More laughter.
What was so funny?
I figured I should check it out in case they were laughing at Rose, and she didn’t understand that she was the butt of the joke. Sure, Rose was smart, but she was only eleven. I couldn’t expect her to face a wolf pack alone.
Everyone was sitting in a circle on the floor. Boy Who Needs Braces chugged a glass of water while everyone laughed. Rose said, “Hi, Charlotte!” and all eyes landed on me. I had to say something.
“What’s going on?”
Julia could hardly breathe she was laughing so hard. “Truth or Dare. Chuck had to eat a tablespoon of plain mustard.”
“You’re lucky I didn’t puke on your shoes.” Boy Who Needs Braces took a fistful of potato chips and packed them into his mouth. He blew crumbs as he talked. “Anything to get rid of the taste!”
Rose said, “Can I ask this time?”
“Sure,” Freddy said.
“Okay. Bao. Truth or dare?”
“Truth.”
“Who’s the cutest boy in school?”
Purple Glasses Girl slapped her hands over her face. “Nobody!”
“Truth!” Rose shouted. “You have to pick somebody.”
Purple Glasses Girl smiled and sat up straight. “Liam.”
“Who’s that?” Freddy asked.
“He’s the cutest little kindergartner I’ve ever seen.”
“Cheater!” Rose laughed. “Next time I’m going to be specific and say pick someone from your class.”
“Thanks for the warning. I’ll make sure I don’t pick truth again. Now I get to pick somebody. Charlotte.”
I froze. I thought about saying no thanks and blaming a headache. But maybe if I played I’d get a nickname and I’d get invited to parties. Did I want a nickname? Maybe. Did I want to get invited to parties? Maybe. Did I want to laugh on Friday nights with other kids? Maybe. Did I want friends who’d disappear like Molly Smith? No. Did I want friends to make promises and then break them like Molly Smith? No.
I studied the faces of Spiked Hair Boy, Boy Who Needs Braces, and Purple Glasses Girl, and they weren’t frowning or rolling their eyes or staring at me like I was an alien. They were just waiting for an answer.
You know what happened next?
Freddy said, “Charlotte, pick. Truth or dare.”
“Dare.” The word just slipped out.
Purple Glasses Girl said, “I dare to you to get a pen and draw a mustache on Rose.”
Everyone laughed. Rose protested, but I could tell she was thrilled to be included in the dare. I swallowed hard and tried to think of an escape, but Freddy tossed me a pen. I caught it and knelt next to Rose. With a shaking hand, I drew a thick mustache on her face. Purple Glasses Girl took a picture with her phone. When Rose saw it she squealed with delight.
“Now you pick someone,” Rose told me. “That’s how the game works.”
My heart pumped. Who should I pick? I couldn’t pick one of the boys because they might think I liked them, and I mean the weird kind of like. Julia was the safe bet, but what if she said truth? What would I ask? What if she said dare? I’d have to think of something clever. I considered the headache plan again, but everyone was smiling at me and they did seem like they were having fun. Finally I said, “Julia.”
“Dare!”
I sat down next to Rose. “Let me think. Um … I dare you to act like a gorilla for thirty seconds.”
Julia jumped around, made monkey noises, and pretended to pick bugs out of Freddy’s hair and eat them, which got a big laugh. Freddy laughed, too. He wasn’t acting like a beige chair against a beige wall. He was one hundred percent Red Fred. Without saying anything, I sat down on the floor next to Rose. And just like that, I was part of the circle.
We played a few more rounds of Truth or Dare, then stopped to eat. Freddy cut the pizzas and gave Julia the first piece, which also happened to be the biggest piece. He opened a bag of Oreos and doled them out evenly, but there was one extra, which he put on Julia’s plate.
Spiked Hair Boy said, “Remember last summer when we played flashlight tag in the park? It’s not very cold. Want to do that?”
Heads nodded, but Julia said, “No. Bad Chad. He’ll be out there waiting for someone to torture.”
Rose said, “Freddy has a game on our phone called What’s the Word? You hold the phone so you can’t see it, and a word appears on the screen, and your teammate has to give you clues to guess what the word is. Whichever teams gets the most number of words in a minute wins.”
Everyone thought that sounded fun. Rose announced she would divide us into teams, and Freddy said, “You can put me with Julia if nobody else wants to be on her team.” Rose selected Bao for her team. I was paired with Spiked Hair Boy—Noah—which made me nervous, because … I don’t know. Just because.
It took Freddy thirty seconds to guess spider despite Julia giving obvious clues, but Noah and I made a good team. We got the hardest words and nailed them. We only had a few seconds left when Noah’s eyes popped open at the next word, like it’d be a miracle if I guessed it.
Noah: “What’s the word for something that’s like a deer only—”
Me: “Elk!”
Noah: “Like an elk and a deer but … poetic.”
Me: “Gazelle?”
Noah: “Yessssss!”
The phone beeped, and our turn was over.
Julia and Freddy shook their heads in disbelief. “How’d you get that?” Freddy asked. “What’s a gazelle?”
“Like a deer,” Noah said.
“Or an elk,” I said.
“Only poetic,” we said at the same time. Noah high-fived me.
Then Miguel came downstairs. “Time to call it a night. I’ll drive you kids home.” His accent was heavier than Mia’s. Sometimes I’d hear them speaking Spanish, but Julia never said a word in Spanish, not even hola.
“Fifteen more minutes?” Julia asked.
“Parents are expecting kids home, and I’m ready to go to bed.”
There were groans and grumbling, but everyone put on their winter gear and headed upstairs.
What’s the word for better-than-I-thought-it-would-be?
Okay.
It was okay.
I’d say fun, but let’s not get ahead of ourselves, right?
CHAPTER
ELEVEN
I got to school Monday just before the bell rang. As Noah walked past my locker, I started to say hello, but he shouted, “Gazelle!” and laughed and walked into class. I tapped Bao’s shoulder.
“That was a joke, right?”
“Of course.” She laughed like there was no doubt.
At lunchtime, I reached in my backpack and realized I had left my lunch on the counter at home. Mom had come back from the conference with a bad cold, so she’d overslept, which meant all of us had overslept. Then I discovered all my jeans were in the laundry, so I had to do the sniff test to see which pair was wearable, then I couldn’t find my gloves. I only had a few bites of toast before stuffing my books into my backpack. I had rushed outside without my sandwich, banana, and crackers.
Everyone else headed to the lunchroom, but I sat at my desk looking through my stack of articles. I had one on the Gold Rush, one on the Oregon Trail, one on Oklahoma migrants moving to California, and one on the Interstate Highway System.
Mrs. Newman came and stood over my desk. “Did you read the article about the Dakota Sioux Conflict?”
“Sorry, but I was busy this weekend. My mom was gone, so I kind of had to watch my sister.”
Mrs. Newman raised her eyebrow. “Kind of had to?”
“Definitely had to.”
“I want you to start with the Dakota Sioux Conflict because it was essentially a war that happened right here in southwestern Minnesota. The whole thing was overshadowed by the Civil War, so most people know very little about it. You’ll make some connections between it and the Ingalls family.”
“Like Ma hating Indians?”
“In a way,” she said. “No doubt she’d heard about Indians killing settlers in southwestern Minnesota, and she was afraid.”
“It’s not like she could call 911.”
“Indians were afraid of the settlers, too. The government broke treaty after treaty. They didn’t give the Indians supplies that were promised, and the Indians were afraid they’d starve that winter.” Mrs. Newman noticed I wasn’t eating. “Where’s your lunch?”
“I kind of forgot my lunch at home.”
She put her hands on her hips. “It doesn’t sound like you ‘kind of’ forgot your lunch. It sounds like you ‘definitely’ forgot your lunch.”
“I guess.”
“Then you need to go to the lunchroom and eat.” She didn’t even fake smile, so I knew there was no way around it.
Even though my heart pounded, I went to the lunchroom. Nearly everyone was through the line, so I quickly collected a taco, rice, green beans, peaches, and milk. I looked around for Freddy or Julia or Bao.
“Charlotte! Charlotte!”
Bao waved me over to her table and scooted closer to Obviously Popular Girl. I could see the back of Freddy at the next table, talking to Big Nose Boy and Chue aka Chuck. Julia was sitting at the end of our table next to Emma.
“How come you’re at lunch today?” Bao asked.
“I forgot my lunch at home.”
Tallest Girl in Class said, “Red Fred says you don’t need special reading help. Why do you stay in class?”
I shrugged. “I just like to read.”
“Me, too,” Emma said. “But I’d never stay in class to do it. What are you reading in there?”
I thought about lying and saying Harry Potter. But if they’d seen the Transcontinental Railroad book or the articles about Fence Cutters, it’d be worse. It’d look like I was hiding my secret love of trains and fences. In kindergarten I’d made the mistake of admitting I liked Thomas the Train, and three girls yelled “Choo choo!” in my face.
How did Freddy figure out these lunchroom conversations?
“I’m reading about stuff like homesteading and the Oregon Trail and the Interstate Highway System. Did you know we had an entire war with Mexico over who got to own Texas?” I realized I was acting a little too excited, so I dialed it back. “I guess Mrs. Newman thinks all this stuff will help me at the museum.”
“What do highways have to do with Laura?” Bao asked.
“Building the highway was just another way to connect the East with the West.”
Bao said, “I don’t see how that helps with the project at the museum.”
Mrs. Newman would want me to tell them about westward expansion through time and the intended and unintended consequences, but I wasn’t crazy. That would be like teasing wolves with raw meat. Julia would probably be the first one to bite. “Who knows? Mrs. Newman has weird ideas.”
“Really weird,” Bao said.
“Really, really weird,” Emma said.
They started talking about homework, so I just nodded while I studied the cafeteria. Freddy was a Walnut Grove superstar. Evidence? Big Nose Boy was wearing a Bruce Springsteen T-shirt with an unzipped hoodie. Curly Hair Girl was wearing a Nirvana T-shirt with an unzipped hoodie. Freckles Boy? Rolling Stones with an unzipped hoodie. I bet he didn’t even know a single Rolling Stones song. Red Fred had started a fashion trend. Mom always bought his shirts at thrift stores, and most of them were old rock-and-roll shirts, and he always added a hoodie.
When it was time to go outside, I slipped into the bathroom and waited until the bell rang to go back to class. No need to take chances. I’d been lucky, and lunch had gone fine, but I couldn’t risk the playground, too. Sad fact: luck runs out.
* * *
When I got to the museum, Julia, Rose, Gloria, and Teresa were eating brownies in the break room. Gloria served me a brownie. “Teresa brought some of her homemade chicken soup. It’s in the refrigerator. You can bring it home for your mother.”
“I heard she’s feeling blue,” Teresa said. “We can’t have our celebrity author sick when she’s writing about the prairie. We need her to do us proud.”
How’d they know about Mom’s Prairie Madness? I wondered if Mom had talked to Mia and Mia had talked to Miguel and Miguel had talked to Julia who spread it all over town.
“Her book will be great for the museum, for the festival, for the entire town,” Gloria said. “Imagine having another bestselling book set in Walnut Grove. Laura Ingalls did an injustice when she wrote On the Banks of Plum Creek because she never named the town. I’m not kidding. You will not find the words Walnut Grove anywhere in that book. In the television show, yes. The book? No. Such a shame.”
Apparently Laura hadn’t considered unintended consequences of not naming the town—museum ladies 150 years later would hold a grudge.
“Then they went and filmed the television show in California! What a joke!” Teresa wrinkled her nose.
“Maybe someday we’ll have a new museum building for your mother.” Gloria licked the chocolate frosting off her finger. “Maybe the Ramos home will be part of a tour!”
“How cool would that be!” Julia practically gasped. “I think this is going to be my favorite year ever.”
Obviously Mom had not told anyone outside our family about Mars, because if she had, Teresa and Gloria would know. Somehow they’d know. They’d hear it from Shorty at the gas station or the guy who runs the Asian grocery or somebody’s brother’s cousin’s uncle’s wife. Suddenly the brownie lost its flavor. Rose said, “Thank you for the soup. I know she’ll appreciate it.”
“You bet,” Teresa said.
“If Teresa’s soup doesn’t make her better, then she should see a doctor.” Gloria winked at Teresa.
“Why?” Julia asked. “What’s in it?”
“It’s my grandmother’s recipe. The secret is chicken gizzards.”
I was afraid to ask, but I did. “What’s a gizzard?”
“It’s part of the stomach,” Teresa said. “I know, I know. You kids have only seen boneless skinless chicken breasts looking all pretty in a plastic wrapper.”
Julia said, “My grandma makes whole chickens.”
“You’re the exception,” Gloria said. “The old-timers ate organ meat from animals all the time—liver, kidney, gizzards. That’s why sixty-year-old farmers could still work the land twelve hours a day. They were strong from all that iron and protein.”
Teresa nodded. “I read that blueberries and spinach are power foods. Hah! Cow tongue. That’s a power food. My mom used to make it, and I still have her recipe.”
“Cow tongue? Really?” Rose wrinkled her nose. “I don’t think the Ingallses ate cow tongue. Laura and Mary ate pig’s tail, but it probably tastes like bacon. What does cow tongue taste like?”
“How can I describe cow tongue?” Teresa closed her eyes for a moment, searching for words. “It’s incredibly tender. It’s like butter that tastes like meat.”
“My father’s favorite was liver and onions,” Gloria said. “It kept him strong. He worked a plow until he was seventy. He had a lot of problems—I’ll just say he enjoyed certain beverages and you can fill in the blanks—but age was not one of them.”
I thought about the chicken strips at the Prairie Diner and hoped they’d come from a box and not an old-timer’s recipe.
Gloria put the cover on the pan of brownies. “Let’s get to work.”
* * *
When we got home, Mom was wrapped in a blanket with her computer on her lap. Her hair hung around her face in greasy strands, and her feet were tucked into mismatched slippers. She stared at the screen. Didn’t type. Just stared. Our breakfast dishes were still scattered on the kitchen table.
“Is it sunny outside?” she asked without looking at us.
“Not today,” Rose said. “But guess what? We have gizzard soup for you.”
Mom made a face. “Lizard soup?”
“Gizzard, as in chicken neck or chicken stomach or whatever,” I said.
“It’s pretty much like chicken noodle soup. I’ll warm up a bowl for you.”
“Thanks, honey, but I’m not hungry.”
I beckoned Rose into the bedroom and quietly said, “Observation: Mom needs an intervention.”
“There’s a bright side. Sure, she’s not getting out, and she’s not acting totally normal, but it’s because she’s working hard. The harder she works, the better the book will be. I know it looks bad, but it’s actually good.”
How were we even related? Rose was going to be no help with Mom.
But Freddy had figured out the wolf pack. He knew how to observe evidence. Maybe he’d have an idea about Mom. I had to do something, and so I did it fast, before I changed my mind. I went to Freddy’s room and knocked on the door.
“Charlotte?” He blinked in surprise.
“Obviously.”
He sat on his bed, and I closed the door behind me.
“We need to talk about something,” I said.
Then our phone chirped with a text. As he typed an answer, Rose pushed her way into his room. “You’re mean!”
I couldn’t agree more, but I didn’t think accusing Freddy of being mean was the way to get him to help with Mom. But when I turned to Rose, she wasn’t looking at Freddy. You’ll never guess who she was glaring at.
Me!
“Why am I the mean one? Freddy’s mean. He’s texting while I’m trying to talk to him.”
“You walked out in the middle of a conversation.” Rose crossed her arms.
“I was texting before you got here,” Freddy said. “Technically you’re interrupting me. You’re both interrupting me.”
Rose’s face burned red. “See how Freddy acts? I’m the one talking to you and being nice to you. And you still just want to talk to him!”
Those were not rainbow words. Both Freddy and I stared at Rose. Her eyes darted back and forth like she was watching people play ping-pong. The phone in Freddy’s hand dinged once, twice, three times. He couldn’t keep his eyes off the screen.
Laura Ingalls Is Ruining My Life Page 8