Laura Ingalls Is Ruining My Life

by Shelley Tougas

  She shrugged. “It’s cold outside.”

  “You don’t have to be outside.”

  “I know.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing!” Rose nearly shouted at me.

  “Jeez.”

  It didn’t sound like nothing, so I took the phone to the kitchen table and checked her texts. I saw a message from her dad. He’d said, I’m working on a new ship now, so I might not get time off during your spring break. I hope we can have the whole month of July together. She’d replied, YAY! A new ship! How fun! And cool! Love you!

  Five exclamation points?

  Even for Rose, that was a record.

  * * *

  A few days later, temperatures warmed enough for icicles to start melting. During the day, you could hear them drip drip drip. I thought this was a good sign, but Mrs. Newman warned us not to stand under them, because if the heavy ones broke, we’d end up with a concussion or worse. Prairie winters were so dangerous you could die from icicle injuries.

  Mom and I were at Shorty’s gas station buying milk when we saw Mia.

  “Cold enough for ya?” she asked.

  “At least the melting means spring is coming,” Mom said.

  “Spring? Oh, Martha!” Mia laughed like a crazy comic book villain. “This is the January thaw. It happens every year. Mother Nature teases us with a few warm days, and then KABOOM!” She got right in my face when she kaboomed. I nearly jumped out of my snow boots. She laughed again. “You guys are definitely from Florida.”

  “I was born in Delaware,” I said. “We lived in Florida. And North Carolina and Kentucky and Illinois. But Illinois was in the summer.”

  “You don’t have a strong southern accent at all. Just a hint. I’m losing my accent. My parents moved from Mexico to Texas when I was little.”

  “We watch a lot of TV. Pretty much everyone sounds the same on TV.”

  “You know what’s funny?” Mia leaned close and quietly said, “Minnesotans think everybody else has an accent. They don’t even notice how they say Minnahsooooootah.”

  Mia laughed, and I tried to laugh, too, but it wasn’t easy. I kept thinking about how much I’d miss her. I still hadn’t asked Mom about Houston. It was too risky. Mom would take a question about Houston from one of her kids as a sign we were meant to go there. Rose said it was probably smart to assume we were going, that we should make a pledge to stay best-sister-friends forever and turn the move into an adventure.

  Mia asked, “Now where’d your mother wander off to?”

  Sure enough, Mom was gone. I looked around the shelf, and she was at the register talking to Shorty and laughing.

  Mia whispered, “Shorty got divorced last year. Let’s just say his wife was in love with something else. The credit card!”

  “Really?”

  “Keep that information to yourself.”

  “I will.”

  As I watched them talk, I wondered if Rose’s plan could actually work. Even if it did, was it a good idea? Mom didn’t have luck with men. My dad broke her heart. Rey broke her heart. Other boyfriends broke her heart.

  I felt all mixed up inside.

  “He’s a handsome man, isn’t he?” Mia winked at me.

  Under my breath I said, “He probably isn’t the man you think he is.”

  “What?”

  I nodded. “Yes, Mia. He’s very handsome.”

  * * *

  As everyone headed to gym the next day, Mrs. Newman told me to stay in the classroom. Finally. She’d given me a bunch of extensions for reading the article. My reasons for not finishing it: I had to take care of my little sister because Mom had a headache, I had to help shovel the driveway because Miguel hurt his back, an icicle broke and hit me on the head, I couldn’t find the article, Mom thought it was an old note so she threw it away.

  A pretty good list, don’t you think? I was running out of excuses. Eventually she’d have to make me stay in the classroom at lunch.

  She crossed her arms and stared with her bullet eyes. There was no fake smile. “Charlotte, I see your little plan to get out of the cafeteria, and it’s not going to work. I left a voice mail message for your mother. I’m going to discuss this with her.”

  This didn’t worry me too much. Mom would probably tell Mrs. Newman that children need the freedom to explore their lunch options. “I can read the article after school today. My sister read it first and somehow it ended up under her bed. That’s one hundred percent true.”

  “Would you like to tell me what’s going on? Your work was extraordinary before break.”

  I shook my head. “Nothing is going on.”

  “I asked the lunch supervisor if you’re having trouble with the kids, and she said everything seems fine. Is it?”

  “Yes.” And it was fine. I had a place to sit. Nobody tried to bully me. All I had to do was stay out of the conversation. Not laugh, not talk. And whenever someone said, “Is something wrong?” I just had to say, “I have a headache again.” I reminded myself every single day that I would never see these people again.

  Mrs. Newman said, “I’m going to talk to your mother about sending you to school early so you can catch up.”

  “But I need my sleep.”

  “Then it sounds like you have a choice: get your work done and sleep longer, or get up early, come to school, and finish assignments in the classroom.”

  I felt my face burn red from frustration. “Look, we’re moving. Maybe to Houston next week. Maybe somewhere else next month. That’s what we do—we move! I won’t be here, so it doesn’t matter.”

  I rushed out of the classroom before she could pretend to feel sorry for me.

  * * *

  After school, I didn’t wait for Julia. I walked to the museum by myself and got the digital camera. When we photographed the artifacts in the cases, like the old school slates and dainty handkerchiefs, Gloria used special gloves to remove them. She set the items on a table, and one of us took a picture, and the other wrote a description on a pad of paper. Later we uploaded the photos into the computer and typed up the descriptions.

  I could get started without Julia. I hung up my coat in the break room and walked to the storage room to let Gloria know I’d arrived. She was talking to Teresa, and I heard worried voices say something about “budget” and “money.” I stopped outside the door and listened.

  “What are we going to do?” Teresa asked.

  Gloria said, “I don’t think we can pay for the work. How’d an accounting mistake like this happen? It’s terrible.”

  “It’s no use crying over spilled milk. Maybe we can ask for the work to be a donation.”

  Julia wasn’t going to get paid?

  Gloria let out a long, frustrated sigh. “It should be a donation. Frankly, the quality isn’t there. I don’t make a fuss, because I don’t like fusses, but I’m not impressed by their work in the least.”

  My online scrapbook!

  I felt my stomach clench. They didn’t think it was brilliant. They lied. All my ideas, all those photos, the sorting, the writing, the uploading, the designing … I had to press my lips together to keep from yelling. Gloria and Teresa were worse than fake-nice. They were mean and cruel, a team of senior citizen Nellie Olesons.

  Laura’s spirit would be angrier than a prairie blizzard.

  Teresa sighed and said, “Let’s keep this information to ourselves for the time being. We can think it over. We’re gonna have company in a few minutes, if you know what I mean.”

  CHAPTER

  SEVENTEEN

  I marched on the icy sidewalk toward home. No careful Minnesota duck walk for me.

  Right! Left! Right! Left!

  Stomp! Stomp! Stomp! Stomp!

  I’d been in the break room when Julia had called hello from the front of the museum. I was sitting at the table, pretending like I’d been waiting there the whole time. Gloria and Teresa entered with fake smiles on their faces, joking about being forgetful because of frozen brains. But I
was so mad I couldn’t pretend I heard something funny. My face must have looked sour, because Gloria patted my shoulder and said, “No pouting, kiddo. Let’s get to work.”

  I’d said something about having a terrible headache and rushed outside without another word.

  Now I was outside, but the frigid temperatures didn’t cool my anger. How dare they trash-talk my idea? And even consider not paying Julia?

  I arrived home and stomped down the stairs with the full weight of my boots. I was going to tell Mom exactly what had happened. She’d be shocked at the negative thoughts this town put into the universe.

  But when I burst into the living room, she looked up from her laptop, and her eyes were as cold as Mrs. Newman’s. She pointed to the couch. “Take off your boots and have a seat.”

  I took my time getting out of my boots. I wasn’t eager to find out what it meant when Mom’s eyes looked cold. Finally I sat down.

  “What is going on, Charlotte? You’re missing assignments. Your work is below average. I don’t understand—”

  “Mrs. Newman is out to get me. I’ll do better in the next school. I promise.”

  “Is that what you told her? You’ll do better in the next school? Because what she told me is my children might benefit by staying in the same location.” She stood and paced the floor. “So thanks for leaving her with the impression that I’m not stable.”

  “I didn’t say anything bad.”

  “You said enough.”

  I blinked back tears. “I just said we’re moving. That’s all. Are we going … somewhere like … another city, maybe in the south that has something to do with the space program?”

  Mom blinked a few times. “It’s a strong possibility.”

  “It’s also a strong possibility that moving us right now will make us unstable!”

  Mom shouted, “I’m doing the best I can!”

  “So am I!” I yelled.

  Rose stepped out of the bedroom. “What’s going on?”

  “Mrs. Newman is causing problems, and Mom’s blaming me.” Mom started to respond, but I cut her off. “It’s not my fault!”

  As Mom paced the floor, I noticed something: she wasn’t waddling around in pajamas. Her hair was tucked in a bun, and she wore black jeans, a dark red sweater, and lipstick.

  Something was different.

  Even though it looked like something was better, it felt wrong.

  “Charlotte, I’m very—”

  “Why are you dressed up?”

  Mom tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “I wouldn’t describe this as dressed up.”

  “She’s meeting Shorty at the diner,” Rose said.

  “It’s just coffee.” Mom waved her hand in the air.

  “Rose, stop encouraging this thing with Shorty. It’s going to be trouble.”

  Mom put her hands on her hips. “That’s enough out of you, young lady!”

  “Oh, really?” I shouted. “What about my freedom of speech?”

  “If you keep this attitude, I’ll revoke it!” Mom shouted back.

  “Mom! Charlotte! Stop!” Rose said. “You’re putting bad energy in the universe.”

  “The universe is overflowing with bad energy, and there’s nothing you can do about it except keep it company! Haven’t you figured that out yet?” Then I heard the door open and Freddy clomped down the stairs in his heavy boots. He wasn’t wearing a hat, and there was a streak of blood on his face.

  Our argument was forgotten. Mom, Rose, and I rushed toward him at the same time.

  “What happened?”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Are you okay?”

  He blinked back tears as he tore off his coat. He threw it in a heap by the refrigerator along with his boots.

  “I’m fine.”

  “You don’t look fine.” Mom put her hands on his face. “Rose, be a love and get me a wet cloth.”

  Freddy pushed her hands away. “It’s nothing.”

  “Where’s your left hearing aid?” she asked.

  He took a deep breath and released a sob. Mom hugged him and led him to the couch. Rose brought the cloth, and Mom wiped his face.

  Mom said, “Charlotte, get my phone out of my purse and reply to the text message from Shorty. Tell him I can’t make it and I’ll send him a message later.”

  I got the phone and typed, Can’t go tonight will send you a message later. I got a glass of water and brought it to Freddy. “So what happened?”

  Mom said, “A disturbed young man in the park threw snowballs at him. Look at his face.”

  “Bad Chad,” Rose said.

  “He took out my hearing aid. I didn’t stop to pick it up. I just ran.” Freddy looked ashamed. “Now it’s ruined for sure.”

  “Maybe not,” Rose said.

  “He’s right. It’s ruined for sure,” Mom said. “A few seconds in the snow is all it takes.”

  Freddy sighed. “I’m sorry.”

  “You don’t need to be sorry.” Mom squeezed his hand. “You did exactly what you needed to do. You got out of there. That was the right decision, honey.”

  “I know we can’t afford to replace it.”

  “I’ll talk to his parents.”

  “No! That’ll make it worse,” Freddy said. “I shouldn’t have cut through the park. I figured it was too cold for him to be out there.”

  “You didn’t do anything wrong,” I said. “Bad Chad is awful.”

  Freddy looked surprised that I’d defend him after everything that had happened between us, but I didn’t need Twin Superpowers to stand up for my brother.

  “This was awful behavior, but it doesn’t make him an awful person,” she said. “I’ll talk to his parents. Surely they’ll pay for this.”

  Freddy said, “Mom! Are you kidding me? He is an awful person.”

  “Kids like Chad grow up in a negative and hostile environment, and that’s what they project in the world.” She patted Freddy’s leg. “We’ll go to Minneapolis Saturday and replace it. I’ll set up a payment plan just in case, but hopefully his parents will take responsibility.”

  “Minneapolis? I can’t wait to be in an actual city.” I desperately needed to get out of Walnut Grove.

  Mom gave me a stern look. “Freddy and I are going to Minneapolis. You and Rose will stay here and think about the problems you’re having. Mia can keep an eye on you.”

  Rose looked at me. “Why are you in trouble?”

  “Me? Why are you in trouble?”

  Mom said, “It seems you’re both missing assignments and being rude to your teachers.”

  Rose was missing assignments? Being rude to her teacher? Those homework-missing and rudeness genes belonged to me, not her. Everything was turned upside down.

  “So we’re grounded?” Rose asked.

  “Not exactly. You’re getting time to think affirming thoughts and redirect your energy.”

  In other words, we were grounded.

  CHAPTER

  EIGHTEEN

  Saturday morning, Mom and Freddy hit the road. Mom insisted we weren’t grounded—just getting a concentrated period of time to think affirming thoughts—so we didn’t feel guilty at all for going to the diner for lunch. Rose’s Christmas money from Rey had finally arrived, and she was in a spending mood.

  We sat in our favorite table by the window. Rose said, “Get anything you want. I have fifty dollars to spend.”

  “Fifty? You always get two hundred dollars at Christmas.”

  “Not this year,” she said. “Dad said he needs to save money because his new wife is having a baby.”

  She said it like it was barely news, like she was filling the air with weather talk. Rose would have another sister, and I’d have a … what would I have? Stepsister? No, that didn’t sound right. I’d have a half sister with a half sister or a half brother. My family was getting complicated.

  “I don’t know if I should say congratulations or I’m sorry.”

  “It’s fine.” She smiled. “To
tally fine.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Hopefully I’ll have another sister. Not as good as you. And I bet she’ll be cute. Dad’s wife is beautiful. He sent me a picture of her.”

  I couldn’t make my words sound as happy as Rose’s words, but I tried. “Good for you.”

  We decided to split chicken strips and fries so we’d be hungry enough for pie. After the waitress took our menus, Rose sipped her soda and asked, “So what’s new at the museum?”

  “It’s a long story.”

  “Tell me.”

  “I don’t feel like talking about it.”

  She crossed her arms. “You’d tell Freddy.”

  “Fine.” I rolled my eyes. “It was a long day, you know? I got there early and overheard Gloria talking to Teresa, and she said something happened to their budget, and they’re not going to pay Julia. And they said my online scrapbook is awful.”

  Rose’s mouth dropped open. “That’s so mean!”

  “You know, at first I wanted to actually win that stupid contest. I wanted to use the money to get another dog. It would’ve been for us, but mostly for you.”

  Her eyes filled with tears. “Really? That’s so nice.” She blew her nose in the napkin. “I’ve been sleeping with the Jack bag. Don’t tell Mom. She’ll think I’m being negative.”

  “What if the box inside the bag opens and you get ashes everywhere? That’s gross.”

  “I’m careful. Besides, it wouldn’t be all that gross. It’s Jack.”

  “It’s Jack’s ashes.”

  “Maybe we can still get a dog. Maybe when Mom sells the Mars book.”

  “She can’t even write the Mars book. Chances are she’s not going to sell it.” I felt bad for being such a rainbow-denier, but I couldn’t help it. I waited for Rose to tell me that Mom would get a burst of inspiration and finish the book, and the book would be amazing, and the book would sell for lots of money, and then we’d have a real house and a dog, and the sun would shine every day, and flowers would grow in place of weeds, and every Sunday would be Christmas.

  You know what she said?

  Nothing. Not a word.

  She ate exactly half of the chicken strips and fries and announced she wasn’t in the mood for pie after all.