Have you ever wondered why adults always act like weather is a big deal? Read the Little House books.
When Mom stopped reading to make lunch, I took notes for the Laura essay. It wasn’t going to be easy to explain how Laura influenced Walnut Grove, because we’d only just arrived. But I could write about how we were alike. The Ingalls family moved all the time. We moved all the time. Laura was a writer, and Mom was a writer. Laura had a sister named Mary who acted perfect. I had Rose. Laura had Nellie. I had Julia. She had fever ’n’ ague. I had the flu. If Laura was alive, we’d have Twin Superpowers.
On Friday, Mom didn’t want to read anymore. “I’m feeling a little tapped out, a little restless,” she said. “I need fresh air. Will you be okay if I take a long walk?”
“Sure.”
“Maybe I’ll bring my laptop and work at the diner for a while.”
“How’s the book coming? You’ve hardly been on your laptop at all.”
Mom took off her glasses and used the bottom of her T-shirt to clean them. “Writing takes place in the head, too. Thinking and daydreaming are part of the process.”
I thought about her expression in the van the day Mia drove us to the water park. Maybe that’s why Mom got that faraway look. She was thinking and daydreaming.
“Reading Laura to me is good inspiration, right?”
“Yes.” She shrugged. “And no.”
“It can’t be yes and no. That makes no sense.”
“You can’t rush these things. I’ve been meditating. I’ve been using my crystals. But I’m changing the book, and the plot needs to simmer in my mind.” It sounded like Mom wasn’t getting Laura’s mystical messages through the energy of the universe, and that meant something was wrong.
“What kind of changes?”
“I’m not sure yet.”
Mom’s face looked normal, and her body language looked normal, but the air around us felt heavy, almost clogged.
I thought I’d have a whole weekend to talk to Freddy about it, but Mom messed that up, too. On Saturday morning Mom told us Mia was taking Julia to Minneapolis to shop for school clothes, and since Freddy was outgrowing everything, she was accepting Mia’s invitation for him to go along.
Schemer! Mom was definitely trying to break Freddy’s vow.
Freddy wrote something in his notebook and handed it to Mom. She said, “I’ve taken a vow to not read notes, remember? You’ll have to tell me.”
Freddy gave me the notebook. “He says, ‘Did they really invite me or did you ask if I could go? Because that would be weird.’”
“Mia did the asking.”
“What about me?” Rose asked. “I need clothes, too.”
“You have a wardrobe that fits, and so does Charlotte. Have you noticed that every single day Freddy wears a rock-and-roll T-shirt with a hoodie?”
“That’s what he likes,” I said.
“Maybe he wants to change it up,” Mom said. “They’re going to the Mall of America.”
Rose frowned. “They’re not even going to thrift stores?”
“So much for Mom’s opposition to corporate greed,” I grumbled.
“We all deserve an occasional treat,” Mom said. “A very rare treat. You girls will get a turn. I promise.”
“Mom, we all know this is part of your plan to trick Freddy into talking,” I said. “I guess you’re willing to spend a lot of money to break the vow. But he won’t.”
“He’s getting sixty dollars, and he knows to look for the clearance racks.”
Freddy scribbled another note, which I read. “He says, ‘I don’t want to shop with a girl. She’ll think I’m weird.’” I could picture Freddy standing in the girls’ section, his face burning red from embarrassment, while Julia and her mother looked at cute shirts, or worse, bras! And I wouldn’t be there to save him.
“Maybe I should go with them,” I said. “I don’t have to buy anything. I’ll get stuff for myself when I win the essay contest.”
“You need to rest.”
“I’m pretty much over fever ’n’ ague.”
Mom ignored me. “Embrace the adventure, Freddy, and figure out who you are. This is a magical time in life. Enjoy it.” She smiled and squeezed his shoulder. “Also, there’s another surprise. You’re going to spend the night at Mia’s sister’s house and return Sunday evening. Julia has cousins your age, so you’ll be meeting more kids. More conversations, more friends, more fun.”
“Nice plan, Mom. You are the master,” I said. “But he still has laryngitis, if you know what I mean.”
Mom smiled. “We’ll see about that.”
Rose smiled. “It’ll be good for you, Freddy. Charlotte can get new clothes later, because fair is fair, and I’ll get money from Daddy for clothes so Mom has more to spend on you guys. Everything works out, right?”
Mom and Rose hugged.
CHAPTER
SIX
Rose crossed her arms and stomped her foot. “But I don’t feel like leaving early.”
It was Monday morning, and all I wanted was a few minutes alone with Freddy to catch up. I needed him to tell me about the week at school, and the trip to the Mall of America with Julia, and whether the laryngitis plan preserved the vow of silence.
Suddenly Rose wanted to walk with us. I said, “You always rush to school to talk to your friends.”
“Maybe today I’m feeling different.”
“Feel different tomorrow. Today Freddy and I want to talk. Privately.” I stretched out the word privately. “We’ll be right behind you. As soon as Freddy gets out of the bathroom, we’ll leave.”
Rose pinched her lips together, clomped up the stairs, and slammed the door behind her. By the time Freddy and I left the house, her angry march had propelled her four blocks ahead of us.
“What’s with her?” Freddy asked.
“She’s mad, but I’ll make it up to her. I’ll win that essay contest and buy us a dog.”
“Seems unfair we have to write about Walnut Grove when we just moved here. I can’t even say Mom is a writer inspired by Laura because she changed her whole book. Did you know that? It’s all different now.”
“She mentioned something. How different?”
“The orphan on the prairie is gone. Now she’s writing about twins who sneak aboard this space shuttle that’s going to colonize Mars.”
I almost tripped. “No way! She said the orphan story was the book of her heart.”
“It’s not the book of her heart anymore. She told me last week. You were napping.” He shrugged. “You know what? I’d rather read an exciting space book than a boring prairie book. Besides, Mom says it’s the same story because it’s about exploration and pioneers. So we’re still here for Laura. She still needs Laura’s spirit.”
“The prairie wasn’t boring. The Ingalls family faced death every week.”
Freddy smiled. “I have an observation: our mother knows nothing about science.”
“Evidence?”
“She was shocked when I told her there used to be water on Mars, but it’s now frozen in the soil. She thought I was some kind of science genius. I told her every first grader knows that.”
I didn’t laugh. “Why didn’t you tell me about this right away?”
“Mom practically built a moat around your room.”
We were about a block from school at that point. Julia waved at us from the steps of the building. Freddy said, “I’m going to run ahead. I’ve got to check my essay, and it’s in my locker.”
“But—”
And he was gone. I couldn’t run to catch up. I was still tired and weak from the fever ’n’ ague. By the time I got inside, Freddy was standing in front of his locker, looking at a sheet of paper. I was going to look at his paper, too, but Spiked Hair Boy and Boy Who Needs Braces got in front of me. “Hey, Red Fred!”
My chest burned. Barely a week into the school year and Spiked Hair Boy and Boy Who Needs Braces had already picked Freddy as their victim. I wanted to smack those boys for teasing
him, but then Boy Who Needs Braces said, “I thought you were coming to the football game.”
“We sacked the other team,” Spiked Hair Boy said.
Freddy stuck to the vow. He didn’t say a word. I thought about ordering them to leave him alone, but girls couldn’t stick up for boys. It made the boy look weak, and bullies could smell weakness. This was a school commandment: sisters shalt not defend thine brothers. Finally Freddy shrugged and darted into the classroom.
Spiked Hair Boy said, “What’s his deal?”
Boy Who Needs Braces shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe he was grounded or something.”
“But he said he was going.” They walked to class together.
He’d said he was going?
Something was definitely different.
Something was definitely wrong.
You know what it’s like when you realize everything you know, you absolutely know, turns out to be a fat mistake?
Your ribs squeeze your heart until it stops beating. Your legs shake. Your insides twist and turn like clothes in a dryer. And your eyes fill with tears no matter how hard you try to hold them back.
That’s what it’s like.
Freddy had not only talked to those boys; he’d accepted an invitation to go to a football game. Red Fred wasn’t an insult. It was a nickname—a dumb nickname considering he had blond hair. And he’d kept all of it secret from me.
During one short week, our Twin Superpowers had evaporated. I got fever ’n’ ague. Freddy got friends.
Julia brushed against me and said, “Is Freddy here?”
I stared at my feet until she gave up and went to class. I didn’t know what to do. Lunch was in three hours—just three short hours until I had to find a place to sit, and it looked like I couldn’t sit with “Red Fred” because he already had plans. Then there was the walk home alone and the walk to school the next day and another lunch and everything multiplied by days and weeks and months until Mom finished the book and we packed our stuff into the car.
And suddenly I knew something with absolute clarity. As much as I wanted to blame Julia or those boys, it wasn’t their fault we moved to Walnut Grove. We came because of Laura Ingalls and her dumb books.
I nearly slammed into Mrs. Newman as I entered the classroom. She gave me her teacher smile—the kind that says I’m paid to be nice to you. “Welcome back, Charlotte. Let’s talk before lunch about how to get you caught up. The essays are due today, but I can give you a few extra days.”
Hah. I wouldn’t work at that stupid museum for one million dollars. In fact, if I had a million dollars, I’d buy the museum just so I could tear it down.
“That’s okay. I don’t need more time.” I went to my desk and pulled out a notebook. I wrote furious words:
Laura Ingalls Essay
By Charlotte Lake
LAURA INGALLS IS RUINING MY LIFE!!!!!!
I ripped the sheet out of the notebook, marched to Mrs. Newman’s desk, and put it in the wire basket marked Laura Ingalls Essay Contest.
I looked at Freddy only one time all morning, and he was staring at Julia. Julia! Obviously he couldn’t see she was fake-nice. He was blinded by her hair-tossing.
At lunch I hid in a stall in the bathroom. If I saw Freddy, oops, make that Red Fred, I’d hit him or cry or both. Freddy knew where I was—our Twin Superpowers could lead him to me, if he wanted to be led, and he could bang on the door and yell my name, but he obviously didn’t care.
When the horrible day ended, I ran home. Even though I felt tired and hungry and I started coughing halfway there, I pumped my legs until I was in the basement.
Mom was sitting in the recliner with her laptop. “Hi, sweetie. Where’s Freddy?”
“Ask Julia Ramos.”
“What’s wrong?”
I wasn’t going to tell her about Red Fred. She’d be happy Freddy was making “connections in the world.” But I did have a question—an important question. “Mom, did you throw away Freddy’s duct tape?”
She blinked a few times. “Of course not. I believe children should be free to express themselves. Why?”
See?
He was a liar, too!
“No reason.”
In my bedroom I took the Jack bag from the closet. Jack was a mutt—Mom guessed a mix of terrier and poodle or cocker spaniel. We’d found him in the alley by our apartment in Richmond. He was so dirty that when we washed him we were shocked to discover he wasn’t brown. He was white with brown patches. Rose had been begging for a dog, so Mom concluded Jack’s appearance was a sign from the universe. We’d lived in apartments with no-pets policies, but our neighbors never ratted us out or complained, because who would do that to Rose, the adorable people magnet? Rose who gave neighbors handmade birthday cards, holiday cards, and you’re-a-great-neighbor cards; Rose who handed out cookies; Rose who cleaned up Jack’s turds as fast as he produced them.
Nobody would do that to Rose. Even crabby Mr. Thompson, with fierce eyes and a gruff voice, didn’t complain.
Or was his last name Thomas?
Anyway, we brought Jack home, and during the first two weeks, Mom had Rose carry dog treats in her pockets all the time. Jack followed her everywhere. Freddy and I could snuggle with Jack and play with him, but only Rose got to feed him and reward him with treats. When it came to connection building, Mom obviously trusted bacon chews more than the universe.
But we’d all cried when Jack died. Even though he was Rose’s dog, he knew, he always knew, when one of us was having a bad day. He would climb on our laps and lick our faces, and not because we’d just eaten cheeseburgers, but because he could tell something was wrong.
Jack was a small dog, a lap dog.
How could his ashes be so heavy?
The knock on my bedroom door was Freddy. “Mom says it’s almost time to eat.” I didn’t answer. He looked at his feet while he spoke. “Charlotte, it’s complicated.”
“Yeah. It’s complicated all right.”
“Maybe I can keep the vow at home but without the tape.”
“Mom didn’t throw the tape away, Freddy. You did.”
He crossed his arms. “Hey, it was your idea anyway. Why don’t you do it if you think it’s so easy?”
“It was not my idea.”
“Yes, it was. At first it was a joke, then you were all into it. You gave me the notebook because it fit in my pocket.”
“I gave you the notebook after you decided to do it. After!”
Mom opened the door. “Sounds like an exception to the vow has been made.”
“We’re talking privately,” I said.
“Fine. Dinner in five minutes.”
Freddy waited for Mom to leave before speaking. “It started the first day you were sick. Ethan was talking to me on the way to lunch, so I couldn’t just rush into the bathroom. Then at the table, all the guys were telling their favorite jokes, and they said it was my turn. I had to say something. So I was like, ‘Knock knock,’ and Christian said, ‘Who’s there?’ And I said, ‘Smell mop.’ And he said, ‘Smell mop who?’ It was dead quiet for a few seconds, and I was wishing that the ground would swallow me. Then Ethan said, ‘Smell my poo? That’s hilarious!’ Suddenly everyone got it and started laughing. They laughed so loud one of the lunch ladies told us to turn down the volume. They weren’t laughing at me, Charlotte. They were laughing at my joke.”
I crossed my arms. “You like Julia.”
“I don’t not like her.”
“Which means you like her.”
“It means I like her, but I don’t like her, like her. She’s just nice. Nothing else.”
I was not letting him off the hook. “Tell me, Freddy, does she have pierced ears?”
“Yeah. So?”
“Did she wear fingernail polish that day we went to the water park?”
“Yeah. So?”
I stomped my foot. “When have you ever noticed pierced ears and fingernail polish? You like her.”
“You could like her,
too.”
“I don’t like fake-nice people.”
Then Rose called us to dinner. I put Jack back in the closet while Freddy stomped to the table.
We gathered over a meal of overcooked spaghetti with bland tomato sauce. The mood was dark. Freddy shoveled food in his mouth. I picked at my piece of garlic bread. Only Rose talked. She happily chatted about how Laura Ingalls didn’t start writing her books until she was an old lady living on her farm in Missouri. Mom just nodded and sighed occasionally.
Mom was not someone who simply nodded and sighed. Mom was a talker. And when it came to Laura and writing, she could talk endlessly.
Why was she being so quiet?
I figured Mom knew Freddy and I were fighting, and she felt bad our Twin Superpowers had been disrupted.
After dinner, I learned what was really bothering her. Mom asked Rose to take cookies she had baked upstairs to Mia. Then she told me and Freddy to sit on the couch because we needed to have a quick talk about Rose’s dad.
“Rey called and told me he’s getting married. Rose doesn’t know yet.” Mom let out a long, frustrated sigh. “Honestly I’m happy for him, but it’s going to be a shock to Rose.”
“I didn’t even know he had a girlfriend,” I said.
“He met her on the ship. She’s Greek. He’s going to be on his honeymoon over Thanksgiving, so Rose won’t get to see him. She’ll be heartbroken. It’s her special time with him.”
“That stinks,” I said. Freddy nodded.
“It gets worse. He’s going to meet his new wife’s family in Greece over Christmas, and they’re quite conservative. Apparently they’re not thrilled he’s a divorced man with a child. He said it’s not the right time to have Rose come with them.”
“So she won’t see him at Thanksgiving or Christmas?”
“She’ll be heartbroken. I’m going to let the Thanksgiving news settle before I tell her about Christmas. I’m hoping he’ll change his mind,” Mom said. “Please be extra sensitive with Rose. She’ll get strength from the love we give her.”
We were all silent for a moment.
Mom looked downright gloomy. Mom never looked gloomy. In fact, she looked like she’d skipped washing her hair. I didn’t like this gloomy, sighing, unwashed version of my mother. It made me worry. So I said, “There’s one good thing. At least we get to have Rose with us for the holidays.”
Laura Ingalls Is Ruining My Life Page 4