the hook. “I want you to remember that, because someday your words will run through your mind, you’ll picture the sadness you saw in my eyes, and you’ll realize what a bully you are.”
She back
s away from me, trying to act like I didn’t get to her, but her shaking hands tell me I did.
“May you never forget this moment,” I say as if I’m putting a spell on her. And honestly, it’s all I can hope for. That someday she’ll understand how cruel it is to knock someone down just to make yourself feel more powerful. No one deserves that.
I turn and walk away as the whispers start. By now everyone knows it’s only me and my dad. Apparently, Shelby never got the memo.
“No one told me that,” she says to her friends. “I didn’t know.”
A tiny little piece of me relaxes, because maybe someday isn’t so far off.
chapter twenty-four
Dad suggests going out to dinner tonight, but I want to make sure I have his undivided attention. We compromise and order a pizza. Extra cheese and double the pineapple.
It’s one of those movie moments where we both say “I have something to tell you” at the exact same time, and then it continues with “You go first,” “No, you go first,” until I finally stop him and say, “Dad, I have a whole bunch to tell you, so it’s probably better if you tell me what you have to say first.”
“Okay, sweetie,” he says. “I know traveling all the time is hard for you, and you seem to be having a great time in middle school.”
I guess I have more to tell him than I thought. His late nights last week and the birthday celebration this past weekend are clearly hiding how miserable I’ve been.
“What? Are you not enjoying middle school?” he asks. My face must be giving me away.
“No, I mean, you’re going first,” I say. “Go on.” This time I try to focus with very little expression on my face. I don’t want to give away the truth just yet.
“The thing is that the office here is really happy with my work, and it’s been a great fit for both sides,” says Dad.
I grab another piece of pizza. “That’s great, Dad. You’re awesome.”
He laughs. “Thank you, but that’s not the point of the story.”