Molly in the Middle

by Ronni Arno

  I kick my shoes off, yell to my dad that I’m home, and take the bag up to my room. I sit on my bed and open the envelope.

  Dear Molly,

  Sorry you missed tonight! Hope these help you to feel better. I thought of you as soon as I saw them!

  Your friend,

  Kellan

  I take the tissue paper out, and inside is a pair of rainbow-colored Converse sneakers. I slip them on, and they fit perfectly.

  I flop down on my bed and press my palms against my eyes.

  I don’t deserve a friend like Kellan.

  I know what I have to do. I have to tell him the truth.

  And I’m going to do it first thing tomorrow morning.

  chapter

  14

  I WAKE UP WITH WHAT feels like a bowling ball in my stomach.

  After sleeping on it, I’m not quite sure I should tell Kellan the truth. I mean, would it do him any good? No. It would just make him feel bad. The only one who would feel better is me, because I wouldn’t be carrying around the guilt anymore. So in the interest of Kellan’s feelings, I decide not to say anything.

  I design the T-shirt for Team Chocolate Chip Cookies instead. And when I’m done, I make real chocolate chip cookies for Kellan.

  I pack the cookies in a container and place it in my backpack, along with the shirt design. When I get to Kellan’s front door, I take the cookies out even before I ring the bell.

  When he opens the door, the first thing he sees is the container of cookies in my outstretched hand.

  “Oh, wow,” he says. “More cookies! Are all of these for me?”

  “Yep,” I say, my voice a little too chipper. “Every single one.”

  “Thank you!” He grabs the container, opens the lid, and takes a whiff. “Oh, man, these smell good.”

  “And look!” I hand him the shirt design. “For Team Chocolate Chip Cookies.”

  Kellan takes the sketch from me, a big smile covering his face. “It’s us, but in chocolate chip cookie form.”

  “Yep.” I point at the cookie wearing a superhero shirt. “That’s you. And the one with rainbow hair is me.”

  “Looks exactly like us,” Kellan says. “If we were chocolate chip cookies!”

  “I’m glad you like it,” I say. “We’ll be the sweetest team at the MD Walk.”

  “Hey, how are you feeling?” Kellan has a little crease in his forehead, the one he always gets when he’s concerned.

  “Oh, I’m fine.” I wave my hand in front of my face. “Must have been a weird twelve-hour bug.”

  “You found the gift!” Kellan points to the new shoes on my feet. “We got home late, and I didn’t want to wake you. I figured you’d find it this morning.”

  “Yes, and you didn’t have to do that. In fact, you shouldn’t have done that.” I look down at the shoes, and my voice drops. “I really don’t deserve these.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” Kellan says. “My mom had to get something at the mall after dinner last night. I saw these and knew they’d be perfect for you.”

  “Thank you,” I say softly.

  “You’re welcome.” Kellan leans against the door. “Want to come in?”

  “I wish I could,” I say. “I’ve got to babysit Coco today while my dad runs some errands. Eliza’s at her friend’s house all weekend.”

  “Your mom still at your aunt’s house?”

  “Yep,” I say. “We have an ice-cream date scheduled for Tuesday.”

  Kellan rolls his eyes. “That’s just weird.”

  “Hey,” I say, trying to change the subject, “want to walk tomorrow?”

  “We probably should,” Kellan says. “I need the practice.”

  “Okay, I’ll see you after school.” Kellan waves from the doorway as I head down the steps of his front porch. I still feel a little guilty for not telling him the truth about last night, but seeing him so happy about the cookies makes me feel mostly okay.

  Dad is scrambling around the house when I get home.

  “Where’s my wallet?” He’s checking his jacket pockets, which are coming up empty.

  “Have you checked your office desk?” I ask. “That’s usually where I see it.”

  “No, but I’m sure I put it in my jacket this morning.” He mumbles something about maybe that was yesterday morning as he heads for his office.

  “Here it is,” he calls. “I found it.”

  Coco’s perched in her usual spot in front of the television. I grab the remote and click off the power.

  “Hey!” Coco yells. “I was watching that.”

  “Not anymore,” I say. “I’m in charge, and we’re going to do something outside today.”

  “You are not in charge.” Coco pouts. “Daddy!”

  “What is it, Coco?” Dad calls from down the hall.

  “Molly’s not in charge, right?” She’s standing now, with her hands firmly on her hips.

  “Yes, she is,” Dad calls back. “I have to go grocery shopping.”

  “Grocery shopping?” Coco crinkles up her nose. “Mommy goes grocery shopping.”

  “Well, Mommy’s not here right now, and we’re out of food.” Dad gives her a kiss on the forehead. “Listen to Molly while I’m out.”

  “Don’t forget to get Cocoa Puffs,” Coco tells Dad.

  “It’s on my list.” Dad shoves a crumpled piece of paper into his pocket. “See you soon.”

  “Okay, Coco,” I say once Dad leaves. “Let’s go get some fresh air.”

  “But it’s cold outside,” Coco whines.

  “No, it isn’t! It’s beautiful out there.” I point to the window. How can she want to sit inside on such an awesome spring day?

  “Fine.” Coco stomps to the closet for her jacket. “But only for a little while.”

  I feel immediately more relaxed when we get outside. The sun is strong, and a light breeze sends spring scents whirling through the air.

  “It stinks out here.” Coco waves her hand in front of her nose.

  “No, it doesn’t,” I say. “It smells like spring.”

  “It smells like horse poop.”

  I roll my eyes. Only Coco would mistake the smell of freshly mowed grass for horse poop.

  “What are we supposed to do out here?” Coco looks around like she’s landed on an alien planet.

  “Let’s go on the swings,” I suggest.

  “That’s boring.” Coco kicks a clump of grass with her foot.

  “We could climb trees,” I say.

  Coco shrugs, which is better than an outright no.

  “See that one over there?” I point to a big oak toward the back of our property. “That was my favorite one when I was your age.”

  “You climbed that when you were my age?” Coco looks from me to the tree and back again.

  “Sure,” I say. “It’s not hard.”

  “It looks hard.” She squints her eyes at the tree, as if it just personally offended her.

  “Come on.” I start walking across the yard. “I’ll show you.”

  Coco follows. I pick up the pace a bit, hoping that maybe she’ll actually run. Eight-year-olds should run in the grass and climb trees. That’s what I did when I was eight. And even though Eliza is four years older than me, we did all that stuff together when we were kids. I’m not sure what happened to Coco.

  “Okay,” I begin as we reach the oak. “First, grab on to this branch.”

  Coco stands on her tiptoes and barely reaches the branch. It’s funny how easy it is for me now. The last time I did this it seemed much higher up.

  “Good!” I say as she gets a strong hold on it. “Now pull yourself up like this.” I swing my legs up and over the branch, so I’m hanging upside down.

  “I can’t do it,” Coco says after a few tries. “It’s too high.”

  “Let me help you.” I jump down and give her a boost. Once she’s higher up, she grabs on to the branch and pulls her feet up, just like I instructed.

  “I did it!” she yells. She’s
hanging upside down, and the look of fear that shaded her face a minute ago is replaced with joy.

  “Good job,” I say. “Now pull yourself up so you’re sitting on the branch.”

  Coco tries to pull herself up, but she just doesn’t have the strength. I guess this kind of stuff takes practice.

  “I can’t do it.” She’s huffing and puffing, but she can’t lift her body high enough.

  I stand underneath her and give her a shove. “Now, quick, pull yourself up!”

  She does what I say, and amazingly enough, it works. She’s now sitting on the branch.

  “I did it! I did it!” Her voice is high and excited.

  “You did it!” I say. “That’s great.”

  “This is fun. I want to go higher!”

  “Okay, okay.” I laugh. “Now you have to stand up on the branch you’re sitting on and hold on to the trunk.”

  Slowly, Coco shifts her feet onto the branch and stands. She wraps her arms around the tree trunk like her life depends on it.

  “Now let go with one hand and grab the next branch.”

  Coco shakes her head. “I can’t let go.”

  “Yes, you can,” I say. “Just do one hand at a time.”

  “It’s too high,” Coco says. “I’m gonna fall.”

  “You’ll be fine. Just don’t look down.”

  And that’s when Coco looks down.

  “I don’t want to be up here anymore!” Her eyes bubble with tears.

  “But you’re so close,” I tell her.

  “No.” She shakes her head violently back and forth. “I want to come down.”

  I sigh. “Okay. You have to sit down again first. Slide back down onto your butt.”

  Still clinging to the tree trunk, Coco slides down so that she’s crouched on the branch.

  “Now let go of the tree, sit down, and hold on to the branch.”

  “I can’t let go!” Her lower lip is trembling.

  “You have to,” I tell her. “It’s the only way to get down. Just focus and do it slowly. One hand and then the other.”

  “I can’t!” She’s trembling all over now.

  “Coco, you have to calm down. You can’t do this if you’re freaking out.”

  “I can’t calm down,” she yells. “Just get me off of here!”

  “You have to listen to what I say.” I talk slowly and keep my voice extra calm, hoping it will rub off on her. “Let go of the trunk and put your hand on the branches. But do it slowly.”

  “Come get me!” Coco screams.

  “I can’t come get you,” I tell her, my voice rising more than I’d like it to. “The branch won’t hold both of us.”

  “I can’t do it!” She’s got her arms wrapped so tightly around the tree trunk that I can barely tell where the bark ends and her jacket begins.

  “Just let go of—”

  And just like that, she lets go.

  “No, slowly—” I yell, but it’s too late. Her arms miss the branch, and she topples to the ground below.

  chapter

  15

  COCO’S FACE IS COMPLETELY BLANK for a fraction of a second. And then the screaming begins.

  I’m at her side in a flash. “Where does it hurt?” I can barely hear myself over her cries and the drumming of my own pulse in my ears.

  “My arm!” Coco clutches her wrist as she writhes on the ground. I reach for her arm, but she screams even louder. “Don’t touch it!”

  My brain freezes, kind of like my laptop sometimes does when it’s overloaded. There’s too much to process, and I don’t know what to do next. I slump down beside Coco in the grass, rubbing her back as she screeches.

  I have to get to a phone. I have to call someone who will know what to do.

  I take a deep breath. “Can you stand up?”

  “Nooooooo!” Coco answers in between sobs.

  “Do your legs hurt?”

  “I.” Sob. “Don’t.” Sob. “Know.” Sob.

  “How about if you try to stand up? I need to get to a phone, and I don’t want to leave you here by yourself.” I get to my feet, hoping she’ll follow my lead.

  “I can’t,” Coco says. But she didn’t even try.

  “Come on, Coco.” My jaw clenches. “You have to give it a shot.”

  “I can’t,” she wails.

  “We’ll go inside, and I’ll call Dad while you watch TV.”

  This gets her attention. She stops crying long enough to roll over onto her side.

  “That’s it,” I tell her, gently holding her under the arm that doesn’t hurt. “You can do this.”

  Coco slowly gets to her feet, tears still pouring out of her eyes. Her face is covered with dirt, but at least I don’t see any blood.

  “It hurts,” she says. “Bad.”

  “I know.” I move as fast as I can across the backyard, practically dragging Coco along with me. When we finally get inside, I set her gently on the couch and place the remote control in her good hand. She’s still crying, but not nearly as hard as before. “I’ll be right back. I’m going to call Dad.”

  She nods and flips the channel to her favorite cartoon.

  I grab the house phone, since my cell phone is still in my room, and dial Dad’s number. It goes straight to voice mail. Of course.

  “Ummm, Dad?” I begin. “It’s Molly. There’s been a little accident, and Coco is hurt. It’s her arm. Please call me back.”

  I stand over the phone for fifteen minutes, willing it to ring. Coco’s cries get louder, and I do what I should have done in the first place.

  I call Mom.

  Mom answers immediately. “What is it, Molly? I’m about to go into a spin class.”

  “Oh.” I swallow. “It’s just that . . .”

  “Molly, is something wrong?” Mom’s voice is more high-pitched than usual.

  “It’s Coco,” I blurt out. “She’s hurt.”

  “How badly?” Mom never panics in a crisis. She just gets right to the point.

  “I don’t know. Her arm hurts. She fell out of a tree.”

  Silence.

  “Where’s your father?” She’s switched to lawyer voice. Not good.

  “Grocery shopping. I was babysitting. I tried calling him but—”

  “I’m on my way.” And then she hangs up.

  I rush back to Coco, whose sobs are starting to ramp up again. “Mom’s on her way.”

  For some reason, this makes Coco cry harder, and the pressure behind my own eyes builds. But I can’t cry. I have to hold it together for Coco.

  “Can I get you anything? Some juice, maybe? A cookie?”

  Coco shakes her head. It must be bad if she’s turning down cookies. She’s still holding her right wrist, so I can’t get a good look at it.

  I spend the next fifteen minutes sitting next to Coco watching cartoons, although it’s hard to hear over her sobs and groans.

  “It really hurts.” She says this every thirty seconds or so, and I nod sympathetically each time.

  “Molly?” Mom’s voice echoes from the front door.

  “In here,” I call out.

  Mom’s sneakers squeak down the hallway until she reaches the rug in the living room. She’s dressed for her weekend spin class. Black bike shorts. A white tank top. She stops to survey the situation before walking over to lean down next to Coco.

  “Mommy!” Coco wipes her face with her good hand. “My arm hurts. Badly.”

  “Let me see.” I move off the couch and stand to the side, so Mom can do her Mom thing. Coco screams when Mom touches her wrist.

  Mom stands up, pursing her lips. “It needs an X-ray.”

  Coco cries even louder at that. “What’s that? Will it hurt?”

  “It’s just something that will help a doctor see your bones. It doesn’t hurt, Coco. But we do have to go to the hospital.”

  The garage door rumbles, and Dad comes trudging up the steps carrying a bunch of grocery bags. “Karen, I saw your car. What are you doing here?” His eyes are br
ight, like he’s happy to see her. But when he sees Coco, his entire face droops. “What happened?”

  “I don’t know, Paul,” Mom says. “You tell me.”

  Dad looks at me.

  “I was teaching Coco to climb a tree, and she fell.” I blink back the tears that are ready to spring from my eyes.

  “I hurt my arm,” Coco adds in between hiccups.

  Dad drops the grocery bags and joins Coco on the couch. “Oh no, honey. Let me see.”

  “I already looked at it.” Mom crosses her arms. “She needs an X-ray.”

  “I’ll take her,” Dad says.

  “I’ll take her,” Mom says, her voice clipped. “I’ve already missed my spin class today.”

  “I’ll go with you,” Dad says.

  “No.” Mom glares at Dad. “You’ve already done enough.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Dad throws his arms in the air.

  “Maybe if you were watching them—”

  “Watching them?” Dad interrupts. “Molly was babysitting. You’ve left Molly alone with Coco a million times!”

  “And nothing like this ever happened on my watch.” Mom’s lawyer voice.

  “Nothing like this happens on your watch because it’s hardly ever your watch. You don’t spend any time at home!” Dad’s face is bright red, and the vein in his forehead is sticking out.

  “I’m never home? You’re never home!” Now Mom’s raising her voice too. I’m not sure which is worse. When Mom yells or when she doesn’t.

  Coco starts crying even louder now, not that I can blame her.

  Mom squeezes her eyes shut and takes a deep breath. “We’ll discuss this later. I’m taking Coco to the hospital.”

  And as both of them help Coco up from the couch, I disappear into my room.

  Nobody even notices.

  chapter

  16

  A FEW HOURS LATER MOM brings Coco home. She’s got a neon pink cast on her right arm.

  “I told you we should have stayed inside,” she tells me the second she sees me.

  “Remember what the doctor told you,” Mom says to Coco. “You have to wrap your cast in a plastic bag when—”

  “I know, I know.” Coco bounces over to the couch, where she finds the remote control.

  “Coco!” Mom’s voice is sharp, and Coco knows she means business. She drops the remote and heads back toward Mom. “You have to listen. You can’t count on anyone else to do this for you.” She glares at Dad.