by Sarah Ellis
Then Natalie reached over and covered Betsy’s hand with her own. “That’s exactly what I think about Christmas.”
How obvious could you get? Megan took a big bite of salad and chewed loudly. Sucking up to everybody. Well, I’m not taken in. Talk about 2-D Kevin — what about a 2-D sister? A dog-abusing 2-D half sister?
Chapter Ten
AFTER DINNER MUM DID an unheard-of thing and left the dirty dishes on the table. Usually she was whipping them out from under you while you were still swallowing dessert. “Let’s go into the living room for coffee, shall we?”
Natalie made some noises about helping with the dishes, but Mum said, “Oh, no, the dishwasher will do them.” As though the dishwasher cleared the dishes and scraped and loaded itself, thought Megan. Natalie must know that as well as anyone. Lying again. Or was that a “convention,” too? She tried to catch her co-dishwasher’s eye, but Betsy was off on cloud nine somewhere.
There was more chat, during which Megan concentrated on eating as many after-dinner mints as possible. She looked at people’s mouths talking and let her mind wander, until a change in Natalie’s tone of voice caught her attention.
Natalie set down her coffee cup and sat up straighter. “So, I have a favor to ask you two girls. For my wedding in July—well, it’s not going to be a big elaborate event, Franklin and I don’t want that — but I would like . . . but I was wondering if you would be my flower girl and bridesmaid.”
“Flower girl! Me?” Betsy flung herself backward onto the couch cushions. “Miranda was a flower girl and she got to wear lace gloves and nylons. Would I get to?”
“We’ll see,” said Mum.
Usually “we’ll see” drove Betsy nuts, but instead she threw her arms around Natalie. “I’ve wanted to be a flower girl all my life.”
Natalie smiled over Betsy’s head. It was funny. Betsy had only heard about flower girls a few months before. Megan could have shared Natalie’s look. But she didn’t.
“How about you, Megan?” said Natalie.
“No, thank you. I would rather not.” Megan smiled pleasantly at Natalie. She saw an abrupt movement from Mum out of the corner of her eye.
A shadow crossed Natalie’s face, but she recovered. “I can understand that. It might be more fun for you at the wedding if you didn’t have to be on show. Sometimes when I think of it, I wish I could come as a guest, too. But if you want to think about it a bit, Megan, that’s fine, too.”
“No, I’ve made up my mind. But thanks for asking me.” Megan kept her voice bright and perky.
“How come you don’t want to, Megan? It’ll be fun.” Betsy grinned.
“I would just prefer not to.”
“Silly,” said Betsy happily. “Do I get to wear a long dress?”
“If you like,” said Natalie
“Good. My feet would show even if I had a long dress, so I think I really should wear nylons. Do I get to?”
Megan glanced over at Natalie. How was Natalie going to handle this? Natalie didn’t know how stubborn Betsy could be, or how she could lose it in a second. Natalie was looking at Mum in a “help me” sort of way. She raised her eyebrows and wrinkled up one corner of her mouth.
In that instant there was Mum, looking out of Natalie’s face. That was just what Mum did, that pretzel mouth. That was the way she looked at Dad. Megan’s armor fell off her with a clunk. It was true. Natalie was really Mum’s daughter. Nothing would change that. It was like hearing the secret for the first time. She had known it in her head. Now she knew it in her stomach.
Natalie left soon after. Mum and Dad and Betsy seemed to want to stay in the living room and do an instant replay of the whole evening. Megan wandered away and let Bumper out of the basement. Then she began to clear up the dishes.
“Megan!” Mum called out to her. “You can be excused from that tonight.”
“No, it’s okay.”
One more person sure made a lot more dishes. It was somehow important that they all fit in the dishwasher. Megan changed the places of large and small plates and managed to fit in two more cups.
Betsy came in and sat on the kitchen stool.
“Betsy!” Dad’s voice floated in from the living room. “Are you on your way to brush your teeth?”
“Yes,” said Betsy, sitting tight. She fed a little bit of chicken to Bumper. “I think Natalie’s nice, don’t you?”
“What’s nice about her?”
“She smells nice.”
“That’s just because she wears perfume.”
“Do you think Mum would let me wear perfume?”
“No chance.” Megan reversed the order of the bowls. “Betsy?”
“Uh-huh.”
“How come you’re not more surprised?”
“About what?”
“About Natalie. About all of a sudden finding out that Mum has a grown-up child.”
“Well, Granny does.”
“Granny does what?”
“Granny has a grown-up child. That’s Dad.”
Megan threw a handful of cutlery into the cutlery container. It made a good loud crash. “Betsy! That’s different. Oh, forget it, dumbball, you’re hopeless.”
“I’m not a dumbball.” Betsy spit out each word like a bullet. Her voice began to rise. “You’re not allowed to call me a dumbball.”
“So tell.”
Betsy sat on the stool looking as if she would explode. She would never ever tattle.
Dad came into the kitchen and pretended to get mad when he saw Betsy. “What! Not in bed?” he roared, and came at Betsy as though to scoop her up. Betsy burst into tears and Dad stopped dead in his tracks. “Honey, what’s the matter?”
“She’s just overexcited,” said Megan, not turning around from the dishes.
“I am not overexcited.” Betsy sure had a big voice for her size.
“Okay, okay,” said Dad. “Come on, let’s get ready for bed and see what Mr. Holmes is doing tonight.” Betsy allowed herself to be led away, sobbing and hiccuping.
Megan tried to pour chicken grease from the roasting pan into a soup can without spilling. The door opened and Mum came in. She took the pan out of Megan’s hands.
“Thanks for helping to clean up,” said Mum.
“Hmmm,” said Megan. It was escape, not helpfulness. She ran the dishcloth across the counter. Mum was probably about to bawl her out for being rude, or else she was going to ignore that and talk about Natalie. Either way Megan knew she wouldn’t be able to stand it. If Mum said one word about Natalie, just one word, Megan knew she was going to do something very bad. Hurling the soup can of grease across the kitchen would feel really good.
“So . . .” said Mum.
Megan’s hand edged toward the can.
“Ears healing up okay?”
What? “Um, yeah, they’re fine.”
“I must say, your earrings look great. It makes me half think — well, no, about one-sixteenth think — that I might take the plunge.” Mum turned on the taps in the sink full blast. Steam and bubbles started to rise. “Maybe if I start thinking about it now, I might be ready in five years and I can go with Betsy.”
Megan picked up a tea towel, but Mum took it out of her hands. “Leave this mess now. I’ll finish up. You look beat.”
Megan went downstairs and threw the tennis ball for Bumper. The mad part of her was still there. And now there was nowhere for it to go. Nowhere. Happily ever after. What a laugh. Mum must be unhappy about the bridesmaid thing. Wasn’t she going to say anything? Was she just going to lie by silence again? The voice of Megan the fair interrupted. “But you didn’t want her to say anything.” Megan the mad threw the ball harder and harder. “Oh, shut up.”
If there were some small but precise asteroids that could fall out of the sky and wipe out the events of the past two weeks, this would be the per
fect moment.
Chapter Eleven
“SO THE QUEEN, THE mother of Princess Mayonnaise, was taken to the judge.
‘“Have you ever lied to your children?’ asked the judge.
“‘No,’ said the queen boldly.
“‘Are you sure?’ asked the judge again.
“The queen began to tremble.
“‘Have you ever lied by leaving out things?’ asked the judge sternly.
“‘Yes,’ admitted the prisoner.
“‘Then you are banished to the forest,’ said the judge. ‘Woodcutter! Take this woman to the forest and bring me back her heart.’”
Megan blocked everything on the screen and deleted it, sending the words out into the ozone. Princess Mayonnaise and her keyboard of power.
But it wasn’t getting her anywhere on daily life in the Stone Age, Mr. Mostyn’s latest assignment. The encyclopedia didn’t mention what Stone Agers ate for breakfast. Maybe Erin had some better books. Maybe she should go over there. Maybe she should just do nothing. She switched off the computer and turned on the TV.
Megan had taken to spending a lot of time at Erin’s. The Hungerford house was just too full of Natalie. Not Natalie the person — she didn’t visit very often—but Natalie the wedding. Mum had now met Natalie’s mother, “Mummy,” and they had decided to join forces on catering the wedding reception. “Mummy” was going to buy the ingredients and Mum would do the cooking. This plan seemed to involve long daily phone discussions. “Operation Matrimony,” that’s what Dad called it.
On TV three men hidden behind a screen were answering questions from a blond woman with large hair. “What is your idea of a romantic evening?”
Bumper wandered into the room. He had a tea towel wrapped around him. Betsy followed.
“Betsy, what are you doing?”
“I have a theory that Bumper is a horse. Do you have anything I could use as stirrups?”
Transformation was not a new experience for Bumper. Over the years Betsy had turned him into a movie star (sunglasses), an Hawaiian princess (a plastic lei), and a coffee table (no props required). Bumper was usually patient about these costumes, although he sometimes got a vagued-out look on his face, as in, “I am not here. This is not happening.”
Bumper gave a sigh and flopped over on the floor.
“Oh, well.” Betsy sat down beside Megan. On the screen Large Hair was about to make her choice. Would it be Brad, Chip, or Dirk for the dream date?
“Hey!” Betsy poked Megan.
“Shhhhhh.”
Large Hair chose Dirk.
“Okay, what?”
“Would you rather spend ten days in jail or give Bumper away?”
“What?”
“If you had to choose.”
Mum came downstairs, saving Megan from the decision. “That was Nat on the phone.”
Nat, gnat. A little buzzing insect that flies around your head. On TV the studio audience roared their approval as Dirk kissed Large Hair.
“She wonders if we’re free to go dress shopping next Saturday.”
“For my flower girl dress?” said Betsy.
“Yes, and a new dress for Megan. I think this is a good excuse for us all to get dolled up.”
“Yes!” said Betsy.
Since Mum had started school, she hadn’t taken Megan downtown shopping once. Probably wouldn’t be doing it now if it weren’t for that gnat. But—a new dress. She hadn’t expected that. “What about Art Experience?”
“We’ll pick you up from the art school, then bus it downtown and hit those shops.”
“Okay.”
Betsy pulled the lace out of one of her shoes and tried to tie it around Bumper’s head. He gave a whine and retreated under the chair. Old Paint had had enough.
The bus from the art school to downtown was crowded.
“What are hem-or-rhoids?” said Betsy in a loud voice.
People giggled. Megan clung to her pole and looked elsewhere. Life was more embarrassing since Betsy had learned to sound out.
“A medical condition,” said Mum briskly. “Ring the bell, Betsy, our stop is coming up.”
In the department store they escalatored up to the children’s-wear floor.
“This is fun,” said Natalie. “I love shopping, but Franklin is allergic to it.”
“Does he get a rash?” asked Betsy.
“No, he just gets mournful if I make him go into stores. He’s just not very interested in clothes or in possessions of any sort, really.”
Betsy spied her dress on a model at the entrance to Rainbow Unicorn. It had green and cream stripes, with roses in the cream part. It had a big lace collar and lace around the cuffs. The fabric was soft and shiny.
“Now that’s a party dress,” said Mum.
A salesclerk appeared. “Lovely, isn’t it? A dress for a little princess. They’re on a rack right over here.”
Oh, gack, thought Megan. She stared at the clerk, who wore a lot of makeup and was smiling, but only with her mouth.
“Let’s see it on.” The clerk had the dress off the hanger and all of them in the big fitting room before anyone could say a word. “Call me if you need me. That’s going to look just charming.”
Natalie looked at Megan and raised her eyebrows. Megan made a yucko face.
But the thing was, the dress did make Betsy look like a princess, a princess in a fairy-tale book.
“Just look at the buttons,” said Mum. A row of rose-shaped buttons down the front of the dress exactly matched the roses in the fabric. “Turn around.”
Betsy extended her arms and twirled around.
“The cream will match my dress,” said Natalie.
Mum nodded. “Dare we look at the price?” She pulled out her glasses from her purse and looked at the ticket. She gulped. “Oh, my goodness.”
Betsy held herself around the waist as though to keep the dress on by force. “It’s a flower-girl dress,” she said. “It has flowers.”
“Oh, well,” said Mum, “when you put it that way.”
“Yea!” Betsy raised both arms like a prizefighter.
“Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.”
While Mum paid for the dress, Megan and Natalie wandered around the racks. The salesclerk descended on them. “Are we looking for something for you as well?” she asked, staring at Megan.
“No,” said Megan.
“Yes,” said Natalie.
The clerk heard the yes. She started whipping dresses up against Megan. Megan just wanted to escape.
“I don’t think so. No, thanks.”
“You just can’t see the potential until you try it on.”
By the time Mum returned with Betsy and a big shopping bag, the clerk was shepherding Megan and four dresses back into the changing room.
“We’ll wait out here,” said Mum.
Megan took her time pulling off her clothes. She looked at the dresses. It didn’t matter which she tried on first. She hated them all. Try one and then get out of here. She was just pulling one over her head when the salesclerk burst in. “Need a little hand?”
“No,” said Megan from inside the dress.
The clerk, who had very selective hearing, zipped the dress up the back. “Oh, that’s very sweet. Let’s show the others.” She pushed Megan out the door.
Megan stood in front of the mirror. The dress made her look absolutely ridiculous, like some too-tall, bony Alice in Wonderland with stupid hair and a zit on her chin. She stood stiffly, trying not to let the dress touch her body. Her arms and legs looked as if they didn’t belong to a human being, much less her. But the clerk didn’t give her a chance to say anything. She was hovering, giving the dress little tucks, and poking Megan in the process, until Megan could hardly keep from hitting her.
“We’d like to take a li
ttle dart here, and of course you don’t quite get the effect with runners.” The clerk gave a revolting little laugh.
Megan looked down at the growths at the end of her legs.
“Perhaps you’d like to try one of the other styles.”
The worst thing was that Megan could see how beautiful the dress was, how beautiful it would have looked on her when she was Betsy’s age. But now it made her feel like a mutant.
“A size larger?” asked the salesclerk.
“No.” Natalie’s voice was clear and definite. “The size is not the problem. That dress is just far too young for Megan. We’re in the wrong department.”
“Ah,” said the salesclerk, “thinking of a more sophisticated image, were we?” She gave Natalie that making-fun-of-kids-while-pretending-to-be-nice look.
Natalie didn’t play along. “We’ll be fine on our own now, thank you.”
Megan fled to the change room and put her normal human being clothes back on again. But even in them she felt misshapen, as though the dress had warped her. She couldn’t even imagine something that she could wear to a wedding. And she sure wasn’t in the mood for more shopping.
She emerged from the change room. “Can I just wear my blue dress from last summer?”
Mum looked disappointed. “Sure, if you like. Don’t you want to look at some other things, though? Nat has some ideas about other shops we could try.”
Megan just shook her head. Mum’s disappointed voice made her itchy with irritation. Hadn’t she just saved Mum a whole bunch of money? Mum should be grateful, not sad-sounding. Oh, why was everything she did wrong? Maybe she really was as mutant as she felt in that dress. Going shopping used to be fun. Now everything was just . . . impossible.
When Megan went to bed that night Betsy’s dress was hanging in the window. She went to lift it down.
“Don’t.”
Great. Betsy was still awake. “But I can’t close the curtains.”
“We don’t need to.”
“But people can see in.”
“Not with the dress hanging there. I need to have it there.”