Open If You Dare

by Dana Middleton

  Across the street, Rose is talking with Romeo. She’s flirting with him. I can tell by the way she smiles and flips her hair.

  I haven’t told her yet. It’s been four days since Ally found out about Romeo and me, and I still haven’t told Rose. After putting it off for three days, I promised Ally I would do it last night.

  So after dinner, I walked to Rose’s house. I took the long way—up Chancery Lane, around Queen’s Way, and back down Gainsborough Drive. The whole time, I looked at houses, especially the older ones, comparing them to Girl Detective’s photo. I’ve studied this photo so many times over the past few days it’s becoming emblazoned in my brain. The house was made of brick—I imagine red brick, but I can’t be sure because it’s in black-and-white. There were eight windows. Three little trees. One chimney. Walking along, I examined house after house. Some came close to matching but when I’d hold up the photo to compare, the trees would be in different places. Or the chimney was sitting on the wrong side of the roof. Or the windows … too many or too few. It was good to search, even though I couldn’t find it. The searching kept my mind from other things. Like telling Rose.

  Finally, I found myself standing on Rose’s front porch where I rang the doorbell and waited. It was the first time in my life I rang Rose’s bell and wished she wasn’t home. No luck. She opened the door almost immediately and pulled me inside. “This is hilarious. Come see.”

  I joined Rose, her mom, and Simon at the kitchen table where Simon was showing them a video of his friend Teddy making a fool of himself over a girl. He was singing her this song and playing the ukulele. He can’t really play, and he’s a horrible singer. I mean he can’t hit a note. The camera zoomed in on the girl, who was staring at him like he had a communicable disease or something. Of course, somebody posted it on YouTube. It was silly and embarrassing but really funny. Even Mrs. Ashcroft was laughing.

  When it ended, Rose’s mom wiped her eye with a tissue. “That poor boy,” she said, then looked at me. “Can I get you some pudding, love?”

  “Yes, please.” Pudding means dessert in England, and Rose’s mom makes excellent pudding.

  As I sat down at the table, she went to the counter. “I feel so bad for Teddy. I really do.”

  “You laughed, Mum!” Simon said.

  “Oh, I shouldn’t have.”

  “Yes, you should have,” Rose said. “It was so funny!” And then she actually grinned at her mother.

  And her mom grinned back.

  After all the yelling and stink bombing and violin burning, they were actually looking at each other like they hadn’t for a very long time. Maybe it was because the violin was gone. Or maybe they called a secret truce. Whatever it was, I didn’t care. It was a beautiful thing and I wished I had my Polaroid camera so I could capture the moment forever. As Mrs. Ashcroft placed her beautiful toffee cake and custard creation before me, I watched, mesmerized, as they were being happy.

  I just couldn’t tell Rose at a moment like that.

  “No way!” Connor’s yelling brings me back to our street, back to the bike racing. I turn and see him pointing at Moses, this daredevil kid who lives up on Queen’s Way.

  “What kind of derpy thing is that?!”

  Moses is pushing this weird bike up the street. It has a small front wheel and a big back one, a banana seat, and uneven handlebars. He flips his shades to the top of his head. “You just don’t know bikes, Gomez.”

  “Right. I don’t know bikes,” Connor says. “Whatever.”

  Moses sits on the Frankenstein bike and pushes off. Everyone watches as he picks up speed and flies down the hill. The front wheel starts wobbling but Moses holds it together. He comes to a skidding stop in front of my house, turns around, and pumps his arms.

  “What a maniac.”

  I turn to see Ally beside me, straddling her bike. “Yeah,” I say. For a quiet, awkward moment, we watch Moses push his bike back up the hill.

  “You didn’t tell her, did you?”

  My shoulders drop. “I couldn’t,” I confess.

  “Birdie!”

  “Shhh. Come over here.” I walk over to Connor’s side yard, away from everybody else. Ally follows and rests her bike against a tree. Her hands find her hips and she stares at me like I’ve committed a crime.

  “Don’t look at me that way,” I say guiltily.

  “How else am I supposed to look at you?” She turns to Rose. “Look at her! Flirting with Romeo. This is so uncool.”

  “I just … last night Rose and her mom were really getting along. They were happy. I was going to tell her. Really. I was. But I just couldn’t ruin it.”

  She counts off on her fingers. “Saturday, Sunday, Monday, Tuesday. This is Wednesday. You’re going to Chicago on Friday. What the heck, Bird?”

  She never calls me Bird. Only Rose does that.

  “You’re always the one to tell me and Rose how to be,” she says. “To be better and kinder and all that. Most of the time it’s annoying but deep down, sometimes I’m glad you’re like that. Because who else would tell me? I might be a holy horror if it weren’t for you.”

  “Really?” I say, genuinely surprised.

  “Yeah, but don’t look happy! Because you’re ruining it now. You won’t even listen to me and you really have to. You have to!”

  Rose is approaching. I see her coming from behind Ally. When Ally turns and sees her, she says it one more time. “You have to.”

  “Have to what?” Rose asks.

  Ally stares at me mutely.

  “Have to what, Bird?” Rose asks again. “What is it?”

  “I have something to tell you,” I say and my mouth goes dry.

  “What?” She eyeballs the both of us. “What’s with the serious?”

  “It is serious,” I say. “I didn’t tell you something.”

  “Well, unless you murdered somebody, we’re probably okay.”

  “No, we’re not,” I say. “We’re not okay. I need to tell—”

  “Birdie!” It’s Zora, marching toward me, a crooked frown across her face. “Come on. I’m bored. If we’re not riding bikes, let’s go home!” She grabs my hand and pulls. I shake her off. Harder than I have to.

  “Cut it out, Zora!” I say, too harshly. “Give me a minute, okay?”

  I can tell that Zora’s hurt but she’s mad, too. “No! I want to go home now!”

  “Please! Just go play! Five minutes!”

  She stares at me, in the same way that Ally’s been staring at me, like I’m a terrible person, and I just can’t take it. “Go!” I yell and point to other side of Connor’s yard.

  Her lips narrow to a single line and she walks away. “What is up, Bird?” Rose says. “That wasn’t cool.”

  “Nothing’s cool!” I blurt out. “I’m a sucky friend and I’m really sorry.” I seek out Rose’s eyes and say, “Romeo doesn’t like you, Rose. He likes me. He’s liked me since Valentine’s Day.”

  A hush descends upon our circle and I’m finding it hard to breathe. I watch Rose’s face go pale as the news seeps into her skin and poisons her heart. “Why didn’t you tell me?” she finally utters.

  “I should have. I’m so sorry.”

  “Oh my gosh, I feel like such an idiot.” Her eyes shift to Romeo and her face goes red. “How could you let me be such a … oh my gosh. Bird.”

  “I didn’t want to hurt you.”

  “You lied to me.”

  “I didn’t mean to.” Our eyes lock. I can’t look away. I’m afraid if I break our gaze, she’ll never look at me again.

  “Birdie!” It’s Romeo’s voice but I don’t turn to him. I don’t dare.

  Ally grabs my arm. “Birdie!”

  “What?!” My eyes reluctantly shift to Ally.

  “Zora!” She’s pointing toward the hill and for one long ridiculous moment, we are frozen in place, watching, as Zora starts rolling down the hill on Moses’s Frankenstein bike.

  “Zora!” I scream. “Zora, stop!”

  But s
he doesn’t. She actually pumps the pedals, making the bike go faster.

  Everyone on the hill goes silent except for Moses, who calls out, “Hey, kid! Get off my bike!”

  I want to blame him. Why did Moses leave his bike on the side of the road where Zora could get it? Why didn’t one of the boys stop her?

  I’m running now. Zora has stopped pedaling but the bike is accelerating anyway. Gaining speed. She’s going too fast. The front wheel starts wobbling.

  “Zora!” I yell and run as fast as I’ve ever run down the hill behind her. “Hold on!” And I realize she doesn’t even have a helmet on.

  As if in slow motion, Zora looks back at me. Her frightened face. I am a terrible sister. I would do anything to change this. But it’s too late for that.

  As Ally zooms past me, I watch the front wheel of the bike turn sideways and collapse. The Frankenstein bike bucks Zora off like it’s a real live bronco. She’s really flying now. I hear her scream before she lands headfirst on the asphalt.

  “Zora!”

  Ally gets there first. But I’m right behind her. “Go get Dad!” I yell. “Hurry!”

  As Ally runs off, I kneel next to my sister, the bike in pieces behind us. There’s blood on her head.

  Gently, I put her head in my lap. “Zora, can you hear me?” She doesn’t say anything. Her eyes are closed. A car approaches and stops in front of us. “Are you kids all right?” a grown-up voice calls out.

  “Zora, speak to me. Please,” I beg. “Please be okay.”

  33

  THE FLUORESCENT lights buzz overhead, and in my mind, I’m tracing the geometric design on the floor tiles for the hundredth time. I’ve washed Zora’s blood off my hands three times but I can still feel it. I can still see it on my shorts.

  I’m a horrible sister. All I can think of is Zora’s sad, mad little face looking up at me when I pointed my finger and sent her away. I was awful to my own little sister. Zora didn’t mean any harm. She just wanted my attention. Like she always does. And I yelled at her in front of everyone in Connor’s front yard.

  I’m a horrible friend. If I had just told Rose about Romeo—and I could have told her about a million times—none of this would have happened. I wouldn’t have been so mean to Zora. Ally wouldn’t be mad at me for not telling Rose. And Rose might be speaking to me, which I seriously doubt she will ever do again.

  I’m in a hospital waiting room on the fifth floor. Through the window, I can see that it’s almost dark outside. A little girl wanders around the waiting room offering people imaginary cups of tea. Her father, in a tired voice, keeps telling her not to bother anybody, to come sit with him. It works temporarily. She sits patiently for a few minutes, starts fidgeting, then resumes her tea service. Over and over again.

  I’ve had make-believe tea four times already, and still my throat burns. I’m buried in guilt and all I can do is sit here.

  They’ve been moving Zora to a regular hospital room after all the hours we spent in emergency. I’m too worried to be bored.

  “She’s getting settled.” I look up and see my mom. “Dad’s with her.”

  “Is she going to be okay?” I ask.

  “I think so,” she says. “Come on. Let’s get some food or something.”

  We walk to the elevator and Mom pushes the second floor button. Silently, we ride down three floors. I’m waiting for her to say something but she doesn’t. When the elevator stops, we get out onto a quiet floor and I follow her down the hall. Guilty, guilty, guilty.

  The hospital cafeteria is almost empty and we find a table by the window. Mom gets a cup of coffee and she buys me a turkey sandwich. I take a bite but don’t feel like eating.

  “Zora has a hairline skull fracture,” Mom tells me. “And a concussion. So, it’s not good.”

  “But she’s going to be okay, right?”

  “She should be,” Mom says, and I notice the dark circles under her eyes. “She has to stay quiet and they want to watch her. She’s going to have to stay here for a few days. That’s mostly because of the concussion. They can’t do much about the fracture. We’ll just have to keep an eye on it and give it time to heal.”

  “Poor Zora,” I say.

  “Yeah.” She takes a sip of coffee and rests her eyes on me. “What happened, Birdie?”

  “I don’t know. She got on that dumb bike. I didn’t know she was doing it.”

  “Why would she do something like that? That doesn’t sound like her.”

  “I don’t know,” I mumble. “She might have been upset.”

  Her eyes fall on me like a spotlight. “What would Zora have been upset about?”

  When I was little, I found a bird’s nest in our backyard. It had fallen out of a tree but the eggs inside weren’t broken, so I picked them up and brought them into the house. Proudly, I opened my hands and showed the pale blue eggs to my mom. But instead of smiling, she frowned.

  I could tell I had done something wrong but I didn’t know what. When she explained that since I touched the eggs, the mama bird wouldn’t want them anymore and they couldn’t hatch without her, I didn’t want to believe her. So I put the eggs in a box with a blanket, kept them warm, and wished and wished for the little birds to come out. When they never did, I began to wish for something else. I wanted to turn back time. If I could only go back to that day and not pick up those eggs, maybe those baby birds could have lived.

  Looking at my mom across the hospital cafeteria table, I want to turn back time again. To February 14. Instead of hiding Romeo’s Valentine’s card, I could have chosen to show it to Rose. It might have stung at first, but Rose would have moved on to like another boy and she wouldn’t be mad at me. And today would have never happened. Instead of taking out my frustration on Zora, I could have been nice to her. We could have gone home, popped some popcorn, played a game. Anything not to have ended up here.

  “What was Zora upset about?” Mom asks me again. “Weren’t you watching her?”

  “Yeah,” I say. “Well, kind of … I mean … I tried but…”

  “Hmm.”

  I hate it when she does that. Her hmm makes me feel more guilty. I try not to squirm in my seat.

  “You’ve always been so good with Zora. I know we ask you to take on certain responsibilities with her, but we think that’s good for you. And Zora thinks you hung the moon. She’d rather be with you than anyone else in the world.”

  “I know but—”

  “Things are changing. I get that. But you only had to watch her for an hour. Is that too much to ask?”

  I stare at my sandwich, unable to speak.

  She leans forward, resting her elbows on the table. “Maybe it’s being twelve, but sometimes it feels like you’d rather be with your friends than your family. And it hurts Zora’s feelings. That’s one reason I wanted us to go see your grandma. For some family bonding time.” She pauses. “But you got what you wanted. We’re not going to Chicago now.”

  “No, Mom! It’s not what I wanted! Not like this!” My eyes are stinging. “I’m sorry. I didn’t want anything to happen to Zora. I’m so sorry, Mom.” I wipe away a tear with the back of my hand.

  We sit across from each other, this horrible tension between us, and Mom asks, “What’s going on with you, Birdie?”

  I let out a sigh that comes out more like a croak. “You’ll think it’s dumb.”

  She takes a long breath. “I won’t. Tell me.”

  I start slowly. “It’s just so much has been going on and Rose is mad at me and I was trying to do the right thing and I ended up doing the wrong thing … with Zora.”

  “What’s Rose mad at you about?”

  “Romeo,” I say. “Rose likes Romeo.”

  “She’s too young to like boys.”

  “That’s not what Rose thinks.”

  “But what does this have to do with you?”

  “Romeo likes me,” I say and watch closely for her reaction.

  Her mouth drops open. “He does?”

  I n
od. “Yeah. He likes me.”

  “How do you know?”

  “He told me.” I pause. “And gave me a Valentine’s card.”

  “He did?”

  “Yeah.”

  She sits back, taking this in, then blurts out, “You don’t like him back, do you?”

  I shake my head. “No. I mean, not like that.”

  “Oh gosh,” Mom says. “A boy likes you. We’re already there.”

  “But I told him we’re just friends. Problem was, I never told Rose.”

  “You didn’t want to hurt her.”

  “Exactly!” I exclaim. “But Rose … well … she’s been flirting with Romeo all summer, thinking he liked her. But he didn’t like her. And I knew. See?”

  “Hmm. Does she know now?”

  “I told her. Right before Zora’s accident.”

  “Oh,” Mom says, absorbing the tween angst that is currently me. “And how’d she take it?”

  “Bad. And then Zora crashed.” Mom winces when I say that. “Sorry, I mean, then I don’t know. I didn’t see her. But I’m pretty sure she hates me.”

  “What about Ally?”

  “She’s not so happy with me, either. She’s the one who made me tell Rose.”

  “Sounds about right.”

  “Mom, Rose burned her violin.”

  Her eyes widen. “She didn’t!”

  “Set it on fire and floated it down the creek.” I decide not to tell her about the lighter fluid, though.

  “Does her mother know?”

  “No,” I say. “And you can’t tell her. I just needed to tell you.” And suddenly I feel the weight of all the things I’ve been carrying by myself this summer. The weight of Romeo, the violin, the mystery. I’m used to letting my mom share my load. Whenever I’d tell her a problem, it would somehow magically lighten. My eyes meet hers and I feel the tears coming.

  “What is it, honey?” she asks.

  “I’m scared, Mom,” I say quietly. “I’ve always had Rose and Ally. I don’t know who I am without them.”

  “Oh. Yes, you do.” She reaches for my hand. “You absolutely do.”

  Shaking my head, I cry silently. “I don’t think you’re right,” I whisper, and she strokes my hand like she always does when I’m sad.