I couldn’t hang out with either of them anyway. Mom had already asked me if I’d come downtown when I got home and help her paint the store. When she’d asked me, I’d grumbled something about child labor laws and how they were enacted for a reason. I’d already babysat three nights during the week while mom sewed. But I knew Mom needed my help, so I begrudgingly agreed to do it.
I’m glad I did. I’d much rather paint than deal with this drama.
7:52 p.m.
While painting a store wouldn’t be on my top ten list of fun things to do on a Saturday afternoon, I actually enjoyed it today.
Mom and I painted the walls white and one wall robin’s egg blue. “It’s very tranquil,” said Mom. “I’m thinking about making it my signature color.” She showed me samples of the other shades of blue she’d considered, and we both agreed this one was the nicest. Then she showed me where her antique sewing table was going to go and the cabinet she’d custom ordered to hold all of her fabrics. It was nice bonding time with Mom. But that wasn’t what made the day so good.
When Mom and I had been painting for hours and we were both hungry, I went to the deli next door to get us some sandwiches. I had on overalls with a tank top and my hair was piled on top of my head in a messy ponytail. It was still dirty from sweating at the dance competition this morning. I wasn’t thinking about what I looked like, but I wish I had been.
“What can I get you?” the guy behind the counter asked when I walked in.
I looked at him. He was skinny and tall, and he had big blue eyes and he was wearing glasses that made him look like a teacher. I read his nametag: Leo. It suited him.
I looked up at the handwritten menu behind the counter. There were way too many choices to make this easy. Leo must have been a mind reader. “First time?” he asked.
I nodded. “My mom is opening the store next door.”
“Welcome to the neighborhood.” He gestured to the menu behind him. “This can be overwhelming, but don’t worry. It’s my job to make sure you get the perfect sandwich. You can go the ham and cheese route, which I believe is greatly enhanced with honey mustard. Or you can try my favorite, which is turkey, avocado, and organic sprouts with cranberry mayo. And if neither of those appeal, knock yourself out choosing from the thirty-three options on the board behind me, or you can make something up. Dealer’s choice.”
I laughed. He was cute, in a funny sort of way.
“You take your sandwiches very seriously,” I said.
“That I do.” I looked down at the gloved hand Leo had extended in my direction. “Oops!” he said, recognizing what he’d done. He peeled off the glove and started over. “Leo,” he said less formally.
“April,” I said as I shook his hand. I was surprised at how warm and smooth it was, for a guy.
He read my mind again. “I have very soft hands,” he said. “I always have. Or at least that’s what my mother tells me.” The thought of his mother telling him that made me laugh. Leo smiled. “You didn’t come here for a comedy show,” he said winking at me. “What will it be?”
“I’ll have the turkey and avocado with sprouts and ham and cheese for my mom.”
“Excellent choices, April. Might I suggest that you have both on the multigrain bread. I believe the subtle nuttiness of the crust enhances the flavor of any sandwich.” It was a weird thing to say, but it sounded cute when he said it.
“Sure,” I said. I bit my lip to keep from smiling. Leo looked at me and our eyes met. It was kind of embarrassing, like we both knew it had happened but there was nothing we could do about it, so we both looked away.
Leo started making the sandwiches, and I pretended to read through the choices on the menu board behind him. When he finished, he wrapped the sandwiches in butcher paper and put them in a take-out bag. “Drink and chips to go with this?” he asked.
I nodded and asked a question of my own. “What’s the name of the sandwich you made for me? I don’t see it anywhere on the menu board.”
Leo smiled. “It’s the Leo Special. I only make it for special customers.”
“Am I a special customer?” I couldn’t believe I’d been so flirtatious.
But Leo didn’t seem to mind. “Quite possibly,” he said.
I have to admit I liked his answer almost as much as his sandwich.
When in doubt, tell the truth.
—Mark Twain
Wednesday, October 1, 10:00 p.m.
Working on To Kill a Mockingbird paper
Sort of
Is it normal to be fourteen and loathe (vocab word: check!) your life?
I don’t loathe my whole life, just the part of it I spend at home. If someone were to psychoanalyze me, I’m sure they’d blame me. They’d say I’m a teenager with a bad attitude. But I don’t think I’m at fault here. I’m not the one who created the loathsome conditions that exist.
The problem is that Mom’s store is opening in three weeks, and it’s affecting my life in many unpleasant ways.
For starters, Mom literally spends all of her time sewing, which means I’m spending all of my time babysitting when I’m not at school or dance. I think I’ve been a pretty good sport about it, even when I’ve had to do things I don’t think should be my responsibility. I’m pretty sure it’s the parents’ job to help their young children study for a spelling test or wash a dirty soccer uniform when there are games two days in a row, right?
I can handle the babysitting and even the laundry, but what I can’t handle is the arguing. And there has been lots of it lately. Not in plain view for all to see, but behind closed doors for me to hear. I know Mom and Dad are arguing in the privacy of their own room, and I shouldn’t be listening in. But in my opinion, it’s like playing music at full volume. Other people can’t help but hear it and complain that the sound is up too high (or not say a word and just be pissed off about it). And the worst part is that they always fight about the same thing—money.
It costs a lot of money to open a store. I know this for a fact because Dad talks about it constantly. I also know that some costs are fixed and some are flexible. Writing that makes me sound like some kind of finance geek, but I’m not. I’ve just been spending the last several nights listening to my parents argue over which flexible costs—like having real models to model the clothes at the opening versus people we know—are necessary.
Listening to them fight about stupid stuff (and I classify this as stupid because Dad should know that no one we personally know in Faraway could even remotely fall into the model category) stresses me out.
But last night, Mom and Dad had their biggest fight ever, and it seriously upset me. It started small. They were disagreeing about the model thing, then one thing led to another. “Flora, you’re being incredibly selfish and putting stress on everyone in this family,” said Dad.
Mom sighed loudly enough for me to hear it through the door. “It’s really disappointing how limiting your outlook on life can be,” she said to Dad.
Their room got quiet after that. I held my breath and waited. Whenever they fight, they do this little thing where they say “I love you, but I don’t like you right now.” I waited outside their door for a long time, but they never said it.
So this morning, I asked Dad if he could drive me to school and on the way, I asked him if he and Mom are having problems. I thought for sure he’d say they weren’t, but what he said was, “April, I prefer honesty, and yes, your mother and I are going through a difficult period.”
Listening to him say that (and thinking about it all day) was highly unpleasant.
There. I think I very accurately depicted the unpleasantness at hand. It’s a shame I can’t turn in what I just wrote for my English paper.
Friday, October 3, 6:17 p.m.
Home from dance
Today at dance practice, we worked on the dances we’re doing for the Homecoming assembly next Friday and for the half-time presentation during the game that night. The steps in both dances are really fast and working o
n them today took all my energy. When we finished practice, I was so tired. All I wanted to do was go home and crash on the couch.
“Wait up,” said Brynn as I was leaving the gym. “I’ll walk with you.”
I could tell by the way Brynn rushed to catch up with me that there was something she wanted to talk to me about. She didn’t waste any time telling me what was on her mind. “Do you think it’s weird how Sophie and Billy are spending so much time together on SGA?”
I really didn’t want to get into it with her.
I took a deep breath. “Next week is Spirit Week and Homecoming. Everyone on SGA has been working on it.” Brynn knows Homecoming is one of the most important events of the school year.
“I know what week it is,” said Brynn, like my explanation had been insulting and unhelpful. “I get that everyone on SGA is working on it. It’s just that Sophie and Billy seem to be working very closely together.” She eyed me as she talked. “Did you know they’re doing a skit together to kick off Spirit Week?”
I actually didn’t know that, and I was glad I could tell Brynn I didn’t. It made it seem like less of a big deal.
Then I reminded Brynn that just this week, Ms. Baumann had explained that each grade would be doing group dances in the show in November. “Kids who are on SGA doing stuff together is the same thing as girls on the dance team doing dances together.” I thought that was a pretty good analogy. But apparently Brynn didn’t.
“Obviously,” she said. Then she looked at me like she was disappointed in what I guess she perceived as my lack of depth. “Sometimes you just don’t get it. Sorry if that hurts your feelings, but it’s the truth.” She raised a brow at me like it was my turn to apologize.
But I didn’t. This wasn’t about me not getting it.
It was about her being ridiculously jealous.
Saturday, October 4, 8:45 p.m.
My un-date
I had my first un-date today.
When I woke up, I had no idea that’s how I’d be spending my afternoon. This morning Mom and Dad both left early, so I made breakfast for May and June. (That sounds like I made something fancy like crepes, but all I did was pour milk and cereal into bowls and slice bananas on top of it.) We ate our cereal on the couch and watched The Sound of Music.
It was a fun way to spend the morning. The Sound of Music is one of my favorite movies. I think what I like about it is that every time I watch it, I find something new that sticks out to me. This morning, I actually didn’t know what that thing was, but I figured it out this afternoon. What stuck out today was the scene when the nuns tell Maria that when God closes a door, he opens a window. I needed a window to open.
I’ve been so stressed lately with everything going on at home. Mom opening the store has definitely made Dad feel a lot more pressure. I feel it too. Even though it has put a strain on things in lots of ways lately, today something good came out of it.
After lunch, Dad came home from the diner to take June to a birthday party. May ended up riding with them, so I walked downtown to Mom’s store to help her get ready for the opening.
She was hanging black and white photos she’d taken of the clothes she designed. “These look great,” I told Mom as I helped her hang them. The photos were very artsy, and I could see how ladies would like her clothes. I have to admit her store was shaping up in a cool way.
When we were done hanging photos, Mom told me I could go. “I need to do some paperwork and there’s not much left here that you can help me with today.” She hugged me. “Thanks so much for your help, honey.”
It was midafternoon, and I was feeling good that I’d been helpful to Mom. As I left her store, I was trying to decide what I was going to do for the rest of the day, when I saw Leo. He was leaving the deli.
“April!” He sounded happy to see me.
I stopped and waited for him to catch up to me.
“What’s a girl like you doing in a place like this?” he said gesturing to the mostly empty streets of downtown Faraway.
I laughed. It sounded like a line from an old movie. “I was helping my mom.”
“Do I detect the use of the past tense?” asked Leo.
I nodded.
“This must be fate” said Leo. “I just finished too. If you have nothing to do, perhaps we could do it together?” He looked hopeful as he awaited my response.
“Sure,” I said.
He fell in step beside me as we walked.
“Is this a date?” I asked.
Leo laughed. “Since we’re doing nothing, it’s more like an un-date.”
“I’ve never been on an un-date,” I told Leo.
He smiled down at me. “It’s my first too. Perhaps we should start our un-date by getting to know each other. Ladies first.”
As we meandered the streets of Faraway, I told Leo about my family and friends and being on the dance team. He was incredibly easy to talk to and asked lots of questions, which made me talk more. We stopped walking and sat down on a bench. I couldn’t help noticing how much longer his legs were than mine. I rambled on about my life like we were old friends who hadn’t seen each other in a long time and were catching up.
“Fascinating,” he said when I was done.
“Not really.” I couldn’t image what he’d found so interesting about my life.
“I get to be the judge of that,” said Leo. He smiled down at me.
“What about you?” I asked.
“I’m afraid I’ve led a pretty dull existence,” said Leo.
“Don’t I get to be the judge of that?” I asked.
“Touché,” said Leo. Then he proceeded to tell me about himself. Sixteen. Only child. Homeschooled. Starting college in January.
“Wait a minute. You’re only sixteen and you’re going to college?”
“Guilty,” said Leo.
“You must be a genius,” I said.
Leo shook his head. “Genius is a broad term. Extreme chemistry enthusiast would probably be more accurate.”
I eyed Leo carefully. “Are you homeschooled because you know more about chemistry than they teach at the high school?”
“That’s part of it,” said Leo.
“What’s the other part?” I asked.
Leo hesitated. “I’m not sure we should get into it on our first un-date.”
“Then we’ll have to have a second,” I said without missing a beat.
Leo smiled. “Are you flirting with me, April?”
I bit my lip. “I think so,” I said quietly.
“Fascinating,” said Leo.
“You like that word, don’t you?”
Leo blinked at me like he was considering my question. “To be honest April, I rarely ever use it.”
He that is jealous is not in love.
—St. Augustine
Monday, October 6, 9:12 p.m.
In my room
This morning there was a special assembly at school to kick off Spirit Week. Principal Meeks made a speech about Homecoming this weekend and the importance of Spirit Week. “Participate fully and show your school spirit,” he said. Then he turned it over to Jeff Ingraham, a senior who’s president of the SGA.
“It’s going to be a great week at Faraway High!” he said. Then he went through the Spirit Week schedule. Pajama Day Tuesday, Crazy Hat Wednesday, Red-and-White Thursday. On Friday we have the pep rally, the football game Friday night, then the dance on Saturday night.
I was sitting with Emily, Kate, and Brynn for the assembly.
“This is going to be an amazing week,” said Emily.
“I already have my pajamas picked out,” said Kate.
“It’s going to be totally fun,” I said.
We all looked at Brynn. “Yeah,” she said. “It’ll be great.” But I could tell by her body language that she didn’t really think it would be.
Before Jeff left the stage, he announced that the SGA class reps had a special presentation. Brynn sat up straight as they came out on stage in costume. The nint
h-grade reps, which meant Billy and Sophie, had on pajamas. The tenth-grade reps were wearing crazy hats and the juniors were in red and white.
The skit was kind of silly. They all played dumb, like they thought today was the day they were supposed to wear pajamas or crazy hats or school colors. Then they reminded everyone to be sure and come dressed to show their spirit on the right days. When Sophie and Billy did their part about Pajama Day, I glanced at Brynn.
I could tell that watching Sophie and Billy doing the skit together was really bugging her. Their part only lasted like a minute. Still, Brynn looked upset. “You OK?” I asked.
Brynn turned and rolled her eyes at me like it was a ridiculous question. “Of course,” she said. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
“Sorry,” I said. I figured maybe I’d read her emotions wrong. Brynn let out a breath like dealing with me was getting increasingly difficult. I guess it’s not uncommon for best friends to think alike, because I was feeling the same way about her.
Wednesday, October 8
Study Hall
Sophie asked me this morning if I want to have a sleepover after the dance on Saturday. “Sure,” I said. I had no reason not to say yes. It wasn’t like I had other plans.
“Great!” said Sophie. “It’ll be fun!”
I agreed. But I was having a hard time thinking about the fun Sophie and I would have, because I was thinking about Brynn. I know she’s upset about Sophie and Billy, but there’s also still this tension between us over my friendship with Sophie. I kind of get it. If Brynn had an almost-cousin that moved to Faraway and they got super close, it would probably be hard for me too. But still, she hasn’t been nice to Sophie, and I’d like to think I wouldn’t act the way she has.
I’ve tried talking to Brynn about it, but it hasn’t helped. I could invite her to our sleepover, but (a) she wouldn’t want to have a sleepover with Sophie, and (b) if I did ask, she’d probably say she was going to ask me if I wanted to have a sleepover and that she can’t believe I made plans with someone else.
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