by Julie Bowe
Brooke slumps and sighs. “There’s nothing I can give her that will make up for my meanness. Even saying ‘I’m sorry’ might not make us friends again.”
“It might not,” I reply. “But if you say it, at least you won’t be enemies anymore.”
Brooke thinks this through.
And nods.
Chapter 15
Mrs. Eddy is in our classroom when I get to school on Monday morning.
But Jenna isn’t.
And I know why.
Mr. Drews called to say that Tyler was having trouble breathing, so the doctors hooked him to a machine called a ventilator. Everyone—Mr. and Mrs. Drews, Jenna, Rachel, their grandma—is sticking close to the hospital until he can breathe by himself again.
Mrs. Eddy passes around our handprint squares for the quilt and explains how we’re going to stitch around the fingers for decoration. Later, we’ll write friendship words on them with fabric markers.
Everyone starts sewing and talking about good friendship words. Silly. Smile. Honest. Pal. But I’m mostly thinking about other words. The kind that are too big to fit on a fourth grader’s handprint.
Ventilator.
Incubator.
Neonatal.
Intensive care.
I don’t think Jenna should get stuck with such big words. Rachel either. Things are scary enough without all those letters.
“Keep working hard to finish your handprints,” Mrs. Eddy says when it’s time to clean up. “I’ll be back on Wednesday to collect them. That will give me time to sew them onto the quilt before the auction next weekend.”
My hand goes up.
“Yes, Ida?” Mrs. Eddy says.
“What about Jenna?” I ask. “She might not get back in time to finish hers.”
Mr. Crow steps forward. “We’ll make sure Jenna has a chance to finish. We’re going to talk about her and the whole . . . situation . . . in a moment.”
Everyone starts putting their sewing stuff into Mr. Crow’s cupboard.
And talking about Jenna.
And her situation.
That’s another big word to add to my list.
A hand squeezes my arm as I put my stuff away.
“Meet in the pigpen at recess,” Brooke says. “Pass it on.”
“What’s the meeting about?” Stacey asks me when we sit back down at our friendship circle. “Jenna?”
“I think so,” I say. “We haven’t been able to think of a good way to help her.”
“You and Brooke, right?”
I nod. “We sort of . . . ran into each other this weekend.”
“At the tree house,” Stacey says, nodding. “Brooke told me all about it.”
“Told you?” I say. “I thought she wanted to keep everything a secret.”
Stacey shrugs. “I guess she changed her mind.” She glances around the classroom. “I might have mentioned it to Randi too. She might have told Meeka.”
“If Meeka knows about the tree house, then Jolene knows,” I say.
“What tree house?” Dominic asks, poking in. “The one in Jenna’s woods? Yeah, we know.”
“We?” I say.
Dominic nods. “Me, Rusty, Joey, Quinn . . . all us boys.”
“Great,” I mumble.
“Do you think Jenna will be mad?” Stacey asks.
“Probably,” I reply.
Dominic shrugs. “Secrets slip. Life goes on.”
“Jenna’s family is going through a tough time right now,” Mr. Crow says after Mrs. Eddy leaves. He explains about Tyler, even though everyone already knows. News travels fast in fourth grade.
“What can we do to show Jenna we care?” Mr. Crow continues. “Any ideas?”
Everyone is quiet.
Not one peep.
I guess most of us don’t have a lot of experience thinking of ways to care for Jenna. Most of the time, everyone is too busy thinking of ways to avoid her. Me too, until I figured out there’s more to Jenna than the stuff I don’t like.
My hand goes up again. Two times in one day. That’s a record for me.
Mr. Crow gives me a smile. “Yes, Ida? Do you have an idea?”
“Maybe flowers,” I offer. “My dad says they can cheer you up when things go wrong.”
Mr. Crow nods. “Flowers are a great idea. Anything else?” He looks around the room.
“How about a card,” Brooke says. “We could make it out of . . . tagboard.” She glances at me.
“Ooo . . .” Stacey says. “We could draw things on it that Jenna likes!”
“Like what?” Randi asks. “Sun bonnets? Egg salad sandwiches?” She grins.
“Yeah, we could draw a herd of buffalos eating them,” Rusty says. “The bonnets, I mean.”
Everyone laughs.
“She likes nature,” Tom offers. “Birds, butterflies, trees—”
“Ta-ranch-u-las!” Joey cuts in, wiggling his fingers. “Those are natural.”
“Natural pests,” Brooke says, squinting at Joey. “Just like boys.”
All the girls nod.
“Tell you what,” Mr. Crow says. “If everyone works together to make the card—a big one with lots of trees and birds and maybe a few spiders and the occasional buffalo—I’ll run to the greenhouse and get the flowers. One for each of you to plant in a container.”
Brooke’s hand shoots up. “And . . . who’s going to pay for all of this?”
Mr. Crow smiles. “My treat.”
“Make mine with extra dirt, please,” Quinn says to Mr. Crow.
“And I’ll take a side order of worms,” Zane adds.
“Same here!” Randi yells.
“Me too!” Rusty chimes in.
“Got it,” Mr. Crow says. “The works.” Meeka runs to the art room to get a sheet of tagboard.
She comes back with a whopper.
We fold it into a card and pass it from friendship circle to friendship circle, decorating it as it goes until it’s covered with the craziest picture you’ve ever seen—an army of robotic dragonflies chasing a herd of tarantulas riding buffalos through a field of egg salad sandwiches. We write WE MISS YOU, JENNA! in big balloony letters inside the card.
Then we all sign our names.
Brooke’s is the biggest, sparkly-est one of all.
“We’re giving her flowers,” Randi says later when we’re halfway through our meeting in the pigpen. “And a card. Why do clean-up crew too?”
“Because I thought of it,” Brooke replies. “And because it would be the nice thing to do.”
“I’m not complaining,” Randi says. “I’m just wondering why you suddenly want to help Jenna.” She glances around our circle. “Some of us have noticed that you basically hate her now.”
Brooke shifts her pretzel legs and pulls a clump of dandelions out of the ground. “Maybe I’m turning over a new leaf,” she says, flicking the clump at Randi. “Plus, I don’t hate Jenna. We just disagree sometimes.”
I look around our circle. “So it’s decided then? We pitch in and fix up the tree house for Jenna?”
Everyone nods.
“Only no pink rugs,” I say, glancing at Brooke. “Or bead curtains. Or movie posters.”
“Right,” Randi says. “We go caveman on everything.”
Jolene nods. “We could paint our own posters.”
“And make seed collages,” I say.
“A cardboard box for a table,” Stacey offers.
“And logs for chairs,” Meeka adds.
We all look at Brooke.
“Sound good?” I ask.
Brooke nods and beats her chest. “Ugh-ugh,” she replies.
“When do we start?” Stacey asks. “After school?”
“No,” Brooke says. “My family is going to the hospital. To visit the Drewses.”
“Tomorrow then,” I say.
Everyone agrees.
Chapter 16
It’s stormy on Tuesday, which is a good thing because it means we have to stay inside for recess. That giv
es us extra time to work on our handprints for the quilt. Mrs. Eddy is coming to get them tomorrow, but we still haven’t finished sewing around them and thinking of friendship words to write across them.
Tom decides we shouldn’t do any repeat words, and Brooke decides there can’t be any capital K’s because she’s no good at making them. Plus, every word has to get a nod from Mr. Crow.
It takes forever.
But we do it:
Silly
Smile
Fun
Hug
Love
True
Pal
Honest
Goofy
Nice
Brave
Loyal
Helpful
Sweet
Unique
Mr. Crow writes all the words on the board and then says, “Ladies first.”
We girls start choosing the words we want even though we’re not nearly old enough to be ladies.
Stacey picks fun. Randi picks pal. Meeka and Jolene take silly and sweet. Brooke looks over the list for a minute and then she chooses helpful even though it’s the longest word up there. I see her glance at Jenna’s empty desk after she chooses it.
Brooke usually takes the easy way out. But not this time.
I pick loyal. I think it’s a good word for me because it only has five letters. And y’s are fun because you can curl their tails. Also, being loyal is important if you want to have friends because it means sticking with them, even when things go wrong.
We save a word for Jenna.
Unique.
Tom thought of it. I hope she likes it.
Then it’s the boys’ turn.
The Dylans go with honest and true.
Zane takes goofy.
Dominic, nice.
Quinn picks smile. Then he gives me one.
Rusty and Joey take love and hug. They wiggle their eyebrows at Brooke when they do.
The only word left on the list is brave.
The only boy left is Tom.
He takes it.
Everyone giggles a little because he’s the smallest kid in our class.
But I think brave is a good word for Tom. He’s bigger than he looks.
The rain stops when it’s time to go home, but the sky is still rumbly, so we can’t go to the tree house today. I ride the bus by myself. I sit by myself too. No Jenna to tell me the answer to number three on our math homework or to show me her afternoon activity chart or to let me pick the chocolate chips out of the trail mix she almost always has in her backpack. And the more I think about all that stuff, the more I realize that I really miss having Jenna with me.
I barely have time to get my school stuff unpacked and eat three cookies before the doorbell rings.
I run to answer it.
Jenna and Rachel are standing on my porch.
“Surprise!” Rachel says. “It’s us!”
“Duh, Rachel,” Jenna says. “Grandma called to tell them we were coming.”
I give Rachel a smile. “I’m glad you’re here,” I say, opening the door wide, “even though I already knew.”
When they get inside Jenna turns quickly to Rachel and starts unbuttoning her hoodie. “Piano,” she says sharply. “STAT.” She glances at me. “That means right now.”
“Stop doing hospital talk,” Rachel says, pushing Jenna away. “And stop undressing me. I’m not a baby.” She undoes a button.
Jenna taps her toe impatiently and looks at her watch. “It’s sixteen hundred hours, Rachel. On the dot. You should be sitting at the piano, ready to play.”
“Duh, Jen,” Rachel says. “Watches don’t go to sixteen.”
Jenna rolls her eyes. “Sixteen hundred hours. That’s the same as four o’clock. If you paid any attention to Tyler’s nurses you’d know these things.”
“If you paid any attention to me you’d know I haven’t learned my numbers past one hundred.” Rachel undoes her last button.
“How’s Tyler?” I ask, trying to change the subject. “Better?”
“Lots,” Rachel says, shaking her hoodie to the floor. A silver chain swings across her chest. A sparkly R hangs from it. “Tiger doesn’t even need an elevator anymore!”
“Ventilator,” Jenna says. “And his name is Tyler, not Tiger.”
“But that’s what Daddy calls him,” Rachel replies, pulling her piano books out of her bag. “Every time we go into the nursery Daddy says,
‘How’s my little tiger doing?’ See? Tiger, not Tyler.”
Jenna unzips her fleecy. “I should know what his name is, Rachel,” she snips. “I thought of it.”
“Uh-huh, and Daddy recycled it,” Rachel says back. She hugs her books. Her necklace sparkles.
“Is that new?” I ask, looking closer.
Rachel beams and holds the R up to me. “Yep! It’s got real imitation diamonds! Brooke said so.”
“Brooke?”
Rachel nods. “She bought it for me at the hospital last night.”
I look at Jenna.
She shifts her jaw. “It wasn’t just Brooke. Her whole family came. Jade took us to the gift shop.”
“Jenna could have had a J,” Rachel says, studying her R. “But she told Brooke no.”
I turn to Jenna. “Why?”
Jenna lifts her chin. “She just wanted to show off how much money she had.”
I frown. “She was probably trying to be nice,” I say. “Maybe she was even trying to be a friend.”
“Brooke doesn’t know the meaning of the word friend.”
“Neither do you,” Rachel replies.
Jenna’s eyes dart to her sister. “Yes I do,” she says.
“Nuh-uh.” Rachel shakes her head. “Brooke kept trying to talk to you, but you wouldn’t talk back. That’s not being friendly.”
“You don’t know anything, Rachel,” Jenna grumbles.
“Yes I do,” Rachel replies, twirling her R. “Sometimes I even know more than you.”
Mom calls to Rachel from the living room. “Coming,” Rachel calls back. She smoothes her R against her shirt. “When I get done with my lesson, you guys are going to help me water the sandbox. Okay?”
“It’s been raining all day, Rachel,” Jenna says. “More water isn’t going to make those seeds grow. Nothing will. I’ve told you that a million times.”
Rachel frowns.
“Actually,” I chime in, “I saw a leaf poking through the sand the other day.”
Rachel’s face brightens. “Really?”
I nod. “You’d better check later for flowers.”
Rachel smiles. “You and me are best friends, Ida. Okay?”
I smile back. “Okay.”
“You shouldn’t tease her like that,” Jenna says as Rachel skip-hops to the living room. “She really believes those stupid seeds will grow.”
“I’m not teasing her,” I say. “I did see a leaf poking through the sand.”
Jenna huffs. “Dead leaf on a deader flower.”
I think about the pot of flowers in my bedroom. The ones my class is giving to Jenna. Me and Stacey took them to Jenna’s house after school yesterday, but no one was home, so I offered to babysit them here. We couldn’t carry the giant card too, so it’s still at school.
“That reminds me,” I say. “I have something for you. From school.”
“Homework?” Jenna asks, picking up Rachel’s hoodie and tossing it onto her bag. “Too late. My grandma already got it. Even my handprint for the quilt.” She gives me a frown. “Who stuck me with Unique? Q is my worst letter.”
“Tom thought of it,” I say. “He said it described you perfectly.”
Jenna’s cheeks go red. “Oh,” she says.
“And I don’t have homework for you. I have a present.”
Jenna squints. “A present?”
I nod. “From our whole class.”
Jenna hangs her fleecy on our coat tree. “I can hardly wait to see it.”
“There’re fifteen all together,” I say,
showing her the bright red flowers in the big brown pot. “One from each of us. Plus Mr. Crow. He said you should probably transplant some of them because we really had to squish them together so they’d all fit.”
I wait for Jenna to say something back. Something sassy like I love how they droop or What a pleasant stink.
But she doesn’t say anything.
She just stares at all the red petals and green leaves and brown dirt like she’s from another planet. Someplace where flowers don’t grow.
“Transplant,” I say again, louder and slower. “It means take some out of here”—I give the pot a pat—“and plant them somewhere else. In case you didn’t know.”
Jenna blinks fast like she’s waking up from a deep dream. “I know what transplant means,” she says, looking at me.
“There’s something else too. A card. It’s still at school.”
Jenna gives me a suspicious squint.
“Really,” I say. “You’ll see.” I look at the flowers again. “Do you like them?”
Jenna studies the flowers. “Yes,” she says. “It’s the first thing that was just for me and not for Rachel and Tyler.”
I smile. “The pot weighs a ton, so I’ll help you carry it home. Plus, I can help with the transplanting too. There’s an extra pot and some dirt in our shed that my dad said we can have. I mean, if you want it.”
Jenna just stands there, staring again like she’s back in her deep dream.
“Unless there’s somewhere else you want to plant them,” I continue. “You know, somewhere in your yard . . . or . . . maybe in your woods?”
I say that last part in a sneaky way because I’m secretly thinking about the tree house. Maybe Jenna is thinking about planting her flowers there too.
“Yes,” she says, blinking fast again. “I mean, no.” She looks up suddenly. “I mean yes, I know where I want to plant them. Only no, not in my yard. Or in my woods. At least not yet.”
I give her a puzzled look.
“Quick,” she says, fumbling for her watch. “What time is it?”
I glance at the clock on my desk. “Fifteen minutes past sixteen hundred hours,” I reply. “Why?”
“Four fifteen,” Jenna says, biting her lip nervously. “That doesn’t give us much time.”
“For what?” I ask.
Jenna doesn’t answer. She just bolts for my bedroom door and leans out into the hallway, listening.