Franki and I are sitting on the porch, waiting for the delivery guy to show up. As soon as we hear him rattling up the hill in his beat-up Toyota, we fly down the steps and grab the boxes before he can get out of the car.
“Pizza’s here!” I holler as we run into the kitchen. Stella stands by the counter, her phone in one hand and a Diet Coke in the other.
“Stop screaming,” she says, not looking up. “Mom’s napping, remember?”
“Why’s she napping?” Franki asks, grabbing two cans of root beer out of the fridge while I flip open a pizza box. “Your mom never naps.”
“She’s been in bed since we got home today,” Stella whispers as my mom rounds the corner. I’m licking a piece of cheese off my hand, but I stop when I see her face.
“Jeez, Mom. You don’t look so good.”
She grabs a coffee cup, then rummages around in the fridge until she pulls a bottle of wine out of the back. “I’m fine. Just feeling a little run-down.”
Stella and I exchange a look. Run-down? More like run-over. Her hair is matted on one side, and she’s in her bathrobe even though it’s only six thirty. Plus, she’s drinking alcohol, which she never does, except on special occasions. That bottle has probably been stuck back there since New Year’s Eve.
She uncorks it and fills the coffee cup to the brim.
Stella looks up from her phone. “You okay?”
Mom looks from Stella to Franki to me. She takes a long drink from her mug. “I will be.”
Her cell phone rings, and she jumps up, taking it and the mug with her.
“What’s gotten into her?” Stella asks.
“How should I know?” I say, wiping my mouth with the back of my shirtsleeve. “She seemed fine after the game yesterday.” I grab another piece of pizza.
After a minute or two, my mom walks back in the room, her cell phone stuck to her ear.
“I appreciate your time, Chief, and I can assure you, this will never happen again.” She takes a long drink from the mug, then nods. “Yes, sir … yes, I understand. Okay, good night.”
She sets down her phone, staring at it like she’s never seen it before.
“Mom?”
“It was a simple misunderstanding,” she says. “I was just trying to do the right thing.”
Stella rolls her eyes at me, then goes back to texting. We’ve heard these words before.
“What happened, Mrs. Burger?” Franki asks.
My mom sighs. “I was on my way to the early bird boxing class at the gym this morning and decided to take a shortcut through the Ellison Estates. I was driving by those houses—you know, the ones everyone calls the McMansions?—when something caught my eye.”
Franki scoots to the edge of her seat, while Stella’s eyes stay glued to her phone. I reach for my third slice.
“What did you see?” Franki asks.
“A figure dressed all in black was climbing through a small window on the side of the Huffingtons’ place. I pulled my squad car around to the back and cut the engine, watching while the suspect slipped inside.”
“Wow.” Franki whistles. “You must have been terrified.”
“An officer of the law learns to combat her fears,” my mom says, tilting the mug to her mouth.
Franki’s mouth hangs open. “So, what happened next?”
“I radioed for an on-duty officer and waited. After a few minutes, though, I couldn’t just sit there. What if the Huffingtons were home, slumbering away, while some madman was loose in their home? I grabbed my gun belt off the seat and snapped it on, then crept up onto the deck. I was peeking through the back window when I saw him, a dark figure moving through the kitchen.”
Franki’s eyes are so big, I’m pretty sure they’re going to fall out and roll onto my slice of pizza. “And then what?”
“I rapped on the window with the butt of my gun,” she says. “You know, just to get his attention. But as soon as the suspect saw me, he took off toward the front stairs. I couldn’t just stand there, now could I?”
Franki shakes her head. I grab her root beer and take a long swig.
“So, did you catch him?”
“Not exactly. Turns out the suspect was the Huffingtons’ oldest daughter, Mary Elizabeth. She had gone out early to get the paper. When she got back, she realized she had forgotten her house key, so she decided to climb through the window instead of waking her parents. Not very smart, if you ask me.”
Actually, Mary Elizabeth Huffington is very smart. She graduated from Columbia last year, but I don’t remind my mom of that. I finish Franki’s root beer instead.
“But why did she run?” Franki scratches her head like she’s a detective on one of those cop shows. “You’re a police officer.”
My mom runs her index finger around the inside of her coffee mug, then licks it off. “She claims that my orange tracksuit confused her. She thought I was the intruder and had escaped from prison. Can you imagine?”
Franki shakes her head like she definitely can’t. I’m just about to ask what’s for dessert when Lucy appears in the doorway.
“Ruff!” she says, wagging her backside.
Great, I think. Now what?
She jumps up onto her chair and tries to lick my mother’s hand.
“Lucy!” my mom scolds. “That’s gross.”
I decide to start a new subject. “How about that game yesterday, huh, Mom? Could you believe that second half? You know, we have another one this week.”
My mom picks at a chip on her mug. “I’ll try to make it, Charlie, but I can’t promise anything.” She lowers her voice. “I’m working two night shifts, and I have an appointment for Lucy with Dr. Daniels this week.”
We all look at my kid sister, who’s trying to eat her pizza without using her hands.
“Who’s Dr. Daniels?” asks Stella, not looking up.
“A child psychologist.”
I choke on a piece of cheese.
“Like, a shrink?”
“No, not a shrink.” My mom glares at me. “He is an expert in anxiety and behavioral issues, especially with young girls who have had some family dynamic challenges.”
“Huh?”
My mom lowers her voice some more. “Your father and I think this … behavior of Lucy’s … may be your sister’s way of dealing with stress.”
I blink. “You think Lucy’s under stress?”
“Yes, we do.” She sits back and crosses her arms. “And we think there are things we as a family can do to help alleviate it for her.”
I can’t believe this. “Mom, she’s ten. What kind of stress could she possibly be under?”
Franki points her pizza crust at me, her mouth full. “Ten can be tough, Charlie.”
I roll my eyes as my mom beams at Franki. As if on cue, Lucy lets out a whine.
“What is it, honey?” my mom asks her.
We all watch while she tries to pick up her pizza with her teeth. She misses, and it falls into her lap.
“Oops,” Franki says.
My mom drops her head into her hands. I decide this is not the right time to ask if she bought Twinkies for dessert.
Later, when Franki and I are playing Zombie Smasher, she presses pause on her controller and turns to me, her eyes dead serious.
“Lucy does seem to be acting pretty strange lately,” she says. “What do you think is going on with her?”
I try to shoot a fireball at the zombies coming toward me, but it’s no use. Without Franki’s help, they surround me, and I’m toast within twenty seconds. I throw my controller onto the coffee table and look at her, irritated.
“How should I know?” I snap. “Maybe my whole family is just strange.”
Franki throws her head back, laughing.
“What’s so funny?” I ask her.
“Chuck,” she says, slapping my thigh, “your family at its strangest is more normal than my family any day!”
CHAPTER
24
Over the next four weeks, things st
art to feel pretty normal again. Sure, Lucy’s still pretending she’s a dog, but Coach has gone back to ignoring me most of the time, and Franki’s acting more like her old self. I start to relax, thinking maybe sixth grade isn’t going to be so bad after all.
But then it happens. It’s the Wednesday before fall break, a morning that’s cold enough to make my nose hairs stick together every time I sniff. I get that uh-oh feeling as soon as I see Franki. She’s already waiting at our spot, and her face is scrunched up in a frown.
“You okay?” I ask. I blow on my fingers, which are already numb.
She keeps her eyes glued to her sneakers. “Lila wants to send me to Colorado for fall break.”
I laugh. “And my mom wants to send me to Mars.”
Her frown grows.
“Hey,” I say, grabbing her arm. “I was just joking.”
“I wasn’t.”
I stop grinning. “Why Colorado?”
“My dad is there.”
This is one of the things I can’t stand about Franki Saylor. For a girl who usually can’t shut up, she has a way of leaving out the important stuff. Like the fact that she has a dad.
“You told me your dad was dead.”
“I did?”
I jump in front of her.
“We were nine,” I say. “At the Sweet Spot. You told me your dad died in a plane crash. We were eating Dinosaur Crunch ice cream. You had on orange high-tops and a yellow T-shirt.”
“So I lied. Sue me.”
“Franki…” I grip her arm, like maybe I can squeeze the truth out.
“He didn’t die, okay?” she whispers. “He left. Nobody told me why, and I never asked. He lives in Colorado now, with a new wife and new kids and a dog.”
I let go of her, and we start walking.
For a minute, neither of us says anything.
“So, why now?” I finally ask.
“I don’t know. Lila said…” Her voice trails off.
I wait, but she doesn’t go on.
“Do you want to?” I ask. “Go, I mean?”
“No. Yes. Maybe. I don’t know.” She shakes her head. “I don’t even remember what he looks like, Chuck. And Colorado is so far away from Rose.” She stares down at her feet. “But maybe it’ll beat hanging around here.”
For some reason, this stings. I kick a rock out of my way.
We walk in silence for a few minutes. When we get to the corner, she stops and turns to me.
“I’m scared, Charlie.”
I give her arm a playful punch. “Come on, Franki. You’re the bravest person I know. You’re not scared of anything.”
Her voice gets smaller. “What if they don’t like me?”
“They will.”
“How do you know?”
“Because you’re you,” I say. “You’re the coolest person I know.”
A tiny smile plays on her lips. “You’re just saying that because you’re my best friend.”
“I’m just saying it because it’s true.”
And then, without warning, she leans in and puts her lips on my earlobe. She smells like syrup.
“Thanks, Charlie.”
We start walking again, and I have to remind myself to breathe. When we get to the courtyard, the wind is whipping leaves around everyone’s ankles, and the bare maple trees rock back and forth. I look up at the sky—dark angry clouds roll in off the ocean. A storm is approaching.
The words fall out of me before I can stop them. “Or maybe you could stay. We’ll have a bonfire on the beach. My dad will take us out to Lobster Cove, and we can look for—”
“It’s only for a week, Charlie.”
“I know.” I shove my hands in my pockets. “It’s just that…”
“What?”
I can’t look at her. “What if you like it so much, you don’t want to come back?”
She laughs. “I don’t think I have a choice,” she says, then slugs the top of my arm. “Plus, I have to come back. You wouldn’t know what to do without me.”
And with that, she takes off running.
“Franki!” I call after her, but she’s gone, and I can’t do anything to stop her.
Or can I?
November 4
Episode 6: Dude to the Rescue
The female earthling stood in his doorway, staring at the starcraft in front of her. It was there to take her back to her people, people she had run away from when she escaped to Planet Splodii.
“Stay here,” he commanded, his voice deep and full of awesomeness.
“I can’t,” she whispered, her eyes all gooey like a hot fudge sundae. “They’re making me go back.”
“I will make it so that you don’t have to,” Dude promised.
“Oh, Dude Explodius,” she sighed. “Can you? I would like nothing better than to just stay here with you. You are my hero.”
He grunted, then turned his attention to the starcraft.
Dude closed his eyes, aiming the Exterminizer at the craft’s engine panel. After a jolt and a small explosion, he opened his eyes. The craft was grounded, and it would take years before the earthling’s people would be able to send another one. She was safe for now.
CHAPTER
25
Thursday morning, Franki is all smiles.
“The decision’s been made,” she says, blowing on her hands. “I’m definitely going.”
I think about the journal entry I wrote last night and feel a little queasy.
“Are you sure?”
She nods. “My dad is sending the itinerary today. I’m flying as an unaccompanied minor.” She says the last two words with such importance you’d think she’d just said Secret Service. “Do you know what an unaccompanied minor is, Chuck?”
“No clue.”
She sends me a sideways glance. “It’s when you’re not old enough to fly by yourself so a flight attendant is in charge of you the whole time. It’s like having your own personal assistant.”
I let out a snort. “When are you leaving?”
“Friday.”
“Friday?” I stop. “As in tomorrow?”
She looks away. “I guess my dad and Lila have been planning this for a while, but they wanted to keep it a secret until right before it was time to go. I was kind of sore at Lila when she told me, but now I understand why.” Her voice gets lower. “Carl got mad when he found out I was going. He said my father likes to throw his money around, and he should’ve been throwing it toward more child support, not fancy plane tickets.” She picks at a hole in her coat. “When I pointed out that the last child support check got spent on new tires for his truck, he about came unglued.” She looks up at me. “It’s probably best for everyone if I get out of here for a little while.”
A sharp pain starts to grow in my belly. Maybe I shouldn’t have written that entry after all.
“I talked to my dad on the phone last night, Chuck,” she says. “He told me all about his boys and how excited they are to meet me and that his wife bought new sheets for the guest room.” She grins. “A room just for guests … Can you imagine?”
I shake my head, like I really can’t.
“And you know what else? My dad said we’re going to the mountains for a few days, and they’re going to teach me how to ski. Me! Skiing!”
I try to smile, but the pain in my gut is getting worse.
“Hey,” she says, looking over at me, “are you going to throw up?”
“I’m fine,” I say.
“Okay. Because all of a sudden, you look kind of pale.”
“I’m fine,” I say again. “What time are you leaving?”
“After school tomorrow. Lila’s taking the train into Boston with me.” She stuffs her hands into her pockets. “I’m kind of nervous.”
“About flying?”
She shakes her head. “About seeing him again. It’s been so long, and I have so many questions.”
“About why he left?”
“About why he didn’t come back.” She kicks
at a chunk of ice. “Leaving is one thing. It’s the staying gone I don’t get.”
The pain jabs my side.
“Chuck? You sure you’re okay?”
I nod and walk faster. I’ve got to get rid of that last entry.
* * *
When I get to school, I head straight to my locker and plunk down onto the floor next to it. Grabbing my journal out of my backpack, I’m ready to erase the last entry, but I stop. I think about the last time I erased something, and how it didn’t work right away. I mean, sure, Coach Crenshaw eventually lost his voice, but it took longer than I expected. What if erasing my words doesn’t work in time? Franki’s plane leaves tomorrow. She has to be on it. She has to make it to Colorado.
Since I can’t talk to Mr. P, there’s only one other person who might be able to help me fix things for Franki. But first, I’ll need some help from my sister.
I spot Stella right away. Her back is pressed up against her locker while some beefy guy I don’t recognize leans against her. Her eyes are closed, and his face is just inches from hers.
“Stella,” I hiss.
“Charlie?” She opens one eye. “What’re you doing here?”
“Uh…” I say, trying not to stare at the bulging biceps in front of me. “I need to talk to you.”
Beefy Guy turns around, my sister’s lip gloss all over his face. “Who’re you?”
This is worse than facing Linda the cheerleader.
I talk quickly, trying not to look either of them in the eyes.
“I need to borrow your cell phone. I’ll bring it back after first period.”
Her tone turns icy. “What for?”
“I need to call Dad,” I say, thinking fast. “I left my math homework at home.”
“We only got five minutes before first bell rings,” Beefy whines, clearly annoyed that his face-sucking time is being wasted on me.
Stella reaches in her back pocket and pulls out her phone. “You really need to work on being more responsible, Charlie. Forgetting your homework is not—”
“I got it, thanks,” I say, grabbing the phone from her hand. I sprint down the hall to the boys’ bathroom, knowing I don’t have much time.
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