Sophie’s Secret

by Nancy Rue

  Sophie could almost hear Daddy telling Lacie she wanted her to be a “role model” for Sophie. She resisted the urge to run out of there with what little of herself she had left, and instead sat on the corner of Lacie’s bed.

  “I’m not going to bite you,” Lacie said. “Here—get comfortable.”

  She tossed Sophie a pillow shaped like a big fuzzy basketball. Sophie held it in front of her and looked around. It had been a while since she’d been in here. It was hard to “get comfortable” in a room where the walls were covered in huge pictures of women shooting baskets, women making soccer goals, women hitting homeruns. She was a little surprised to see a poster with the Ten Commandments on it tacked to the ceiling over the bed.

  “What did you want to ask me?” Lacie said.

  “I want to know if you remember when I was first born.”

  Lacie gave her a blank look. “How would I remember that? I was only two.”

  “I remember stuff from being two,” Sophie said. “I remember getting Harold.”

  “You remember stories about getting Harold, but you couldn’t possibly remember it yourself. I don’t even remember you getting Harold, and I was four.”

  That’s probably because you never pay attention to anything I’m doing anyway, Sophie thought.

  “So what’s the first thing you DO remember about me?” she said.

  Lacie didn’t linger on it for too long before she shrugged. “I don’t know. You’ve just always been my little sister, as far back as I can remember, which is like when I was five—so you were three.”

  “You don’t remember me being a baby?”

  “Unh-uh. I remember Zeke as a baby. He was so precious. He was the first baby I ever got to hold.”

  “Oh,” Sophie said.

  “So—is that all you wanted to talk about?” Lacie said. “You don’t want to know anything about middle school or boys or anything?”

  “Uh, no,” Sophie said. “That’s all I wanted to know.”

  She got up and headed for the door.

  “You can talk to me anytime,” Lacie said. “When you’re like this, I can actually have a conversation with you.”

  “When I’m like what?” Sophie said.

  “Like—real.”

  “Oh,” Sophie said again.

  As she trudged next door to her own room, she thought, If this is what being real feels like—it’s not what I want to be.

  Sophie had a hard time staying out of No-God Land the next day. It was a heavy, dreary place, but it seemed to hold her within its walls. When at lunch she couldn’t even get interested in the Corn Flakes’ “Treasures,” as they had decided to call the purple notebook, Fiona slapped it shut and said, “We’re going to the bathroom.”

  Sophie followed her there, feeling the stares of the Wheaties behind her. They still sat with the Corn Flakes everyday at lunch, but ever since the day Maggie had brought up the psychiatrist thing, it was as if they were just there to observe, like they were window shopping.

  In the restroom, Fiona shoved Sophie into a stall and closed the door behind them. Sophie had to sit down on the toilet seat to make room for both of them.

  “Okay, you have to stop obsessing,” Fiona said.

  “I can’t,” Sophie said. “Not until I know for sure.”

  “Have you thought about just asking them?”

  Sophie shook her head miserably. “They’d probably just lie to me. They’ve been doing it for nine years.”

  “Nine?”

  “I was adopted when I was two, I think. That’s when the pictures start.”

  “Okay—I am so over this,” Fiona said. “I know a way that we can prove that you are NOT adopted.”

  “How?” Sophie said.

  “I saw it on Law and Order. It’s something about blood types and stuff.”

  “Blood?”

  “We ask Mrs. Utley. If she doesn’t know, then she shouldn’t be teaching science, is what I say.”

  Sophie felt herself go as cold as the porcelain potty she was perched on.

  “What’s the matter?” Fiona said.

  “Maybe you’re right,” Sophie said. “Maybe there are some things we don’t really need to know.”

  “No way—because you aren’t going to be okay until you find out. We’re going to Mrs. Utley.”

  When they were finally in science class at the end of the day, Fiona waited until the students were all at work on the solar system assignment, and then she dragged Sophie up to Mrs. Utley’s desk.

  She grinned at them, all of her chins wiggling happily. “What are you two up to now?” she said.

  “Serious question,” Fiona said. “How can you use your blood to prove somebody is or isn’t your parent?”

  Mrs. Utley’s chins all stopped moving. “That IS a serious question,” she said. She looked closely at both of them before she went on.

  “Well,” Mrs. Utley said. “A person would have to have his or her own DNA compared to the DNA of the parent in question. You understand that, right?”

  “Is it expensive to do that?” Fiona said.

  Fiona! Sophie wanted to say. How am I going to get blood from Daddy?

  “Very,” Mrs. Utley said. “Now, blood type, which just about everybody knows about themselves, can’t tell you that someone IS your parent, but it CAN tell you if someone ISN’T. There are some blood types that could not possibly come from the combination of two other people’s blood types.”

  “Do you know how to figure that out?” Fiona said.

  “Yes,” Mrs. Utley said. She was still watching them closely. The chins were very still. “One thing that is very basic is that if, say, you have the same blood type as your mother or your father, then it’s possible that the one with that blood type is your parent—but it doesn’t prove it. Beyond that, I would have to know the exact blood types involved.” She folded her plump hands on her desk. “Now, do you want to tell me why we’re having this conversation?”

  “Research,” Fiona said. “Thanks.”

  The minute Sophie brought up blood types at the dinner table that night, Daddy broke into a grin.

  “At last—some interest in science! Some project for school, huh?”

  Sophie didn’t have time to deny it. Daddy was already going around the table, pointing.

  “Your mother is A positive. Zeke is A positive. Lacie is A negative—”

  “I’ve always been special,” Lacie said, flashing a cheesy smile.

  “And you, Soph, are AB positive. I know that for sure, because it’s the same as mine.”

  “And a good thing too,” Mama said.

  “Why?” Lacie said.

  “What’s for dessert?” Daddy said.

  “I’m not done yet!” Zeke wailed.

  Sophie let them argue that out in a blur beyond her as she sorted things through. So Daddy COULD be her father. But Mrs. Utley had said that didn’t mean he definitely WAS her father. She was really no closer to knowing than she had been before.

  Later she padded downstairs to have Daddy check over her math homework. She got almost to the bottom step, when she heard Mama talking to him. They were sitting at the snack bar, having their decaf and, obviously, a serious conversation. All Sophie heard was Mama saying, “Rusty, I just think it’s time she knew.”

  That was all Sophie had to hear. She crept back up the stairs, clutching her math homework in her sweaty hand.

  Sophie didn’t even have a chance to tell Fiona and Kitty the next morning before Maggie was suddenly there in the hallway with them.

  “I know you said you didn’t want to know,” she said, without a hi or anything, “but I think you should let me tell you about the rumor that’s being spread about you.”

  Sophie was sure she couldn’t carry another thing in her mind. ALL the space, God or No-God, was being taken up with the biggest worry on the planet.

  “Why does she need to know it?” Fiona said.

  “Because it’s getting worse,” Maggie said. “And
it’s going to keep getting worse if Sophie doesn’t stop it.”

  “The only reason it’s getting worse for me is because YOU keep bringing it up!” someone shouted, someone who didn’t sound like Sophie, but was. “I told you, I DON’T WANT TO KNOW. So leave me alone! Just leave me alone!”

  Everyone in the hallway outside the Language Arts room stopped and stared. Even Fiona’s jaw had dropped. Kitty was whimpering.

  But it was Maggie who looked the most stunned of all. She took a step backward and let the cement look take over her eyes, but not before Sophie saw the flash of hurt go through them.

  “I’m sorry,” Sophie said. Her voice was already shaking.

  “Too bad,” Maggie said. “Now you’re just gonna have to find out for yourself.”

  She stomped into the room, passing Mr. Denton on the way.

  “Everything all right out here?” he said.

  “No,” somebody said. “Sophie just pitched a fit, right in Maggie’s face.”

  It was Anne-Stuart reporting. Fiona groaned under her breath.

  “As if she gives a rip about Maggie,” she whispered.

  “Thanks for the update, Anne-Stuart,” Mr. Denton said.

  He smiled at her until she gave up and went on into the room, followed by B.J. and Willoughby, who looked as if they were about to belch.

  “You okay, Sophie?” Mr. Denton said when they were gone.

  “Yes, sir,” Sophie lied.

  The bell rang.

  “Take a minute and then come on in,” he said, and he closed the classroom door.

  Fiona and Sophie were left in the hall.

  “You go, girl,” Fiona said.

  “What?”

  “Way to stand up to Maggie. She was pushing way too hard.”

  “I shouldn’t have yelled at her like that.”

  “Like you had a choice! If you hadn’t, she would have kept standing there poking at you until you listened to her stupid rumor. You don’t need that, and I was proud of you.”

  But as Sophie trailed behind her into the classroom, she felt anything but proud. There was no place for feeling good about yourself in the Land of No God.

  One thing was sure, though, she decided as the day dragged on with people—especially the Corn Pops—staring at her and whispering behind their hands. She had to ask Mama or Daddy for the truth.

  And it certainly wasn’t hard to decide which one to go to. Mama might stand behind Daddy on everything he said, but at least she didn’t yell.

  Sophie worked up to it all day, ignoring the whispers and stares at lunch and during classes and trying to imagine herself talking to Mama. It seemed odd to her that even though she didn’t TRY to picture Jesus as she planned her approach, his kind face kept popping up, when she least expected it.

  Okay, okay, she told him. I’ll obey whatever they tell me. But I still think I have a right to know.

  She was completely ready when she got off the bus and walked “sedately” as Fiona would put it, up to the back door. The question for Mama was already on her lips when she stepped into the kitchen and found Boppa at the sink.

  “Hello, little wisp of a girl,” Boppa said to her. He was smiling his usual I’m-happy-to-see-you smile, but the eyes beneath the caterpillar eyebrows were sad.

  “Where’s Mama?” she said.

  Boppa put a glass of milk on the snack bar and motioned for her to sit.

  “Where is she?” Sophie said. “There’s something wrong, I know it.”

  “There is,” Boppa said. “Your mama went to Minneapolis. Her dad—your grandpa—is very sick. She’s gone to see him.”

  “Is she coming back?” Sophie said.

  “Of course she’s coming back,” Boppa said. “But she’s your grandpa’s only kid, and since there isn’t a grandma anymore, it’s up to your mama to take care of him.”

  Sophie looked hopefully into Boppa’s eyes. “So am I coming to stay at your house?”

  “You know, I’d really like that,” Boppa said. “But you kids are going to stay here with your dad. Your mama wants the family together.”

  “Oh,” Sophie said.

  And she felt the No-God space grow bigger.

  Nine

  Lacie was the next one to come home and find out about Mama. To Sophie’s utter AMAZEMENT, she immediately burst into tears.

  “Mama can’t be gone!” she cried. “I NEED her!”

  “Your dad will be home shortly,” Boppa said. He looked as if he wished Daddy would walk in the door within the next seven seconds.

  “I don’t want him! He won’t understand!”

  Sophie shifted from “amazed” to “absolutely flabbergasted.”

  Lacie dumped her backpack on the floor and flung both hands up to her face. “I failed my English quiz!”

  “You?” Sophie said.

  “I read the wrong story! And if I get below a C on my progress report, Coach won’t let me play in the next game—and I’m the CAPTAIN!”

  “Lacie, I think your father will understand,” Boppa said.

  “No!” Lacie said. “He’ll yell! He’ll say I wasn’t responsible—”

  “Not aware of your surroundings,” Sophie said.

  “I KNOW! Shut UP!”

  Lacie slid down the wall and sat on the floor and sobbed. That woke Zeke up from his nap, and the minute he saw Lacie crying, he started. Sophie was about to escape to the attic in search of Dr. Demetria Diggerty when Daddy walked in with a bag with Chinese writing on it.

  He took one look at the two crumpled heaps on the floor, said good-bye to Boppa, and made the three of them sit up at the snack bar, containers in front of them, chopsticks in hand. He stood across from them, leaning on the stove, and said,

  “Okay, one at a time. Zeke—you first—you’re the loudest.” Daddy looked at Lacie. “You think you can hold it in for five minutes?”

  Lacie gave a miserable nod.

  “What’s up, Z?”

  “I want Mama!”

  “I do too, pal,” Daddy said. “The good news is, she’ll be back.

  The even better news is, this means a lot of McDonald’s.”

  “Every day?” Zeke said.

  “Whatever it takes,” Daddy said.

  Zeke tore into his fortune cookies, and Daddy turned to Lacie.

  “Next. What’s with the tears?”

  Lacie poured out her story, crying all over her chow mein. Although Sophie saw Daddy’s face-muscles twitch, he just said, “No problem. I’ll talk to your teacher—we’ll get it straightened out.”

  “But when? You’ll be at work all day!”

  “I’m working at home in the afternoon while your mom’s gone. I’ll pick Zeke up from kindergarten and be here when you girls get home from school.” He straightened up from the stove. “I’m Mama until the real Mama gets back.”

  Sophie put her chopsticks down. Fried rice suddenly tasted like sawdust.

  Sure—you’re going to go stand up for Lacie with her teacher, even though her mistake was HER OWN FAULT! she felt like yelling at him. But you haven’t even ASKED me if I have any problems.

  But Sophie decided right then he couldn’t help her anyway. He wasn’t enough Mama for that.

  Which was why the next morning she practically RAN straight from the bus to Mr. Denton’s room without looking for Fiona and Kitty. She didn’t want Fiona grilling her about whether she had asked about the adoption.

  Mr. Denton was grading papers when she arrived, and she tried to skip past him to go back to her locker. There was really nobody she wanted to have a conversation with. But he looked up and smiled at her.

  “Sophie!” he said. “Just the person I need to talk to.”

  Sophie dragged herself back to his desk. “I want to recommend you for the Gifted and Talented Program,” he said. “You know, GATE. I need for you to take this letter and application home and have your mom or dad help you fill it out, and then one of them needs to sign it.”

  Sophie stared at the papers he
held out to her.

  “Me?” she said.

  “Of course, you,” Mr. Denton said. “And Fiona. And Kitty.”

  “Why?” Sophie said.

  Mr. Denton leaned back in his chair with his eyebrows scrambled together. “Because you’re three of the most creative students I’ve ever had. You all need to be in GATE.” His lips twitched. “Unless you don’t WANT to, of course—”

  “I do!” Sophie said. “Thank you!”

  Suddenly, she could feel her chest going loose, as if some space were opening up in there. Maybe God was coming back …

  When Fiona arrived she slipped into the table beside Sophie and went straight to a piece of news.

  “The Corn Pops are passing a notebook around to each other,” she whispered “They’re writing in it.”

  “What do you think it means?” Sophie said.

  “I think it means they’re trying to be like US. Theirs isn’t purple, of course.”

  “Of course,” Sophie said.

  She had an open and light and good feeling, and she couldn’t wait to get home that afternoon and show Daddy the application. Maybe it didn’t even matter if he was her birth parent or not, as long as he was proud of her.

  He was at the dining room table with his laptop computer and his cell phone and his electronic organizer. Zeke was at the other end of the table, chowing down on a Happy Meal.

  Sophie just put the application in front of Daddy and waited for his face to beam.

  But it didn’t.

  He studied the form and the letter for a long time. With each minute that passed, Sophie could feel her open space closing up again. Finally, she couldn’t stand it.

  “Aren’t you proud of me?” she said.

  “I’m happy your teacher thinks this much of you,” he said. “And he’s right—you’re definitely creative.”

  There was such a huge “but” in his voice, Sophie could almost see it.

  “But, Soph,” he said, “I’m not sure you’re ready for this. I’m not convinced you have the basics down yet.”

  Sophie stared at him. Her chest was closing in like something was pressing against it.

  “You mean, you’re not gonna let me do it?” she said.

  “I mean I need to think about it,” he said.