Sophie's Stormy Summer

by Nancy N. Rue

  Sophie wanted to say it all out loud — say it to Jesus so he would know by her tone that she was not happy about this.

  But if Mama heard me, she thought, she’d never let me talk to Kitty — maybe ever again —

  Sophie couldn’t even finish that thought. She tiptoed down the stairs and out the kitchen door and crept along the edge of the garage, like Sofia making her way through the alleys of Marseille. Only this was real. It felt like something was after her — and there was only one person who could help her.

  She could hear Zeke on the swings in the side yard, shouting something about Spider-Man. Sophie got down on her hands and knees and crawled behind the azaleas. She could feel her throat getting thick.

  The last time I was here, I was Sofia, she thought.

  She closed her eyes — tight — but Sofia wouldn’t appear, and Sophie knew why. It wasn’t because Aunt Emily said it would upset Darbie or because all the adults thought the Nazis chasing the Jews was too dark for them to think about with all their other sadness.

  I’m sorry, Sofia, Sophie breathed to her in her dream-mind. It’s just because you can’t help me right now. You can run away from the Nazis, but I can’t run away from Kitty’s — maybe — dying.And you can save your father, but I don’t know how to save Kitty from not going to heaven —

  Sophie opened her eyes and looked up, over the tops of the azalea bushes. “And you’re not the one I need to be talking to anyway.”

  Closing her eyes one more time, she whispered, “Jesus — is it ever okay to change a promise I made to you?”

  She gave a little snort.

  “Okay, so that was a lame question. I said I’d do everything you asked me to do for Kitty — I just didn’t know I had to do THIS.”

  She asked him why Kitty had to think about stuff like this when she was so young and why she had picked her to tell Kitty whether she was going to heaven or not and what was she supposed to say anyway?

  When she ran out of questions, there was only one thing left. It was her image of Jesus, looking at her with his kind eyes.

  “I guess you’re not mad at me for not wanting to do this,” she said. “I guess you know it’s hard.”

  Duh, she said to herself. He knows everything.

  So, then, he knew what she was supposed to say.

  “So, will you TELL me?” she whispered.

  She didn’t expect an answer, not from his lips anyway. “I should have brought my Bible out here,” she said.

  That was where the answers always were. She couldn’t risk going back to the house. She could still hear Zeke, shouting that he was Spider-Man, and that the enemy didn’t have a chance against him.

  “He thinks Spider-Man is YOU,” Sophie whispered to Jesus. “I gotta straighten him out on that.”

  Suddenly Sophie’s head came up and she banged it on the garden hose reel.

  “I have to tell Kitty too!” she said, in a voice much louder than a whisper.

  She slapped a hand over her mouth and waited for Zeke to appear, but he was too involved in swinging his way to Spider-Man victory.

  Kitty had said it herself: she knew Sophie was going to heaven because she talked to Jesus all the time — and believed in him — and obeyed what he said.

  “So that’s what I have to tell her, right?” Sophie said.

  She closed her eyes and saw Jesus’ kind eyes. “But I still don’t understand why she has to deal with this right NOW,” she said. And then she started to cry.

  A while later she heard Mama calling her name, and then she heard Daddy’s car pull into the driveway — too early to be off work — and then another car. She could tell it was Dr. Peter by his voice calling, “Hey, Spider-Man!” to Zeke. But she stayed behind the azaleas.

  “Because what if they don’t LET me tell this to Kitty?” she whispered. “How’s she ever gonna know?”

  “She sure won’t if you stay in here talking to yourself.”

  Sophie jumped and banged her head again. Lacie was crouched down, peering between the leaves.

  “They’re all waiting for you,” Lacie said. “Mama’s about to have kittens because she can’t find you. So come on — you’re never going to find out unless you go in there.”

  When Sophie walked into the family room, Mama looked at Dr. Peter and Daddy and said, “Now do you know why I’m against this? Look at her — she’s upset.”

  They had obviously started without her. Sophie sank heavily onto the couch next to Dr. Peter. There wasn’t even a chance to say hi to him.

  Daddy was looking at her like his scientist-self. “Are you upset, Soph?”

  “Rusty!” Mama gave Daddy one of her hard looks.

  Dr. Peter didn’t say anything, so Sophie took a deep breath.

  “I’m only upset because I’m afraid you won’t let me talk to Kitty. I know what to say now.”

  “May I?” Dr. Peter said to Mama.

  She barely nodded. Sophie’s heart was going like a racecar engine.

  Dr. Peter said, “How would you tell her whether she would go to heaven?”

  “I would tell her that she was right, that I’m going to heaven because I know Jesus and I talk to him and I obey him and I believe he’ll take me up there — or wherever it is.”

  No one talked for a minute. Mama pulled a tissue out of the box.

  “Sounds pretty good to me,” Daddy said finally.

  “Of course it does, and I’m proud of Sophie,” Mama said. “But why does SHE have to be the one?”

  “Because,” Sophie said. “We have to do whatever God asks us to do — in love — no matter how much it hurts.”

  Dr. Peter put his hand up. “I told her that.”

  “And so did Genevieve — AND the Bible,” Sophie said.

  Daddy sat forward in his chair and put his hand on Mama’s knee. “We can’t argue with that, Lynda,” he said.

  “All right,” Mama said, in a less than happy voice. She blew her nose hard. “But I want us to be there and Dr. Peter — and I guess Kitty’s parents — ”

  Hello? Sophie wanted to shout. She’d pictured it as just her and Kitty. Why did half the city of Poquoson have to be there?

  “I’d like to suggest this,” Dr. Peter said. “Just a suggestion — but let Sophie talk to Kitty, and I can be there if you would be more comfortable — if it’s okay with Kitty’s parents, and if it’s all right with Sophie.”

  Sophie nodded.

  “And the two of you can talk to Kitty’s parents about what Sophie’s going to say beforehand.”

  “What if they won’t let me do it?” Sophie said.

  “Then we have to respect that,” Mama said.

  “Respect that they don’t want her to know Jesus?” Sophie said.

  “Let’s take it one step at a time, huh, Soph?” Daddy said.

  It was hard for Sophie not to pray for all the steps to happen at the same time.

  The Munfords agreed to meet Sophie, her family, and Dr. Peter at Anna’s Pizza for the talk — because that was where the Munfords wanted to go so Kitty could get out a little.

  Dr. Peter and Kitty and Sophie picked out songs on the jukebox while Sophie’s parents talked with Kitty’s parents. After a few minutes, Sophie heard Colonel Munford say, “It’s fine with me. That’s a whole lot better than what I could come up with.”

  “At least we got past Step One,” Dr. Peter whispered to Sophie. “Now you can let the grown-ups deal with the Munfords, okay?”

  Sophie was more than happy to do that. The waitress sailed over with a pizza held above her head and set it down on the separate table Dr. Peter had set up for the three of them.

  “I don’t know if I can eat pizza yet,” Kitty said over the extra-cheese pizza she usually wolfed down. “I still get kinda sick.”

  “I’ll eat your piece,” Dr. Peter said. He took a bite and nodded at Sophie.

  Kitty pulled her hat down tighter on her head. People were stealing stares at her from other tables. Sophie could tell that K
itty could tell. She wished the wig was made already.

  “Do you get to answer my question now?” Kitty said.

  “Yes,” Sophie said. There was no frozen mouth. No hand squeezing a fork or the edge of the table. The words flowed out of her, better than they had with Mama and Daddy and Dr. Peter. Better than she’d imagined saying it, over and over and over. It was almost like Jesus himself was doing the talking.

  When she was through, Kitty looked from Dr. Peter to Sophie.

  “I already believe in Jesus,” she said. “Because Sophie does, and she’s the best person I ever knew. So what do I do now?”

  “Oh, Kitty,” Dr. Peter said. His eyes were sparkling. “Sophie and I have so much to share with you.”

  But it obviously wasn’t going to be right then. The door opened, and the fading outside light ushered in Julia and Anne-Stuart and a tall, reddish-haired woman who looked around Anna’s as if she were Anna herself.

  “Don’t look,” Sophie whispered to Kitty.

  But Kitty did, and she put her hand on top of her head and pushed down on the hat some more. But when she pulled her hand away, it caught on the brim and flipped it off. Kitty’s whole head, with its few lonely patches of thin hair, was exposed to the world.

  Sophie and Kitty both fumbled for the hat, but it was too late. Julia and Anne-Stuart came straight to their table like picnic ants.

  “Okay,” Anne-Stuart said.

  “Nice do,” Julia said.

  “She’s having chemotherapy,” Sophie said. She could barely keep her voice from rising to a scream, or from adding, morons!

  “Oh,” Anne-Stuart said. “Sorry.” Her sneer faded, but she still stared at Kitty as if she were a freak of nature.

  “Yeah, sorry,” Julia said. Something unfamiliar flickered through her eyes. “What’s wrong with you?”

  Kitty looked at the extra-cheese pizza. “I have leukemia.”

  “It isn’t contagious, is it?” Julia took a step backward.

  “No,” Kitty said. “You can’t catch it.”

  Julia and Anne-Stuart still gaped at her. Sophie had never known them to be without a word to say.

  “So,” Julia said finally. “Are y’all coming to middle school orientation tomorrow?”

  Sophie looked back at her in surprise. Was it tomorrow? She hadn’t gotten a stomach knot over middle school since Kitty had gotten sick. She didn’t have one now.

  “We’ll be there,” Sophie said.

  “See you, then,” Anne-Stuart said, sniffling. The two of them hurried back to the tall woman, buzzing at each other like bees.

  Dr. Peter, who had been silent the whole time, said, “Corn Pops, I take it.”

  “See how heinous they are?” Sophie said.

  “I thought they looked a little scared.”

  Oh, Sophie thought. THAT was what it was in Julia’s eyes.

  “I can’t go!” Kitty said.

  Sophie looked at Kitty. The fear in her eyes was bigger than Julia’s.

  “I’ll be the only one there wearing a hat!”

  “We’ll all be there with you,” Sophie said. “All the Corn Flakes. Hey — we could ALL wear hats — you have enough of them.”

  Kitty shook her head. “What if they won’t let me keep it on — they have rules about hats. Or what if it comes off? Or what if somebody pulls it off? You know some Fruit Loop is gonna do that!”

  Sophie didn’t know what to say. She couldn’t make it better.

  But all the way home, all she could hear in her head was Kitty saying, I’ll be the only one wearing a hat.

  I’ve been the “only one” a lot of times, Sophie thought. The only one who was weird. I know what that feels like.

  But no matter how hard she squeezed her eyes shut, Sophie couldn’t imagine how it would feel to walk into that huge middle school tomorrow, already stressing about all the new stuff they would have to do, already worried about whether they would be in the same classes. And to have a hairless head on top of all that.

  I don’t know how it feels, Jesus! she cried out to him in her mind. How can I help Kitty if I don’t know how it feels?

  The answer came, quicker than it ever had before. When she got home, she went into Daddy’s medicine cabinet and pulled something out and went to the kitchen, where he and Mama were getting ready to have their nightly decaf.

  Mama saw what was in her hands, and she slammed her cup on the counter.

  “NO, Sophie! Absolutely NOT! This is where I draw the line.”

  “What?” Daddy said. “What do you have, Soph?”

  Sophie set the clippers on the counter. Daddy immediately shook his head.

  “I have to agree with your mother on this one,” he said. “You can’t shave your hair off. You’ll regret it the minute you do it, and there’s no way we can put your hair back on.”

  “Kitty can’t put hers back on either,” Sophie said.

  “You are not Kitty!” Mama said. “You can’t suffer everything she has to suffer! You’re twelve years old!”

  “I don’t know,” said a voice from the doorway. Lacie dropped her purse on a chair and came to stand beside Sophie. “I was telling them at youth group tonight that it’s like Sophie’s not just twelve — she’s more like sixteen or seventeen in her soul. Maybe older.”

  She put her hand next to Sophie’s, and Sophie grabbed onto it.

  “Lacie, don’t start,” Mama said.

  But Daddy put his hand up. Sophie thought he might drop over any second from the scary look Mama was giving him.

  “Let’s just hear Lacie out,” he said.

  Lacie squeezed Sophie’s hand tighter. “How long have we been worrying about Sophie because we didn’t think she’d ever grow out of the dreamer phase? Now she’s showing all this maturity, and you want to hold her back?”

  “You think it’s maturity?” Daddy said.

  “No!” Mama said. “I think it’s a beautiful thought, but I don’t think it’s going to seem that beautiful when she looks in the mirror with a bald head. It’s bad enough seeing our Kitty that way.”

  Mama’s face crumpled and she sagged against Daddy’s big chest.

  “But I’m not sick like her, Mama,” Sophie said. “And I can’t make her better — but I CAN make her feel like she’s not all alone. No matter how much it hurts ME.”

  “And it’s gonna stink,” Lacie said. “You’re gonna catch so much flak from those snob-girls.”

  “I know,” Sophie said. “It’ll be worse than ever.”

  Lacie looked at Mama and Daddy. “See?” Lacie said. “She knows what she’s up against. She’s not pretending everything is going to turn out just fine the way Fiona is. That girl is in total denial.”

  “Maybe if the Corn Pops and the Fruit Loops have ME to bully,” Sophie said. “It’ll keep them from dumping it all on Kitty.”

  Daddy started to nod. Mama pounded her fist weakly on his chest, and then she looked up at Sophie.

  “Are you sure, Soph — are you really SURE?”

  Sophie just picked up the clippers and climbed up onto a stool.

  Daddy took them from her, and Mama wrapped a towel around her shoulders.

  “At least you have a decent-shaped head,” Lacie said. “You might not look that bad. It’ll make your eyes look bigger.”

  Lacie kept on talking while Sophie watched her reflection in the oven door; watched as her shiny scalp appeared.

  She imagined Jesus watching too.

  With his kind, approving eyes.

  Glossary

  ad lib (add-lib) when you act in a movie or play without a script, and make lines up on the spot

  agenda (a-jen-duh) a series of plans or ideas that can control someone’s actions

  ALL (acute lymphoblastic leukemia) (a-cute limp-fo-blast-ick loo-KEY-me-uh) a type of cancer that attacks the white blood cells that normally fight infections. ALL creates white blood cells that can’t fight off infections and makes the person very sick. It’s the most common cancer
in children.

  au pair (oh-PARE) a fancy French word for a nanny; specifically a young person who lives with a family and takes care of the kids and the housework

  blackguards (BLAK-gards) very rude and nasty people

  bogey (BO-ghee) an Irish slang word that actually means snot (gross!), but basically tells people you feel really stupid

  chemotherapy (key-moe-THAIR-a-pee) really strong chemicals that are used as a treatment for cancer

  class (klas) not a group of students, but a nifty word that means something’s really cool

  CVC an abbreviation of cardiovascular ventricular catheter (car-dee-oh-VAS-cu-lar ven-TRI-cue-lar CATH-et-er), or a fancy tube through which medicine is put into the body

  despondent (de-SPOHN-dent) feeling completely depressed, to the point that you become almost zombie-like

  desperate (DEHS-pret) without hope, sometimes doing extreme things to avoid a certain situation or thought

  devastating (DEV-as-tate-ing) when an event is so awful and unimaginable that it makes you feel helpless

  disconcerting (dis-cohn-CERT-ing) a word that describes something that just doesn’t seem right, and makes you feel awkward and confused

  ecstatic (ek-sta-tik) so incredibly happy it makes you almost crazy with joy

  extraterrestrial (ex-trah-ter-RES-tree-all) something from outer space, or something so strange it seems like it came from outside this world

  flitters (FLIT-turs) a feeling of being really excited and a little jumpy, and your body gets a little shaky while you wait for something to happen

  heinous (HEY-nus) unbelievably mean and cruel

  holiday (HA-leh-day) a British word for vacation

  inquisitive (in-KWI-zeh-tiv) being really curious and asking a lot of questions

  liberty (li-burr-tee) freedom; “not at liberty” means you’re not allowed to say or do something

  meltdown (MELT-doun) something that happens when things become too much to handle; losing control of yourself because of the stress

  oh-nine-hundred (oh-nyne-hun-dread) 9:00 am in military speak

  reef (rEEf) an Irish word that means to attack someone with your words

  remission (re-MEH-shon) the time when cancer symptoms aren’t active and the person starts to get better