Sincerely

by Courtney Sheinmel

  Sophie and her dad are coming to California soon. I bet I’m the only one in my class who’s actually going to meet her pen pal. Plus, I plan to visit Sophie in New York someday. Julie really wants to go back to New York too. In fact, ever since we came back from New York, Julie has said that she wants to live there permanently. She really likes fashion and movie stars, and they have a lot of both of those in New York. But I would miss California too much, especially our house at the top of the hill. When I was younger, Dad would take me for walks in the woods behind our house and I thought we were hiking through a jungle. Now I’m almost twelve years old, and the trees that used to seem as tall as the New York skyscrapers just look like regular trees to me. Still, I love the smell of them in the backyard, and I don’t think I could ever get used to sleeping in New York City with all the noise outside going all night long.

  Mrs. Katz told us we should write to our pen pals once a month. At first I didn’t always write as much as I was supposed to, even though Sophie did. Sometimes she wrote me about really private things. I got to know her really well even though we’ve never met in person, and now I write to her whenever anything important happens. She knows a lot about me, too. I don’t know if anyone else in Mrs. Katz’s class still writes to their pen pal, but I wrote to Sophie today during our free writing period because something important had happened.

  Each Monday, Mrs. Katz picks two students to do reports on important current events. If you re picked you have to read the newspaper all week and then get up in front of the class on Friday and talk about the most important story you read.

  Three weeks ago Mrs. Katz picked me to give one of the reports. I started looking through the paper that Monday night. My parents get two newspapers at home every day—the local Redwood City paper called the Redwood City Daily News, and also the San Francisco Chronicle. We live about a half hour away from San Francisco. It’s one of the closest “big cities” to our house. In fact, whenever anyone in Redwood City says they’re going to “the city,” they mean San Francisco. So it’s a pretty important newspaper to get.

  Anyway, I looked through both newspapers on Monday night. There were a lot of articles about things like the budget in Washington and some speech the president was making, but there wasn’t anything at all that I wanted to report on. The problem was that usually the current events reports were really boring, and I wanted to do something interesting. Especially because Mrs. Katz had recently figured out that the other kids in the class didn’t really listen to the current events reports, so she’d started giving us quizzes on them. I figured if I had a really cool report, people wouldn’t mind listening to it, and then they’d thank me when they all got good grades. But it didn’t look like that was going to happen.

  “There’s nothing good in these papers,” I complained out loud to no one in particular. Mom was at the counter chopping carrots for a salad, and Julie was eating them off the counter instead of putting them into the salad bowl.

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” Mom said. “There’s plenty of important stuff in the paper every day.”

  “Nothing that kids in school want to hear about,” I said.

  “There are some really important debates going on about the health care system. You should report on that,” Mom said.

  “Mom,” I said, “no offense, but no one wants to hear about that.”

  “Well, maybe they should hear about it. . . . No offense,” Mom said. I should have known Mom wouldn’t understand. I went up to my room and hoped there would be something better in the paper the next day.

  And then something awful happened. There was a horrible earthquake in Mexico.

  I happen to know a lot about earthquakes because we live in California. Earthquakes happen along fault lines in the earth’s surface. There are a lot of fault lines in California. So far I’ve been in three earthquakes. Mom and Dad told Julie and me that we should go stand in a doorway whenever there’s an earthquake. It’s a good place to stand because it’s very secure and can protect you if other things fall down around you. At school if there’s an earthquake we’re supposed to go under our desks for the same reason. If we’re outside, we’re supposed to crouch down onto the ground and hold our hands over our heads to protect our heads from things that might land on top of us. I’ve never been very scared of earthquakes because the ones I’ve been in haven’t been too big. The worst thing that happened was the kitchen cabinets flew open and a bunch of dishes fell out and smashed on the floor. Then Mooner, our dog, walked into the kitchen and cut her paw on the glass before we were able to get it all cleaned up, and she needed four stitches. She cried when the vet sewed her up, and I thought that was pretty bad. But the earthquake in Mexico was completely different from anything I had ever been in. Thousands of people died. I watched the news that night with my parents and Julie. They showed pictures of buildings burning. I saw people crying and holding up pictures of their family members who were caught in the rubble. Julie even started to cry.

  Dad looked over and seemed surprised to see Julie and me sitting there. I think he had been paying so much attention to what was on television that he had forgotten we were even there. “Maybe you two shouldn’t be watching this,” he said.

  “But, Dad,” I said.

  “No, really, Katie,” Dad said. “This is grown-up stuff.” Sometimes Dad forgets that Julie and I aren’t kids anymore. I’m in sixth grade after all. And Julie’s practically old enough to be in high school! She’s a grade behind what she should be in school because of her dyslexia, which makes it hard for her to read. When she sees words and numbers on the page, they get all mixed up and backward. She needs extra help in school because of it and she had to repeat the third grade. Still, she’s thirteen years old, and just because something on television was sad and scary didn’t mean we should have to leave the room. Luckily, Mom agreed with me.

  “Let them stay, Peter,” Mom said. “It’s important to watch.” She turned to Julie and me. “But only if you want to.”

  I said I wanted to keep watching, and Julie said she did too, even though she was crying. Dad folded his arms across his chest and turned back to the television. I think sometimes he feels ganged-up on because he’s the only boy in our house. Even Mooner is a girl. I try to do things that Dad likes so he doesn’t feel left out. Even so, I wasn’t going to leave the room just to make him feel better.

  We watched the news reports about the earthquake until it was time to go to bed. During breakfast the next morning Dad brought the papers to the kitchen table to read. The earthquake was on the front page of both newspapers, and I knew what my report would be about. Mom had said it was important to watch. I thought it was important to talk about too.

  I picked the article that was on the front page of the San Francisco Chronicle because the headline took up the entire top of the page. Mrs. Katz said it’s called a banner headline. The whole class seemed to be paying close attention while I gave my report. This girl named Tesa gave the other report, and she talked about the earthquake too. Mrs. Katz was so sure that we all knew about it that she even skipped the usual current events quiz.

  But then the weekend came. Dad drove Jake and me to this place called Sawyer Camp Trail so we could ride our bikes. It’s this road along the reservoir where no cars are allowed, so people go there with bikes or skates, or even just to walk. Jake and I brought all sorts of food in our backpacks. We picnicked along the side of the road overlooking the water. There’s a small island in the center of the reservoir that you can see from Sawyer Camp Trail. You can tell no one lives there—it’s just filled up with trees. Jake and I had this idea to start a company called the Dynamic Duo. We’re not sure yet what our company will do, but the island in the middle of the reservoir seemed like the perfect place for the Dynamic Duo headquarters. I told Jake about my plan, but he said it would never work. He said there are laws to protect the drinking water so we wouldn’t be able to build an office on the island. Maybe he’s right, but sometimes I think
he just makes stuff like that up. Anyway, I sort of forgot all about the earthquake that weekend. The days continued to pass. Every so often I would see pictures of it on the news again, but it was nothing like those first few days with all the fires and the rubble. So it slipped to the back of my mind . . . until today, that is.

  As usual Mrs. Katz had picked two people to give current events reports. A kid named Morgan went first. I hang out with him sometimes because he’s on the track team with Jake. He reported on an election that was being held in another country. It was kind of boring because I had never heard of the candidates. Still, I tried to pay attention because it could be on a quiz. I pulled out a sheet of paper to take notes, but mostly I just doodled in the margins.

  Morgan finished his report and a girl named Doriane stood up to give her report. I don’t really know her. She’s really quiet and shy, so I don’t think anyone knows her so well. I’m not that quiet at all, but I get along with almost everyone. I might not be the most popular girl in my grade, like Julie is, but most people like me. I think it’s because at school I’m sort of like a cheerleader. Not an actual cheerleader—I’m not on the squad or anything, but I’m friendly and energetic, and I want everyone to be happy. Doriane walked past my desk to get to the front of the room and I moved my arm over the paper on my desk so she couldn’t see my doodles. I didn’t want her to think I wasn’t going to pay attention to what she had to say.

  She got to the front and cleared her throat. “My report is on a girl named Emily who was in the earthquake,” she said softly.

  “Try to speak up,” Mrs. Katz said from the back of the room. “It’s hard to hear you back here.”

  “Okay,” Doriane said more loudly. “Anyway, Emily is from California and she went to Mexico with her parents and sister, Julie, and they were there when the earthquake hit.” I noticed Doriane’s voice had gone back to its usual soft tone. I leaned forward to hear her better in case we were quizzed on what she said. Doriane wrapped a strand of her hair around her index finger and tugged at it as she continued talking. “Emily’s in a hospital now in Mexico. Her medical treatment so far has cost ten thousand dollars, but they think she’ll make a full recovery. They don’t know where any of her family is. They don’t know if they’re just buried in the rubble or if they died.”

  I was watching Doriane so at first I didn’t notice that Jake had dropped a note into my lap. He sits next to me in social studies, and we’re pretty good at passing notes without Mrs. Katz noticing. But now she was in the back of the room so we couldn’t see her. I leaned forward on my desk and cupped Jake’s note in my hand. Doriane continued her report. She said they were having a tough time in the region where the earthquake hit because all the resources were getting used up and there was so much damage. I didn’t take any notes on what she said because I was concentrating too hard on trying to hear her, but that was okay because I knew I would remember it.

  The thing is, usually you read things in the news and the next day they’re onto the next story—but hearing Doriane’s report made me realize the story of the earthquake was still going on and probably wouldn’t end anytime soon. I was sure Emily wasn’t the only kid missing her family.

  Doriane finished and Mrs. Katz walked back to the front of the room and started writing on the board. I unfolded Jake’s note in my lap. “What do you think of Doriane?” he’d written. I looked at him and shrugged. He bent down and started writing again. I crumbled his note and stashed it in my bag while Mrs. Katz wasn’t looking. Jake handed me another note. “She’s so sensitive, don’t you think?” he had written. I wrote, “What do you mean?” and passed the note back to Jake. But then we had to stop writing because Mrs. Katz had turned to face us again.

  • • •

  After class I went to my locker to get my books for English, my last class of the day. Jake came up behind me. “So,” he said, “what do you think?”

  “About what?” I asked.

  “Doriane,” he said. “Isn’t that what we were talking about?”

  “Oh,” I said. “She’s okay, kind of quiet.”

  “She’s just so sensitive,” Jake said. “You know, it’s kind of nice.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, she could have reported on anything, but she picked the earthquake,” he said.

  “I reported on the earthquake too,” I reminded him.

  “Oh, yeah,” Jake said.

  The bell rang signaling it was time for our next class. “I better go,” I said.

  I was still thinking about Doriane’s report when I walked into English class. Our teacher, Mrs. Herman, told us to take our seats and pull out our notebooks. Every so often she makes us do a Free Write, when we write whatever we want for ten minutes straight. She doesn’t collect what we write; it’s just an exercise to get our minds working. The only rule is that we’re not allowed to stop writing for the whole ten minutes. It’s a lot harder than it sounds because you can’t think before you write. You just have to start writing as soon as she says go, and you can’t lift your pen from the page until she calls time. She’s really strict about that. If you so much as look up to see how much someone else has written, she’ll yell at you to look at your own paper, even though it’s not like you were trying to cheat or anything like that. I pulled out a piece of paper and waited for Mrs. Herman to say go. This time I knew exactly what I would write about, and since it was important, I decided to write about it to Sophie.

  “Go,” Mrs. Herman called.

  Dear Sophie,

  Today this girl Doriane in my social studies class gave a report about a girl from California who was in the earthquake and now her family is missing. You know, the big earthquake that was in Mexico a few weeks ago? Anyway, the girl in Doriane’s report had parents and a sister, just like me. Her sister was even named Julie, just like my sister. But I don’t know if her sister is older or younger than she is. Still, I keep thinking about all the vacations I’ve gone on with Mom, Dad, and Julie. I don’t know what I would do if anything ever happened to them. Sometimes they really drive me crazy, but still . . . I don’t think I’d want to come home without them. How could I be in my house if they weren’t there? I feel so bad for this girl. Jake said he thought Doriane was really sensitive for reporting on the earthquake, but I think I’m sensitive too. I keep thinking about the girl in the earthquake. Her name is Emily. I wonder what she looks like. I don’t even know her last name or what city in California she lives in, but I really wish there was something I could do to help her. I wish there was something I could do to help all the kids who maybe got hurt in the earthquake, or who lost people from their families. I just don’t think there is anything I could do from here, but someone has to do something to help.

  I snuck a look at the clock at the front of the room, which technically we’re not allowed to do during Free Write. But I saw that it was almost time to stop so I finished up my letter to Sophie and signed my name, “Sincerely, Katie,” just as Mrs. Herman was calling time. I read over my letter quickly while Mrs. Herman handed out a grammar work sheet. I realized that I hadn’t used any paragraphs, but Mrs. Herman says grammar and punctuation don’t count during Free Write. I continued to read over my letter. One line in particular stuck out at me: “Someone has to do something to help.” That was when I decided I was going to figure out something to do to help.

  Two

  THE WORST THING about my school, Hillside Middle School, is that it’s at the bottom of a huge hill. To get home Julie and I have to walk all the way back up it. But Julie went to her friend Val’s house after school. I walked part of the way with Tesa and another girl named Sara. Tesa lives only halfway up the hill and Sara was going to Tesa’s house, so I walked the rest of the way by myself. I was almost home when I decided to stop at Aunt Jean’s house. She’s my dad’s sister, and she’s a good person to go to if you need someone to just sit and listen to you, or if you want someone to help you figure things out. Luckily, Aunt Jean lives just a fe
w streets away from us. I made a left turn onto her street and skipped down the block to her house.

  It’s true about what I wrote to Sophie—sometimes my family drives me crazy, especially my mom. I know it’s not a nice thing to say, but there are times when I wish Aunt Jean were my mother. Sometimes when I go over there, I even pretend that I’m her daughter instead of her niece. It’s not that I don’t love Mom. I really do. But there’s something so much easier about Aunt Jean. It’s just that she always understands me. If I do something wrong, she doesn’t stand there with her hands on her hips telling me I should’ve known better. She gets what it’s like to be young. And it would be nice to be an only child instead of a younger sister.

  Mom says our family is like a team, and we all need to be team players. But things get hard at my house sometimes because of Julie’s dyslexia, and my cheerleading personality doesn’t always work at home. The problem is that Mom and Dad didn’t know what was wrong with Julie for a long time. She’s really smart, but she was doing badly in school and had to be held back, so now instead of being two grades apart in school like we should be, we’re only one grade apart. Mom is obsessed with Julie’s schoolwork and says I have to be sensitive to Julie. It’s not always easy, especially since Mom almost always takes Julie’s side. She acts like our family team should be called Team Julie. Her favorite thing to tell Julie is that she can do anything she puts her mind to. Maybe I wouldn’t care as much if Julie were my cousin instead of my sister and we didn’t have to live in the same house.