by Lisa Yee
I sighed. “Okay. But maybe we can do something with Stanford some other time.”
“Urrgggg,” was all Millie said.
The scones were delicious. This time Maddie served chocolate-chip ones with an orange glaze. We all spoke with British accents as we ate, but Maddie was the best at it. She’s been practicing, she says.
When I got home there was another postcard waiting for me! I like the photo of the Comfort Motel. It’s really cool the way they got all those trucks to line up in the parking lot. Erie, Pennsylvania. Erie sounds sort of spooky — is it? I’m sorry the club messed up and didn’t get the ad in the paper on time. I’m sure that’s why it wasn’t a sellout. And it’s too bad that Luka snores. I guess you’re sharing rooms now? Maybe you could ask him to wear a Silent Knight Snore Fighter. I saw an infomercial for one and they work really well.
After your tour ends, will you come visit me in Rancho Rosetta? Please, please, pretty please. You can have your own room and I’ll show you around town. First, we’ll go to Mel’s for hot dogs smothered in chili and cheese, and we’ll wash them down with orange frost freezes. After that I’ll take you to Zooi’s Zowie Music-teria. The man who owns it has a ponytail. Mr. Zooi says he was a huge fan of the Talky Boys. One time he even went in the back of his shop and brought out a poster. He shook off the dust and unrolled it.
“That’s Luka in the sandbox, and Dean, aka Mr. McCoy, on the swings, and Dayton hanging upside down on the monkey bars. And that’s my dad,” I said proudly, “on the slide.”
“You have the same eyes,” Mr. Zooi commented.
Hear that? We have the same eyes!
After the Music-teria, we’ll go to Maddie’s house and she’ll teach us some yoga, or read our tea leaves, or tell us about the times she’s been arrested. Sometimes she even reenacts her arrests. It’s so cool, especially when she shouts, “Cause and Effect!” Then we’ll hit the Rialto for a movie. When that’s done, we’ll head to Butterfield’s Bakery for cookies or to The Scoop for ice cream before we visit the mall to go shopping. Then for dinner, we’ll see what Libby has on the menu at Stout’s. Plus, who knows? Maybe we’ll bump into Stanford Wong and I can introduce the two of you and you can talk about your car.
I just know you’re going to love Rancho Rosetta! In fact, you’ll probably love it so much, you’ll never want to leave.
Love,
Emily
AUGUST 3
Hello, Dad!
I couldn’t find Millie before volleyball, so I went to Maddie’s in search of her. Millicent has lots of sleepovers at her grandmother’s house. They stay up late and eat junk food and watch old movies. The first person to fall asleep has to cook breakfast for the other person. Maddie always makes glazed doughnuts with sprinkles that Millicent says are really from Benny’s Doughnut Palace. Millie always toasts Pop-Tarts “fresh from the box.”
“Millie? Let me check,” Maddie said, motioning me inside. She lifted the cushions off the couch, peeked behind the curtains, and looked under Julius. “Nope, Millie’s not here. But sit down. I just baked some cookies and I need someone to share them with.”
I could hear her knocking around the kitchen, then, with a great flourish, she came back balancing four tall stacks of Oreos on a plate.
“Uh, you made these?”
“Yes, aren’t they round?”
I reached for one and unscrewed the top, the way you always do.
“So!” said Maddie, reappearing with two champagne glasses of milk. “What kind of mischief are you and Millie up to these days?”
“No mischief.”
“Oh.” She sounded disappointed.
“But Millie did tell me the truth about what she’s doing this summer.”
Maddie perked up. “Millicent told you?”
I took apart a second Oreo and ate the middle. “I was surprised, but I’m glad I know. I’m not sure why it was such a big secret in the first place. I mean, why would she think I’d even care about her grades?”
“Well, some people are funny about that.”
“I’m Millie’s best friend. You’d think she’d know that I would like her no matter what.”
“You’re a good person, Emily Ebers,” Maddie said, taking my hand and slipping an Oreo into it.
“I’m not sure what the big deal about summer school is, or why she didn’t want me to know about this tutoring business. How long has Stanford been tutoring Millie?”
“Excuse me?”
“How long has Stanford been tutoring Millie?” Maddie hesitated before picking up another Oreo. “You do know that he’s tutoring her, don’t you?” I hoped I hadn’t spilled Millicent’s secret.
Maddie slowly bit into her cookie, not even bothering to unscrew it. “Is that what she told you?”
“Well, I came across the two of them at the library, and Stanford told me. Do you know him? Stanford Wong.”
“He’s my best friend’s grandson. Good boy, that Stanford Wong. Excellent penmanship. He’s very kind to his grandmother.”
“Is there any chance that Millie likes him, you know, as more than a friend?”
Maddie let out a hearty laugh. “As much as Stanford’s grandmother and I would love that, it just isn’t happening. As it is, the two of them fight like brother and sister, which is too bad because he’s really a very nice boy.”
“Yes! That’s what I keep trying to tell Millicent, that Stanford’s really nice. But no matter what I say, I can’t convince her.” Just then Maddie’s clock started cuckooing. “Oh no, I’m late for volleyball! Gotta go, thanks for the snack.”
“Come back again soon,” Maddie called after me as I ran down the sidewalk. “Next time I’ll make Twinkies!”
Millie was already at volleyball practice, which was no surprise. What did surprise me, however, was seeing Stanford Wong sitting in the bleachers. Julie and her backup singers kept looking at him and giggling. If he noticed them, he didn’t act like it. I pretended not to notice them noticing him. Millie did too.
It seemed like everyone tried harder because Stanford was watching. After every point, win or lose, the entire Serve-ivors team, except for Millicent and Coach Gowin, turned to him for a reaction. The game was close, but Wendy scored the winning point. I was so happy I gave her a huge hug and couldn’t stop jumping up and down.
“Serve-ivors rule!” I shouted, as the others joined in my cheer. “Go Serve-ivors! Go Serve-ivors!”
Coach Gowin smiled. She’s not nearly as scary when she smiles. “See what a little teamwork can do? Good game, girls. Dismissed!”
I took off running toward Stanford. It wasn’t until I was halfway up the bleachers that I realized what I was doing. By then there was no turning back. So I just pretended I meant to be running, and when I got to Stanford I said, “Hmmm, that wasn’t my fastest time up the bleachers, but it was close.” I was horrified when I looked at my wrist and realized I wasn’t wearing a watch. Luckily Stanford didn’t seem to notice.
“Hi, Emily!”
“Hello, Stanford.”
We gazed at each other forever, until someone screamed, “EXCUSE ME! Are you even on this planet?”
How long had Millie been standing behind me, I wondered? I was glad she was there. If I ran up to Stanford alone it might be too obvious that I like like him. It’s clear he knows that I like him, but does he know how I really, totally, and truly feel? And does he just like me, or does he like like me too?
“I was thinking that we should get ice cream. I really like ice cream. Do you like ice cream, Stanford? It’s very refreshing on a hot day, or a cold day, or most days.”
Must stop blathering.
“Ice cream? I love ice cream!” he said.
“I’m glad they invented ice cream.”
“Me too!” Stanford agreed. “Whoever invented it should get a trophy or have a holiday named after them.”
“Millicent, do you like ice cream?” I heard Millie mutter to he
rself. “Well, yes, thank you for asking. Yes, Millicent, I do like ice cream.”
As we made our way down from the bleachers, I almost fell, but Stanford caught me. He’s very strong.
“Thank you … Stanford.”
I like saying his name out loud.
“You’re welcome … Emily.”
I felt faint and considered falling again. I could see Wendy and the other girls staring at us. Julie looked particularly stunned and didn’t say a word as we walked past her.
As the three of us headed to the ice-cream parlor, Stanford and I talked nonstop. He opened the door for me, and when it was my turn to pay, he stepped in front of me and said, “I’ve got this one covered.” That must mean he like likes me, right? He didn’t offer to pay for Millie’s. She pointed this out later as a sign of his rudeness, although I argued that his paying for my cone was a sign of his generosity.
As we ate, Stanford told me how his free throw won the league championship. I barely heard him, because I was too busy staring at his eyes, and his mouth, and his nose, and his ears, and his hair. Sigh. He’s so totally hot. I wonder if a smart jock like Stanford Wong could really fall for a slightly-heavy-blond-brown-haired-poor-volleyball-playing girl like me? Maybe he’s just nice to everyone.
As we got to the bottoms of our ice-cream cones, I tried to put off finishing mine as long as possible. I think Stanford did too. We both nibbled the tips of the cones, even though Millie had finished hers a long time ago and was now standing up and saying in a very loud voice, “Well, Stanford, such a pleasure seeing you, but now, sadly, we must be leaving. Come on, Emily, let’s scram.”
Later, at Millie’s house, I asked, “Do you think he likes me? I mean, do you think I even have a chance with someone like him? He’s probably had millions of girlfriends, and I’ve never had a single boyfriend, except for Evan in kindergarten, but that doesn’t really count. I wonder if Stanford came to watch Julie play volleyball. Maybe she’s the one he’s interested in….”
Millie put both fingers in her ears and began to hum. “Hmmmmmmmm, hmmmmmmmm. I can’t hear you!” Then she flopped over onto the floor and didn’t move.
“Millie? Millie, are you okay?”
Still facedown on the rug, she said in a muffled voice, “Emily, your incessant chatter about Stan-Turd has finally bored me to death.”
“I’m sorry, Millicent,” I said, laughing. “What do you want to talk about?”
“I want to talk about anything but Stanford Wong!”
“What is it about him that you hate so much?”
“I don’t hate him,” she said, as she sat up and buried her nose in an Archie comic.
“It sure seems like you do.”
Millie was silent for a moment, before saying, “He’s just such a jock. A mindless boy. And he represents all that I detest in a human being. However, if you choose to like him, then be my guest.”
Oh, Dad, I wish you were here! You could tell me how a boy thinks. Their brains are so mysterious, it’s like they’re from another planet. A.J. says that the way you can tell if a boy like likes you is if he totally ignores you, no matter what. Even if you stomped on his foot while holding a bucket of cheeseburgers and a monkey, he would act like you’re not even there. And the more he ignores you, the more he likes you.
Nicole claims that if a boy like likes you, he would tell you that you’re stupid, but smile while he said this. If he’s the quiet type, he might throw something at you like a wad of paper, or try to steal your food at lunch. And if the boy is in total like like, he’ll try to impress you by not acting like himself.
I think that the only real way to tell if a boy like likes you is to be direct. None of this game-playing, that’s juvenile. Instead, even though it might be scary, the thing to do is to just march right up and ask one of your friends to ask someone else to ask one of his friends what he thinks about you.
Unfortunately I don’t know any of Stanford’s friends, and I only have one friend here, and she’s not exactly trying to be helpful.
“Millicent,” I said. She was still engrossed in the comic. “Maybe you could ask Stanford if he likes me.”
“Why would I want to ask him that?”
“Because I need to know.”
“So you ask him.”
“I can’t do that. What if he says no?”
“Then you’ll have your answer.”
Urrggg!!! Sometimes Millie just doesn’t get it.
Okay. Well, enough of Stanford for the moment. I still have his Zappo Zit — I keep it with your aftershave. I sleep with the Burger King crown under my pillow now. At first I didn’t want to smash it, but now I don’t mind. It was something he gave to me. I also kept the wrapper from the ice-cream cone he bought me today. I’m going to put everything in a special box.
Alice has a whole box filled with things from you, like ticket stubs from the Wild Youth concert, and the Superman Pez, and even that song you started writing for her but never finished. Maybe as a surprise you could finish it. Evan used to always say, “My parents get along better now that they’re divorced than when they were married.”
Maybe now that you and Alice are divorced, you can try to be friends.
Love,
Em
AUGUST 4
Dear Dad,
Remember how many times I used to watch Snow White when I was little? I watched it again this morning and it was so romantic, except that she was basically dead when the prince kissed her.
“Love’s first kiss.” I wonder what that will be like. What was it like the first time you and Alice kissed? Was it magical?
I spent the morning kissing my hand. Not that I am in love with it or anything, it was just practice. If and when the day should ever come that I kiss a boy, I want to be ready.
I’ve kissed magazines before, especially photos of hunky Chris Hartinger from The Surfers of Solana Beach. But magazines aren’t like a real person. I considered taping a photo of one of the Solana Beach surfers on my hand, but then that would just be kissing a magazine all over again. So instead, I drew Prince Charming.
I made a fist with my left hand by tucking my thumb under my fingers. Then I drew two eyes and eyebrows. Now I know Prince Charming’s head is a lot bigger than my hand, but still, it was a tiny bit like kissing a prince. Well, kissing him if he had a really small head, googly eyes, and a unibrow, and his mouth looked weird.
It felt exactly like … like I was kissing my hand. I wonder what a real kiss is like? I imagine that your heart starts to race, and your knees go weak, and you feel like you’re floating. Is that how it was the first time you and Alice kissed?
Got your postcard from Motel 3 yesterday. Free coffee in the lobby, that’s pretty neat! First I put your postcard on my bookshelf, then I moved it to my big mirror. Did I ever tell you that I like the way you write your name? You must be getting a lot of practice signing autographs!
I put a sticker on Lexington, and also Charleston, since I figured you’d go there next. Are you looking forward to Raleigh? My map is starting to fill up! When you go on your national tour, it will be fun to put stickers all over the whole country. After I put your latest postcard up, I reached for Elmo and panicked when the tape recorder didn’t work. I couldn’t believe I had lost my “Emily Song”!
“The Emily Song” was the one thing that made me feel like you were close. And now it’s gone. I feel awful. Now there’s no way I can hear you unless, of course, you call.
Emily
AUGUST 6
Dear Dad,
I was totally bummed about losing “The Emily Song,” so I went to The Bookie to get some magazines to cheer myself up. But then I saw this one article about an abandoned dog that made me even more depressed. So I bought some treats for Mrs. Neederman’s poodles with my credit card, plus I got them the most adorable sailor outfits. Mrs. Neederman hugged me when I gave them to her.
I get sad just thinking about pets or peo
ple being sad. That’s why I have such a hard time at animal movies. Because if there’s an animal starring in it, you can bet the dog will die, or the horse won’t be able to race, or the mouse will be misunderstood. When I told this to Millie, she said, “I don’t like to get sad.”
“Sometimes we don’t have a choice,” I said.
“Emily, time to get off the phone!” Alice called out.
“Millicent, I have to go. Alice is forcing me to go on Neighborhood Watch again. Urgggg!!!!”
“Let’s go, Emily! We’re going to be late.” Alice was standing by the front door shouting.
Late to what? Catching criminals? I mean, what would we do if we saw someone committing a crime? Both start screaming and run away? One of the reasons we moved here, she said, was because it was so safe. It certainly isn’t safe from crazy mothers.
“What was it like the first time you saw Dad?” I asked as we headed out. “Was it love at first sight?”
I love thinking about the first time the two of you got together. It’s one of the few things you agree on. I used to get so sick of the both of you telling your story, how you’d finish each other’s sentences. Now I miss it.
Alice slowed down and turned off her flashlight. “I was writing my first big magazine article. Rolling Stone hired me to interview up-and-coming bands, and the Talky Boys were at the top of the list.” She smiled. “Your father was this garage-band grunge guy with gorgeous eyes and long, flowing blond hair. I was so nervous. The funny thing was, later he told me that he was the one who was scared because a muckety-muck big-time reporter was going to interview him. But when I showed up, he was shocked at how young I was.
“We went out for coffee and talked through lunch and dinner, and at the end of the evening I just knew that he was the one for me. Of course, I was in serious journalist mode, so we didn’t get involved until after I finished the article. By then I was totally smitten. Only I wasn’t sure if he felt the same way. After all, I had mousy brown hair, and I wore preppy clothes, and I wasn’t the groupie type. But the first time he kissed me, it felt so right. Like it was meant to be….”
Two months after that, you two were married. How romantic is that?