“Yeah,” Charlotte said, though sweet might not be the first word that came to mind when she thought of her tornado of a little sister.
“You guys have to see this.” It was Jen again, but this time she was not alone. Grace Chen and Tanya Santangelo were with her, both giggling as they looked at Charlotte.
“What is it?” Sophia asked, clearly intrigued.
“It’s this picture Chase Hammond took,” Jen said, nearly dancing with glee that she got to be the one telling Sophia the latest gossip. Though Charlotte wasn’t sure why the three of them kept looking at her.
“How did you get it?” Mari asked.
“The boys were all passing it around this morning,” Jen said.
Charlotte remembered the boys who almost ran into her earlier—they were looking at a phone and laughing.
“And my brother got it and sent it to me just now,” Grace said.
“Isn’t your brother in eighth grade?” Mari asked.
“Yeah, but he and Chase both play JV football,” Grace explained. “And Chase sent it to everyone on the team.”
“Sounds juicy,” Mari said, eyes sparkling. “Show it to us.”
Grace sat down next to Sophia and looked around for the cafeteria aides before sliding her phone out of her pocket and quickly setting it flat on Sophia’s tray so no one looking from a distance would know it was there.
“What’s it of?” Sophia asked while Grace typed in her passcode.
“Charlotte’s brother, Tom,” Jen said. Tanya snorted with laughter when Jen said his name, and Charlotte’s back stiffened. Why was this boy Chase taking pictures of Tom? And why was Tanya looking at Charlotte like she was the punch line to a joke?
“Here it is,” Grace said triumphantly.
Charlotte’s throat and mouth were dry, as if she’d swallowed a handful of sand, and when she looked down at the image it was all she could do to keep breathing. Now she knew why Tom had been so quiet, so distracted. He must have known about this photo, the one where his mouth was open, his eyes wide in shock like a crazed cartoon character, his hands clawing the air in front of him. He looked as if he was being attacked by a grizzly bear or a pack of wolves, but anyone viewing the picture could see the truth: Tom was terrified of a little stream of water. He looked beyond ridiculous, like the biggest scaredy-cat in the world, like a boy who was about to become the laughingstock of the school.
A boy who was going to take his sister along for the ride.
“Hey, Sergeant Wimpy,” a boy from Tom’s homeroom called, snorting with laughter as Tom passed by at the end of lunch period. He twisted up his face like someone being electrocuted, mimicking Tom’s expression in the now-famous photo.
Tom kept his eyes pinned on a point in the distance, doing everything he could to keep his head high and ignore the laughter that swirled around him. Which was impossible, of course. Because ever since he had arrived at school that morning, the picture was all he heard about. Boys snickered about it when he walked by, joked about it in the locker alcove next to him, and imitated it on the way to class. By the time the bell for lunch rang, everyone he passed had called him Sergeant Wimpy. And the worst part was, Tom was pretty sure they were right.
Before his family had come to Fort Patrick, Tom had never thought much about whether or not he was brave. Sure, there was the screech of doom, but his family merely said Tom was high-strung or that he startled easily. It was only now that Chase had humiliated him in front of the entire school that a seed of doubt had been planted. A seed that had Tom rethinking everything. Why did he startle at tiny things? And why had he screamed so loudly over a little spray of water and then said nothing when Chase made fun of him? Was it possible that Chase had said what everyone secretly thought, that Tom was a wimp?
Kenny was putting books in his locker and lifted a hand in greeting when he saw Tom. Before Tom could react, a group of seventh-grade boys ran by. One of them stopped short and threw his hand to his head in a sharp salute. “Good afternoon, Sergeant Wimpy!” he barked, and his friends burst into loud giggles.
Cheeks burning, Tom bolted around the corner to escape, but then he stopped dead in his tracks because coming toward him was Chase. He was surrounded by his friends, all grinning as they caught sight of Tom. Chase’s face glowed and he strode down the hall like a quarterback who had just scored the winning touchdown.
Tom didn’t think, he simply acted, spinning around and nearly sprinting back down the hall, away from Chase and his friends. But of course their laughter and their jeering followed him as Tom pushed his way blindly into the bathroom and locked himself in a stall.
He leaned back against the wall, closed his eyes, and tried not to think about how running to the boys’ room to hide had pretty much cemented his status as a one-hundred-percent total wimp.
The day dragged on in a state of endless humiliation. Tom wondered if maybe Charlotte would find him to say something sympathetic, but she barely glanced at him in the one afternoon class they had together. Kenny gave him a sympathetic shoulder pat, but other than that, it was all Sergeant Wimpy all the time. So when detention finally ended, Tom was desperate to get away from school and back home to his family. Because even if they did secretly think he was a wimp, they were kind enough not to say so. And they never called him names.
Tom headed outside where he saw the first good thing to happen all day: Charlotte was waiting for him.
“Hey,” Tom called, so happy to see her he actually smiled, something he hadn’t thought he’d ever do again. Pouring out the horrors of his day to his sister and getting full sympathy for the wounds that had been sliced open by Chase and his classmates might not make things better but it would help. Maybe Charlotte would even suggest stopping for ice cream and offer to treat.
But when Tom reached his sister, he realized that he had missed a few obvious signs that the offer of ice cream was not going to be coming any time soon. Charlotte’s eyes blazed and her cheeks were a mottled shade of red. She stood stiff and tall, hands on her hips. And she was breathing so hard it was like she had just run a marathon.
“How could you?” she asked through clenched teeth. “How could you do this to me?”
Tom took a step back. “What-what do you mean?” he stuttered. “Chase attacked me and—”
“And you freaked out and he took a picture, I know,” Charlotte raged. “Everyone knows! It’s all anyone is talking about.”
On their first beach day in Hawaii, Tom had been knocked over by a huge wave. Salt water had filled his nose and ears as his body was flipped about in the water so completely that at one point he had no idea which way was up and which was down. That was how he felt now as he tried to understand why his sister was mad at him, not at Chase or any of the kids who had mocked him all day. Charlotte was acting like he had done something horrible to hurt her when in fact he was the one who had been hurt.
“What’s up, Sergeant Wimpy?” a boy who was clearly an eighth grader shouted, giving Tom a salute.
“Now even the older kids are doing it,” Charlotte hissed. “You couldn’t even bother to tell me, to prepare me?”
Tom blinked, unable to process why she was so angry at him. He was the one who was a laughingstock—the boy hadn’t even noticed Charlotte. “I don’t get it,” he said. “Why are you yelling at me?”
“Because you’re ruining everything,” Charlotte told him, then turned and stalked down the sidewalk, away from Tom, who stared after her, his last ally now turned against him, leaving him totally alone.
Ms. Gupta, Rosie’s teacher, glanced at the clock on the back wall of the classroom. “Okay everybody, that’s all for today. Tomorrow we’ll start working on our posters for math, so you and your partner can begin coming up with your example problems. Right now, go ahead and line up.”
She smiled cheerfully, saying good-bye as the children filed out into the hall with the class aide. Normally Rosie gave her a hug good-bye. Normally Rosie liked Ms. Gupta, who came up with good ideas
like reading aloud in fun voices and doing jumping jacks before math. But today Ms. Gupta had come up with the worst idea ever: partner work for the math poster.
Ms. Gupta had said students could choose their own partners, and everyone got very excited, waving to friends and pairing up. Everyone except Rosie, because no one wanted to be her partner. Which was fine—Rosie already had an idea for the poster and could easily do it herself. But Ms. Gupta had put Rosie together with Victor, the quiet boy who no one wanted to work with either.
So instead of saying good-bye to Ms. Gupta and Isabelle the Iguana the way she usually did, Rosie just stomped out of the classroom. Ms. Gupta was probably sad and worried not to get to say good-bye to Rosie, but that was her very own fault for making the math poster partner work.
The aide led Rosie’s class to the big metal front doors of the school where students were filing out, something that could take a while because there were a lot of students and not a lot of doors. Rosie shifted from one foot to the other, wishing everyone would get a move on so she could get outside already.
“Don’t push,” a girl named Taima told her.
“I’m not!” Rosie said quickly. Maybe her hand had touched Taima a little, but she was in the way.
Finally Rosie was walking down the stone steps of the school, blinking in the bright sun as students streamed past.
“Rosie!” It was Dad! This was an excellent surprise, as Rosie usually walked home herself, with the help of the crossing guards on every corner.
“I had a break in my work so I decided to come meet you,” Dad said after Rosie had run up to him.
“It was a terrible day,” Rosie said, eager to get Dad’s sympathy.
“I have an idea on how we might turn it into a good day,” Dad said, not even asking what had gone wrong.
Rosie waited, hoping the idea involved ice cream or a special adventure, just her and Dad.
“Why don’t we invite one of your classmates over for a playdate?” Dad asked.
Rosie was horrified. “That’s not a good idea at all,” she told Dad reproachfully.
“What if we just gave it a try?” Dad said. “I bet a lot of kids would enjoy meeting Cupcake.”
Well, that was probably true, because Cupcake was the best dog ever. But Rosie didn’t think any of her awful classmates deserved to meet her dog.
“That girl looks nice,” Dad said. He pointed at Sam, a girl who sat near Rosie and was nice about sharing markers. But just then Taima and Nghia ran over to Sam and the three of them walked off together.
“They’re busy,” Rosie said, hoping that would be the end of it.
“Okay, well, how about that boy?” her dad asked. “He’s looking over at us, and I bet he’s very nice.”
Rosie spun around, and when she saw the boy her dad was talking about she shook her head so hard her braids flew, but it was too late. Dad was already waving the boy over.
“What’s your name?” Dad asked, all friendly like Cupcake when a new person came to their home.
Victor blinked his red, watery hippo eyes like he was unsure how to answer that question. “Victor,” he finally said so quietly Dad had to bend down to hear. “Rosie and I are doing our math poster together.”
A woman in a yellow sundress suddenly popped up behind him. “Hi, I’m Carmen,” she said, shaking Dad’s hand. “Victor’s aunt. He was hoping Rosie could come over to bake cookies today and maybe brainstorm a bit about their math poster.”
“What a lovely idea,” Dad said. He sounded way too happy. “Rosie would really enjoy that.”
That was not true at all. The only thing Rosie would enjoy would be going home for a snack and a sulk and then searching for clues about Buddy. Now that she had learned a second dog on post had gone missing, she was sure something very fishy was happening at Fort Patrick. Unfortunately Tom and Charlotte weren’t convinced yet, but Rosie was working on it, and she needed the afternoon to investigate, not spend time with boring old Victor.
But Dad was giving her his most serious look, and Rosie knew what that meant. “Okay, I guess,” she said.
Now Dad’s mouth was pinching up.
“And thank you for inviting me, ma’am,” Rosie added quickly.
That earned her a smile from Dad. As the four of them walked to Bingham Road together, Victor stayed quiet, scuffing his shoes as he walked, but at one point he looked at Rosie and smiled shyly. Rosie did not smile back. Sure, Victor seemed okay, but he’d probably be all bossy about the cookies, telling Rosie what to do, and then try to be in charge of their poster.
Victor’s house was across the street from the Bailey home. Dad waved good-bye, and Aunt Carmen held the door open for Rosie. When she walked in, Rosie had to wrinkle her nose at the strong scent of pine cleaner. Everything was neat and tidy with no specks of dust or stray shoes or books left anywhere.
“Your house could pass inspection,” Rosie said.
Aunt Carmen laughed. “We like things neat.”
Victor nodded, but Rosie couldn’t tell if this was what Victor really thought.
“Okay, let’s get these cookies started,” Carmen said, leading the way down a hall that had a tan carpet with straight vacuum lines making stripes down the middle. “Rosie, do you like chocolate chips?”
“Everyone likes chocolate chips, silly,” Rosie said, then clapped a hand over her mouth.
But Aunt Carmen just laughed. She was definitely more fun than Victor, so Rosie was disappointed when she helped them get out the ingredients but then left to write some emails. Rosie poked at the bag of chocolate chips while Victor got a mixing bowl from the cabinet. Their kitchen looked almost exactly like the Baileys’ kitchen, with lots of cabinets, a big counter, and a blue checkered linoleum floor. Though their floor did not have scuff marks from dog paws like Rosie’s house did, nor artwork up on the walls and fridge. The Bailey kids always drew pictures for the kitchen in every new place they lived. It was a tradition. But here the walls and fridge were bare.
“I’m an excellent baker, so my aunt lets me be in charge of mixing,” Victor said proudly. He was putting on a kid-sized apron printed with spatulas.
“With the electric mixer?” Rosie asked eagerly. That could be good.
Victor blinked a few times. “No, with a spoon,” he said. “I can’t use the electric one by myself.”
Rosie sagged a bit at this news.
“Do you want to crack the eggs?” he asked.
Now things were getting interesting. Tom and Charlotte never let Rosie crack the eggs.
“Yes,” Rosie said immediately, excited again.
It took six eggs for Rosie to finally get enough slithery stuff into the bowl, but Victor didn’t get bossy or try to take over. He just waited until she was done. He also let Rosie measure the sugar and didn’t seem to mind when she put in double.
“I like things sweet too,” he said.
Rosie let him do the flour and baking soda and they both put in the chips, eating some along the way. Then they used spoons to put blobs of dough on the sparkly cookie sheet. Rosie had a hard time getting her blobs all the right size, but Victor didn’t act like it was a big deal, the way Charlotte would have, when Rosie had to use her fingers to even things out.
When the tray was ready, Aunt Carmen came in and put it in the oven. “I’ll keep an eye on these,” she said. “You kids go start your math homework, and I’ll call you when they’re done.”
Rosie’s spirits collapsed. Yes, it had turned out Victor was okay to bake with, but now he’d probably want to make their poster boring and argue if Rosie wanted to draw fun things on the side. Rosie hoped those cookies would be ready fast as she followed Victor into the living room.
“I’ll get some paper so we can write our examples down,” Victor said. Their poster was going to be about the rules of adding, and Ms. Gupta had explained that each set of partners should come up with four good examples. “That way we can start coloring our poster tomorrow in class.”
Vict
or went over to a wooden dresser that was covered with photos. Several were of a man in uniform, and Rosie figured that was Victor’s dad or uncle. Victor slid open a drawer and pulled out some paper.
“Did you find what you were looking for?” he asked, coming back with paper and pencils and sitting down on the sofa next to Rosie.
Rosie’s forehead crinkled. “What do you mean?”
“When I saw you last week you were looking for something,” Victor said. Rosie was impressed that he had such a good memory. She had forgotten all about seeing him.
“Maybe I can help you find it,” Victor said, playing with a pencil. “I’m good at finding things.”
Rosie considered this. On the one hand, she didn’t want his help, but on the other hand, he had lived on post longer than Rosie and her family. He might know something about the two missing dogs that would help Rosie in her investigation.
“You can’t help me search,” Rosie said, to be sure Victor did not get his hopes up. “But you can tell me if you know them.”
“Who?” Victor asked, looking wilted at the bad news of not being able to be part of the action.
“Two dogs,” Rosie said. “I call the first one Buddy. He’s a German shepherd with a black nose. And then the other one is a dog named Pepper.”
Victor paused and then shook his head. “I don’t know anyone in our neighborhood with those dogs,” he said. “But there are a lot of people I don’t know.”
This did not surprise Rosie.
Victor looked at Rosie hopefully. “Are you sure you don’t want help? I’m a good detective; that’s what my dad says.”
That might be true, but he was still not invited.
“No thanks,” Rosie said. She felt slightly bad when Victor’s eyes got a little watery, but he could find his own thing to search for; he didn’t need to glom on to hers and try to take over.
“I like dogs, especially German shepherds,” he said a woebegone voice. “That’s the kind of dog my dad has. His name is Sunshine and he’s a Military Working Dog.”
Army Brats Page 7