by Annie Bryant
This is why my dad will always be a semi-famous travel writer and I will write great novels. No offense, Dad.
“Second, Charlotte,” Dad interrupted my thoughts, his voice now serious. “We’ve been given two rules, and two rules only. If Miss Pierce wanted us on the third floor, she would have told the housing office. So, before we sign this lease, I need your assurance that you understand the rules—that means no exploring.”
“I understand, Dad,” I grumbled. What a waste of a tower, I thought.
Later, after I found out more about Miss Pierce, I got even more spooked. Yuri told me he’d been delivering to the back door since the eighties and he’d never seen her, either. She used to mail in all her checks, but now she does everything online. How interesting—a wired hermit.
My stomach growled, so I jumped off the swing and went back across the street. How bad could this sleepover be? I wondered. But that’s what I’d thought about the first day of school.
I worried about what all the girls would think. Maeve lived above a movie theater and could watch free movies anytime she wanted. Katani’s house was full of people laughing and talking all the time. She might think our house was empty, boring, and creepy. Besides, when her grandmother asked where we lived and I told her 173 Summit Avenue, she gave me a really strange look. And Avery, who’s always asking a million questions, would want to know what my mother died of and how old she was. This sleepover was already feeling like a big mistake.
Those are the two questions people always ask. The answers, “Pneumonia” and “Thirty-two,” have so little to do with my mother. I’d much rather tell them how she read to me all the time, how we rode the swan boats together, and how she smelled of lavender. She met my dad in the arboretum in spring when the lilacs were blooming. How romantic was that? But they never ask about those things.
Suddenly, out charged Dad with a big grin on his face, jolting me back to reality.
“Who’s ready for pancakes?” he asked.
Then the day kind of kept moving after that, between the diner and the supermarket, and, can you believe it, even more cleaning.
Dad had been monkeying about for ages, starting a fire and putting out more things for the s’mores. Don’t ask me how it took so long, because there’s only three things in s’mores. Katani was the first to show up, and I was actually glad, because it meant Dad had to stop making me nervous.
I could hear Kelley singing “This Old Man” as they pulled into the driveway.
“Shush!” said Katani.
But Kelley was un-shushable. “How’s my new best friend?” she shouted, her head hanging out the window like a puppy dog.
“I’m great, Kelley. How are you?”
“I’m supercalifragilisticexpialidocious,” she said.
“Shhh,” said Katani, jumping out of the car. She wore black pants and a black-and-white striped top. Even for a sleepover, she looked perfect—très chic.
Mrs. Fields leaned on the top of the car, looking at Katani and me and the house. She seemed quiet. “I’ve always loved this house,” she said.
I thought she was just being nice, but her eyes looked all misty.
“I mean it,” she said, patting my hand. “This is a ‘good times’ house.”
What did that mean? My dad came out and walked over to Mrs. Fields with big steps.
“Mrs. Fields,” he said, “thank you so much for welcoming Charlotte to the Abigail Adams Junior High. It means so much to me that she’s in such capable and understanding hands.”
I went back around the car to Katani, to help her with her things. Wow. I didn’t know girls my age carried suitcases to sleepovers. She wouldn’t look me in the eye…this was starting out well.
“Do you have many renters?” she asked as we walked to the porch.
“No,” I said.
“You mean, you have this whole house to yourself?” Her perfect eyebrows arched in surprise.
“Pretty much,” I said. The words just popped out. I’ve never told even a semi-lie before. I couldn’t believe this was me talking.
“We just don’t use the rooms down here. It’s nicer upstairs.” We climbed the stairs and put her things in the living room. I knew I was giving the wrong impression, like we owned the house, but I couldn’t help myself.
The bell rang, so I went back down. Dad came hustling down right after me. He opened the front door for Ms. Kaplan. Maeve’s mom looked a little freaked because he was holding a barbecue fork.
“Don’t worry! It’s not a weapon!” he said, waving it around his head, laughing when he saw the look on her face. “It’s for marshmallows! I’m Charlotte’s dad, Richard Ramsey. We take our s’mores very seriously around these parts.”
“I’m Carol Kaplan,” she said and cleared her throat.
They chatted for a minute as Maeve carried her duffel in. I could tell Ms. Kaplan was checking Dad out to make sure he wasn’t crazy. She still didn’t look convinced as she went down the porch steps.
“Maeve, is your cell phone charged?”
“Yes, Mom, don’t worry,” said Maeve, who was practicing sweeping gestures on the big inner staircase. Too many old movies.
“I want you to check in with me before you go to sleep.”
“We’re going to bed in about five minutes, Mom,” groaned Maeve. “What could possibly happen between now and then?”
It looked like Ms. Kaplan was worried about exactly what could happen between now and then, but she settled on, “Call me. And no junk food after you brush your teeth.”
As Dad was closing the door, Avery bounced through.
“Hi Mr. Ramsey,” she said. “I’m Avery.”
“My pleasure, Avery. Won’t you come in?”
“But I already am in,” she said with a laugh and dashed up the stairs, sprinting around Maeve, who was practicing swooning over the banister.
Katani stood at the railing at the top of the stairs, shaking her head as she watched Maeve.
A moment later, Avery came rocketing down the banister.
The girls trooped into the living room. Dad had his African masks, an old map of Paris, and one ratty-looking butterfly net hanging on the wall. Dad and I had pulled the chairs and couch back from the fireplace and moved the coffee table off to one side. There was lots of space in the big room to sit on cushions around the fire and have all the snacks and drinks handy. It really helped that Dad had made a crackling fire in the huge, open fireplace. It gave us something to focus on as we sat awkwardly, not saying a word. Even he started to notice.
“Charlotte,” Dad said, “let’s get this party started.”
“Sure thing, Dad,” I said as the girls rolled their eyes.
“How about some s’mores?” he said a bit too loudly.
He put a tray of Graham crackers, chocolate bars, and marshmallows on the coffee table.
I ran to the kitchen and brought back the fruit I had cut up for the girls, a bowl brimming with fresh strawberries, watermelon, and raspberries.
“My specialty,” I said, trying to make a joke. “I call it ‘Bowl of Red Fruit.’”
Nobody laughed except Dad. He was beginning to see what I was up against.
“Well, then,” he said, clearing his throat. “I’ll just leave you four alone to have fun.”
He handed each of us a long barbecue fork.
“Woo hoo!” said Avery, skewering five marshmallows at once. “Watch this!”
Within seconds, all five marshmallows were in flames and Avery was totally proud of herself.
“Honestly,” sighed Katani. “Is there a fire extinguisher handy?”
“What?” Avery said. “Are these bad?”
We all started to giggle.
Slowly, between the challenge of not frying our marshmallows and the pleasure of biting into gooey chocolate, I began to relax. Dad must have planned it this way, because while we were stuffing ourselves with s’mores, he had turned down the lights in the living room and snuck out.
A
s we huddled together around the fire, I imagined for a moment that we were friends. Then, Katani spoke.
“The sooner we go to bed, the sooner this will all be over.”
Oh well, the friendship fantasy just went out the window.
We each picked a spot around the living room to spread out our things. Katani opened her suitcase, which was tan with brown fabric around the edges. Everything in it was neat. She carefully took out a pair of blue satin pajamas. Suddenly, something flew past my eyes.
“Ow!” said Katani rubbing her neck and pulling a rubber band from Avery’s braces out of her hair.
Avery burst out laughing.
“What are you doing?” asked Katani. “You’re like an electric yo-yo.”
“I didn’t mean to get you, Katani, honest,” said Avery. “I was aiming at Maeve.”
“Glad you missed,” Maeve said as she unpacked a few things. “Katani,” she asked, “did you make those pajamas yourself?”
Katani stopped unrolling her sleeping bag long enough to lock Maeve in a cold stare.
“Why?”
“Oh, just wondering,” said Maeve, not looking up.
She put on headphones and started thumbing through a movie magazine. Katani walked slowly toward where Maeve lay on her sleeping bag. Uh-oh. Katani leaned over and flipped the power button off on Maeve’s MP3 player. Maeve looked annoyed.
“Excuse me. Do you need something?”
“Yes, little princess,” said Katani, her eyes blazing. “I’d like to see your pajamas.”
Maeve looked from Katani to Avery to me, shrugging her shoulders.
“Sure. Whatever. What’s the big deal?”
She pulled a light pink night shirt from her bag.
“Did you make those pajamas, Maeve?”
“Excuse me?”
“Or did you whine until Mommy and Daddy bought you that sixty-dollar designer nightshirt?”
“Katani…” I thought I should say something to help Maeve. But Maeve was holding her own.
“Guess again,” said Maeve. “Nine dollars at Filene’s Basement.”
“I see,” said Katani. “And the Louis Vuitton bag?”
“Louis who?” piped up Avery. No one answered.
“You mean this old thing?” asked Maeve, posing like a model with her bag covered with little gold initials.
“Yeah,” said Katani, getting heated up.
“It’s a knockoff, Katani. A fake. I got it on Orchard Street in New York when we went to visit my grandparents.”
“Whoa,” said Avery, looking at me. “This is getting a little intense.”
Katani kept going like she didn’t even hear Avery.
“Well, I’ll bet you didn’t find your laptop at Filene’s Basement or on Orchard Street. How much did that cost?”
“You don’t quit, do you?” asked Maeve, looking mad. “What’s the big deal about the laptop? And by the way, what is with your attitude?”
“My attitude?” said Katani. “I guess it’s not a big deal for a spoiled, rich kid to carry a fifteen-hundred-dollar laptop, when the school supplies pens and paper.”
Maeve was furious.
“If you knew the real reason,” she screamed, “maybe you wouldn’t be so mean, you witch.”
Suddenly Maeve burst into tears.
“You wouldn’t know what it’s like to have a learning disability, would you?” Maeve cried. “If you must know, I’m dyslexic. It’s hard to read and even harder to write. The laptop makes writing easier. And, yes, Miss Perfect, my Mommy got special permission for her special daughter to use the laptop in class. And I get extra time for tests too. My mother drives me to lessons, calls me every ten minutes, and wants me to floss. So you can tease me about my laptop all you want, but the last thing I am is spoiled. I’ve never bought anything full price in my life. I have over-protective parents, an obnoxious brother, and no space of my own. You’re so perfect you probably never had a problem in your life.”
“Why does everyone think my life is so perfect?” demanded Katani, her hands on her hips.
“Because you look like a supermodel?” suggested Avery.
“Let me tell you all something. The only thing perfect in my house is my two older sisters. You try living with two brilliant, superstar athletes! And don’t even try to talk to me about disabilities. I have an autistic sister I have to share a room with and protect every day of the week.”
Maeve looked shocked. “You do?”
“That’s right!” she answered fiercely.
“What’s wrong with being artistic?” Avery asked.
“Oh, for Pete’s sake, Avery,” groaned Katani. “She’s autistic, not artistic. Never mind. It’s too hard to explain.”
“She’s really sweet and cute,” I added to be helpful.
Katani turned on me.
“Like you care, Charlotte! People like you make me so mad. You come to my house, act sweet and innocent, get in good with my grandmother, and then you go back to school and make jokes about Kelley!”
“What?” I gasped. “How can you say that? I’ve never made a joke about her. I loved being with Kelley and Patrice and your grandmother. I loved being with everyone in your family except YOU! You were a real…” I stopped in time before saying something I would regret.
“Katani, you were totally mean to me too,” added Avery. “You acted like being adopted is bad, or something. News Flash: I’m adopted.”
“You are?” Maeve asked.
“Sure,” she said proudly. “Avery Madden here. Born in Seoul, South Korea, October 30, 1991. Arrived home four months later on Valentine’s Day.”
Avery’s newsflash was like a mini cease-fire. For a second, everyone stopped fighting.
“You completely misunderstood me, Avery,” said Katani. “I’m not against adoption. I was just mad at you for being so rude about me not having the sports talent of my sisters. Anyway, this is off the point. We were talking about Charlotte.”
“I totally agree with you, Katani,” said Maeve, blowing her nose loudly. “Charlotte does have that sweet and innocent act down perfectly.”
“What are you talking about?” I said. “Are you people all crazy?”
Instead of answering, Maeve snatched my glasses off the end table and put them on.
“Here’s another impersonation. Who am I? ‘Yoo-hoo, Nick, darling. Let me tell you about my fabulous travels around the world while I steal you from Maeve.’”
Steal Nick from Maeve? What was this girl talking about?
“Don’t give me that wide-eyed look like you don’t know what I mean!”
“Tell her, girl,” chimed in Katani.
“But, Maeve,” I stammered, “I don’t know what you mean.”
Avery imitated phone static and said, “We are presently experiencing technical difficulties.”
“Avery, shush,” said Maeve.
“You saw I liked Nick on the first day of school!”
“I did not!”
“Must need new glasses,” said Katani under her breath.
“Maeve,” I said, “you flirt with all the boys.”
“But in Montoya’s,” said Maeve, “you kept trying to get his attention.”
“I didn’t want his attention.” Tears welled up in my eyes. “Believe me. I don’t need anyone’s attention.”
“Wow!” said Avery. “I’d love to see what would happen if you did. As long as I wasn’t too close.”
“Avery…” said Katani.
“Avery…” said Maeve.
“Avery…” I said.
“…SHUT UP!” we all screamed at once.
“Is everything a joke to you?” asked Maeve, turning on Avery.
“Do you always laugh at other people’s problems?” I added.
Avery looked crushed.
“Don’t you know how to act around people?” said Katani, towering over her.
Avery crumpled to the floor and put her arms around her knees. “I know how to act around some people,
” she said, wiping a tear with the back of her hand. “Just not you people.” Suddenly, rough-and-rugged Avery looked small and helpless. I knew how she felt.
“I don’t know what they’re talking about half the time either, Avery. Every time I move I have to try and figure out what everybody is talking about…it’s really hard,” I said.
Avery sighed and stretched out on the floor. Katani sat down beside her. It was like the quiet after a hurricane.
Maeve cleared her throat. “Did you really make your pajamas, Katani?”
“Uh-oh,” said Avery, crawling for a corner. “Oh no! Here we go again.”
“I like them,” blurted Maeve. “I, the Queen of Designer Discount Shopping, have never seen anything like them.”
“I sew a lot of my own clothes,” said Katani quietly.
“Seriously?” Maeve gasped. “The striped top?”
Katani nodded.
“That black skirt?”
“Uh-huh.”
“That would be the ‘first day’ striped top?” I asked.
“Yup. Two weeks babysitting, four fabric stores, special silk foot for the sewing machine, and three days to sew. And you took it out in under thirty seconds.”
“Oh, Katani,” I said, feeling terrible all over again, “I’m so sorry.”
“Girl, you should be,” she snorted. “By the way, have you considered klutz insurance?” She was laughing when she said it.
Maeve came over to sit next to her.
“Maeve,” said Katani, “I’m sorry I called you a princess.”
“And I’m sorry I said you were Miss Perfect,” said Maeve.
“Hey, you guys,” said Avery, “you’re acting like a bunch of girls.”
“Avery,” I said. “News Flash: We ARE girls.”
“No matter how short one of us may be,” added Katani.
That was all it took. Avery jumped up, grabbed a cushion from the couch, and threw it at Katani’s head. Katani ducked and it hit Maeve. The next thing I knew, couch cushions were flying and we were bashing each other with pillows and choking with laughter.
“Everything all right in there?” yelled Dad from down the hall.
“Perfect!” I called as a pillow knocked my legs out from under me.