Laura Ingalls Is Ruining My Life

by Shelley Tougas

  CHAPTER

  TWENTY-FIVE

  But Mom wasn’t home. She was gone. Freddy had our cell phone in his locker, so I couldn’t call or text her. If she’d gone to the Asian grocery, she’d be back in a few minutes, but if she’d gone shopping in Marshall, it could be hours.

  I flopped onto the bed, but I couldn’t nap. Even though my eyes were closed, it felt like they were open. I tried reading Harry Potter, but the words blurred together. I went to the closet to get the Jack bag, but it was gone. Rose had told me she was sleeping with it. I shifted the blankets on her bed until I found it. I wrapped my arms around the bag like it was the living Jack. I squeezed him and tried to remember everything about him—his coarse fur, his nose against my cheek, his high-pitched whine. I would’ve given anything to smell his rotten breath again.

  I heard footsteps and voices. Mom and someone else.

  I went to the bedroom door and saw Mom in the kitchen, unpacking groceries and laughing with Shorty.

  “Mom!”

  Both Mom and Shorty jumped.

  “Charlotte? What’s going on? Why are you home?” Her lips were covered with dark pink lipstick, and she’d curled her hair.

  “Why is he here?”

  “I’m making lunch for us.” She put her hand on my forehead. “Are you sick?”

  I didn’t even care that Shorty could hear me. I couldn’t keep the lies inside me a second longer. “I had the worst day ever. I told Principal Crenski that Julia’s dad vandalized the museum. Then I said Bad Chad did it. I don’t actually know who did it. I lied about everything except for the part about it not being me.”

  Mom froze. She stood there, just holding a gallon of milk and staring at me.

  “I’m sorry,” I whispered.

  Shorty took the milk and gave her a nudge.

  Finally she blinked. “I don’t know what to say.”

  “I don’t either. I didn’t want to lie. I just want people to believe me.” I started to cry.

  “I know.” Mom hugged me tight. “Lying is not okay, but you did it out of fear, not malice. That’s an important distinction.”

  “Now they’ll never believe me. I’m like the boy who cried wolf, because once you lie everyone thinks you’re a liar.”

  “You made a bad choice. That doesn’t make you a bad person.”

  Shorty said, “I should leave so you can talk. You still want to go to Minneapolis later?”

  “You’re going to Minneapolis?”

  “Freddy’s hearing aid is ready,” Mom said. “We have to bring Freddy to test it and get the settings right. The problem is the car’s check-engine light came on. I can’t take it out of town until it’s fixed. Shorty offered to drive us.”

  That happened with every car we owned. It meant a repair Mom couldn’t afford. With Freddy’s expensive hearing aid and the car problems, I knew Mom would soon say words that led to packing: A problem is an opportunity to start again. This time, though, I had a few friends and even a nickname. I was a spelling bee champion and the museum’s idea person. But I was also a “vandal” and “liar.”

  “Are we going to Minneapolis after school?”

  Shorty shook his head. “Sorry, Charlotte, but I’ve got a pickup without a back seat. I can only take two people.”

  Mom sighed. “The plan is to pick Freddy up at school on our way out of town, get to the store before they close, and turn around and drive right back. But maybe we should do it tomorrow. I’m not sure I can leave Charlotte like this.” She looked at Shorty.

  “If we wait until tomorrow,” he said, “we’ll get caught in the snow that’s coming. Then I don’t have help at the station for a few days.”

  Mom nodded. “And Freddy needs his hearing aid…” She squeezed my hand. “I really don’t want to leave you, though.”

  I was done crying, but my breath came in deep and ragged. “I’ll be fine. Rose will be home soon.”

  Mom’s phone rang. She answered it, listened for a few seconds, and said, “Hold on.” She pressed the phone against her stomach so the caller couldn’t hear. “It’s Mr. Crenski. I’m going to take it in my bedroom.”

  “Please don’t make me go back to school today.”

  “I’ll tell him you’re spending the rest of the day at home. And I’ll tell him we’re going to pick Freddy up now. Why wait until after school? The sooner we get going, the sooner we can get back.”

  “Ask him about Mrs. Newman.”

  “What?”

  “Ask him when she’s coming back. Please.”

  She shook her head. “One thing at a time, Charlotte.”

  Mom went to her bedroom, and I sat at the table. Shorty got a glass from the cupboard, filled it with milk, and brought it to me. He knew exactly which cabinet held our glasses. Obviously he’d been spending time here while we were at school.

  I said, “You hear everything at the gas station. What’s going to happen to Mrs. Newman?”

  He shrugged. “I don’t think I’ve got the facts yet. Some people say she’s getting fired. One guy told me she quit and took a teaching job in Marshall. But other folks are saying she’s suspended for two weeks and will be back.”

  “Suspended? Is that sort of like detention for teachers?”

  “I guess so.”

  “It’s not fair. She was only trying to help me. It’s my fault.”

  He pulled off his Twins baseball cap and scratched his head. A tuft of blond hair stood straight up. “She made a choice. She could’ve kept her nose out of it, but she defended a kid. And defending a kid is a pretty good choice, if you ask me.” He sighed. “But nobody ever asks me.”

  “It’s not fair.”

  “Life isn’t fair, and Angie Newman knows that.”

  It was weird to hear that Mrs. Newman had a first name like a real person. “Does she have kids?”

  “Yup.” He smiled. “Two at home and twenty-four at school.”

  * * *

  When Rose came home, I told her about the trip to Minneapolis while I made an early dinner for us—grilled cheese and popcorn.

  “It’s already snowing,” she said.

  “A little or a lot?”

  “I’m not hungry. You don’t have to cook for me.”

  I turned on the radio and found the station that played polka music. I knew the announcers there gave weather reports every hour. “You look like you have fever ’n’ ague.”

  Rose shrugged. “I’m just not hungry.”

  I asked again, “Is it snowing a little or a lot?”

  “A little, but it’s windy.”

  The grilled cheese sandwiches were brown on both sides. I flipped the sandwiches onto plates and got the popcorn bag from the microwave. “At least take a few bites.”

  The chirpy polka faded and the announcer said, “Folks, get ready to shovel. The weather system is shifting west. Our friends to the east can rest easy, but we’ll have at least eight inches on the ground by morning. Temperatures will drop to five degrees, but it’ll feel like minus twenty with the wind chill. Expect gusts of wind up to thirty miles an hour. We’ll report school closings as they come in.”

  I turned off the radio. “I bet there’s no school tomorrow. But what if Mom can’t make it home?”

  Rose shrugged. I sent Mom a text about the weather and she replied right away. No snow here. You sure? So I took the phone outside. Under the streetlight you could see snow falling against the dark sky. I snapped a picture and texted it to her with a note. See?

  When I got downstairs, Rose was picking the crust off her grilled cheese. “What’d Mom say?”

  Just then Mom texted. I don’t want you home alone tonight. Shorty says he has four-wheel drive and knows how to manage these roads. We’ll take it slow. Don’t wait up.

  “They’re coming home, but it’ll be late.” I flopped onto the couch. “I’m so tired.”

  “But you had a good day, right?”

  “Hah!” I snorted. “I had the worst day of my life.”

&nbs
p; She sat on the edge of the recliner and bit her lip. “But they’re not blaming you anymore, right?”

  “Where’d you get that idea?”

  “In gym Olivia said everyone knew it was Julia’s dad. Then Frankie Simon told me it was Bad Chad. Either way, you’re off the hook.”

  Her perky voice annoyed me. I crossed my arms. “Your friends are behind. Mr. Crenski and the police still think it’s me.”

  “I don’t get it. I thought it was over.”

  “It’s not over. Not even close. Mrs. Newman is probably going to get fired, and Julia is never going to speak to me again, and I’ll probably get arrested.”

  “You’re focusing on the negative.”

  “Where’s the rainbow, Rose?” I watched her struggle to find sunny words. I felt tears coming again. My voice cracked. “What if they put me in jail?”

  Rose shook her head. “I’ll never let that happen. I swear. I’ll tell them it was me.”

  “Don’t be stupid. Why would you even say that?”

  She stared at her feet, arms stiff, hands rolled into fists. With a deep breath, she said, “Because it was me.”

  Her words seemed to float in the air before they actually registered in my brain. I wondered if that’s how Freddy’s hearing aids worked. Was there a delay? Did they grab words hanging in the air and send them to the brain?

  Finally I said, “What?”

  Her eyes were big and scared. She clenched her fists and stammered in a voice so hoarse it was almost like she had laryngitis, “I don’t know what got into me. I just exploded. It’s like I wasn’t in my body.”

  I couldn’t believe what I was hearing, so I said it again. “What?”

  “It’s been the worst year ever. Dad and his stupid wife and his stupid twins.”

  “Stupid twins? I don’t get it.”

  She wiped tears on her sleeves. The words tumbled out faster. “That night it all happened he forgot we were supposed to talk online. I woke up at midnight and there was a text from him. They’re having twins.” She spit out the words. “More stupid twins!”

  “So you spray painted the museum? I don’t believe you.” The utter surprise held back my anger. “You love Laura Ingalls.”

  “Laura Ingalls doesn’t love us! She won’t connect with Mom. Laura’s energy is angry because Mom is writing about Mars instead of the prairie. If that book doesn’t start writing itself, we’ll have to leave. And when we leave, Freddy will lose all those friends, and he’ll hog you all to himself. Just like before. I’ll be an only child all over again, only this time Dad won’t want me, either.”

  I waited for the anger. It didn’t come—just disbelief. For a moment, I convinced myself I’d taken a nap and just woke up. Shorty was never here. Mom never left for Minneapolis. I never made grilled cheese. This conversation never happened. In a few seconds it’d be the four of us having dinner followed by a night of homework.

  “I hate everything!” she shouted. “Everything! Everyone. I hate you!”

  “Me? You get me into trouble and you hate me?”

  “All you care about is Freddy.”

  Finally the anger bubbled in my stomach and blew like a volcano. “Rose Martha Mendoza! You’re worse than Bad Chad!”

  She sniffled and said, “I didn’t plan it. I was just going to walk around because I was so mad about Dad and what you said about Freddy.”

  “I don’t remember saying a single word about Freddy.”

  “You wanted to ask him what he thought.”

  “So?”

  “Basically you meant you want everything to be the way it was. You know, when it was just the two of you. Admit it. I’m not wrong. Am I wrong?”

  “Even if you’re right—and I’m not saying you’re right—what difference does it make?” I yelled. “You don’t get to be a thug because you think your sister likes your brother better!”

  She lifted her head and blinked back tears.

  “So I am right.” Rose crossed her arms. I should’ve corrected her, but I didn’t. I was too angry. “Well, then, on my way out, I saw the spray paint on the shelf and grabbed it to write in the snow. That’s all. But the more I walked, the madder I got. I was thinking about the museum ladies taking the money and saying things about Mom, and Laura’s bad energy, and—”

  “I don’t want to hear your lame excuses. We are calling the police right now!”

  “Don’t!” she said. “Don’t call yet. They might go after Bad Chad. Wait. Just wait awhile.”

  “Wait? Are you kidding? When I go to school, everyone is going to be talking about me and blaming me!”

  “But as far as they know, it could be Bad Chad!”

  “Are you not getting this? Mr. Crenski knows I didn’t see Bad Chad.”

  Rose gulped. “But maybe—”

  “You’re an idiot!” I shouted. “Get out of here! I hate you!”

  She grabbed her coat and ran up the stairs. I yelled, “I hope you get lost in a blizzard.”

  The door slammed so hard the windows rattled.

  CHAPTER

  TWENTY-SIX

  Ten minutes later, I was still pacing from the bottom of the stairs in the kitchen to our bedroom. Back and forth, back and forth, trying to decide what to do. Should I call Mom? Mia? The police? After lying about Julia’s dad and Bad Chad, the police would have no reason to believe me when I said I didn’t do it. Nope, not me. It was my sister.

  I wasn’t even sure I wanted them to believe me, because that meant Rose was in trouble. In between flashes of anger, I felt sorry for Rose. Freddy and my Twin Superpowers made her an outsider, but I had never realized it hurt her. She was Mom’s shadow, so it evened out.

  Right?

  Instead of dialing 911, I texted Julia. Can you talk?

  Her response was immediate. Leave me alone!!!!!!

  I know what really happened. For real this time.

  I’M TURNING MY PHONE OFF!

  Great. I was probably the only person who’d ever made Julia Ramos mad enough to type in all caps. I decided to wait for Mom to come home and let her figure it out. I needed to get Rose inside. She was probably pouting in the garage. Then I remembered I’d left my winter gear at school. As I wrapped a blanket around me, our phone buzzed. I grabbed it, hoping it was Julia, but it was Mom. On our way. Slow going. I thought about what to say. Finally I just typed, OK. No reason to tell her everything until she showed up.

  But Rose wasn’t in the garage. When I opened the door to the backyard, the wind nearly knocked me over. Ice pellets scratched my face. Between the darkness and snow, I could barely see the trees at the edge of the lawn. There was no sign of Rose. I forced the door shut against the wind and went to the front of the garage and opened the door to the driveway. If Rose had left prints in the snow, they would’ve been covered by the wind. I stepped outside and yelled Rose’s name. In my sneakers, I trudged through the snow and looked in Mom’s car, which was parked on the street. No Rose. I yelled her name again, but the howling wind seemed to absorb my voice. The cold cut through to my bones.

  If she wasn’t outside, where was she?

  I had one more place to check—Mia’s minivan, which was in the garage. It’d be just like Rose to hide in the back seat.

  But she wasn’t there, either.

  She’d left with her coat. No boots, no hat, no mittens. There’s no way she would’ve rushed down the street in a storm. No way.

  Except that she was scared.

  And confused.

  And mad.

  Obviously she’d turn around. She’d be back in a couple minutes. I leaned against the van and waited, shivering the whole time. I thought about pioneers who died in blizzards because they got lost going from their barns to their houses.

  Then I realized she probably hadn’t gone anywhere at all. She’d gone upstairs to see Mia. I knocked on the door, and Miguel answered.

  “Did Rose come up here?”

  “No. What’s going on?”

  My words flew ou
t. “Rose is gone. I think she’s outside in the storm, and I don’t know what to do.”

  Mia and Julia appeared next to Miguel. “What’s wrong, honey?” Mia asked.

  “Rose ran away! She’s in the storm. She told me she vandalized the museum and we—”

  Mia’s eyes widened. “Rose? Rose vandalized the museum?”

  “She told me and we got in a huge fight and she took off and I didn’t know the storm was this bad and I can’t find her.”

  Miguel was already putting on his jacket. “Let’s go. Julia, wait here in case Rose comes back. Charlotte can come with us.”

  “Where’s your jacket?” Mia asked.

  “I left it at school.”

  “She can wear mine.” Julia brought me her jacket, hat, and mittens. “Grandpa, how can you drive in this?”

  Miguel said, “We won’t leave town. We’ll just go up and down the streets. We’ll cover more ground than walking. There’s no way she went far. She’s probably at the park.”

  She was probably at the park.

  She was definitely at the park.

  Right?

  * * *

  The van crept down the street with windshield wipers on full speed, which was useless. The wind whipped the snow into a swirling cloud. Miguel turned the headlights on the bright setting, which also was useless. Every few feet he’d stop the van and look for a house or tree or street sign—anything to indicate how far we’d come. Mia rolled down the window and yelled Rose’s name. Snow pelted her face, and the howling wind drowned out her voice.

  “Are we at the intersection with the park?” Miguel asked.

  “I can’t tell,” Mia answered.

  I said, “I’m going to text my mother.”

  Mia turned around. “Don’t. She’ll panic, and there’s nothing she can do. She’s stuck in Minneapolis.”

  “She’s coming back.”

  “Don’t be silly,” Mia said. “She’s not driving in this.”

  “Yes, she is. But I’m guessing she shouldn’t be, right?” I leaned back in the seat and groaned. “Great. Both my sister and my mom could die in a blizzard.”

  “She rode with Shorty, didn’t she?” Miguel asked. “Personally, I wouldn’t drive in it. But Shorty is one of those stubborn guys who’s been driving through prairie winters his whole life. He’s got a four-wheel-drive pickup truck. They’ll make it. They might sit on the side of the road until morning, but they’ll make it.” Miguel stopped the van. “That’s the park.”