by Julie Bowe
Tom guessed that I was fibbing about wanting to be an artist because nobody's ever seen my sketchbook.
"So that means you're fibbing about your dad wearing Scooby Doo underpants?" Stacey finally guessed.
"Yep," I said. "He only wears Bugs Bunny."
When I said that, Stacey laughed so hard I thought she might pee her pants.
After a few more kids told fibs, it was Stacey's turn. She said, "Three things about me are:
1. I like making new friends.
2. My favorite color is green.
3. My real name isn't Stacey."
Jenna guessed that Stacey was fibbing about her favorite color. Surprise, surprise. Even the boys knew that on account of practically everything Stacey owns is pink or purple. Jenna gave herself a round of applause for being right and then barged right into telling her fib.
But something wasn't right. Stacey said she fibbed about her favorite color, which means the other two things were true. Then ... what is her real name?
I don't know why I need to know her real name. I just do. But I don't want her to know that I want to know.
By the time lunch is over, I know what I have to do.
Instead of going straight outside for recess, I sneak back to our classroom. I pull a crumpled piece of paper and a half-chewed pencil from my desk. I think for a minute, and then I write:
So what IS your real name?
Signed,
A Girl
I toss the note on Stacey's desk. Then I race outside before anyone catches me sneaking around.
I kick rocks around the playground five times before I realize I made the stupidest mistake in the history of the world.
How is Stacey Merriweather supposed to answer my question when she doesn't know who is asking it? Will she get up in front of the whole class, wave my piece of crumpled paper in the air, and shout, " What girl left this note on my desk?!"
If she does, I will turn as red as Rusty Smith's hair. Then everyone will know it was me.
While I'm thinking this through, the bell rings, and I know I have to get that note before Stacey does.
I race into the school, barrel through a bunch of first graders, slip past the office, and tear down the hallway. It seems to take forever, but I finally zoom through our classroom doorway.
Then I freeze.
Stacey Merriweather is standing by her desk. She's tucking my crumpled piece of paper into her pocket.
I am toast.
"Excuse me, I-duh," Jenna suddenly says as she shoves me through the doorway.
She shoves me so hard I trip over my feet and fall flat on my face.
Jenna looks down at me. "You should be more careful," she says with a smirk. She steps over me and marches to her desk.
Stacey just stares at Jenna like she doesn't know what to say.
Everyone starts coming into the classroom, so I get up and slump to my desk.
Stacey walks over to me. "Are you okay, Ida?" she asks. "You'll still be able to go to Jenna's party, won't you?"
"I'm fine," I mumble.
"Because I really want you to go. And I'm sure Jenna didn't mean to knock you down."
"Yeah, and I'm an Olympic athlete," I say.
I squeeze my eyes shut until Stacey gets the hint and goes back to her desk. A minute later I hear Mr. Crow say, "Take out your science books, please." I take a deep breath and open my eyes. That's when my heart stops.
On the chalkboard, between next week's spelling words and today's math problems, I see it.
In curly cursive letters.
I blink my eyes and look again.
It's still there.
It's Stacey's name. Her real name. It has to be. The most amazing name I've ever seen.
Suddenly I realize Stacey isn't going to wave my note around and make me look stupid in front of the whole class.
She's keeping it a secret.
Our secret.
I don't dare look at Stacey. I don't want her to know I left the note. Or even suspect that I did.
So I keep my eyes straight ahead, staring at that amazing name. And it's a good thing, too, or I would have missed the other message.
Just before Mr. Crow erases the board, I see it.
In teeny-tiny print:
Chapter 6
I spend the whole afternoon wondering what I should do. Should I tell Stacey I left that note? Should I tell her my real name? I keep coming up with the same answer.
No.
Even if I wanted to be her friend, which I don't, she's sticking up for Jenna, which means it's only a matter of time before she hates me, so what's the point?
I'm still thinking about this as we head out to the bus after school. Jenna organizes us into a jumbled line. She is in the lead. I bring up the rear.
The bus is crawling with kids by the time we climb on. Jenna takes command of the situation, maneuvering Stacey and Brooke through the obstacle course of knees and elbows. They pile into an open seat near the back. Randi plows through next, clearing a path for Meeka and Jolene. They squish into the last empty seat just behind the other girls.
I stand at the top of the stairs and look down the aisle, feeling like a fish who is about to be flushed.
"Quickly, now," the bus driver says to me. "Find a seat." She pulls on the long handle that's connected to the door, closing it with a snap.
I scan the sea of heads and backpacks.
I see some space near the front, where all the little kids sit. I plunge in and stop alongside Rachel Drews and Tess Kloud.
"Hi, Rachel," I say. "Can I sit with you?"
Rachel looks up at me, wrinkling her forehead into a question mark. "How come?" she asks.
"It's me," I say, forcing a smile. "Ida May. I'm going to your house for Jenna's sleepover."
The bus suddenly jerks forward and I have to grab the back of Rachel's seat to keep from falling.
"It's too squishy with three," Rachel says. Tess nods.
"Sit down!" the bus driver hollers at me.
I nudge myself onto the edge of Rachel and Tess's seat. They both complain, but I pretend I can't hear them.
The bus bumps along, and my legs begin to feel like they are going to fall off. At least it isn't a long ride to Jenna's house. I know where she lives even though I've never actually been inside.
When we get to the bus stop I hurry off and wait for the other girls. Rachel waits with me. When they finally pile out, Jenna links arms with Stacey. The other girls link up, too. "All for one, and one for all!" Jenna cries, as they march down the sidewalk together. Rachel and I fall in behind.
"You'll love my house, Stacey," Jenna says. "Everyone does." The other girls nod. "We can do whatever we want. My mom won't care. We can even stay up all night."
"Me, too?" Rachel asks.
Jenna shoots a look back at Rachel and me. "No babies allowed," she snaps.
As I listen to the girls making their plans for the night, I think about the last time I went to a sleepover, just before Elizabeth moved away.
All her toys had already been packed. So had most of the furniture. Even the bowls and spoons had been packed, so we pretty much just had to sit around on the floor and eat cereal right out of the box.
The longer I sat there and watched Elizabeth's mom and dad running around, rolling up rugs and carrying boxes out to the moving van, the more I wondered if maybe my parents were thinking about moving away, too. And then I started wondering if maybe they were packing up the beds and spoons at that very moment. In fact, when I got home in the morning maybe the whole inside of my house would be gone, including my parents.
The more I thought about that and the more I watched Elizabeth digging through the cereal box, the more I felt like crying. So I did. And when Elizabeth asked me what was wrong, I said my stomach felt funny. And when she held out a handful of sweaty purple marshmallows and said, "Eat these," I said, "No thanks," and threw up in her hand.
So Elizabeth and her mom drove me home real fast because t
hey didn't want their van to smell like puke all the way to Albuquerque.
But the funny thing was, as soon as we got to my house I started to feel a lot better. I jumped right out of the van and ran up to the door. My mom opened it and I could see that all the furniture was still there, and that made my stomach sort of smile.
In fact, I felt so good I ran right inside.
And forgot to say good-bye to Elizabeth.
Chapter 7
As soon as Jenna opens the front door to her house we are attacked by a yippy ball of fur on four legs.
"Get down, Biscuit!" Jenna hollers. But Biscuit keeps jumping all over us like a Slinky gone bad.
Rachel finally gets hold of Biscuit and holds his trembling body tight so the other girls can pet him.
"I wish I had a dog," Stacey says, nuzzling in close to Biscuit and even kissing him on the nose.
"How come you don't got one?" Rachel asks.
"Um ... my family is too busy traveling all over the world to take care of a pet," Stacey replies.
"Doesn't your aunt have a pet?" Meeka asks.
"Um ... yes, five actually. Three dogs and two cats. But they're all show animals, so I'm not allowed to play with them," Stacey says.
"Wow, her house must be really big to have so many pets," Jolene says.
"Oh, yes," Stacey replies. "You might even call it a mansion."
"I bet it's not as big as my house," Jenna says. "But I guess we'll find out tomorrow."
Stacey suddenly stops petting Biscuit. "Tomorrow?" she says.
"Of course," Jenna replies. "When we take you home."
"Oh, um ... I forgot about that. I mean, I forgot to tell you," Stacey says. "My aunt wants me to walk home ... early. It's not far and she thinks I need the exercise."
Jenna frowns. "But—," she starts to say.
"I can't wait to see your room, Jenna," Stacey interrupts. She gives Jenna her biggest crayon smile.
Jenna lifts her chin. "Of course you can't," she says. "Follow me."
Rachel takes Biscuit outside. The rest of us gather up our stuff and follow Jenna through the house. It's big and airy enough to grow trees. Strange paintings dot the mud-colored walls: scribbly flowers and crooked faces with four eyes and two noses. I can draw better than that, I say to myself.
Jenna's room is so sunny you'd think a cheerful girl lives there. Glow-in-the-dark stars and planets hang from the ceiling. Grass green rugs are scattered on the wooden floor.
I tap the hard floor with the toe of my sneaker. "How are we supposed to sleep on this?" I ask.
"Don't be stupid," Jenna says, dumping her school stuff on the floor and jumping onto her big bed. "Everyone knows you don't sleep at a sleepover."
Brooke giggles and joins Jenna on her bed. So do Meeka and Jolene. Randi shouts, "Monkey pile!" and dives on top of them. They all scream and bounce and giggle.
"C'mon, Stacey!" Jenna shouts.
"Ready or not, here I come!" Stacey cries. Then she turns to me and whispers, "I was wondering the same thing, Ida. About sleeping on the floor." She smiles at me. And dives onto Jenna's bed.
Just then Jenna's mom walks in carrying a plate of cookies. Her hair falls in two braids over her shoulders, just like Jenna's. She smells like oatmeal.
"Hi, Mom!" Jenna calls from the bed.
Jenna's mom smiles at all the bouncing girls. Then she notices me.
"Oh, hello, Ida," she says.
"Hello," I say back.
She holds the plate out to me. "Treat yourself to a homemade cookie, Ida. I'm sure you're used to store-bought."
I take one of the cookies off the plate and nibble it, even though I don't have much of an appetite. "Yum," I say.
Jenna's mom lifts her chin. "I'll give the recipe to your mother," she says. She takes a step toward Jenna's bed. "Girls? I have oatmeal cookies right out of the oven!"
"Thank you!" all the girls chime.
"Jenna, why don't you introduce me to your new friend?" her mom asks.
Jenna pulls Stacey out from the tangle of girls and says, "Pauline Drews, meet Stacey Merriweather. Stacey Merriweather, meet Pauline Drews."
Stacey giggles and waves to Jenna's mom. The other girls pull her back in.
Jenna's mom looks pleased. "Jenna, bring the girls down to the kitchen in a few minutes. I'm getting a craft project ready for you."
The girls keep bouncing.
Jenna's mom glances at me. "Here, Ida," she says, handing me the plate of cookies. "Give these to the girls when they're done playing."
I take the cookies, and Jenna's mom breezes out the door.
A minute later, Stacey bounces off the bed and over to me. "Can I have a cookie, Ida?" she asks, all bright and breathless.
"Help yourself," I reply. But just then Jenna shouts, "Wait, Stacey! You don't want those."
"Why not?" she asks.
"Because I have something better, don't I, girls?" She gives Brooke, Meeka, and Jolene a sly look. They bob their heads up and down, giggling.
Jenna jumps off her bed and reaches underneath. She pulls out a box that's filled with packages of store-bought cookies and candy bars. She dumps them on her bed. Brooke, Meeka, Jolene, and Randi dig in.
Stacey looks at me. "Do you want some chocolate, Ida?" she asks.
"Um ... no thanks," I say, holding up my oatmeal cookie. "I'm good."
Stacey gives me half a smile and then joins the chocolate feast.
I set the plate of cookies on Jenna's dresser and walk over to her bed. I pick up one of the packages of cookies and look at the ingredients label. Then I look at Jenna. "I thought your family didn't believe in preservatives," I say.
Jenna snatches the package out of my hand. "Lighten up, I-duh. It's a party." Jenna takes a big bite out of a caramel candy bar. "And don't tattle to my mother about this," she says, shaking the candy bar at me. "If you tell her I'll..."
"You'll what?" I ask.
Jenna thinks for a moment. Then she narrows her eyes and licks caramel off her lips. "I'll tell everyone you peed your pants at my sleepover."
I glare at Jenna. "That's a lie," I say.
Jenna shrugs. "Maybe it is, maybe it isn't." She scans the other girls' faces. "Ida peed her pants at my sleepover, right?" she says.
Brooke, Jolene, Meeka, and Randi look at me. Then they look at Jenna. And nod.
I look at Stacey.
She glances away. And nods, too.
"See?" Jenna says. "It is true."
I storm out of Jenna's room and crumple against the wall in the hallway. I wish I had my sketchbook so I could draw a picture of my house, dive into it, and lock the door.
"That wasn't very nice, Jenna," I hear Stacey say.
"I was just joking," Jenna replies. "Still," Stacey says. "You should tell Ida you're sorry."
I hear Jenna make a big sigh and slide off her bed. A moment later she's standing over me. "Please accept my apologies," she says loudly, so the other girls can hear her. She tosses a candy bar onto my lap. Then she leans over and whispers, "Don't be such a baby, I-duh."
Chapter 8
It isn't long before all the cookies and candy have disappeared and Jenna is leading the way to the kitchen.
Jenna's mom has covered the kitchen table with newspaper. A pile of rocks is at the center of the table along with paints and brushes. Rachel is already sitting at the table, wearing a paint smock over her clothes. The smock is splattered with paint, and there is a paintbrush in her hand. Several rocks painted like bugs and butterflies are on the table around her.
Rachel looks up as we come into the kitchen. "We're painting rocks!" she cries.
"Duh, Rachel," Jenna says. "We're not blind."
Jenna turns to us and announces, "We collected these rocks on our summer vacation. Find one you like and paint it."
There aren't enough chairs for everyone, so I just stand next to Rachel. The girls start digging through the rocks. I start digging, too, even though all the paint and newspaper and brushes make me
think of the messy art projects Elizabeth and I used to do. Which makes me miss her even more.
"That's an interesting one, Ida," I hear someone say.
I look up and see Stacey pointing at a rock that has fiddled its way into my hand. It doesn't look very interesting to me. Just an ordinary grayish color, flat on one side with a knobby bump on the other side.
"It looks like a humpback whale," Stacey says, taking the rock from my hand and turning it so that the knobby bump is on top. Then she moves it up and down in the air like it's swimming. "Maybe an enchanted whale...," she adds in a dreamy voice, "...who rose from the depths of a magical sea in search of you, Ida."
"Huh?" I say.
Stacey just smiles and swims the rock back to me. "It's a nice rock, Ida. I like—"
But before Stacey can finish what she was going to say, Rachel yanks on my sleeve, getting brown fingerprints all over it. "Look!" she hollers. "Biscuit!"
Rachel holds up a drippy brown rock in her equally drippy hand. The rock also has two drippy yellow dots that are apparently supposed to be eyes.
Jenna groans at her little sister. But Stacey looks at that mess of a rock and smiles. "It looks exactly like Biscuit," she says. Then she reaches over and takes the rock from Rachel. She paints Biscuit on the back while Rachel beams. Beaming is what you call it when your face just about splits open because of your big smile.
I know all about beaming. That's because Elizabeth was a great beamer. When she beamed, you just couldn't help beaming right back.
I do not beam at Rachel. I just stand there looking at all the rocks the girls are painting. Jenna's rock is carob colored with creamy speckles. She's painting wings and a beak on it. Brooke's rock is flat and squarish. She's painting it to look like a picture frame and says she's going to paint herself inside. Randi's rock is almost perfectly round. She's painting it to look like a basketball. Meeka and Jolene are painting matching flowers on their rocks. And Stacey finds two rocks that are the same shape and starts painting them like a pair of pink ballet slippers.
Jenna's mom comes over to see how we're doing. She notices my painted sleeve. "Jenna," she says. "Ida has gotten paint all over herself. Go get a clean shirt for her to wear while I wash this one."