You know how I’ve been trying really hard not to say all the nasty words inside of me? Well, it’s kind of like when you shake up a can of soda and then pop it open: All my nasty words just sprayed all over everyone last night and left a big mess that I don’t know how to clean up.
I had an appointment with Coco Martin today, and when I told her what had happened, she said that at least I was finally telling people how I really feel, and that was progress. I’m not so sure. I think a lot of people are only interested in how you’re really feeling when how you’re really feeling is good. But maybe that’s just me.
I didn’t tell Izzy, Sophia, and Daisy about the fight at lunch today. I tried, but I just couldn’t get the words out. I don’t know why, but sometimes I feel like their problems are really small. I know that’s not fair to say, but that’s honestly how I feel.
See? There are just so many nasty things inside me.
Coco says it’s good to find people you can be honest with. I’m glad I can be honest with you, and I still like to believe that you can see me and see this letter. There are so many things I wish I could ask you about. For instance, Boys. How do you know for sure if a boy likes you? Last night Austin was close enough to me that he could smell my lip gloss, which felt really weird. And also a little wondrous. (I put “wondrous” at the top of my list of Words I Love, because it’s my favorite one right now.) I’m pretty sure I like Austin and that he likes me back. I haven’t told Izzy, Sophia, and Daisy yet, but I’m going to tomorrow night when I spend the night at Izzy’s house. Sometimes I look at pictures of you and Dad and wonder what you thought the first time you laid eyes on him, or how you knew he was the One. I never thought to ask you, and sometimes it makes me so mad that I’ll never get to ask, ever.
Love always,
Violet
CHAPTER
24
AN INVITATION TO STAY
The only thing lonelier than being alone is being alone in a house full of people who don’t want to talk to you. When we first moved in a couple weeks ago, everyone was tiptoeing around each other. Now everyone just tiptoes around me.
“Olivia?” I knocked on her door. “Are you in there?”
It was Friday night, two nights after I’d gone sledding with Austin, and mostly everyone in the house was ignoring me. At school earlier today, Melanie and I almost collided in the halls, until she spun abruptly on her heel and walked away.
“Olivia?” I knocked again. “Can I talk to you?”
I needed to get moving if I wanted to get to the sleepover at Izzy’s on time, but I wanted to apologize to Olivia first. I’d tried to today in the cafeteria, but she ran away from me so fast, you’d think I had a disease. Which maybe I did: jerkitis.
“Come on, Olivia,” I called. “I know you’re in there. Your light is on.”
Still no answer, but Olivia’s iPod began blasting at full volume.
“Fine! Message received!” I yelled, but I doubt she heard me. I headed downstairs to say good-bye to Dad. He was in the kitchen with Melanie, slicing bell peppers while she unloaded groceries. Remember to try, I told myself, and I went to help her unload. “So, Melanie, what are you guys doing tonight?” I asked, all casual, as I stuck bundles of pasta into the pantry.
Melanie shrugged noncommittally and stepped around me to put away the milk. “Nothing much,” she said.
“Really, you didn’t plan anything?” I asked, but Melanie just shrugged again and kept unloading bags.
Dad, who had stopped slicing to watch us, said, “I think we’re going to make pizza and watch Christmas movies.”
“That sounds nice,” I said. It sounded really nice, actually, and I remembered “Watch Christmas movies” was on Mom’s list. Even though I was about to leave for the sleepover, I almost wished they would invite me to stay and eat dinner with them.
Because after what I’d said the other night, it felt like I needed an invitation.
When an invitation didn’t come, I said, “Okay, well, I guess I’ll see you guys tomorrow.”
“Do you want me to drive you to Izzy’s?” Dad asked, wiping his hands on a towel. “It’s pretty cold out there tonight.”
“No, I’m good,” I said, hefting my backpack over my shoulder. “I’d rather walk, and she’s got a sleeping bag I can borrow. I’ll see you tomorrow. Bye, Melanie,” I said.
“Bye,” Melanie said shortly, but she didn’t look at me.
“Just give her a little time,” Dad whispered as we left the kitchen. “Her feelings are hurt, but she’ll come around.”
“Thanks, Dad,” I said. “I feel awful.”
“I know you do . . . and I know you have to leave soon, but do you have time for a quick chat?”
“Um, sure,” I said, even though I really needed to leave. My stomach twisted into knots. I’d been waiting for him to say something about the fight, and I wondered how much trouble I was in.
“I’m sorry,” I said as soon as we sat down on the couch in the living room. “I know I was a big jerk the other night.”
Dad didn’t disagree with me. “Well . . . while I didn’t care for the manner in which you expressed yourself, I always want to hear how you’re feeling.” He looked nervous and his words came out slightly stiff, like he’d been practicing them. I couldn’t help but wonder if he’d had a chat with Coco Martin and received her “How to Talk to Your Tween Daughter” pep talk, and I actually had to stop myself from smiling. “I want you to feel like you can talk to me,” he added.
“Sometimes I feel like I can’t,” I blurted. The minute the words were out of my mouth, I wanted to take them back. But I knew if things were really going to get better, we needed to start talking. Really talking. I took a deep breath, and said, “After Mom died, you spent a lot of time in your room. You cried a lot, and sometimes it felt scary to be around you. But you’ve been so happy since you met Melanie, I guess I didn’t want to ruin anything for you.”
“You couldn’t ruin anything for me, Champ,” Dad said, looking pained. “I want you to talk to me. I always have. And I’m sorry for disappearing for a while like that. I wish I could go back and change that—you have no idea how much. And I’m sorry this month has been so difficult for you.” He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “I don’t know, maybe Melanie and I should’ve had a longer engagement. Gave you kids more time to get used—”
“It’s not that,” I said. “I guess it’s just . . . sometimes I feel like Olivia’s friends and Olivia’s plans are more important than mine.” I thought how to best say it. “It’s like, because the things she likes to do—the newspaper, the Eco Club, and the baton-twirling team—are related to school, it’s like those things get treated like they’re more important than when I want to be with the Charm Girls or just be by myself. And I don’t like that.”
“I can see that.” Dad nodded. “And I know you’ve been watching Joey a lot after school. Maybe I could—”
“I don’t mind watching Joey,” I said. “It’s been kind of fun, actually. I guess I just wish my charm club was as important as Olivia’s clubs.”
Dad nodded again. “That makes sense. I don’t think Melanie and I realized that.” He still looked nervous, like he was worried he’d say or do the wrong thing.
The whole conversation felt strange and awkward. It wasn’t that Dad and I had a bad relationship; it was just that since he’s always worked so much, it was easier to go to Mom with my problems. Now, a year and a half later after she’d died, we needed to start figuring out our new pattern. I think Dad felt the same way, because he let out a breath, and said, “I guess I’m just not good at all this. . . . Your mother . . .” He stopped and swallowed. “I still really miss her,” he finished quietly.
“I know, Dad. I do, too. But,” I added, “I’m really glad you have Melanie.”
And in that moment, I realized I truly meant it.
CHAPTER
25
SLEEPOVER
“Thank God you’re here,�
�� Izzy said when she opened her front door. “I need you to settle a fight between Grandma Bertie and Aunt Mildred before they kill each other.” She pulled me inside the house, and said, “Are you okay? You look upset.”
“I’m fine,” I said.
Izzy pursed her lips like she wanted to say something, but led me into the living room, where Grandma Bertie and Aunt Mildred were bickering.
“You cannot go on a date with Scooter wearing your old-lady tennis shoes,” Grandma Bertie was saying to Aunt Mildred, who looked ready to throttle her.
“For your information, Bertha, I am an old lady. So are you. In fact, since you’re nine minutes older than me, you’re an even older lady.”
“Watch who you’re calling old. Age is just a state of mind, dear.”
“My mistake then. Because if that’s true, then you’re a bona fide two-year-old.”
“And your shoes look like they belong to—” Grandma Bertie stopped abruptly when she caught sight of me. “Hi, Violet.”
“Hi, Grandma Bertie. Hi, Aunt Mildred,” I said, smiling. After the strained silence in my house, the usual chaos in Izzy’s was nice. I decided to try to forget about my fight with Melanie and Olivia. Tonight, I just wanted to enjoy the sleepover. Grandma Bertie and Aunt Mildred were standing in front of the Malone’s big Christmas tree. They’d pulled it out to the center of the room—perfect for sleeping under it tonight and checking “Have a sleepover under a Christmas tree” off Mom’s list.
“What do you think, Violet?” Izzy asked. “Do you think the shoes are okay?”
“Yeah, do you?” Aunt Mildred said. “And before you answer, just remember who buys those lovely charms hanging from that bracelet you’re wearing.”
I thought about how when Austin and I were walking home from ice-blocking, he said that next time we went, I should wear old clothes in case we ended up in the mud again.
“I think the shoes are fine,” I said. “If he really likes you, he won’t care what you wear.”
“I told you,” Aunt Mildred said to Grandma Bertie. “So stop trying to boss me around.”
The doorbell rang, and Izzy and I went to answer it. Sophia struggled inside, carrying two big bags.
“Geez, what do you have in here?” Izzy asked, taking one of them from her. “You’re just staying one night.”
“It’s not clothes,” Sophia answered. “It’s all my mom’s Christmas movies—for your mom’s list,” she told me. “And we have to watch at least two, because it said, ‘Watch Christmas Movies,’ plural. So we can’t just watch one.”
“What’s in the other bag?” Izzy asked.
“Baking supplies.” Sophia dropped it in the hallway, and it landed on the ground with a loud thunk.
Scooter McGee arrived next and handed Aunt Mildred a bouquet of roses. “Beautiful flowers, for a beautiful lady,” he said. “Hello, girls,” he added, turning to us. “I hear there’s a sleepover in the works tonight.”
“Yep,” Izzy answered. “Where are you taking Aunt Mildred tonight?”
“I thought we’d take a stroll around Dandelion Square. Lovely shoes, by the way, Milly. Very sensible,” he said, and Aunt Mildred shot Grandma Bertie a triumphant look.
“You’ve been taking Aunt Mildred on a lot of dates,” Izzy said. “Is she your girlfriend now?”
“Izzy, dear,” Grandma Bertie said quickly, “your mouth is getting ahead of itself again.”
“I am entirely too old to be having boyfriends,” Aunt Mildred said. “Now get these bags out of the hallway, before someone trips and breaks an arm.”
“I rather like the word ‘boyfriend,’ ” Scooter was saying as they left and he shut the door behind him.
“Do you think Aunt Mildred and Scooter are boyfriend and girlfriend?” Sophia asked me. “Like, do you think they’ve actually kissed?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t really thought about it,” I said, which was sort of a lie, because I had thought about it. Or at least, I wondered about that kind of stuff all the time. I wondered what it was like to have a crush on a boy and have him like you back enough to become boyfriend and girlfriend. And how do you decide that a boy isn’t just a boyfriend, but the One?
All this talk about boyfriends and girlfriends was making me want to tell the Charm Girls about my crush on Austin. But there wasn’t much time to talk about boys and crushes because the doorbell rang again just a minute later. It was a delivery guy, who handed over four large pizzas just as Daisy arrived. After we ate, Sophia insisted we watch Christmas movies while we made the gingerbread houses to earn our charm. Once the houses were sitting in the kitchen, Sophia pulled out her supplies so we could bake Christmas cookies. After that, she made us sing carols, which was pretty funny, since all four of us have bad voices, but Sophia said at least we could check it off Mom’s list.
When it was getting later and everyone was starting to yawn, we rolled out our sleeping bags under the Christmas tree.
“Does everyone have their charm?” Izzy asked.
Once we were all holding them, she said, “We have earned our charms,” and we all hooked the tiny gingerbread houses to our bracelets. Once I finished, I put it on and shook my wrist. I noticed that the more charms I put on it, the more noise it made when I moved. Now when the charms clinked together, it made a musical sound. Almost like jingle bells.
“Let’s play Truth or Dare!” Daisy said.
“But that’s not on Violet’s mom’s list,” Sophia protested.
Everyone turned to me, and I said, “That’s okay; I’d love to play Truth or Dare.”
I figured I’d just pick Truth and hope that someone would ask me if I liked anyone, so I could tell everyone about my crush on Austin. I was pretty sure I was even going to call crush dibs on him.
“All right, let’s do it,” Daisy said. “I’ll go first. I pick Dare!”
“Okay.” Izzy thought about it for a second. “I dare you to run around outside barefoot!”
“Are you crazy?” I said. “It’s freezing out there.” But Daisy had already ripped off her socks and was running for the door. Even though she was out there for only a minute, by the time she came back, her lips looked slightly bluish. “I can’t feel my fingers,” she said through chattering teeth. She dove back into her sleeping bag.
Sophia went next, and she picked Truth. “What are you most scared of?” Daisy asked her.
Sophia didn’t even have to think about it. “That my parents will get divorced,” she answered. Mr. and Mrs. Ramos are separated—Mr. Ramos stayed in San Francisco while the rest of Sophia’s family moved to Dandelion Hollow last summer. Sophia had said it without hesitation. And even though she said she was afraid, she didn’t look afraid. Her eyes were wide and clear, like she was ready to face the truth head-on, whatever it was. I wondered if I ever looked that brave when I was scared.
If Izzy had asked me right then what I was most scared of, I would have said I was afraid that right now, at this very minute, Dad, Melanie, Joey, and Olivia were all sprawled out in the living room watching Christmas movies. Laughing, having a good time, and not missing me at all. Happier without me.
“I’m sure they’ll be okay,” I said quietly. I didn’t know if that was true, but I do know that when people are worried, sometimes it’s just best to say hopeful things to them.
“Thanks, Violet,” Sophia said.
“It’s my turn!” Izzy said. “I pick Truth!”
“Okay.” Sophia perked up as she thought of a question. “Do you still like Austin Jackson?” she asked.
I tried not to roll my eyes. This question again? Izzy had already answered it. Besides, I wanted someone to ask me who I liked.
“Well . . . ,” Izzy said slowly. “I don’t know.”
Wait, what? I sat up in my sleeping bag. What did she just say?
“What do you mean, you don’t know?” I said. “How can you not know if you like him? Either you like him—or you don’t. It’s that simple.”
“It’s
not that simple, Violet,” Sophia said, shooting me a strange look.
“Well, I don’t understand,” I said to Izzy. “You’ve been telling us all month you don’t like him. Now all of a sudden you’re not sure?”
“I haven’t been saying that,” Izzy said. “When have I been saying that? I said it, like, once.”
“So . . . do you?” Sophia asked.
“She just said she doesn’t like him,” I said.
“No, you said she doesn’t like him,” Daisy said, sounding annoyed. “So back off and let her answer the question.”
“Yeah, Violet,” Izzy said. “Stop being so bossy.”
“Sorry,” I mumbled.
“So . . . do you like him?” Sophia persisted.
“I’m not sure,” Izzy said. “But . . . has anyone noticed how cute he’s gotten the last month?”
Daisy and Sophia both nodded, and I wanted to scream. “There’s more to liking a boy than just thinking he’s cute,” I said, and the three of them shot me irritated looks again, and I knew I’d better cool it. But I also knew I was right. I mean, sure, I had liked other boys because they were cute. But it was different with Austin. I liked him because we could really talk to each other about the things that mattered. I could text him at midnight if I wanted, and he’d be there to answer me back. Plus, I was pretty sure I was a lot closer to Austin than Izzy was. I was the girl he could talk to about his mom and the cooking school she might go to, and Izzy was . . . his next-door neighbor and the girl he sometimes played basketball with. There was a big difference.
“I think maybe I’m changing my mind,” Izzy said. Her face brightened. “In fact, I think I’ve definitely changed my mind. I like him. I re-crush dibs him!”
Re-crush dibs?
I flopped back onto my sleeping bag. This was not how tonight was supposed to go. I was supposed to feel like one of them. I was supposed to feel like a normal middle schooler chatting with her friends about the boy she likes. Instead, I felt two seconds away from hollering at Izzy. And worst of all, I felt like a rotten friend for liking my best friend’s crush.
The Wondrous World of Violet Barnaby Page 10