Molly in the Middle

by Ronni Arno

  “I can handle it, Karen.”

  Mom just ignores him. “Coco, you have to wear a plastic bag while taking a bath. And even if it gets itchy, don’t put anything inside your cast. It could get stuck there.”

  “Okay, okay,” Coco says, and then peeks toward the kitchen. “I’m hungry.”

  “I’ll make you a sandwich,” Dad says, then adds, under his breath, “if your mother thinks I’m capable enough.”

  “So, Coco, I’ll see you tomorrow for our ice-cream date.” Mom gives her a peck on the cheek.

  “Yay! Ice cream.” Coco fist pumps her good arm.

  “And, Molly”—Mom turns to me—“I’ll see you on Tuesday.”

  I nod. She gives me a quick hug and leaves without saying anything to Dad.

  When Eliza gets home after dinner, Coco recaps the entire story, with some added exaggeration in there for shock value.

  “Molly made me climb to the top of the tree, and then she told me to jump down . . .”

  I roll my eyes. This is the tenth time I’ve heard this story. She told Dad, and then she called every single friend she has to tell them what a horrible sister/babysitter I am.

  “Did Mom freak?” Eliza asks me when we’re alone in the kitchen. “I mean, you know, in her Mom way.”

  I know exactly what she means. Our mother doesn’t freak out the way other mothers do. She doesn’t yell or scream or stamp her feet. In fact, Mom’s way of freaking out is pretty much the opposite of all that. She turns to stone. Her voice gets cold, and her edges get sharp. She becomes an angry statue.

  “Yep, pretty much.” I fall onto a stool at the counter.

  Eliza nods. “That sucks.”

  “She was really mad at Dad.”

  “She’s always mad at Dad,” Eliza says, grabbing an iced tea from the fridge.

  “She blamed him.” I look down at my feet, which are hanging about six inches above the floor. Seeing them like that makes me feel small.

  “She always blames him.” Eliza takes a big swig of iced tea, then wipes her mouth with the back of her hand.

  “But it was my fault.” I practically whisper this, like I’m confessing a deep, dark secret.

  Eliza puts her bottle of tea on the counter. “It wasn’t your fault.”

  I snap my head up to look at her. I didn’t even think she heard me.

  “Yes, it was,” I say, swallowing the lump that’s growing in my throat. “I made her go outside. I told her to climb the tree.”

  “So what?” Eliza looks straight at me. “That’s what kids are supposed to do.”

  “But if I didn’t do that, Coco wouldn’t have broken her arm, and Mom wouldn’t have gotten mad at Dad, and—”

  “Coco should know how to climb a tree. Mom and Dad should have taught her. Or at least they should have made her go outside once in a while. Instead, they just let her do whatever she wants. You know why?”

  I shake my head.

  “Because it’s easier.”

  I chew on my lower lip as I think about this. It’s true they let Coco watch TV and play video games and eat whatever she wants whenever she wants to do it. But I never actually thought about why.

  “Listen, Molly.” Eliza sits down on the stool next to mine. “I had to figure this out for myself, but it’s the truth. Mom and Dad aren’t great parents.”

  I blink, not sure I heard what I think I heard. “What?”

  “They’re kind of selfish.”

  My mouth opens, but no words come out. I don’t know what to say to this. I’ve always known my parents are busy and distracted, but I never thought of them as selfish.

  “Think about it,” Eliza says as she slides off her stool and grabs her bottle of iced tea. “I’m going up to my room.”

  I sit there, swinging my feet from the stool, as Eliza’s words bounce off my brain. My parents aren’t bad parents. That’s just Eliza being overdramatic. Bad parents hurt their kids and forget to feed them and don’t buy them clothes. Mom takes us shopping all the time. And Dad always picks up takeout. I mean, sure, maybe they’re not like Mrs. Bingham, but she’s an exceptionally good parent. My parents are . . . My mind searches for the right word. And I find it immediately.

  Average.

  Just like me.

  chapter

  17

  THE NEXT WEEK GOES BY in a blur, like this new life of mine is only a dream. On Monday, as planned, Christina, Nina, and I wear our new matching sweaters, and I can tell that practically the entire seventh grade looks at me differently because of it. Because of one piece of clothing.

  On Tuesday, Mom and I have another ice-cream date, but it’s about as fun as our first one was. I go by Kellan’s house most afternoons like always, but a lot of my time is being taken up by helping Coco do just about everything. Without her right hand, she has trouble getting dressed, she can’t tie her shoes, and she can barely even feed herself. So I’ve been feeling like her mother, especially with Mom not at home. I actually feel bad for Coco, and it makes me question Mom’s “mom-ness” even more. She should be here.

  I’m actually happy when Monday rolls around, and I find Nina at my locker when I get to school. Surprisingly, she’s alone. I rarely see her without Christina.

  “OMG, Molly, that skirt is adorbs!” Nina looks even happier than she usually does.

  “Oh, thanks.” I look down at the skirt that was shoved in the bottom of one of Eliza’s bins. It’s purple and layered, and it shimmies whenever I move.

  “So, I’ve been meaning to ask you.” Nina smiles sheepishly. “How’s Kellan? I mean, you’re still friends with him, right?”

  “Oh, yeah.” This question catches me off guard. Even though we were all friends when we were kids, Nina hasn’t even seen Kellan since fifth grade. “He’s—he’s good. I mean, he’s doing okay.”

  Nina sighs, as if she’s relieved to hear this. “I think about him sometimes. I wonder how he’s doing.”

  I raise my eyebrows. “Oh, yeah?”

  “Yeah.” Nina nods. “I’m glad to hear he’s doing okay. He was always so—”

  “Hi, girls.” Christina slides in behind Nina. “Fab skirt, Molly. Whatcha talking about?”

  “Oh, nothing.” Nina’s face turns crimson, and she waves her hand in front of it, as if she’s trying to erase the words that are lingering there. “Just told Molly I love her skirt too.”

  Christina smiles, her bright pink lip gloss shimmering under the florescent lights of the hallway.

  The warning bell rings, and Christina’s smile instantly fades. “Ugh. Littman’s class first.”

  I don’t mind Mrs. Littman, but I know a lot of the other kids don’t like her. She is pretty strict. But as long as you pay attention, she’s a fair teacher. I pull my language arts book out of my locker, and the three of us walk to class, chattering away as if we’ve been friends forever.

  Robert’s already there when we walk in, throwing crumpled-up paper balls at Wade, who catches them, scrunches them into a tighter ball, and hurls them back. Clearly, Mrs. Littman has stepped out of the room.

  “Molly!” Robert smiles at me as he dodges Wade’s latest throw. “How goes it?”

  “Hi, Robert,” I say. I slide into my desk.

  “Where’s Mrs. Littman?” Nina’s eyes dart around the room.

  “Who knows?” Robert says, lobbing another paper ball at Wade.

  “Who cares?” Christina says, and picks up one of Wade’s discarded clumps of paper and throws it at Robert.

  “What is going on in here?” Mrs. Littman’s voice sounds like nails on a chalkboard, and the entire class freezes. “This is not the kind of behavior I expect from you when I have to step out of the classroom.”

  “Mr. Jackson, Mr. Barber, and Ms. Golden, pick up that mess, and please make an appointment to see me after school.”

  Robert and Wade do as they’re told, but Christina protests. “Sorry, Mrs. Littman, but I have a meeting after school that I can’t miss.”

  “Well,
you’ll miss it today.”

  “I don’t think you understand.” Christina puts her hands on her hips. “I can’t miss it. It’s with the caterers at my parents’ country club. They’re very busy, and we’ve had this meeting on the calendar for months.”

  “I don’t care if it’s with the queen of England, Ms. Golden. I expect you to see me today after school. We’re going to have a little lesson on respect and how to behave properly in class.”

  “But—” Christina begins.

  “Take a seat, Ms. Golden. This conversation is over.”

  Christina stomps over to her desk and hurls herself into her chair. She immediately crosses her arms in front of her, not even bothering to take out her textbook. I cringe.

  “Turn to page eighty-three, please,” Mrs. Littman says. She glances at Christina for what feels like hours, until she finally—and dramatically—pulls her book out of her backpack.

  When the bell rings and we’re in the hallway, Christina pulls Nina, Wade, Robert, and me into a corner. “This is unacceptable. We have to do something.”

  “It’s no big thing,” Wade says. “We’ll just meet with her after school, apologize, she’ll give us a lecture, and then we’ll be out of there. It’s not like this is the first time for us.” Wade points to Robert, who grins.

  “Wade’s right. It takes less than two minutes, and it makes Littman feel superior.”

  “I don’t care. She’s going to pay for this,” Christina says. “And you guys are going to help me come up with a plan.”

  “A plan?” Nina asks, her nose wrinkled.

  “Yes, to get her off my case. And to get back at her for being such a crank.” Christina squares her shoulders and looks from Nina, to me, to Wade, and then to Robert. Nobody says anything. “Look, I have a very important meeting with the caterer today. To talk about my Birthday Bash Brunch. I’m sure you all want to help me out with this, right?”

  “Well, yeah,” Robert says. “But you don’t want to overreact—”

  Christina puts her hands on her hips. “I think you’d agree, Robert, especially since you’ve been on the guest list, that my Birthday Bash is the party of the year. We can’t have anything ruin it. Especially not that hag, Littman.”

  Robert nods. “Yeah, you’re right. I’m in.” He puts his fist into the middle of our circle.

  “Me too.” Wade adds his fist to Robert’s.

  Nina and I glance quickly at each other. Nina’s eyes are wild, like she’s been trapped in a cage.

  “Well?” Christina says. “Are you guys in?”

  Nina nods ever so slightly and slowly adds her fist to the ones in the circle.

  I look around at this tight little group, the only one I’ve ever been a part of, and swallow hard.

  “I’m in too.”

  Christina adds her fist to mine, and we stand there in unison, ready to fight for one another. And even though there’s an uncomfortable tug at my stomach, I smile.

  Because I finally belong somewhere.

  chapter

  18

  BY NOON I’M FEELING WIPED out for some reason. I swing by the cafeteria to buy a pack of cookies (one for me and one I’ll save for Kellan), and then, instead of going to lunch, I head to the library. I haven’t had lunch in the library for a while, and I’m surprised to find that I sort of miss it. The same kids who always eat in the library are there, and I find their presence comforting. It’s nice to know that some things, at least, don’t change.

  I snap a picture of Kellan’s cookie with my phone and text it to him.

  I’m saving this for u.

  I wait for his reply, which comes within seconds.

  U r awesome! :)

  A smile spreads across my entire face. There’s nothing better in the world than a happy text from your best friend.

  I’m in my last period class (Spanish) when someone knocks on the classroom door.

  “Entrar!” Senora Gonzalez says.

  Christina opens the door and steps inside our classroom. “Hi, Senora Gonzalez. Mrs. Littman asked to see Molly.”

  Why does Mrs. Littman want to see me? But when I look up at Christina, she just winks.

  Senora Gonzalez tilts her head to the side. “En Español, por favor.”

  Christina rolls her eyes. “Um. Señora Littman . . . um . . . um . . . ummm . . .”

  “Quiere ver,” Señora Gonzalez prods her, thank goodness.

  “Yeah, that,” Christina says. “Quiere ver Molly.”

  “Ve, Molly. Hasta mañana.” Señora Gonzalez gives me a wave.

  I throw my Spanish notebook into my backpack, sling my backpack over my shoulder, and follow Christina into the hallway.

  “What’s going on?” I ask. “Why does Mrs. Littman want to see me?”

  “She doesn’t.” Christina saunters down the hallway, her blond bob swooshing back and forth. “It’s all part of the plan.”

  “The plan?” I practically have to jog to keep up with her.

  “Yes, the plan to let me keep my appointment with the caterer today. Robert, Wade, and I came up with one during math.”

  She starts to slow down as we approach Mrs. Littman’s classroom, and she stops just shy of the door. “Here’s the deal.” Christina looks around to be sure nobody’s listening, but we’re the only ones in the hallway. “You, Wade, and Robert are going to go in there as soon as the bell rings. When she asks why you’re there, look confused and tell her that she told you to see her after class.”

  “But she told you to see her after class, not me,” I say.

  “That’s what she thinks,” Christina huffs. “But we’re going to convince her that she’s wrong.”

  I open my mouth to tell her that we’ll never get away with it, but the bell rings. The door to Mrs. Littman’s class flings opens, and kids come pouring out. The hallway is suddenly packed with people scrambling to leave for the day. The sudden burst of noise is overwhelming, which is why I jump when Robert taps me on the shoulder.

  “Ready for Plan Make Littman Think She’s Crazy?”

  “I was just explaining the plan to her, but she’s not completely on board.” Christina rolls her eyes when she says this, and I want to remind her that there are holes in her plan.

  “We’re going to make Littman think that she asked Wade, me, and you to stay after school,” Robert says.

  “I know, but how are we going to do that?” I ask.

  “We’re just going to walk in like you’re supposed to be there. And if she questions us, we’ll look all confused.”

  “Yes, but what if she asks the rest of the class tomorrow morning? We’ll get in even bigger trouble.”

  “We’ve got that covered.” Christina smirks. “I already told everyone in the class to go along with it.”

  “How do you know they will?” I feel a little nauseous, picturing the look that would appear on my mother’s face if Mrs. Littman called her in for an impromptu conference.

  “Please.” Christina waves her hand in front of me. “It’s Birthday Bash season. Everyone wants to be on my good side right now.”

  As the last student leaves Mrs. Littman’s classroom, Wade pats Robert on the back. “Let’s do this.”

  “Good luck,” Christina whispers before sauntering down the hallway. “I’m counting on you.”

  Before I can tell them that I don’t want to do this, that it’s lying to a teacher—and that there’s no way Mrs. Littman will fall for it—my legs, which seem to have a mind of their own, follow Robert and Wade into the classroom.

  “We’re here, Mrs. Littman,” Wade says. “As you instructed.”

  Mrs. Littman looks up from the papers on her desk. “Where’s Ms. Golden?”

  Robert shrugs. “I have no idea.”

  “And why is Ms. Mahoney here?” Mrs. Littman raises her eyebrows at me.

  “You asked to see us,” Robert says.

  “I asked to see you two boys”—Mrs. Littman nods to Robert and Wade—“and Ms. Golden.”


  “I thought you wanted to see the three of us,” Robert says, and Wade nods a little too enthusiastically.

  “No. I definitely asked to see Ms. Golden.” Mrs. Littman turns her gaze to me. “Why are you here, Ms. Mahoney?”

  It feels like all the air gets sucked out of the room at that very moment. I take a deep breath in and try to fill my lungs back up before speaking.

  “You asked me to see you after school.” I can’t look her in the eyes, so I stare at the mole on her right cheek instead.

  “I asked to see Ms. Golden after school.” Mrs. Littman’s stare is burning a hole into my head, and I’m pretty sure she can see right inside it.

  I square my shoulders and stand up as straight as I can. “No, it was definitely me.”

  Mrs. Littman’s brow furrows for a split second, and Robert takes that opportunity to steer the conversation away from me.

  “We shouldn’t have been goofing around in class. We’re really sorry about that.”

  “Yeah, we’re really sorry,” Wade echoes.

  “Mmm-hmm.” Mrs. Littman leans back in her chair and looks at Robert, then Wade, then me. “How about if you three help me clean up this room?”

  “We’re on it, Mrs. Littman,” Robert says, giving her his best and brightest smile.

  After we pick up the papers on the floor, water all of Mrs. Littman’s plants, and put the chairs on top of the desks, Mrs. Littman dismisses us. Well, she dismisses Robert and Wade.

  “Ms. Mahoney, can I talk to you for a minute?”

  Robert gives me a nod and a thumbs-up as he heads out the door. “I’ll wait for you in the hallway,” he whispers.

  I force my feet to walk in the direction of Mrs. Littman’s desk. All I want to do is run out of this room, but I have to see this through. I have to play my part in Christina’s plan or risk going back to being alone and invisible. And I refuse to do that again.

  “Yes, Mrs. Littman?” I’m standing next to her desk, playing with a loose thread hanging from my sweater.

  Mrs. Littman gets up from her chair and moves to the front of her desk so she’s right next to me.