Molly in the Middle

by Ronni Arno

  “You’re a good kid, Molly,” she begins. I swallow hard, because she never, ever calls anybody by their first name. It makes her sound like a real person instead of just my old, cranky language arts teacher. “I’d hate to see you hanging out with the wrong crowd.”

  I purse my lips. “The wrong crowd?”

  “I’ve been teaching for a long time.” Mrs. Littman gives a little chuckle. “A long time. I’ve seen all kinds of kids, and I have a pretty good idea of who they are to their cores.”

  She’s looking at me as if she’s waiting for me to respond. But I don’t know what to say.

  “Sometimes good kids make bad decisions,” she says. “But ultimately, your choices determine your actions, and your actions determine who you are. If you make good choices, your actions will reflect that. Does that make sense?”

  I know she’s trying to tell me that she thinks I made a bad decision, covering for Christina. She knows she asked Christina to see her after school and not me. Of course she knows. Mrs. Littman may be boring and old and strict, but she’s not stupid. I can’t admit any of this to her, so I just nod and hope she’ll let me go.

  Mrs. Littman takes a deep breath. “Being popular seems important now, Molly, I get that. But believe me when I tell you, when you grow up and become an adult, you won’t care whether or not you were popular in middle school. It just won’t matter at all. What will matter, though, is that you maintain your integrity. Just remember that.”

  I nod again, even though she clearly doesn’t understand. Middle school was probably a hundred years ago for her, and she’s obviously forgotten what it was like.

  Mrs. Littman sighs. “You can go home now, Molly.”

  “Okay, thank you,” I say, and I walk as fast as I can toward the door. I close it behind me and let out the biggest breath I’ve ever held. Robert is leaning against the lockers, and he gives me a huge grin when he sees me.

  “You okay?” he asks.

  “Yeah.” I roll my shoulders, not realizing how stiff they were when I was talking to Mrs. Littman. “I didn’t tell her anything.”

  “Good,” Robert says. “I was afraid she’d try to corner you into telling the truth.”

  I’m not sure what Mrs. Littman was trying to do. I’m just thankful it’s over with.

  “Well, this should secure your spot on the guest list for Christina’s Birthday Bash,” Robert says.

  “You think so?”

  “Probably. You took one for the team.” He puts his fist out, and I bump his fist with mine.

  All I’ve ever wanted is to be part of something—part of a team. And now I am. So as I walk out of school, Robert by my side, I wonder why I feel like I’ve been kicked in the stomach.

  chapter

  19

  KELLAN SMILES WHEN HE OPENS the front door.

  “Ready for a practice walk?” I hold out the open pack of cookies I bought for us at lunch and brush any thoughts of school today out of my mind. This afternoon is all about Kellan.

  “You are the best.” Kellan takes the cookie out of the package and shoves the entire thing into his mouth.

  “Be back soon, Mom,” Kellan calls. But before he can walk out the door, Mrs. Bingham is by his side.

  “You’re sure you’re up for this?” She has her eyebrows raised, like she’s doubting that he’ll tell her the truth.

  “Mom, I’m fine.” Kellan kisses her on the cheek. “We won’t be long.”

  Mrs. Bingham pauses for a few seconds, then finally nods her head. “Have fun. And come back if you’re not feeling well. Molly, do you have your phone?”

  “Yep.” I pat my pocket.

  “Call me if you need a ride, okay?”

  “Sure thing, Mrs. Bingham.”

  “Bye, Mom.” Kellan rolls his eyes and shuts the front door behind us.

  We take the same route as always, but we’re going slower than usual. Kellan’s looking weak today.

  “So, how are you feeling?” I keep my voice as light as possible, as if I’m just making casual conversation.

  “Oh no,” Kellan says. “My mom got to you.”

  “Not really,” I say. “I mean, she’s always like that.”

  Kellan laughs. “That’s the truth.”

  “But really, you feeling okay?”

  “Meh,” he says. “Been better, been worse.”

  “Is physical therapy helping much?” I keep my pace slow and steady to match his.

  “It’s hard to say,” he answers. “Maybe I’d feel worse if I didn’t have it.”

  “And how’s the green tea therapy?”

  Kellan grimaces. “I’m sorry, but that stuff is nasty.”

  I giggle. “Try adding honey.”

  Kellan’s lip curls. “Still sounds gross.”

  By the time we arrive at our bench, it’s obvious that Kellan wants to sit down, so I sit first.

  “Thanks, Mols.” Kellan rubs his legs. “I guess I’m just tired.”

  “That makes two of us,” I say. I think about telling him what happened at school today but decide against it. Kellan doesn’t need to hear any of my silly drama right now. Plus, if I’m being honest, I don’t want to tell him that I lied to Mrs. Littman.

  “You know the worst part?” Kellan sighs. “I can’t even tell my mom how bad I’m feeling.”

  “Seriously?” I ask. “You always tell your mom everything.”

  “I know.” He throws up his arms. “That’s why this is so hard. But if I tell her, there’s no way she’d let me go back to school.”

  “Maybe that’s not such a bad thing,” I say. The minute the words leave my mouth, though, they hang in the air like a pack of wasps, ready to sting.

  “You said school was fun these days.” Kellan furrows his eyebrows, obviously confused by my seemingly sudden change of heart.

  “Parts of it are fun,” I say. “Parts aren’t.”

  “That’s good enough for me, Mols.” Kellan leans back on the bench and closes his eyes. “I could use a little bit of fun in my life.”

  We sit in silence for a few minutes, but it’s the best kind of silence. I’m not wondering what he’s thinking, because I know. I always know. Kellan is the best at sharing his feelings. A pang pulls at my stomach because, these days, I’m not so sure that I’m being as honest with him as he’s being with me.

  “Can I tell you something else?” Kellan looks up at me, a small frown covering his face.

  “Of course.”

  Kellan sits forward on the bench, his elbows resting on his legs. “I’m afraid I won’t be able to finish the walk.”

  “Yes, you will,” I say. “I know you will.”

  “But what if I can’t?”

  “You can. And you will.”

  “But what if I can’t, Mols?”

  My brain is spinning because the thought has never crossed my mind. Of course Kellan will finish the walk. That’s why we’ve been practicing for months.

  “I guess I figured if I could do this walk, then there’s a chance I could beat this, you know? If I can do this, then I could handle school, and if I could do that, then I could handle the next challenge that comes my way,” Kellan says.

  “You can handle anything, Kels.” I put my hand on his. “I know you can.”

  “But what if I can’t? What if I literally can’t put one foot in front of the other?”

  “I’ll be there to help you.” I squeeze his hand. “I’ll push you in the wheelchair. I’ll carry you on my back. Whatever it takes. We’ll do it together.”

  Neither of us says anything else. We just sit there together, on the bench, holding hands. But the thing is, I’m scared. I’ve never heard Kellan talk this way. He’s always so positive. If Kellan loses hope, then the whole world is doomed.

  • • •

  The next day is ice-cream day. Mom picks me up from school, and we take the short drive to Clearville Creamery.

  We settle in, me with my ice-cream sundae and Mom with her plain black coffee. I s
wirl my spoon around in my bowl, churning together the vanilla ice cream, chocolate sauce, and rainbow sprinkles. Once everything is all mixed together, I dip my spoon in and out, but I don’t actually eat any of it.

  “Something on your mind, Molly?” Mom sips her coffee.

  I debate telling her everything. I’m worried that even though I lied to Mrs. Littman, Christina still won’t invite me to her Birthday Bash. I’m worried that Robert won’t like me anymore if I don’t get invited to Christina’s Birthday Bash. I’m worried that Dad doesn’t know how to function without Mom there telling him what to do. I’m worried that Kellan is losing hope, and most of all, I’m worried that I don’t know how to fix any of these things.

  Since I can’t talk to Kellan about these things, and since Mom asked, I decide to let loose. “I guess there is—”

  I’m interrupted by Mom’s cell phone.

  “Hold that thought.” Mom fishes around in her purse and pulls out her phone. She answers it, then holds one finger up to me as she takes the call outside. I dip my spoon into my sundae, which is quickly turning into a gooey puddle of mush, but I can’t bring myself to eat. It feels like there’s a rubber band wrapped around my stomach, and food—even ice cream—looks completely unappealing.

  “I’m sorry, Molly.” Mom walks toward our table, her heels click-clacking on the tile floor. “That’s work. I have to go.”

  “Oh,” I say, standing up and grabbing my jacket off the back of my chair.

  “It’s a potential client I’ve been chasing for months. He’s finally willing to talk to me, and apparently, it’s now or never. You understand.”

  I don’t understand. I was just about to tell her what’s going on in my life, and she completely forgot about that as soon as the phone rang. Then I remember what Eliza told me—that Mom and Dad are self-absorbed—and my heart sinks into my stomach as I realize that she’s right. But how can I tell Mom this? She doesn’t want to hear it now, and it wouldn’t matter anyway.

  “Rain check?” Mom says to me as we get into her car.

  “Sure, Mom,” I say, but I know there won’t be a rain check. Mom’s schedule is written in stone and planned for weeks in advance. I wait for her to ask me what I was going to say before her phone rang, but she doesn’t. She pulls into our driveway, gives me a kiss on the cheek, and tells me to have a nice night. Then she hightails it out of our street, clearly breaking the speed limit as she goes.

  I stand on the porch and watch her car until it’s out of sight. As soon as I open the front door, a wall of screams hits my ears.

  “Dad said you have to take your medicine!” Eliza’s standing over Coco, a small cup of purple liquid in her hand.

  “I don’t want to.” Coco is sitting on the floor. “It’s gross.”

  “It doesn’t matter if it’s gross. You need to take it.”

  “No!” Coco gets up and runs up the stairs. “And you can’t make me.”

  “Fine!” Eliza screams. “Get an infection! It doesn’t matter to me.” She pours the medicine back into the bottle and shoves the bottle into the refrigerator.

  “What are you doing home?” Eliza asks. “I thought you had a date with Mom.” She puts air quotes around the word “date.”

  “She had to go back to work,” I say.

  Eliza shakes her head. “She’s unbelievable,” she mutters under her breath. “I guess she couldn’t be bothered to come in and check on Coco.”

  “She had to run,” I say. “Something about a client.”

  “Right, and anyway, Coco’s ice-cream date is on Mondays. Can’t mess with the calendar.”

  “Do you have ice-cream dates with Mom?”

  Eliza laughs. “Not if I can help it.”

  For a minute I consider telling Eliza what I was going to tell Mom, but before I can, she pulls her phone out of her pocket, puts her headphones in, and makes her way up to her room.

  I sit down at the kitchen table and get started on my homework. Just as I’m halfway through my math worksheet, my phone rings. When I see Kellan’s name, my stomach drops, and I immediately think something’s terribly wrong. Kellan always texts.

  I answer my phone. “Are you okay?”

  Kellan laughs, which makes my whole body instantly relax.

  “I’m better than okay,” he says. “I’m going back to school!”

  “What?” I almost drop the phone, but I catch it before it hits the floor. “How—what?” My brain has forgotten how to form words, probably because it’s too busy swirling with conflicting feelings. I’m thrilled for Kellan. I’m worried for Kellan. And if I’m being honest, I’m worried for myself. How will Kellan fit in with my new world at school?

  “Apparently, my mom’s been planning this for a few weeks. She didn’t want to tell me until everything was finalized. Which now it is!”

  “Wow.” The word comes out as more shocked than excited.

  “You okay, Mols?” Kellan sounds sad, like I just popped his favorite balloon.

  “Me?” I clear my throat, hoping to also clear my head. “Of course! This is great news. I’m just—I’m just surprised. After our walk today . . . I mean, you weren’t feeling well—”

  Kellan lowers his voice. “Yeah, I didn’t tell her that part.”

  “Do you think you should? What if it’s dangerous?”

  Kellan chuckles. “It’s not dangerous. And anyway, since I heard the news, I feel great. Better than ever. And that’s the truth.”

  Kellan’s enthusiasm is contagious. No matter how I feel, the important thing is that he’s happy.

  “This is great news, Kels. I can’t wait to see you in school. When do you come back?”

  “First thing next week,” he says, as happy as I’ve ever heard him.

  After we hang up, I try to focus on my homework, but the only thing I can think about is Kellan. Kellan and Robert. Kellan and Christina. Kellan and me. How will I juggle my old life with my new life? I put my head down on the kitchen table. I wish I were back in second grade. Life was so much easier then.

  chapter

  20

  MRS. BINGHAM OFFERS TO GIVE me a ride to school so Kellan and I can go in together on his first day back.

  Kellan’s already in the back of the car when I get to their house, and he waves at me from the window as I walk up the driveway. He’s way too excited for a day at school, and I cringe as I wonder if Christina, Nina, Robert, and Wade will accept him.

  “Good morning!” Mrs. Bingham greets me as I slide into the backseat next to Kellan.

  “Best morning ever,” Kellan says. He’s wearing blue jeans and a blue-and-white-striped polo shirt. He looks nice. Cute, even. I’m hoping this will not go unnoticed by Christina.

  “Are you sure you’re ready for this?” I whisper to Kellan.

  “I’m so ready,” he whispers back, a huge grin taking up half his face.

  “Now, remember, Kellan,” Mrs. Bingham says, glancing at him in the rearview mirror, “if you’re uncomfortable, or tired, or anything, go to the nurse and have her call me.”

  Kellan rolls his eyes. “I know, Mom. We’ve been over this a hundred times.”

  “Then a hundred and one can’t hurt,” she says. “Molly, you’ll look out for him?”

  “Yes,” I promise. And then wish I hadn’t.

  Mrs. Bingham pulls into a handicapped spot near the school’s front entrance. I scoot out of the car and wait for Kellan to adjust his leg braces, which his mother is making him use.

  “Want me to take your backpack?” I ask, which is still in the backseat of the car.

  “No, I can take it,” Kellan says. “But can you hand it to me?”

  I reach into the car, grab his backpack, and give it to him. Rather than sling it onto one shoulder like I do, he secures it on both shoulders. He winces once, and I come this close to telling Mrs. Bingham that he looks like he’s in pain. But I know that would destroy Kellan, so I keep my mouth shut.

  I hold the front door open for Kellan, but I
’m not sure it makes much of a difference. Kids are pouring into the building, and Kellan has to brace himself for the onslaught. I squeeze my eyes shut as a clumsy sixth grader almost knocks him over. I breathe a big sigh of relief when he makes it to the office in one piece.

  “We have to meet with the principal to go over your schedule,” Mrs. Bingham tells Kellan.

  “Let’s do it.” Kellan’s whole face lights up. “Mols, I’ll see you soon.”

  “See you soon.” I return the smile, and I wonder if he can tell that it’s fake.

  I walk into first period and find Christina, Nina, Robert, and Wade huddled around Christina’s desk. Robert waves me over.

  “Hey,” he says. “We’re just finishing our homework.”

  Sure enough, they all have their worksheets out, and they’re frantically writing down answers, glancing at the clock every few seconds.

  “Did you finish yours?” Christina asks.

  “Oh, yeah.” I pull my sheet out of my backpack, and Christina grabs it out of my hands before I can even set it down on the desk.

  “Thanks,” she says, and copies down everything that I wrote.

  Mrs. Littman is nowhere in sight, but I’m sure she’ll freak out if she sees what’s happening here. And I don’t think she’ll give me any more free passes.

  “You guys,” I say in a hushed tone, “Mrs. Littman is going to be back any minute now—”

  “Which is why you just have to let us concentrate on getting these answers down,” Christina says, not looking up from her paper.

  I open my mouth to say something else, but Robert elbows me slightly and whispers in my ear, “Just go with it. Rumor has it she’s giving out invitations tomorrow.”

  I snap my mouth shut, and my heart does figure eights in my chest. Tomorrow? Has Christina had enough time to really get to know me? What if I don’t get an invitation? Will Robert, Wade, and Nina forget about me? Will I go back to being invisible?

  “Done.” Christina shoves her worksheet into her backpack, and I snatch mine off of her desk. Mrs. Littman walks in two seconds later.

  I dart over to my own seat and rub my sweaty palms on my jeans. That was a close one. From behind me, Robert kicks my chair, and when I turn around, he gives me a big smile and a thumbs-up. I smile back, because I just can’t help myself.