Katie paused. “Wait, what?”
“The pocket watch,” Ana said. She stared Katie straight in the eye. “I know you took it. Babushka knows it’s gone, and she was super ticked. But if you give it back, I’ll work it out so she finds it lying around and thinks she lost it. That’s the good thing about having a grandma that’s turning every corner of your house upside-down.”
This wasn’t going in the right direction at all. “I didn’t steal Babushka’s watch, Ana.”
Ana stood, her voice harder now. “You did. I saw it in your room when you were at the ballet. I left a note inside it, remember?”
“I didn’t steal it. I’m not a thief,” Katie insisted. “I’m not a liar.” Her stomach twisted. She couldn’t believe she’d said those words. Not when the whole point of having Ana over today was to admit she’d lied to her. Katie couldn’t look Ana in the eyes. How had things gone so seriously wrong, when all she’d wanted to do was fix them?
“I want you to trust me,” she whispered.
“If you want people to trust you, you have to tell the truth.” Ana’s voice was almost desperate now. “Admit you’re wrong and give the watch back! I’m willing to fix this for you, but not if you keep lying to me. Geez, I have to fix all Mikey’s problems too, but at least he’s honest!”
Katie stood and faced Ana. “I’m telling you the truth, and I’ll prove it.” She led Ana upstairs and pulled out the pocket watch. “This one’s mine. Your grandma’s doesn’t have the little scratch right here.”
Ana looked conflicted, but only for a second. “You could have scratched it.”
“I didn’t,” Katie insisted. “And I’ll show you exactly where I got it!” She hadn’t planned on showing anybody the box in the attic, ever, but she had to prove to Ana—and to herself—that she could tell the truth.
“Here,” she said to Mikey, handing him the watch. “You hold this, so Ana knows I’m not trying to steal it.”
Katie dragged Ana up to the attic. “There’s a whole box of stuff up here, and as soon as you see inside, you’ll know the watch belongs there too.”
Ana rolled her eyes. “If the watch belongs in the box, why was it in your bedroom?”
Katie hesitated. “It just was, okay?” What was the point of telling the truth if nobody believed you? “You can trust me or not, but I promise, it came from this box.”
But when they reached the spot where the box should have been, there was only an empty space, a square of dust-free floor.
“It was right there!” Katie said. “You can see where it used to be.” She began frantically searching for the box’s saggy sides and yellowed tape.
Katie was suddenly so mad at the world, but especially at her mom. How could she have taken away the only things that had brought Katie closer to knowing who she was?
“That un-dusty spot doesn’t prove anything,” Ana said. “That’s probably from one of your mom’s boxes for her ten thousand Christmas decorations.”
Katie was so upset for so many reasons that the words came out without her even thinking about them.
“She’s not really my mom.” As soon as she’d said them, she stopped. “I didn’t mean that.”
“So you lied. Again.”
Katie felt sick. “It’s more complicated than that.”
“Either you lied or you didn’t, Katie, and I’m kind of getting sick of trying to tell the difference.”
“Here’s the truth,” Katie said. “I didn’t tell you all my secrets before.” She closed her eyes and took the leap, praying it would help. “I’m adopted.”
With her eyelids shut tight, Katie waited—for the sick feeling inside to go away, for Ana to respond, for something.
“I’m adopted,” she said again, a little softer. She opened her eyes.
“So that’s your excuse for stealing stuff and lying about it?” Ana shrugged. “I already knew you were adopted.”
Katie backed away. “You already knew? How?”
“I heard your mom telling somebody when you first moved in. Everybody knows.”
“Everybody knows?” Katie leaned against the wall and slumped to the floor. “Everybody?”
“Yeah, and nobody cares. What’s the big deal? I don’t care if you’re adopted.”
“I care,” Katie said. “If you were really my best friend, you’d care too, because I care.” She stared up at the ceiling to try to keep the tears in. She couldn’t cry in front of Ana. Especially not right now. “If you really don’t care,” Katie said, her heart freezing in her chest, “then I think you should go.”
Ana just stared for a second. “Okay, sure. That seems like a good way to fix problems. Somebody should just leave, huh?” She took one more look around the attic. “If you find your mysterious box or think of anything else you want to tell me, let me know. Me and Mikey are going home.”
Home.
Katie sat alone in the corner of the attic, wondering how this had ever felt like a magical place. She imagined the hands that had laid one brick on top of another, nailed one smooth board to another, so that she could sit here now. She imagined a hundred years of families who had lived in this house before her, big and old-fashioned and smiling. Shouldn’t those stories be part of her story too?
We share something important, she would say to them. Don’t you think we could mean something to each other?
But when she looked out the attic window and saw her best friend walking away without even glancing back, Katie knew the answer.
Ana
Chapter 16
ANA STARED AT the sidewalk as she and Mikey left, but she could feel Katie watching her from the attic window. Her best friend had stolen Babushka’s watch, and then she’d lied about it. She’d kept secrets from Ana and lied about that too.
Of all the ways Ana’s dad had broken their hearts, it was the lies that had hurt the worst. About coming to more games this season, and finally taking her on a road trip. About being there when they got home from the lake.
The bracelet itched at Ana’s wrist from inside her coat. She couldn’t trust Katie. Not anymore. Probably never again.
And was she seriously supposed to feel bad for Katie just because she was adopted? At least she had two parents she could count on. Ana had nobody right now. Not her parents, not Mikey, not her hockey friends, and definitely not Katie anymore.
With a creepy shiver, Ana realized that the most dependable person in her life was actually Babushka.
That was too depressing to think about. Ana dropped her backpack in the kitchen as Mikey ran ahead up the stairs. At least he’d ended up with her this time instead of with Katie. She drank a huge glass of water, gulp after gulp without even stopping for air, hoping it might fill the hollow places inside her.
In her bedroom, Ana shed her damp shoes and collapsed on top of her covers.
Then Mikey’s little voice piped up from under the bed.
“Ana, that was sad.”
Ana rolled to the edge of the bed, belly down, and dangled her arm toward the floor. “Yeah, it was.”
Pretty soon, Mikey reached out and laced his fingers in with hers.
“If you’re sad now,” he said, “that means we’re all sad. Me, you, Mom.” Mikey sniffled. “I have to fix it.”
“That’s not your job, buddy,” she said. “That’s my job.” But when she said it, Ana realized how little she’d been doing lately to put her family back together.
Mikey let go of Ana’s hand and began playing with her bracelet. “This is pretty. Katie has one too.”
“I know,” Ana said. “She made them.” But could Ana even believe that anymore? Katie had lied about the watch and about telling her secrets, so she’d probably lied about other stuff.
Mikey twisted the bracelet. “Can I see it?” he asked.
“Go for it.” Suddenly, Ana wanted to be rid of it. “Actually, could you give it back to her for me?” She felt Mikey’s little fingers pulling the bracelet off, and then it was gone. When she clos
ed her eyes, Ana could still feel the place where it had rested for the last three days.
Chik-chik. Chik-chik. Mikey tapped his lucky orange marbles together under the bed.
“I’ve been thinking about my superpower. I think I’m Pair Kid.”
“Um, okay. What does that mean?”
“Like putting things in pairs. You know how I’m really good at that?”
“You are,” Ana said. She couldn’t bring herself to tell him that matching up shoes probably didn’t count as a superpower. “But remember what they said to Spider-Man. ‘With great power comes great responsibility.’ You’d probably better pair those bracelets back up right now.”
Mikey scrambled out from under the bed. “You’re right! I’m on it, Ana. Pair Kid, power up!”
After Mikey had left to return the bracelet, Ana trudged back down to the kitchen, wishing it smelled like snickerdoodles. She picked up her backpack and pulled out her math book before she could get in trouble.
“Straight to homework,” said Babushka, coming into the kitchen behind her. “Good girl.”
Good girl. Ana could barely believe Babushka had spoken those words. “Um, thanks.” They worked in silence, Babushka chopping cucumbers with an enormous knife, Ana working through one math problem after another. The kitchen didn’t smell like Katie’s, but after a while, it smelled like something spicy and savory instead that made Ana’s mouth water.
Ana knew how to get the answers to her math homework, but dividing fractions still seemed all wrong. If she divided by half, how did the bottom number get bigger? The whole world was fractions, she realized. Only parts of what should be whole.
Two-seventeenths of her problems done. That was a terrible fraction.
Three-fourths of a family. Even worse.
One-half of a best friend bracelet. But she didn’t even have that anymore.
Ana plugged along until she’d reached nine- seventeenths of her problems done. Then a sound cut through the quiet of the kitchen. Shouting first, then sort of a scream.
“Did you hear that?”
Babushka tipped her head to the side as she stirred the soup. “I hear nothing.”
Ana turned back to problem number ten. She understood how to get the answers, but she didn’t understand why. It felt like cheating to write them down. Like taking something that didn’t belong to her, and lying about it.
I bet Katie doesn’t worry about that.
There was the sound again. This time: shout, other shout, then a scream that was definitely Mikey.
Babushka turned toward the back door, but Ana beat her to it. She bolted outside and toward the terrible sounds. A gang of fifth graders stood at the edge of the pond, and between them she could see Mikey’s skinny legs, flat against the snow.
“Hey,” she yelled, racing toward them. “Hey!”
The boys stepped back, and Ana could see her brother clearly. A trickle of blood crept from his nose and down his chin. Ana rushed over and knelt behind Mikey.
“It’s okay,” she said, grabbing him under the armpits. “I’ve got you.” His little body leaned into hers.
Ana glared up at the boys.
“Who did this?” she demanded. “Who hit him?”
Jarek stepped forward. Of course. She should have known it would be that weasel.
“Nobody hit him,” Jarek said. “We were just messing around and he got a bloody nose. He’s seriously that much of a pansy.”
Ana pulled Mikey toward her, shielding him from the other boys. “If I ever hear that you talked to him, or touched him, or even breathed in his direction, I will flatten you.” She heard the murmurs and snickers of Jarek’s little gang, but she didn’t care. She’d flatten them too, if she had to.
Jarek spat on the ground. “He was wearing a bracelet a minute ago! If he doesn’t want to get picked on, maybe he shouldn’t act like a girl.”
Now Ana’s blood throbbed in her head. “Tell me,” Ana said. “How does a girl act?” She gave Mikey a little squeeze, then stood. Jarek had ten pounds on Ana, but after five years of hockey, she had no doubt she was tougher.
“Does a girl do this?” Ana stepped forward and flicked the side of his neck with her finger.
“I guess ugly girls do,” said Jarek. His buddies laughed. “Did you know your brother plays with the girls at recess?”
Ana hadn’t known, but when she was Mikey’s age, she’d played basketball with the boys every recess. Nobody had cared. Was this different?
Maybe, she admitted. She wasn’t sure.
But then she had to ask herself: Did it matter?
It only took one look at Mikey to answer that question. He had been walking along, wearing her bracelet, and he had been happy. The problem wasn’t Mikey. The problem was bullies who were too stupid to make room for anything different in their tiny brains.
Jarek stepped up beside Ana and spat, missing Mikey by half an inch. “What do you expect, though? His parents are losers, so of course they have a loser kid.” He kicked a skiff of snow toward Mikey.
“All I have to do is touch him and he’ll start crying. Like a loser. Watch . . .”
Jarek reached the toe of his boot toward Mikey’s shoulder and pushed him back to the ground. Mikey closed his eyes, but the tears still came, leaving tiny melted circles where they landed in the snow.
Something hot and fierce rose in Ana’s gut.
“I warned you,” she said, in a voice that barely seemed like her own.
Then Ana pushed Jarek, hard as she could, and he fell straight through the ice and into the pond.
Katie
Chapter 17
THE ATTIC FELT emptier than ever to Katie after Ana and Mikey left. No box. No best friend. No reassuring little hand in hers, like there had been last time she and Ana had argued. Mikey had even taken the watch, and Katie had let him. She didn’t deserve it anyway.
Katie turned off the one dim bulb and shut the door behind her, and all her mistakes seemed to press her down, down, down as she descended the attic stairs. She’d kept so many truths from so many people she cared about that it was hard to imagine anybody would ever trust her again.
Katie sat in the cold draft from her window until a soft knock brought her from her thoughts. She took a deep breath.
“Come in.”
Katie’s mother opened the door awkwardly with a box against her hip. For a second, Katie hoped it could be the box, but the word “Christmas” was scrawled across the side.
“It’s about time we finished decorating,” her mom said. Then her eyes grew wide.
“Oh honey, what happened?” She dropped the box on the bed and rushed across the room.
Now Katie could tell her mom about Ana and her terrible day at school, and everything would get better somehow. But then she realized where her mom’s eyes lingered—at the giant gash on Katie’s forehead that she hadn’t covered back up.
For a moment, Katie wanted to back out. She started thinking up a story, something about slipping on the way home from school. But she couldn’t do it anymore. She was done lying.
“I fell. I checked the other box on the permission slip and went on the field trip and ice-skated and I fell.” The words rushed out, and they brought her tears along with them. “I’m sorry, Mom. I’m so sorry.”
Katie’s mom stiffened for a second, but then she pulled her close. “I’m going to be very upset with you in a little while, but right now, I’m just glad you’re okay.” She pulled back and brushed the hair from Katie’s forehead. “Oh, sweetheart. This looks terrible. I wish you had let me clean it before it scabbed over. I hope it doesn’t get infected. Now do you see why you shouldn’t do things like that?”
The word “yes” almost escaped Katie’s lips, but her heart called the lie back. “No,” she said. “I guess I don’t. Anybody could have fallen. I didn’t fall because of my heart.”
Katie’s mom folded her arms. “It was dangerous, and I had told you no. You’re going to get me upset sooner than I t
hought.”
Was it so awful if they got upset once in a while? Was it breaking a rule to be anything besides happy?
“Well, maybe I’m upset too,” Katie said.
Katie’s mom sighed. “I can see that,” she said, her voice cool but strained. “Now, settle down. I thought we could have a nice time decorating your room.” She began lifting things out of the box, her mouth pulled into a thin line.
Now Katie didn’t even have the right to get mad? She grabbed handfuls of her bedspread to keep herself from grabbing the box and throwing it out the door.
“Why can’t you leave things in the attic?” The words came out louder than she’d meant them to.
“Why are you yelling?” Katie’s mom frowned. “I thought you liked all the Christmas decorations.”
Something inside Katie had freed itself, allowing her to say exactly what she was thinking, and it felt like pure hot electricity. “I’m not talking about Christmas decorations. I’m talking about the other box you took—the one with my stuff.”
“I don’t know what you mean,” her mom said, unloading the contents of the Christmas box onto Katie’s bed. “We took some things to charity like we do every year, but none of it was yours.”
“Yes it was! How do you know it’s not mine if you don’t even ask?”
Katie had never shouted at her mom before, and they both stared for a moment. The strange current zipped through her, sharp and dangerous, and she turned away from her too-perfect mother and her too-perfect decorations.
Katie’s mom picked up the emptied box. “I don’t know what this is about, but I’m going to leave before you get yourself in any more trouble. Take all the time you need to settle down, but don’t come out until you’re ready to apologize.”
The door clicked shut and her mom’s footsteps faded. As Katie turned back to the now-empty room, the electricity left, and a hollow ache filled her chest. All she wanted to do was crawl into bed and fall asleep and wake up in a world where she knew who she was and who she wanted to be—and where those things were truly her choice.
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