by Annie Bryant
Mr. Sherman approached her, pulling a chair up to sit near her. He took out her test. Maeve gasped. She knew she was in trouble. But—zero? A big fat red zero on top of her test? She’d never gotten all the answers wrong before. Never.
“We need to talk about this,” Mr. Sherman was saying. He was actually being nice. Maeve could tell that he was trying to soften the blow and make her feel better. But she could barely hear what he was saying.
She heard the last part, though. “Ask your mom and dad to look this over tonight, and have them sign it and bring it back tomorrow.” Maeve knew that teachers didn’t do it to be horrible. They were required to by law or something. It meant that if a kid was flunking out, they couldn’t keep pretending that everything was OK to their parents. Some parent had sued once, and now the school had this policy—tests with grades of “D” or lower needed to be sent home and signed by parents.
For a brief, wild moment, Maeve imagined signing the test herself. Or getting one of her friends to do it. But she knew she couldn’t. She was terrible at math, but she wasn’t a liar.
She could hardly remember the feeling of euphoria she’d had before math class. Now it felt like she could barely crawl through the door. She didn’t even answer when Avery started bounding after her, asking her if everything was OK.
Everything was not OK. How on earth was Maeve going to explain this latest disaster to her mother?
“This is unacceptable!” Maeve’s mother shouted. “I told you that you were over-extended. But you and your father wouldn’t listen to me.” They were in the kitchen, Maeve’s test lying on the table, face down. Her father had turned it over. He didn’t want that big 0 staring at them the whole time, Maeve thought sadly.
“Mom, I know. I’m not happy about it, believe me. I’m the one who failed the test—not you.”
This didn’t seem to make her mother feel any better. “Maeve, you don’t have to be rude,” she cried. “We have a problem here, OK? And we need to figure out a way to deal with it!”
“I just don’t understand…I mean I’ve never gotten a zero before.” Maeve said as she hung her head.
Sam wandered into the kitchen, curious about all the yelling. “What’s up?” he asked.
It was an innocent enough question, but Maeve really didn’t want her little brother in here, witnessing her total humiliation. “Get lost, Sam,” she snapped.
“Maeve! Leave your brother out of this!” Her mother was really getting mad now.
“That’s what I’m trying to do. He shouldn’t be here,” Maeve said, fighting for control.
“Maeve’s right,” her father cut in.
Then Maeve’s mother turned on him. “That’s all you ever do! Take her side! That’s not exactly helpful.”
“I’m just saying that Maeve’s right; that this is a private conversation. Sam, do us a favor—”
“I’m going up to my room anyway,” Sam said. “I’ve got homework,” he added.
Was it Maeve’s imagination or was he taunting her? Perfect little Sam. Of course he would never fail a test. Hell would freeze over before Sam ever got less than a “B” on anything!
Maeve’s mother was pacing back and forth in the kitchen. Pacing was not a good sign. It meant that she was not only mad, but that she had a plan in mind. Maeve felt herself tuning out, the way she did when she couldn’t take her mom’s disappointment. She heard little snippets. “Cut some after-school activities—less time on the computer—take away I.M. so she isn’t distracted…”
Maeve felt tears begin to slide down her cheeks. Her mom sat next to her and put her hand on Maeve’s. “This isn’t about punishment, sweetie,” she said. She actually sounded nice, which was even worse. “It’s just that I want you to be able to handle your school responsibilities better. We need better time-management…”
Maeve lifted her tear-stained face. “You never hear the good stuff. Only the bad,” she whispered.
Her mother stared at her. “What do you mean? Of course I hear the good stuff. But Maeve, this is serious. A ‘zero’—this is an important signal…”
A signal, Maeve thought bitterly. Like some sort of alien somewhere was trying to wave a flag and tell the whole universe: Maeve Kaplan-Taylor is a failure! She might look like she’s doing OK in some things, but no! She’s really a total failure.
She slumped down in the kitchen chair wishing she was somewhere else. All of the good stuff that had happened vanished, like bubbles that someone had poked with a pin. So what if she had come up with the blanket project? She was the only kid in the class who failed the math test.
“Carol,” her father said gently. “I really think this is enough for now.” He turned to Maeve. “Can we hear about something else? How are those blankets of yours coming along?”
“This is hardly the time,” her mother interrupted.
But Maeve’s father stood his ground. “I’d like to take you and your friends over this week to drop them off,” he said, handing Maeve a tissue. “What do you say about Friday? You guys all free?”
Maeve could barely speak over the lump in her throat. “Yes,” she whispered. “I think so.”
Her dad made her feel a tiny bit better. He leaned across the table and patted her hand. “We’ll figure the math stuff out,” he whispered. “And meanwhile, don’t think it’s the end of the world. Lots of smart people struggle with math…maybe a new tutor will help.”
Maeve’s mother cleared her throat ominously. She didn’t say anything, but she had that look on her face again. Mrs. Teague, Maeve’s current tutor, had been her choice.
Maeve knew that her mom and dad would be up late again arguing. Over her. Once again, it was all her fault.
Dear Maeve,
I feel sometimes like all I do is mess up. My mom wants me to be good at stuff that I’m not. And she doesn’t seem to notice the things that I do well. The worst part is that my dad will sometimes take my side, and then my mom gets even madder.
—Confused
Maeve bit the top of her pen. Tonight, the words just seemed to come out of nowhere. She liked being “Ask Maeve.” “Ask Maeve” always seemed to have the answers.
Dear Confused:
Remember, you don’t have to be good at everything. Your mom already finished school. She had her chance to do things her way. Now you need to learn things your way. As for your parents…well, it may not be up to you. Parents sometimes argue about their kids. But it isn’t your fault.
Maeve buried her head in her oversized stuffed chicken, the way she used to when she was little. It sounded so sensible when she wrote it down. The question was, why didn’t it feel like that in real life?
CHAPTER 21
Jeri’s Place
Charlotte’s Journal
Thursday—late
No more mysterious notes from my secret friend. I wonder why not?
But I did get to the bottom of how my essay ended up in The Sentinel. Isabel confessed. She said it was almost an accident—I guess the paper slipped out of my notebook when I was trying to put it away. And she said almost before she knew it, she had turned it in on my behalf. I was upset at first, but she’d obviously meant well. Isabel really has a heart of gold, even if she can be impulsive at times. And anyway, I’m happy with the way things turned out. Isabel was right. I did want to try out for the paper, and somehow she must’ve sensed that.
Things have been better this week. Dad and I cooked together last night. His favorite “chili for wimps” recipe, which we haven’t made in ages, and which doesn’t burn your tongue off. It was fun, just the two of us, listening to music together and talking about the day. I love father-daughter cooking. I told dad I want to print up some of our favorite recipes in a book one day, and he thought that was a great idea. He said we should call it, “Cookin’ and Chattin.’” That sounded good to me. I told him about The Sentinel, too—not about my piece coming out tomorrow, just about being on the staff, and how much fun it is. I even told him that Jennifer said I
could be a “foreign correspondent” if we move to England. He just said “unhhunh” with a distracted look on his face.
Tomorrow my piece comes out. I wonder if people will like it? I’m pretty nervous about people’s reactions. You just never know. But as Avery always says, it’s good to get stuff “out there.”
The other big thing is that tomorrow afternoon we’re taking the blankets to Jeri’s Place. Maeve’s dad is going to meet us after school and drive us down to Jamaica Plain, where the shelter is. I’m proud of Maeve. She’s worked hard on this blanket project, and it really is a—what is the word she used to describe it to us once?—a “mitzvah.” A good thing.
Well, I better take Marty out. He’s doing his little “get me outside fast” dance. I’ll write more tomorrow.
* * *
Maeve:
Notes to Self
Confirm time for Jeri’s Place—find out where Dad can park the van.
Set up time for tutoring with Matt. He is so nice. I’m really glad dad found him. I think it’ll go much better if I work with him than with Mrs. Teague. My new deal is that I’ll get lots of extra help with math if mom will let me keep working on the blankets during study hall.
Make a special mini-blanket for each of the girls. For Avery, one that says her favorite new saying: “Check all that apply.” For Isabel, one with her cartoon character on it. For Charlotte, one with a constellation—what’s that one she loves so much? Orion? And for Katani…where would I be without Katani…one that says something that I really want to tell her. “For Katani—who knows how to turn dreams into something that can really keep you warm.”
* * *
Katani
Today’s Horoscope
Virgo: You are one of the most misunderstood of all the star signs. People think you’re fussy and bad-tempered, but really you just like perfection. Virgos are highly intelligent and excellent workers. They like to use their heads. They have a tendency to express themselves through actions more than words.
Today, avoid gossip and name-dropping. Your stars suggest that a new romance might be on the horizon. Friendships are very important this month. Something that you have worked on very hard is about to bear fruit. Lucky numbers: 42, 16. Avoid long-distance travel.
Avery’s Blog
Online Journal:
Not much new today at school. Here’s a question: Which is more statistically likely, that I’ll get hit by lightning before eighth grade or that something interesting will happen in math class?
Random joke of the day:
There’s good news and bad news. The good news is: you picked the winning number for the Massachusetts lottery!
The bad news is, you bought a New Hampshire lottery ticket.
Ms. Rodriguez had a hard time getting everyone’s attention in homeroom on Friday morning. The new edition of The Sentinel was out, and everyone was buried in the paper, hurrying to read what his or her classmates had written.
Charlotte really liked the way their stories looked in print. The front page, with school news, was entirely written by eighth and ninth graders. But on chapter 1, “Features,” and chapter 1, “Arts,” there were a bunch of stories by seventh graders. And the back page, devoted to Sports, had contributions from Dillon, Pete Wexler, and Avery.
Avery also had a short piece on the Features page, “Check All that Apply,” asking interested students to e-mail her with their thoughts about checking off boxes on standardized tests that identified you by race. Across the page from Avery’s piece was the “Ask Maeve” column. Charlotte’s piece on community and belonging was set squarely in the upper middle of chapter 1.
“Nice,” Avery said admiringly. “Prime real estate for your piece, Charlotte!”
Ms. Rodriguez could tell she wasn’t going to have much luck getting them to put their newspapers away. Instead, she decided to make the paper the subject of their discussion. “Why don’t we talk about the paper, and tell me what you’ve learned from this whole experience,” she suggested.
Everyone was quiet for a minute. Maeve’s hand shot up. “I’ve learned that giving advice is harder than you’d think,” she said. Everyone laughed, but Maeve wasn’t through. “I mean it,” she said. “Coming up with problems…that’s kind of the easy part. But figuring out the solutions…That’s not so easy.”
“You’re right, Maeve. That sounds like a good lesson to take away from this,” Ms. Rodriguez agreed.
Betsy’s hand was up. “I learned that it’s harder than I thought trying to get something done for a deadline,” she said ruefully.
Anna whispered something to Joline, and Charlotte hid a smile. Leave it to the Queens of Mean to have managed not to learn much!
Charlotte raised her hand. “I learned that…” She hesitated, glancing at Isabel. “That sometimes a little help can change your whole view of things,” she said at last.
The comments came thick and fast then. Riley said he learned that he actually liked writing when it was something you cared about—namely, music. Pete said it was hard trying to be fair when you were covering a game. Avery said she learned that almost every reporter covering sports was a guy.
“These are all good lessons,” Ms. Rodriguez commented. “And can I say something that I’ve learned from all of you? That working as a group, you were able to make an effective change in a longstanding school policy. You did some excellent writing. You challenged yourselves in new ways and opened the door for seventh graders to participate in the larger school community. You should all be very proud!”
“Hey,” Nick said to Charlotte as they left homeroom ten minutes later. “I like what you wrote, Charlotte.”
“You do?”
“Uh…” Nick shifted his books a little, looking awkward. “I was wondering if you felt like doing something on Sunday. I was going to try to go hiking in the Blue Hills in the afternoon.”
“That sounds like fun,” Charlotte said. She didn’t let herself even start to wonder whether it made sense to go, given her dad, and England, and the move. It was supposed to be warm again this weekend, Nick was nice—and Charlotte loved hiking. “Why not?” she said.
She didn’t know why she was feeling so much better about everything, but she was. And even if she and her father were moving, there was no reason she couldn’t get to know Nick better.
Maeve’s father was waiting for them in the parking lot after school. “We have helpers!” Maeve cried joyfully, pointing to Nick, Dillon, Pete, and Riley who just happened to appear as Maeve was looking for helpers to move the cartons of blankets from room 206 to the back of her father’s van.
“Good! Let’s go,” her father said cheerfully.
Even with the extra manpower, it took two trips to get all of the blankets into the car. Maeve made sure that Dillon was on the other end of the carton she was carrying, which gave her ample time to flirt as they moved carefully down the hallway. Admittedly, trying to flirt and balance a big carton full of blankets at the same time wasn’t the easiest. Finally Maeve just concentrated on not tripping.
“Phew. You guys have a lot of blankets here,” Dillon said, after they’d managed to heave the last box into the back of the van.
“I know! I can’t wait to deliver them.” Maeve hopped up and down with excitement. “Jeri—she’s the woman who runs Jeri’s Place—says that they’re waiting for us! We even get to meet some of the kids!”
“OK, crew. We should get going,” her father said when the last carton was wedged into the van.
The ride to Jamaica Plain took about fifteen minutes.
“It’s funny,” Maeve said, when they found a parking place in front of the small gray building at 76 Parker Street. “I guess I kind of expected it to look…I don’t know. Poorer.” She blushed a little. “Is that a totally ignorant thing to say?”
“Not everyone in a homeless shelter fits the stereotyped image,” her father said mildly. “Sometimes people fall on hard times and just need a boost. Jeri’s Place is famous for help
ing women and children—and they’re often the ones who end up in bad circumstances if the mother loses her job or if her husband leaves…”
“Yeah,” Katani said. “There’s a girl at my church who lived in a shelter for a few months when she was younger. Her dad moved out on them, and her mom couldn’t keep up with the rent. The shelter helped her out while she found a new job.”
Before they started unloading the back of the van, a young woman came out to greet them. Maeve was surprised again. She had expected Jeri to be much older.
It turned out that this was Jeri’s daughter. “My name is Lorelei,” she said, smiling. “So which one of you is the mastermind behind this great blanket idea?”
Maeve blushed deeply. She wouldn’t have said anything, but Katani propelled her forward. “It’s Maeve,” Katani said.
“It’s actually all of us,” Maeve amended. They introduced themselves one by one.
“Well, I want to tell you, we are so excited and pleased about this project,” Lorelei continued. “A lot of our clients are actually out working day jobs now, but we thought you might want to bring your blankets right into our daycare center and drop them off yourselves. Are you up for that?”
Everyone nodded eagerly as Lorelei continued to explain. “Right now, we have about twenty children in our daycare program. They range from six weeks old to five years. Some of them have just joined us, but most have been here for at least a few months. Why don’t you come on back, and introduce yourselves?”
Once again, Maeve found her expectations about the shelter changed once they stepped inside. It was a simple space but sparkling clean, with bright white walls. The dormitory space was upstairs. There was a comfortable lounge downstairs, and the daycare center looked…well, more or less like the nursery school Maeve had gone to in the basement of the temple on Beacon Street. There was a blackboard on one wall, a whiteboard on another, boxes of plastic toys and puzzles, and a few beanbag chairs scattered around on a bright blue carpet. The kids were busy playing and reading, and a low hum of activity filled the room.