Odd Girl In

by Jo Whittemore

  I pointed out a strip of restaurants and game and clothing shops a few blocks away. “Here. The Style Mile.”

  Parker sat quietly, chewing his lips while I chewed my cereal. “Fine,” he said when I was almost done eating. “We’ll try your way so I can prove you wrong.”

  After breakfast, we grabbed Dad from his office and ran into Nick in the hall.

  “Where are you guys going?” he asked.

  “The Style Mile,” I said.

  Nick’s eyes lit up. “Ooh. I love that place. Give me a sec to get ready.”

  With a smirk, I turned to look at Parker, but he’d discovered an interesting piece of lint on his sleeve.

  Dad dropped us off at the end of the mile and promised to pick us up later. “Good luck,” he said. “Don’t take any donations of livestock.” Then he drove away.

  “Where are you guys starting?” asked Nick.

  “Aww. You want to help?” I asked.

  “No, I want to make sure nobody sees us together.” He nodded at our star shirts.

  Parker and I frowned, and Nick pointed to the nearest game store. “I’ll just hide in there.”

  We watched him go, and then Parker looked from me to the people walking past.

  “Maybe the Champs T-shirts were a bad idea,” he said. “Do you think someone would buy them from us?”

  “Actually, I think they’d want us to pay them.” I put an arm around his shoulder. “Come on. Let’s try the pizza place first.”

  It was early enough that the parlor wasn’t crowded yet, so we had no problem talking to the owner. When she approached us, Parker smoothed out his T-shirt, fluffed his hair, and stepped forward to shake her hand.

  “Madam,” he said in his most professional voice. “As proprietor of this establishment, I conjecture that you’re responsible for various marketing opportunities when they arise?”

  The owner stared at Parker and scratched her head. “As the what?”

  “What my brother’s trying to say,” I cut in, “is that we’re collecting prizes for a hockey scrimmage, and we’re wondering if you could donate anything.”

  The owner crossed her arms. “What’s in it for me?”

  “You’ll be mentioned on the scrimmage flyers,” I said. “And on a banner at the actual event.”

  She shook her head. “That’s not enough.”

  Parker and I glanced at each other.

  “Name your terms,” said my brother.

  “I’m short on help this week.” The owner pointed to a swinging door behind her. “Dishes are stacking up in the kitchen and the floor’s a mess. Clean it all up, and I’ll donate two large pies.”

  Parker nodded. “It’s a deal. Alex, get in there.” He prodded me in the back, and I raised my eyebrows at him.

  “Excuse me? I don’t remember volunteering.”

  Parker smiled at the owner and pulled me aside. “You pick up dirty pennies in public places. Touching a few grungy plates and floors shouldn’t be a problem.”

  “That’s not the point,” I said. “I’m not doing all the work while you sit around.”

  “I have to suffer too,” he said. “As we speak, my hair is soaking up the scent of pizza.”

  The owner cleared her throat. “What’s it gonna be, kids?”

  I fixed Parker with a stern gaze. “You do the mopping and I’ll do the dishes.”

  Five minutes later, I was up to my elbows in soapy foam and staring at a pile of plates and glasses.

  “Be careful,” said Parker. “If you break anything, you’ll probably have to work here all night.”

  “Thanks for your concern.” I scooped a pile of crusty silverware into the water. “Don’t get your hair caught in the mop wringer.”

  In answer, Parker let the mop hit the floor with a wet splat. “This is actually pretty easy,” he said. “I’m glad you took the harder task.”

  “Well, I didn’t want your dainty lady fingers to turn into prunes,” I said.

  Parker didn’t pick up on my sarcasm. “Where do you think we should go next? One of the shoe stores?”

  “No. It’ll mainly be guys at the scrimmage,” I said. “And I doubt they’d want twenty percent off wedge sandals.”

  After washing a stack of plates and pizza pans, I finally went back to the silverware I’d left soaking. One of the spoons I pulled out was bent in half. I showed my brother and he smirked.

  “High-quality silverware and child labor in the kitchen,” he said.

  “Yes, but they’re fancy enough to have flower vases!” I held one up.

  “That’s a drink carafe,” said Parker. “It’s just narrower on top so you can hold it when you pour water. Like a fancy pitcher.”

  “See? Fancy!” I set it down and went back to straightening the spoon, but it slipped out of my hand and flipped into the carafe.

  “Ten points for Alex Evins!” I cheered.

  “Quit playing and get back to work,” said Parker. “My mop is starting to look nicer than my hair.”

  I reached into the carafe and grabbed the spoon, but when I tried to pull my hand out … it wouldn’t budge.

  “Uh-oh.” I twisted my wrist and pulled, but there was no give. I jerked back, but my hand didn’t move.

  Trying not to panic, I turned to my brother. “Parker? I’m stuck.”

  He didn’t look up from his mopping. “Yeah, this floor is pretty gummy. I think they’ve been mopping it with soda.”

  I flung a fork at him. “No, I’m not stuck to the floor! I’m just stuck!”

  He looked up and saw me waving a carafe-covered hand.

  “Oh you’ve got to be kidding.” He leaned the mop against the sink. “What happened?”

  “I was trying to get the spoon out of the carafe.”

  He inspected the bottle. “Why didn’t you tip it over and let the spoon fall out?”

  I just stared at him. “Because I’m twelve, and I did not think of that.”

  “Okay, okay.” He grabbed some liquid soap and squirted it on my hand. Then he tried twisting and pulling on the carafe. “Hmmm.”

  “Oh, wait! I’ll just break myself free.” I raised my hand to smash the bottle against the sink, but Parker stopped me.

  “Don’t!”

  I rolled my eyes. “There’s a ton of these laying around. They’re not going to miss one.” I lifted my hand again, and Parker jumped between me and the sink.

  “I’m not worried about the carafe, dummy. I’m worried about your hand!” he said. “If you break the glass, a piece of it could slice your skin open.”

  My eyes widened and I clutched the carafe to me protectively. “Oh.”

  “Just let me think.” He paced in front of me and rubbed his chin. “When a rabbit gets caught in a snare, it usually escapes by chewing off its trapped leg.”

  I shook my head. “I’ll learn to live with this bottle on my hand before that happens. And I will entertain myself by learning to twirl the spoon.”

  Parker stopped and smacked himself in the forehead. “You’re still holding the spoon! Let it go. Your fist is causing your hand to take up more space.”

  I released the spoon and jerked on the carafe. “It’s not working!”

  Parker grabbed my shoulders. “Stop panicking. You’re only causing your hand to swell. Just relax and breathe.” He walked away.

  “Don’t go!” I said, sliding across the wet floor after him.

  Parker gave me a weird look. “You’re my sister. I’m not leaving you.” He reached into the ice maker and scooped up a handful of cubes. “Chill out.” He grinned at his own stupid pun.

  “Ha ha,” I said.

  He held the freezing water against my wrist, and gently twisted the carafe again.

  I gasped as my hand inched free. “It’s working!”

  “Of course it’s working,” said Parker, setting the carafe on the counter. “I’m a genius.”

  I smiled at him and stole a hug. “Thanks, Parker.”

  He hugged me back. “
Let’s finish up and get the heck out of here.”

  “Agreed.” I went back to tackling dishes and Parker finished the floors. When he was done, he shifted over to help me, and after an hour or so, we finally stepped away from the sink.

  “Those better be some large pizzas,” I said.

  “No doubt.” Parker pushed the mop bucket out the back door. “Could you help me dump this water? I think the floor filth added an extra ten pounds, and I’d really prefer not to get it all over my shoes.”

  I followed him to the rear patio, which consisted of nothing but a dumpster on one side and a flower bed on the other, surrounded by towering brick walls.

  “Once again, fancy,” I said, shutting the door behind me.

  “At least nobody’s getting in to steal the garbage.” Parker nodded to the walls. “Or getting out. So you’d better make sure—” He turned and froze, staring at some-thing behind me.

  “What?” I got a sinking feeling in my stomach. “The back door locks automatically, doesn’t it?” I rushed over and jiggled the knob, but the door wouldn’t budge. “Um.” I faced Parker and said in small voice, “We may both be stuck this time.”

  To his credit, Parker didn’t get mad or try to use me as a battering ram to knock the door down. “If we have to make the owner come rescue us, that’s not gonna look good.” He glanced around the back patio. “That dumpster should be tall enough.”

  “For what?” I asked.

  “For me to reach the top of the wall.”

  I wrinkled my forehead. “Parker, that’s going to take a lot of upper-body strength, and you’ve only got … well, none.”

  “You think so?” he asked.

  The next thing I knew, he was running full speed toward the brick wall beside the dumpster. His right foot left the ground, and he used it to kick off the wall and launch himself on top of the trash container.

  “Woah.” I said, blinking hard. “Where did you learn to move like that?”

  “Trust me, you get threatened by enough bullies, you can climb a spiderweb if you have to,” he said. “Want to give it a try?”

  I glanced from my feet to the wall to the dumpster. “Can I just climb partway and you pull me up?”

  He looked doubtful. “Sure, but your Champs shirt will be ruined.”

  “Sold!” I scrambled up the front of the dumpster, and Parker dragged me to the top.

  From there we both peered over the other side of the brick wall to the ground far, far below.

  “You go first,” I told him. “That way I’ll have something soft to land on.”

  He smirked at me. “Or we could just use the ladder.”

  “Where?” I glanced around. Several feet to my left, a metal ladder was bolted into the side of the building. “That’ll work.”

  But getting to the ladder required crawling along the top of the brick wall.

  “I’ll go first,” said Parker. “That way you can watch—”

  “Uh, no. You can watch me,” I said, climbing onto the wall.

  “Careful,” said Parker, holding his hands in the air as if to steady me.

  “I’m fine,” I said, zipping along the wall. Balance had never been a problem for me, and I’d spent plenty of my pranking days walking around on rooftops. I could have shown off and actually gotten to my feet, but Parker already looked like he might pass out.

  When I reached the ladder, Parker exhaled an audible sigh of relief. “You’ve got good balance.”

  “It’s all in the knees,” I said.

  He was almost as quick as I’d been, and when we were both back on the ground, we couldn’t help grinning.

  “That was kind of fun,” I said.

  “That was kind of stupid,” said an angry Evins voice that did not belong to Parker.

  Nick was walking toward us from the front of the alley, arms crossed with his eyebrows set in a furious V. “What were you doing up there?” He grabbed my wrist where it was red from my efforts to remove the carafe. “And what happened to your arm?”

  “I got it stuck in something when I was trying to wash dishes,” I said.

  Without a word, he tugged me into the pizza parlor and demanded to talk to the owner.

  “Are you done with the dishes?” she asked when she saw me.

  “Oh, she’s done all right,” Nick snapped at the woman. “Why was my twelve-year-old sister on top of a twenty-foot wall with nothing under her but the pavement?”

  His voice was getting louder, and people were starting to stare.

  The owner shook her head. “I didn’t send her outside. I had her washing dishes.”

  “And she hurt herself doing that.” He pointed to the red marks on my arm. “All she wanted was a donation for her club scrimmage. What kind of person are you?”

  The owner glanced around the restaurant, her face turning a brilliant pink.

  “I … I didn’t mean.” She held her arms open. “She can have the free pizzas now.”

  “You mean the ones she already earned?” spoke up Parker.

  Knowing that all her patrons were watching her, the woman forced a smile. “How about a pizza party for whoever wins the scrimmage?”

  Several people clapped, and Nick’s expression finally relaxed. “That’s fair. Thank you.”

  While we waited for the owner to write up a voucher, a man came over to talk to us.

  “What club are you a part of?” he asked, giving the Champs star a scrutinizing gaze.

  Nick explained about Champs and the championship, and the man rubbed his jaw.

  “I like your enthusiasm. How about I contribute a prize for your scrimmage?” he asked. “I own the music store a few buildings over, and I could give fifteen dollar gift certificates to the winning team.”

  My jaw dropped. With a pizza party and gift certificates, we’d fill every spot on the two teams. I was too stunned to say anything, so Parker filled the void.

  “Thank you so much! That’d be great! Your contribution is well-appreciated. Without the support of—”

  “No problem,” said the man, fending off Parker’s thanks. “You look like a sweet family.”

  The Evil Evinses looked at one another and laughed.

  Chapter 13

  Things seemed to be going so well between my brothers and I that I knew now was the time to bring up Mom’s note. And since I’d ended a meal the last time I’d mentioned her, I decided it was best to get it over with before lunch.

  “Can I talk to you guys about something serious?” I asked as we walked to the restaurant.

  “Not if it’s something seriously girlie,” said Parker.

  Nick elbowed him. “What is it, Alex?”

  “It’s about Mom.”

  Neither one of them responded, and since it wasn’t an outright no, I continued. “It’s about Mom meeting with you guys.”

  Both of my brothers slowed their pace and exchanged a glance. I waved a hand between them.

  “No twin telepathy,” I said.

  Parker cleared his throat. “What meeting are you talking about, Alex? We never met with her.”

  I rolled my eyes. “First of all, you’re a terrible liar. Second of all, I found this note from Mom.”

  I fished it out of my pocket and did my best to smooth it flat. The paper was getting wrinkled and worn from all the time it spent traveling between various pairs of jeans.

  Nick took the note and read it, eyes widening.

  “You’ve never seen that before, have you?” I asked.

  The slightest flicker of emotion crossed Nick’s face, but he set his jaw and said, “Nope.”

  Then he crumpled the note and threw it in the street.

  “Hey!” I pushed him out of the way and rescued my wadded-up Mom memento. “Why’d you do that?”

  “What did it say?” Parker asked him.

  “More of her lies,” said Nick. “How she was sorry about the meeting and how she loved us.”

  Parker snorted. “That doesn’t belong in the street.”<
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  “Thank you,” I said.

  “It belongs in the garbage.” Parker tried to snatch it from me, but I was too quick.

  “Stop it!” I tucked the note back into the safety of my pocket. “Tell me what happened with Mom.”

  Nick shook his head. “Just let it go.”

  “No! Don’t shut me out like Dad does. She said she loved me, so why didn’t she—?”

  Nick rounded on me, his shoulders tense and his nostrils flaring. “I said, let it go!” he yelled.

  I stumbled away from him in surprise. People on the sidewalk were staring at us now, so Parker pushed Nick and me into an alleyway. For once, my troublemaking brother played the role of peacemaker.

  “Nick, just calm down,” said Parker. “Alex, it’s not that she didn’t want to see you. It’s that we didn’t want you to see her.”

  I let out a cry of disgust. “You didn’t want to share her?! You selfish—”

  “We were trying to protect you,” cut in Nick, his face returning to its normal color. “We were afraid she was going to hurt the family again.” He rubbed his neck in irritation. “And we were right.”

  My forehead wrinkled. “I don’t understand.”

  Parker took a deep breath before speaking. “I wasn’t lying when I said we never met with Mom. We were supposed to, but she never showed up.”

  Instantly, I felt ashamed of my accusations.

  “Oh,” I said.

  “We never mentioned it because we didn’t want to make you feel bad,” said Nick. “Plus, Dad was really angry.”

  “Which is why he told her to quit sending gifts,” I mumbled.

  “Pretty much,” said Nick.

  The three of us stood in silence for a moment, alternately looking at one another or the ground. My poor, sweet brothers had secretly lived through this huge hurt and disappointment, doing everything they could to protect me from it.

  Emotions started to overwhelm me, but I couldn’t let them see that I was upset. They’d worked too hard to make sure something like this wouldn’t happen. I cleared the lump from my throat and blinked my eyes dry. When I could trust myself to speak, I said, “I’m sorry. I never should have brought it up.”

  Nick shook his head. “You needed to find out. We just hoped it would be later, like when you were eighty.” He smiled weakly and put an arm around my shoulder. “I’m sorry for yelling.”