“Don’t worry. Sascha won’t give you any trouble,” Mrs. Watts said. “She promised to be a very good girl. Right, Sasch?” Sascha didn’t answer. “She may C-R-Y a little when I leave,” Mrs. Watts continued. “Don’t take it personally. She’s always fine as soon as I’m out of sight.”
We pulled up in front of the house. Mrs. Watts helped Sascha out of the car and led her over to me.
“The door’s open now, but lock the door behind you when you get inside,” Mrs. Watts said. “The emergency numbers are all by the phone in the kitchen.” She held Sascha’s hand out to me. “Okay, Sasch, you be good with Katie. I’ll be back soon.” Sascha gripped my hand and we watched as Mrs. Watts got back into the car. As soon as she started to pull away, the wailing started.
I crouched down toward Sascha. “Don’t cry,” I told her. “We’re going to have fun!” I tried to sound confident, but Sascha didn’t seem convinced. She continued crying. It wasn’t loud, just long and steady. She cried and cried as I pulled her toward the house and locked the door behind us.
I didn’t know what to say to a crying three-year-old. “It will be okay,” I said. “Your mom will be home soon.” I thought to myself that it wouldn’t be soon enough. “Do you want to color?” I asked. She sniffled and shook her head. “Do you want me to read to you?” I asked, and Sascha shook her head again. She was almost not crying anymore. She took in a deep breath, the kind you take when you’re trying to catch your breath after too much crying. She made a funny ehh-ehh-ehh sound as she breathed in, like a car that won’t start. We stared at each other for a few seconds, and her breathing became more and more normal. “We can do whatever you want to do,” I told her. Sascha rubbed her stomach. “Are you hungry?” I asked.
Sascha nodded.
“Do you want cereal?” I asked, and she shook her head. “Toast?” She shook her head again. “Peanut butter and jelly?” I suggested. Sascha shook her head again. “Well, what do you want?” I asked. Sascha shrugged. Julie told me once that Sascha didn’t talk much, but I didn’t know that meant she would be silent.
Sascha walked toward the kitchen, and I followed her. She got to the refrigerator and tugged at the handle with both hands, but it wouldn’t open. “Here, let me help you,” I said. I reached above her hands and pulled the door open. She looked up at me as though she were impressed by my strength, and I smiled. Maybe this wouldn’t be so hard. People liked me at school—I could get a three-year-old to like me. “Anything in here you want?” I asked.
Sascha stepped in front of me and pushed open the refrigerator door wider. She took a long time looking over all the choices. I started to worry about the fridge door being open for so long. Mom always tells us if we hold the door open too long, all the food will get spoiled. What if all the cold air escaped and all the Wattses’ food went bad? I didn’t want Mrs. Watts to get so mad that she wouldn’t ask Julie to babysit again. “Come on, Sascha,” I said. “What do you want?”
Sascha looked up at me and shrugged. It was going to be a long day. I sighed again. Sascha sighed too.
“All right,” I said, peering at the shelves in the fridge. There were cold cuts in labeled plastic bags. “How about a turkey sandwich?” I suggested.
Sascha shook her head.
“Salami? Roast beef?”
She shook her head again.
“What about this?” I said, pointing to the hot dogs.
She moved her head from side to side.
“Let’s see,” I said. “What’s in here? Oh, cheese. You want some cheese?” I waited for her to shake her head again, but she didn’t. “You want cheese, Sascha?”
Sascha nodded. I couldn’t believe it. I had begun to think that it would be impossible for her to move her head up and down instead of shaking it from side to side.
There were four different kinds of cheese in the cheese drawer—cheddar, American, and two other kinds that I had never had before, Brie and Havarti. “Do you want this one?” I asked, picking up the cheddar. Sascha shook her head. “How about American cheese?” I asked. Sascha nodded and smiled. She had really tiny teeth and there were big gaps between each tooth. I wondered if her teeth would always look too small for her mouth or if, when she got her permanent teeth, they would be the right size and fill up her mouth.
“All right,” I said, finally closing the refrigerator door. “Do you want just some pieces of cheese, or do you want cheese on a sandwich?” Sascha didn’t answer. I realized I had to ask yes or no questions. “Do you want me to put the cheese on bread?” She nodded. “Should I heat it up, like a grilled cheese?” I asked, and she nodded again.
I pulled a plate out of one of the cabinets. There was a bread box on the counter, and I opened it and pulled out a couple slices of white bread. Aunt Jean sometimes makes me grilled cheese in a frying pan. She spreads butter on the outsides of the bread so it gets nice and crispy. I loved the way the crust was crispy and the inside was all melted, but if I made it that way for Sascha, there would be a greasy pan to clean up, and I really hate cleaning. I decided to just make her grilled cheese in the toaster oven. She wasn’t even four years old yet, so I didn’t think she would know the difference. She watched from the doorway as I put a slice of cheese on each piece of bread and put them in the toaster oven. The toaster was unplugged, so I plugged it in and pressed the button down. The coils on the inside of the toaster turned red as they heated up. “Just a couple more minutes,” I told Sascha. “Why don’t you go sit at the table? I’ll get you some juice.”
She turned and walked toward the table, and I went back to the refrigerator. I had just pulled out the bottle of apple juice when I noticed the smell.
I turned and saw the smoke coming out from along the edges of the toaster oven. I reached over to turn the toaster off and flip it open. The bread was blackened. I knew Sascha wouldn’t eat it, and I didn’t want to risk trying to make another grilled cheese in the toaster. I was trying to figure out what else I could give her to eat when the smoke alarm went off. I guess the smoke from the toaster had drifted up to the alarm. It was a horrible sound, like a high-pitched scream, and I hadn’t been expecting it. The bottle of apple juice slipped out of my hand and onto the floor. Luckily it was a plastic bottle so it didn’t break, but there was juice everywhere. “Oh my god!” I cried, and then I clapped my hand over my mouth. I turned toward the table to look at Sascha, but she was gone.
I felt my heart pounding inside my chest. Sascha’s fine, I told myself. She probably just got scared and ran down the hall. I turned back toward the toaster and pulled the plug out of the wall. Then I opened all the windows in the kitchen to get the smoke out. The alarm was still shrieking. I spotted it high above the doorway next to the oven. There was no way I could reach it to turn it off. Maybe if I waved something in front of it so the burning smell went away faster, then it would stop. I pulled a chair over from the table and stood on it, waving my hands wildly. It seemed to take a long time, but finally the alarm stopped. I took a deep breath. So much for a shortcut to making a grilled cheese. Now I had to find Sascha.
The problem with a kid who doesn’t talk is that she doesn’t answer when you call her. I walked down the hall yelling, “Sascha, where are you?” But she didn’t answer.
I darted in and out of rooms as I walked down the hall. She wasn’t in the den or the guest room. She wasn’t in Mr. and Mrs. Watts’s room or any of the bathrooms. At the end of the hall I found the room that had to be Sascha’s room. It was painted lavender and there were pictures of unicorns on the wall. At the far end of the room was a canopied bed, the kind of bed Julie always wanted when we were younger. I had wanted bunk beds. I glanced around the room, but I didn’t see Sascha. I was about to turn around and keep looking, but then I heard something. “Sascha?” I called. “Sascha, are you in here?”
There was a rustling from under the bed. “Oh, Sascha,” I said. “It’s okay to come out now. The alarm isn’t ringing anymore.” I moved toward the bed, but Sascha didn’t e
merge.
“Come on,” I said. I got to the bed, crouched down, and pulled up the dust ruffle. There was Sascha curled up like a little ball. “It’s okay,” I told her. I reached out my hand.
Sascha’s eyes were wide and watering. She seemed to be thinking about whether to trust me. I thought of the apple juice, drying and sticky on the kitchen floor, and wished she would hurry up. Finally, she extended her arm and I took her hand. I pulled her gently and she moved toward me, inch by inch. She moved slowly, slowly, and then she stopped. Half her body was out and half her body was still under the bed. “Just a little more,” I said, and I gave a stronger tug. She didn’t budge. Her eyes grew wider. “Are you stuck?” I said, and her eyes overflowed.
I pulled and pulled at her, but she was absolutely stuck. It didn’t make sense. She’d gotten under there, so naturally she should be able to get out, but I didn’t want to pull too hard because I might hurt her. I stood up and reached under the bed to try to lift it, but it was no use. The bed was much too heavy. Sascha started sobbing out loud. I wished Julie were there. I knew I needed help. I couldn’t even call Julie because Mom would be there, screening her calls, and I would have to explain everything to her. Then she’d probably want to help herself, and I really didn’t want her to come over. Jake might know what to do but he had track practice and a math test to study for. Aunt Jean was in San Francisco for lunch because once every other month she went to the city to have lunch with her husband’s parents. I could’ve called Tesa or Sara, but I didn’t really know them well enough to call them in an emergency. That’s the sort of thing that best friends are for. I decided to call Doriane.
Doriane answered on the first ring. I had taken the cordless phone into Sascha’s room, and I sat next to her head while I explained the situation to Doriane. “My dad’s on his way out,” Doriane said. “I could ask him to drop me off if you need help.”
I wasn’t sure what would get me into more trouble—having Mrs. Watts come home while her daughter was still stuck under the bed, or having her come home and find me there with a friend. Maybe Doriane could leave before she even got home. “All right,” I said. “Come over.”
It seemed like forever before the doorbell rang, but I knew it had only been a few minutes. Doriane lived pretty close by. I got up and went to answer the door. “I’ll be right back,” I told Sascha. She was still crying, so I wasn’t sure she even heard what I said. Doriane was standing on the front porch. “I’m never babysitting ever again!” I told her, and I led her back to Sascha’s room.
“Hey there, Sascha. I’m Doriane,” Doriane said softly. It was actually her normal voice, but Doriane said everything softly. “We’re going to get you out of there.” I doubt Sascha even heard her because she was screaming so loudly.
Doriane and I tried to lift the bed together, but even with two of us, it was still too heavy. She bent down to pull on Sascha like I had, but Sascha stayed stuck and kept wailing. Doriane stood back up. “Maybe we should pull her together,” I suggested.
“We need to calm her down first,” Doriane said. “She starts kicking whenever you pull on her, and that could make her more stuck. Besides, if we pull on her when she’s fighting like this, she could get hurt.”
“Well, she’s never gonna stop crying while she’s stuck like that,” I said. “Maybe we should put butter or oil or something on her. When Julie got a ring stuck on her finger, Mom put cooking oil on it and it slid right off.”
“Yeah, but Sascha’s wearing a T-shirt,” Doriane said. “I don’t think the oil would work on her shirt like that.”
“So, what should we do to calm her down?” I asked.
Doriane knelt back down on the floor. “Hi, Sascha,” she said. “It’s me again. Doriane. You know, I have a brother named Avi Benjamin. He’s three years old. Are you three years old? Are you this many?” Doriane held three fingers up toward Sascha. “Or maybe you’re this many?” Doriane said, holding up four fingers. Of course Sascha didn’t answer, but Doriane kept talking. “Are you this many?” she asked, holding up five fingers. “You can’t be this many! That’s a whole hand.” Sascha looked at Doriane’s fingers. She was still crying, but she seemed to not be crying quite as hard.
I bent down next to Doriane. “I didn’t know you had a brother,” I said.
“I do,” Doriane said. She kept looking at Sascha, even though she was talking to me. “He’s actually my half brother. We have the same dad, and his mother is my stepmother.”
“Oh,” I said. “Do you have any other brothers and sisters?”
“Nope,” Doriane said. “It’s just Avi and me. I babysit him a lot. And you know what, Sascha, he really likes this song about eating spaghetti. Maybe you know it too.” Doriane tipped her head so she was right by Sascha’s ear, and she started singing. Her voice was practically a whisper. At first Sascha kept crying, but after a couple verses, she stopped so she could hear Doriane’s voice. And then the most amazing thing happened: Sascha started singing right along with her. I could hardly believe it. How could Doriane get her to sing when I hadn’t even been able to get her to talk? “Okay, Sascha,” Doriane said after the song ended, “stay very still just like that. Katie and I are going to get you out now.” We each took an arm and pulled, and this time Sascha slid all the way out.
“Doriane,” I said, “you’re a genius!”
“Not really,” Doriane said, blushing. “I just know a lot about kids.” She turned to Sascha. “You were so brave,” she told her. Sascha reached out to hug her, and Doriane put her arms around her.
“Sing again,” Sascha said. Doriane smiled and started singing the spaghetti song, and I went into the kitchen to clean up the apple juice. By then the juice had dried up so the floor was really sticky. It would have been easier to clean a greasy pan. I got down on my hands and knees and thought about how Doriane would probably tell Jake all about what had happened, and then he would think she was some kind of a hero. I rinsed my hands off in the sink and dried them on a paper towel. Then I headed back to Sascha’s room. Doriane was bouncing her in her lap.
“Hey,” Doriane said. “Look who’s back.”
“Hey,” I said. “So I bet you can’t wait to tell Jake about all this, huh?”
“Yeah,” Doriane said. “I’m supposed to meet up with him when he’s done with practice.”
“I thought he had to study after practice,” I said.
“I know,” Doriane said. “But I’m better at math than he is, so he asked me to help him.”
I was better at math than Jake was too, and I’d helped him plenty of times before. But I could barely get Jake alone anymore. I leaned against the door frame. “You know, Doriane,” I said, “there’s something I think you should know.”
“What?”
“You have to promise not to tell Jake I’m telling you,” I said. “He’d kill me if he knew I told.”
“I promise,” Doriane said.
“Okay,” I said. “The thing is, Jake really likes Lexi Moss.” What was I saying? What was happening to me? The words were tumbling out of my mouth. “You know, she’s the girl in social studies. The one who transferred to Hillside in January.”
“I know who she is,” Doriane said. “She’s the pretty one with dark hair.”
“Yeah,” I said. “Anyway, Jake talks about her all the time.” The truth was that Jake had never said anything to me about Lexi Moss. But even though I knew what I was saying wasn’t true, I couldn’t stop myself. It was almost as if someone else were talking, not me. “He’s practically obsessed with her,” I heard myself say.
Doriane lifted Sascha off her lap and stood up. “Oh,” she said. She bit her lower lip and I thought she might cry. It’s not like I wanted her to cry, but I knew that meant she was already starting to hate Jake.
“I think he might just be using you to make her jealous or something. I saw him do the exact same thing to this girl Erin at camp last summer,” I said.
“I saw him talking to Lexi in th
e cafeteria the other day,” Doriane said softly. “She was standing next to him in line, and he leaned over toward her. But I was too far away, and I couldn’t hear what he said.”
Probably he had asked Lexi to hand him a carton of milk or something like that, but I didn’t tell Doriane that. “I hope you’re not mad at me for saying something,” I said.
“No,” Doriane said. “I guess it’s good that I know. I better get going, though. Sascha’s mom will be home soon anyway.”
“Is your dad going to pick you up?” I asked.
“I think maybe I’ll just walk,” Doriane said.
“Isn’t it far?” I asked.
“Not too far,” she said. “Anyway, I need some time to think.”
“Are you still going to Jake’s?” I asked.
“No,” Doriane said. “I just want to go home.”
Sascha and I walked Doriane to the front door. Doriane looked so small and sad. I wished I could take it all back. What was wrong with me? Sascha was quiet again. “Your mom will be home soon,” I told her. “Why don’t we watch TV while we wait?”
A few minutes later I heard Mrs. Watts’s key in the door. “Hello,” Mrs. Watts called. “How’s my girl?”
“She was great,” I said, thankful that Sascha didn’t talk much.
“What did you do?” Mrs. Watts asked.
I was about to say Nothing much, when Sascha started speaking. “The alarm in the kitchen went off and Katie spilled the juice. Then I got stuck under the bed, and Katie’s friend came over to get me out.”
My mouth hung open. I didn’t know what to say. I had ruined everything for Julie for sure. “Sorry,” I said. “I was trying to make grilled cheese for her and the toaster started smoking.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Mrs. Watts said. “The toaster is pretty temperamental. We keep it unplugged, but I should have told you.”
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