by Cari Simmons
“We are?”
“Well, I mean, you know, me and Xia and Evie and April,” Cassidy said hastily. The minute she said it, Cassidy looked like she might have made a mistake. “Everyone from . . . my class.”
“Oh,” said Alice. This was the first time she’d ever heard Cassidy say “we” and not have it involve her. She put on her proudest, most supportive face. “Well, that’s awesome! I can’t wait to see you perform. I bet next year you’ll have the lead!” Alice didn’t feel as excited as she tried to sound, though. She felt a little left out.
Alice must have been doing a great acting job, though, because Cassidy gushed on. “It’s going to be so fun. I mean, it’ll be cheesy—it’s an eighties musical revue, but so what. Our costumes will be really silly, like metallic wigs and glow-in-the-dark jewelry and crazy makeup and stuff, but you know me, I love being goofy like that.”
“I’m . . . I just don’t remember you talking about it,” Alice stammered.
“I have been, like, for weeks, silly,” Cassidy said. “Maybe you were just caught up with homework or the Nerd Herd or something.”
Alice smiled. Even though her feelings were a little bit hurt, she kept her mouth shut.
“The best part is, Jesse’s doing stage crew for it,” Cassidy said, sitting back down on the floor and hugging one of the throw pillows. “So I’ll get to see him more too.”
“That sounds awesome!” Alice felt like cold cement was filling up her stomach. What she really wanted to say was, “Why didn’t you ask me to try out?”
“I would have asked you to audition too,” Cassidy said hurriedly, like she could read Alice’s mind. “But I just assumed you were too busy. Maybe you can bring the Nerd Herders to come check out the show!”
“Yeah,” said Alice. But the Nerd Herd was a school group. They didn’t see each other all the time and talk about everything, and she hadn’t known them since she was superlittle, like with Cassidy. Maybe what Alice needed was her own thing, like the musical or some other club, but she still hadn’t figured out what “her” thing was.
“I hope you’re not upset,” Cassidy said. “I just know that stage stuff isn’t your thing, right?”
This was true, and Alice couldn’t deny it. It was one thing to sing along in their bedrooms to the radio, but that was just the two of them. Ever since the piano recital incident, no way. Alice even got a little nervous in class when she was asked to read out loud. But still, she wouldn’t have minded being asked—maybe Alice could have done stagecraft or helped hand out programs or something like that. Even if she had said no, just being asked would have been nice.
“When does it open?” Alice asked. Maybe if she got more interested in the show, she’d be able to shake this blue feeling. She was supposed to feel excited for and supportive of her best friend, not whatever this was.
“November,” Cassidy said. “Promise me you’ll come and cheer me on opening night? I won’t be able to sing a single note if I don’t know that my best friend is out there to support me.”
“I’ll cheer loudest of all,” Alice said, and finally she meant it.
“Just one thing really stinks, though,” Cassidy said. She flicked something invisible off her gauzy purple skirt. “I can’t hang with you after school or even on the bus until the show starts, because of rehearsal.”
“What?” Alice asked. Between Cassidy’s dance classes and all of Alice’s homework, it had been hard to spend much time together, but at least they always had the fifteen or so minutes between school and home to catch up.
“I know,” Cassidy said. “But it’ll fly by before we know it. There’s always lunchtime. And besides,” she said, picking the notebook up from beneath Alice’s toes and fanning her feet with it. “We’ll be able to catch up this way, right?”
“Yeah . . . ,” Alice said, but they’d already been having a hard time keeping up. “How are you going to have time to write in the notebook, with all this rehearsing?”
“We’ll figure something out,” Cassidy said. “We always do. Besides, you’re plenty busy yourself, right? It’s a good thing! We might not be able to write as frequently, but we’ll have more stuff to catch up on.”
“You’re right,” Alice said, but she just couldn’t help feeling a little bit gloomy. She knew it was ridiculous, and tried to get herself psyched for Cassidy’s accomplishments, but the fact that she couldn’t feel as enthusiastic as she knew she should just made her feel sadder. What kind of friend was she?
“Don’t sweat it,” Cassidy said, nudging Alice playfully. “In fact . . . ,” she said, and got up and cued something on her computer. “Don’t stop believin’!” She started hopping around the room, singing loudly to the eighties song that apparently was part of the musical, pointing at Alice as if the song was about her. Bagel nosed open the partially closed door and began zooming around the room, yipping at an ear-bleeding volume while Cassidy performed. Alice suppressed the urge to let a Nikki-style pout creep over her face. I kind of hate this song, she thought.
“How was Cass?” asked Mr. Kinney, who was washing dishes when Alice got home.
“Fine,” Alice said. She didn’t feel like talking about all the new and exciting ways she and Cassidy were growing apart.
“You got a phone call,” her mom said, too focused on her crossword puzzle to look up.
“A phone call?” Alice said, wondering aloud who could have called. She was just at Cassidy’s.
“Yeah,” Mrs. Kinney said, right as Alice read the name scrawled on the yellow pad next to the phone.
“Nikki Wilcox?” Alice said, full of disbelief.
“I know, can you believe it?” her dad asked as he tried to magically fit two more plates into an already-full dishwasher. “Nikki Wilcox. Nikki Wilcox! THE Nikki Wilcox. Just one thing. Who’s Nikki Wilcox?”
“Don’t mind him,” Alice’s mom said, still not looking up. “He had some coffee-flavored ice cream, and now he’s out of control.”
Alice rolled her eyes. Her parents were strange. Her friendship with Cassidy was strange. Nikki Wilcox—and the fact that she had called Alice—was strange. And the strangest thing was, Alice was going to call Nikki back, and was kind of excited to do so. She needed someone to talk to. Even if it was Nikki Wilcox.
CHAPTER 11
ENEMY TERRITORY?
It was Monday afternoon, and in a freak twist of North Shore weather, the sun peeked merrily through the clouds while a warm October rain drizzled down. Of course strange weather would be over Alice’s head, because who should she be walking down the street with but Nikki Wilcox?
Just the week before, Alice had felt like she was saying good-bye to Cassidy, for the time being, anyway, as she disappeared into the world of rehearsals. Simultaneously, Alice found herself talking to the one person in school she would have never expected to. But whatever weird feelings Alice had about this moment, she had to keep them to herself. Between her and Cassidy’s busyness and the fact that Alice wasn’t sure how Cassidy would react to Alice hanging out with Negative Nikki, she couldn’t quite bring herself to tell her best friend about her new possible friend.
On Friday, after Alice had come home from Cassidy’s, she and Nikki made awkward small talk over the phone about how hard school was getting, between math and Animal Farm. “Um, so, want to come over after school on Monday and see if we can put our heads together?” Nikki had asked.
Alice had said sure without even thinking about it. It wasn’t like she had much else going on, social-wise, plus there was a part of her that was irresistibly curious about Nikki. Would she suddenly revert back to her negative self and snap at Alice and kick her out? Or had Alice pegged her all wrong? Maybe she’d learn why Nikki didn’t want to be part of the Nerd Herd. Maybe she’d learn anything about Nikki, because so far Alice didn’t know much, aside from what she’d learned from their latest interactions: that Nikki had a hard time at math and took her schoolwork pretty seriously.
So, after school, while Cas
s was at musical rehearsal, Alice and Nikki got off the bus together and walked to Nikki’s parents’ building. Even though it was only a few blocks away from her house, it felt like several miles, after all the years just dashing across the street to Cassidy’s house—sometimes without even wearing shoes!
The girls walked in silence for about a half a block, not totally sure what to talk about, until they walked past a well-dressed older woman walking a tall, skinny dog. Suddenly Nikki brightened. “This is Edgar, isn’t it?” she asked the owner, who smiled politely. “Is it okay if I give him a treat?”
“Of course,” said the lady. Nikki knelt down on the sidewalk in front of this rickety, striped old dog, petted him gently on the head, and whispered to him, “Hi, Edgar. Hi, good boy. Do you want a treat?” To Alice’s surprise, Nikki pulled a dog biscuit from her pocket and fed it to him.
“You, uh, carry dog biscuits around in your pockets?” Alice asked.
Nikki blushed. “Yeah. Kind of nuts, huh? But I just love dogs, especially the ones in my neighborhood, like old Edgar here. He used to be a racing dog, and he’s in retirement, isn’t he?”
“Yes, and thanks to you, he’s loving every minute of it,” says his owner.
“Okay, bye, Edgar!” Nikki said as they walked on. “Aren’t dogs just the best?”
“I wouldn’t know,” Alice said. “I’m allergic, myself. I can’t really touch them much, or else I start sneezing all over the place.”
“Oh, that stinks,” Nikki said. “I’m kind of obsessed. I probably know more about dogs than any normal person should. Did you know that greyhounds are one of the oldest breeds in the world and were even mentioned in the Bible?”
“No, I certainly did not,” said Alice, who couldn’t decide whether this information was interesting or weird.
“I guess that’s not really common knowledge or anything,” said Nikki. “Here’s us.” Nikki and her parents lived in a redbrick apartment building with large glassed-in sunrooms. Alice had been driven by dozens of times before without really noticing. After unlocking three heavy doors, the girls hiked the three floors. Alice tried to act like she wasn’t completely out of breath. Maybe this was what kept Nikki in such good shape for ballet.
“Wow,” Alice said, once she stepped inside the Wilcoxes’ house. “Your place is really cool.” And it was—unlike the Kinneys’ cheery and comfy house or the Turners’ sumptuous, scented home, the Wilcox house looked like it came from one of the modern design catalogs Alice’s parents got. It had clean white walls and a tidy rectangular gray couch and a funky black rug that looked like the hair of a Muppet. The dining room table was on big industrial wheels and the chairs were clear and see-through.
“Thanks,” said Nikki. “Actually I picked out some of that stuff. If I get straight A’s, my parents let me help decorate.”
“It helps that she has good taste,” said a woman who stepped out from a home office. “Hi, I’m Donna Wilcox.”
“Hi, I’m Alice,” Alice said, surprised by how strong Mrs. Wilcox’s grip was, as well as by her hair, which was almost the opposite of Nikki’s, a sleek silver bob instead of anything curly or tangly.
“Honey, come meet Nikki’s new friend,” Mrs. Wilcox called back to the office.
“Hang on, one second.” Alice heard grumbling. Finally a tall, angular man with a shock of dark, springy hair appeared, pushing glasses up his nose. Ah, that’s where she got the hair.
“Dr. Wilcox,” he said, also shaking Alice’s hand. “Technically my wife is also Dr. Wilcox, so I hope you don’t get us mixed up.” He chuckled to himself, and Alice smiled weakly and tried to pretend he was making her laugh.
“Dad, stop being weird,” Nikki said.
“Pretty sure that’s impossible!” Nikki’s mom said with a laugh.
“What are you girls doing this afternoon?” Nikki’s dad asked.
“Just working on math and English,” Nikki said.
“Nikki tells us you’re quite the math genius,” he said, fixing his eyes intensely on Alice.
“Uh, well. Not really,” Alice said. “I mean, I’m okay at it.” What was she going to do, say, “Yes, I’m a math genius, and pretty awesome in general as you can tell”?
“Well, we appreciate whatever help you can give Nikki,” he said. “We can’t wait to see her make us proud at the math tournament in November.”
“Right,” Alice said, somehow unsurprised that Nikki’s parents would actually be excited for a math tournament.
“All right,” Nikki said. “Maybe you guys should let us get to work.”
“We’re here if you need us!” said Nikki’s mom while she and her husband retreated to their office.
“They’re obsessed with their work,” Nikki said, rolling her eyes. “I’m pretty sure that if they didn’t share an office, they would hardly see each other.”
“What do they do?” Alice asked.
“Dad’s an engineer and mom works in the chemistry department, both at the University of Chicago,” Nikki said. “And believe it or not, they met in math class in high school. So they’re basically the original Nerd Herd. I think that’s why they expect that I always get, like, straight A’s all the time. They were the ones who got me to join the math team, because they figured it would help sharpen me up, and I don’t know, maybe they think that’s where I will meet my future husband. Who knows? I wish they didn’t care about it so much.” Before Alice could process any of this, Nikki asked, “Are you hungry?”
“Sure,” Alice said. “Always.”
Nikki opened the refrigerator door, but Alice could only see a cruel joke when it came to snacks: a plate with some limp celery sticks and some ancient-looking orange slices.
“That looks . . . ,” Alice tried to think of a word that was not rude that would also not be a lie. “Disgusting” was rude, but “good” was a lie.
“I know,” Nikki said, closing the door. “Pretty lame, snack-wise, huh? They both have such a long commute and work so much they don’t have much time to shop, so it’s kind of an adventure when it comes to scrounging.”
“That stinks,” Alice said, suddenly grateful for her mom, who at least tried fun new things like serving breakfast for dinner or coaxing Mr. Kinney to grill hamburgers out back, even in the wintertime.
“Yeah,” said Nikki. “What do your parents do?”
“My mom is an accountant who works from home, and my dad works in advertising downtown,” Alice said.
“So you’re lucky, they are pretty close by,” Nikki said, sighing. “It’s pretty unusual that my parents are home so early today. A lot of times I don’t see them until dinner or later.”
“Wow,” said Alice, starting to realize there was even more to Nikki than she had initially assumed.
“Anyway,” Nikki said, brushing her hand in the air like she was getting rid of a cobweb. “Let’s do some math!” She swung her arm like she was about to start square dancing, and Alice couldn’t help but laugh.
The afternoon passed much more quickly than Alice had expected. First, she had a hard time actually sitting down to focus on the homework, because she was fascinated by Nikki’s room. Like the rest of the condo, it was actually decorated, and in a sophisticated way Alice could never have dreamed of. Tucked away too, in little corners of the room, were tiny collections of pretty objects like polished stones, heart-shaped pieces of sea glass, and kitschy plastic snow globes. Alice spent nearly an hour asking Nikki about where she got all her various items—her parents had each had fellowships at other universities, so she’d spent a good amount of time traveling.
“They’re both tenured now,” she said. “So we’re here to stay.”
The walls were painted a dark charcoal gray, the comforter an egg-yolk yellow, and the furniture an artistic-looking white, which included a white cardboard deer’s head mounted on the wall.
“He’s my deer friend,” Nikki explained. “Get it? Wait, you probably do. You’re in honors classes.” Alice laughed again.
“You’re a lot different here than in school,” Alice said without thinking.
“What do you mean?” asked Nikki, stretching her legs out on the white sheepskin rug. She looked curious, not mad.
“Sometimes you just seem . . .” Alice searched for a word that was nicer than “mean” or “superior.” She went with “intimidating.”
“Intimidating!” Nikki said with a short laugh. “I wish I was intimidating.”
“Well,” said Alice. “It’s just that, like, you don’t seem like you really enjoy it when we goof around in school, even when it’s part of the class, like with Mr. Nichols.” Alice decided not to mention what Cassidy had said about Nikki correcting her in ballet.
Nikki nodded. “It’s not that I am annoyed by people having fun. I’m just . . . if I bring home anything other than an A in a class, my parents want to have this big long talk about it. They don’t get mad about it, but they’re both so, like . . .” She bent her arms like a robot and talked in a monotone. “‘Work. Science. Math. Computer. Error.’ They think there has to be an explanation for everything. I don’t want to have a talk about why I didn’t get a good grade on something. So I guess I’m just trying to avoid having that conversation—there’s a part of me that freaks, like if we spend too much time joking around in class, we’re going to miss something and I’m going to fall behind.”
“Oh, come on,” said Alice. “You’re so smart. When was the last time you got a C in anything?”
“The last time we moved,” Nikki said quietly, picking a piece of fuzz off the carpet with her fingernails. Alice noticed they were decorated with black polish that was chipping off at the tips. “It’s hard. You know, most of you guys have known each other since you were bitty babies, but I’ve only lived here for a few years. I still feel like the odd girl out.”
Alice nodded. This explained a lot. “But you live here now, right? For good? You’re not the new girl anymore.”
“That’s true,” said Nikki thoughtfully. “I guess that’s true.”
Finally they got to work, with just enough time for Alice to walk Nikki through a few memorization tricks she had for various formulas and for Nikki to show Alice some resources she’d found that explained, in (sort of) easy terms, what had happened in the Russian Revolution.