I let go and punched him (though not as hard as Miss Georgia would have). “Shut it, you. You’re the one hacking into everyone’s private photos and taking on secret coding projects for the government!”
He laughed. “We made a good team,” he said. “Mama promised me we’re going to hit the East Coast next summer. She wants me to try lobster, Lord knows why. Last thing I want to do is eat a giant sea bug, but—”
“You’ll see! It’s delicious! Better than that mud-feeding catfish you told me about,” I interrupted him, pretending to frown, but he just pulled his full-watt get-the-nuclear-shield smile.
“Take good care, Rae or Sara or whatever you want to be called,” he said. “And write me a letter sometime. You got enough words in that darn book. Write a guy a letter instead. And not an email!” he added. “Anyone can read those, you know?”
“It’s Sara. Just Sara Johnston-Fischer. And believe me, I may never write another email or post another photo again,” I said. “This creepy guy I met told me stuff that scared me off the Internet forever.”
Everyone else was already on the train, and I had to go. But I’m not going to lie…it was hard.
“Well…,” I said, finally stepping onto the train.
“Safe travels, Sara Johnston-Fischer,” he called, one last time. “See you on the flip side!”
I watched him until the train pulled around the curve. He was there waving, his mom and dad and Miss Ruby by his side, until they were completely out of sight.
Fun Fact!
A little-known piece of history exists beyond the grasshopper-like oil pumps of Ellwood Oil Field. On February 23, 1942, Captain Kozo Nishino surfaced his Japanese submarine in the Santa Barbara Channel and fired sixteen rounds from his 140 mm deck gun toward the oil field. He inflicted little damage, but it was the first attack on continental United States soil since the War of 1812.
Not-So-Fun Fact!
This train is totally pathetic. There are a ton of business travelers, and nobody talks to anybody. Hardly a real train at all.
I’m sitting in the sightseeing car staring out at the Pacific Ocean….We’re winding and flying around curves, the water always there, and even though it’s not my home ocean, even though we’re thousands of miles away, there’s something very comforting about that line of deep blue water meeting robin’s-egg-blue sky. (Though it seems really freaking weird to see the sun get lower over the horizon….Sunsets aren’t supposed to be there!) But still, it’s almost like my eyes were thirsty—I can’t seem to look away.
Ladybug’s napping with Mom and Mimi…all three of them sacked out in the regular lounge chairs. We don’t have a sleeping cabin or anything, so we’re spread out all over the seats. Root’s off reading, and Laurel’s been sitting with me. With everything else that’s been going on, I hadn’t really thought about the fact that she’ll be staying here in California. She and the moms came up with a plan: she’s only taking three classes this semester so she can do more volunteer work. That was her compromise. She’ll continue working toward her degree, but will also get an internship and “be more present in the Movement”—which Mom wasn’t totally thrilled about, but I thought sounded impressive.
Anyway, when we fly home in a few days, she won’t be with us. Thinking about saying goodbye to her makes me want to cry.
We sat in silence for a while, staring out at the winding coastline. Then she bumped my shoulder. “Whatcha thinking?” she asked.
“I’m thinking…” I hesitated. I cried when she left in the fall, and I know it made her feel awful. But telling the truth felt more important. “I’m thinking how much I’m going to miss you,” I said. “And I’m not saying that to make you feel bad. But I…” I trailed off.
She put an arm around me. “I know you’re not saying it to make me feel bad, Say-Say. Jeez, I would never think that. I hate leaving you too, you know. I didn’t tell you, but I was pretty homesick last year at the beginning of school.”
I stared at her. “You were?” My fearless sister Laurel, who chained herself to a fence near the White House, who sat in a kayak in front of some giant oil tanker, was homesick?
“Oh yeah. And again after winter break. I got back to California in January and hated it. I hated the sunshine, and all the people chirping around in T-shirts and sandals. I wanted cold and winter and cozy sweaters—and you guys! I wanted to go sledding with you and Ladybug, and talk to people who know that maple syrup is from maple trees and not from a plastic bottle in the supermarket.”
I smiled a little. When we were little, Laurel had wanted to start a petition that companies couldn’t call their syrup “maple” syrup if it wasn’t the real stuff. Mom convinced her it was likely to be more work that it was worth, but Laurel never really got over it.
“Yup, I was full-on homesick,” Laurel went on. “And I’ll tell you the truth—I’ll probably cry like a baby when you guys leave.”
“Then why don’t you come back?” I said. “Why don’t you switch to a college near us?”
Laurel laughed a little and hugged me. “Little girl, haven’t I taught you anything? Just because it’s easy doesn’t mean it’s right, you know? I’m learning a ton at Berkeley and meeting cool people, and figuring stuff out. It’s not supposed to be easy all the time.”
I nodded. “I’m really glad we had this trip,” I said, snuggling against her. “I’m sorry I was kind of obnoxious about it at first. I can’t believe I was so obsessed with my Reinvention Project and so freaked out about Mimi’s book. It seems kind of dumb now.”
“Will you finally let me see that list?” Laurel said, reaching for my journal. “Come on, let’s see how you did.”
I was a little embarrassed, but I pulled it out. Together we looked at it.
★ Learn Latin (Started strong, but wow, there are a lot of verbs. Must recommit.) (Hmmm. The recommitting didn’t really work. Better try again. I have managed some spectacular insults, though. For instance, the next time Vi’s little brother bugs us, I can just say, “Quis est haec simia?”)
★ Learn to surf, at least the basics (Obviously this is going nowhere.) (Still no change. Obvs.)
★ Practice yoga every morning to develop Inner Peace and Mindfulness (Hmmm. Not bad, considering. I hit my nose and got a nosebleed when I tried turtle pose, but otherwise I’m getting there.) (This is really coming along! Almost mastered camel without crashing over.)
★ Change hair (Note: this is Vi’s idea. I’ve been growing mine for four years, and I’m definitely not cutting it, but dying the ends…that I can do.) (Nothing yet.) (Well…I guess I nailed this one.)
★ Start wearing dark gray or navy-blue nail polish (and try not to pick it off in ten minutes) (Note: this is Vi’s idea too. We’ll see.) (I colored my nails in with Mom’s Sharpie. Does that count?) (The Sharpie has faded and now I look like my nails are rotting. Ugh.)
★ Read at least five nonfiction books (Two down…Loving I Am Malala!) (Finished Malala and on to Chasing Lincoln’s Killer! Who knew nonfiction was so exciting?)
★ Pick a signature social cause to care about (Note: This one’s Em’s idea. I have lots of causes I care about, but apparently we each need a “signature cause.”) (Maybe the environment? Laurel’s got me pretty worried.) (Ugh. Nothing. How am I supposed to choose??)
★ Eschew with a firm hand all old camp, soccer team, and dumb club shirts and sweatshirts, even if they are soft and cozy (Since I didn’t pack any, I am totally nailing my new style! Still, I miss my old Hidden Valley Camp T-shirt.) (Since I’ve added Mimi’s scarf to cover my blue ear, I guess my style is coming along. Ish.)
★ Consider jeggings (Not sure this one’s going to stick.)
★ Drink coffee (Nope.) (Still haven’t been brave enough to try again.)
★ Rebrand myself as Rae, not Sara (Hmmm…So far Travis is the only one who remembers every time, and how useless is that?) (Since no one in my family is talking much, it’s hard to say.)
★ Work on a novel, or at least
figure out a good story (Nothing. Haven’t written a word. Phooey.)
“I don’t think this is dumb,” Laurel said finally. “Think about it. You’ve been practicing yoga almost every day, you’ve got a fabulous new haircut, you’re officially drinking coffee….”
I shrugged. She was right, although I still wasn’t willing to call my haircut anything but a barely saved disaster.
“Maybe you should make a new list,” Laurel said. “And for the record, I don’t think there’s anything wrong with trying nail polish. Or jeggings. So you want to change up your look! Why not! Being told not to care about what you look like is as bad as being told you have to care. It’s all about freedom, man.”
I nodded, but my mind was already on to something else.
“Hey, Lo-Lo,” I asked. “Was Mimi…did she ever send part of her book to that New York publisher?”
Laurel turned and looked at me. “Why don’t you ask her?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know. Because I was kind of a jerk about her writing, and I feel bad. Like, if she didn’t write anything good, it’s partly my fault.”
Laurel laughed and hugged me. “You’re sure putting a lot on your shoulders. Were you responsible for writing her book? If it’s a big hit, do you get the credit? No? Well, then I don’t think you can take the blame either.”
I rolled my eyes. “Obviously that’s not what I meant. But—”
Laurel interrupted me. “Sara. Listen. You’re only the boss of you. Not the boss of Mimi or her editor or her book. Mimi’s the boss of her own self.”
“Of course I am,” Mimi said, coming up behind us. “What are you girls talking about? And scoot over and make room for your weary mother, will you?” she continued, scootching us until we were squeezed into the seats. “Mom and Ladybug are still sleeping, but some fool on his cell phone was talking so loudly about V-chip futures and second-round financing that I wanted to bean him with my purse.” She yawned loudly. “So anyway, what’s this about me being the boss of me?”
I rolled my eyes at Laurel. I wasn’t really sure what I wanted to say to Mimi. As amazing as the trip had been, I was still kind of mad. She never asked my opinion, never checked with me to see if I wanted my every move splattered in her book. Still, she’s wanted to write a book for so long, and when it really came down to it, I had done everything possible to sabotage it. It would have been nice to be asked, but really, the only answer I ever should have given was of course. How bad could it be? She’s my mom. Mimi turned toward me a little. “Say-Say, honey, before you say anything, I need to tell you something. I’m sorry. Not for taking you on this amazing trip, which, frankly, we’re all pretty lucky to be on. But for not taking you seriously and respecting your voice. There was no way we were going to skip this opportunity, but that doesn’t mean I should have ignored your feelings about it. And I’m sorry.”
Laurel elbowed me, hard, in the ribs. I cleared my throat. “I…um, thanks, Mimi. This has been amazing. Obviously. And I’m sorry too. I shouldn’t have given you such a hard time. It was pretty Veruca Salt of me. And honestly…” I paused here, because I knew once I said it, I couldn’t really un-say it. “Honestly, I’m fine with whatever you wrote. Really. I’ll even try to add more of my, you know, thoughts and words, or whatever you want.”
Mimi squirmed until she could get her arms around me in a kind of awkward sideways hug. “Oh, sweetie! You’re no Veruca! You’re such a good kid. And you should know, Mom and I had a long talk, and I told that editor I wasn’t interested at this point. It’s not fair to the rest of you.”
I stared at her. “What do you mean, you told her no? Did Mom think that was a good idea?”
“It was my decision, but we both agreed that our family deserves its privacy, and that this was the right choice.”
I felt dizzy. She had turned down the fancy New York publisher? “You should call her back! You can still do that, right?”
Mimi looked at me. “I don’t know. Probably. But the point is that—”
“The point is that someone wants to publish your book! I’m fine with it! Totally fine!” I paused. “Maybe…you know, try not to make me look too ridiculous.”
Mimi sighed and laughed. “You know? I’m not sure if I want to call her back. I’ll tell you, with Gavin’s help, I started again, writing up some of our adventures as a novel, instead of nonfiction. It’s still a very rough draft, but I think I’m writing a children’s book. We’ll have to see how it turns out, but I had this idea about this hilarious family traveling cross-country. Not our family, but one that shares some of our stories.”
At this I sat up. “You’re writing a novel? For kids? Like, my age? Who are the main characters? Are they sisters? When can I read it?”
Mimi laughed and pulled me back. “Yes, for kids your age. But in my book they’re all boys. I’ve already thought of a title: The Roling Family Rides the Rails. And yes,” she said, squeezing me. “Of course you can read it. I’ll count on you to be my first editor.”
I squeezed her back, but my mind was still racing. “Are you sure?” I asked. “Are you sure you don’t want to call that Krista person and tell her you changed your mind?”
“Nope,” Mimi said. “I decided to be brave and try to write a novel. If you and Laurel can be brave, I can too! I’m so lucky.” She squeezed me tighter, then reached around and grabbed Laurel. “So lucky,” she repeated. “Seriously. This is the good stuff, right here.”
A few minutes later, Mom, Ladybug, and Root came over and sat across from us. We talked about Mimi’s new book, and about the funny things that could happen to her (fictional!) characters. Then we talked about Laurel’s internships, because Mom went all Judge Johnston and called everyone she knew. Now Laurel has these cool legal aid and Environmental Justice Coalition interviews lined up. Then Ladybug said she was bored and could we play cards, so we did. She still cheats like crazy, but I played anyway. After all, as we say in Latin, Nisi eos tibi valde adiungere potes, eos vince.
TO: Travis Writes Code
FROM: SaraJF
SUBJECT: I know I said I wouldn’t email but…
Hey, Trav,
I know I’m not supposed to email, but I thought you’d like this photo of all of us on the Golden Gate Bridge. Take a look at Ladybug: notice anything new? That’s Josephine, the fire dragon she bought in Chinatown. Ladybug is planning to take photos of her all through San Francisco and on our plane home tomorrow. I think I’ll tell Mom to text you all the photos as she takes them…just in case.
Also, Root and Laurel had the idea for the second photo I’ve attached here. We asked our guesthouse to print out a picture of Elvis, and I guess in San Francisco that kind of request isn’t considered too weird, because they asked us if we wanted full body or just his face, and whether he should be wearing a jumpsuit or not. Anyway, here he is, hanging out with us on the bridge. We thought Miss Ruby might like that one. Tell her we say hi.
Ladybug loves her book so much. Thanks, Travis. Seriously. Thank you. I can honestly say that nothing about this trip would have been as good without you.
Love, Sara
We’re at the airport, waiting for our flight back to Boston. Laurel and Root just hugged and kissed us goodbye and we all cried…even Mom. Even Root. There was something about this trip together that I can’t really explain. The best way I can describe it is that it’s like when you plant something and water it and wait and watch it grow. It’s plain dirt at first, and you wonder why you care, but then it’s really really really exciting when the first green sprouts come up. Way more exciting than if you just go to the store and buy flowers or carrots or whatever. And this month’s train trip…it was like we planted something all together, we watered it and watched it and celebrated it together. We grew it together.
All in all, I guess I do feel pretty reinvented. I mean, I definitely don’t feel like the same person who got on the train almost a month ago. And thanks to my hair and scarf (and the really cool new silver bangles I got
in Santa Fe), I don’t look like her, either. And I learned a lot (not even including all the “Fun Facts!” which, as mentioned, were often seriously un-fun).
I learned that it’s possible to become good friends—maybe even best friends (after Em and Vi, because nobody’s ever replacing them, no matter how awesome)—with someone I just met, and who’s totally different from me. And I learned to appreciate Root, and how he really truly believes he can try to change the world. And I learned that just because people might notice us (and let’s be honest, it’s hard not to, with my family), it doesn’t mean they won’t like us. And that Laurel gets homesick, and misses me just as much as I miss her. And that she’s not always brave, and that I can be, sometimes.
I took Laurel’s advice this morning, when I couldn’t sleep, and tried writing a new Reinvention Project list. There are actually a bunch of the originals on there, plus others that I never EVER would have imagined. Let’s be honest, Saanvi was the only one who wanted me to wear gray nail polish, and I’m pretty sure she’ll be so impressed with my new scarf look that she won’t even care.
So here it is: the final new and improved Reinvention Project list for the new and improved Sara Johnston-Fischer:
★ Learned several key Latin phrases and insults that I can use to confuse/impress people
★ Started morning yoga routine. Not sure about calm and mindfulness, but I’m definitely more flexible!
★ Changed hair: not exactly as planned, but still, it’s definitely different! Also Mimi said that maybe, no guarantees, I can get a blue streak.
★ Read six nonfiction books. They were actually seriously interesting. I now know way more about Temple Grandin, Malala Yousafzai, owls, voting rights, President Lincoln, and hip-hop.
This Would Make a Good Story Someday Page 17