Sincerely

by Courtney Sheinmel

  “I got a lot more sponsors,” I said. I put the first little square of cheese into my mouth. It didn’t taste as good as usual.

  “Well, that’s good,” Aunt Jean said.

  “I know,” I said. “But Julie was supposed to help me. You know, just when there was something that Julie and I actually wanted to do together, Mom had to step in and ruin it.”

  “Your mom’s making Julie work all weekend?” Aunt Jean asked.

  “How’d you guess,” I said glumly.

  “Maybe you should talk to your mom,” Aunt Jean suggested.

  “I don’t know,” I said. “I don’t think it would do any good.” I didn’t want to talk about Mom and Julie anymore. I wanted to just imagine Aunt Jean was my mother, and I stood up from the couch and walked across the room toward the window. Aunt Jean’s computer and printer are right next to the window. I saw that the pictures of that makeshift hospital in Mexico were up on the computer screen. There were sheets of paper in the printer with the heading “Volunteer Information.” I pulled the sheets out of the printer and held them up. “Is this for me?” I asked.

  “Oh, no,” Aunt Jean said quickly. “I thought I’d bring some information to the library.”

  “Oh,” I said. “Sorry.” I put the paper back on the printer tray.

  “So, what about this stuff with your mom?” Aunt Jean said, reminding me.

  “I don’t really want to think about it anymore,” I told her. “I think I’m just going to head home and see if Julie has stopped working yet. I’m giving her half of the sponsors I got.”

  Aunt Jean didn’t even try to talk me into staying. “All right,” she said. “I’ll take you home.” I climbed into Aunt Jean’s car—“It’s okay to be sad about your mom,” she said. “But everything is going to work out.”

  “I’m not sad,” I told her. “I’m so used to her being like this, I barely even notice it anymore.” I was lying again, but I didn’t care.

  When I got home, I headed right upstairs to Julie. Her door was open, but she was in bed with her face to the wall. “Julie?” I said. She didn’t answer right away. “Julie,” I said again.

  “What?” Julie said. Her voice sounded funny.

  “You didn’t miss too much today,” I said. “So don’t be upset. I went door-to-door like you said, but most people weren’t home, and I’ll share all the sponsors with you anyway.”

  Julie rolled over and sat up. Her face was red and blotchy and I realized she’d been crying.

  “Are you okay?” I asked. But Julie didn’t say anything. She stood up from the bed and walked straight toward me. I was still standing in the doorway, and Julie walked up so close that I stumbled backward a little. She moved her hand to the side of the door and pushed so it slammed in my face.

  Sixteen

  Dear Sophie,

  Now Julie can’t run in the jog-a-thon.

  My mom hired this tutor for Julie named Stephanie, but Julie calls her “the Stanford nerd” because she hates her. Well, I don’t think she hates her exactly. It’s more that she hates that Mom makes her get tutored. Anyway, Stephanie found out about a program at Stanford for kids with dyslexia—that’s what Julie has. Of course Stephanie told my mom all about it. And of course my mom thinks that Julie has to be in it. There are special tests you have to take to get into the class, and the first day of testing is the day of the jog-a-thon. At first I didn’t get it. I mean, Stanford is a college. Julie isn’t even in high school. Besides that, Stanford is for kids who do really well in school, and Julie doesn’t exactly get all As. But Dad says Stanford has a lot of different parts, including an education part. So that’s where Julie will be during the jog-a-thon. She’s not even speaking to me now. Actually, Julie isn’t speaking to anyone in my entire family. She just gets up and goes to school, and comes home and goes straight to her room and closes the door. My mom’s all upset because she thinks Julie should be excited about the opportunity. She’s convinced this will cure Julie or something like that.

  What makes it even worse is that Jake isn’t coming to the jog-a-thon either. I know I told you that already, but I really hoped we would’ve made up by now. I’m still mostly excited about Emily’s Run, but it’s hard to be excited when everyone is fighting.

  Anyway, I hope you got all the information I sent you, and I hope you’re getting lots of sponsors! I got your letter with your hotel information. My aunt said she’ll pick you up the morning of the jog-a-thon. I know your dad has to work, and that way you won’t have to take a cab or the train by yourself.

  See you very soon!

  Sincerely,

  Katie

  I folded up my letter and put it into an envelope. Then I headed downstairs to ask Dad for a stamp. I had to pass by Julie’s room on the way. Her door was closed, of course. I stopped right in front of it and thought about knocking, but I knew what would happen. She would just shout, “Go away!” like she always did lately. Then Mom would come up to hear what the fuss was about and tell me not to bother Julie. I think Mom pretends to herself that when Julie’s door is closed, it means Julie is studying on the other side. But I was sure Julie was just lying there staring at the fashion posters on her walls. She hardly ever even came downstairs for dinner, even though Mom had made lasagna about a million times.

  I kept moving down the hall and went down to the den. Dad was sitting on the couch reading the paper. “Hey, Katie-Katie,” he said when he saw me. “What’s going on?”

  “I need a stamp,” I said.

  “Is that another letter for Sophie?” Dad asked.

  “Yup,” I said.

  “She’ll be here pretty soon,” Dad said.

  “Less than two weeks,” I told him.

  “You must be pretty excited,” Dad said. He folded the paper and put it down on the ottoman. “What are the two of you going to do?”

  “The jog-a-thon. That’s why we had to send Sophie that package the other week,” I reminded him. I was kind of annoyed. I expected Mom not to pay attention to anything I was doing, but Dad should have known better.

  “Right,” he said. “I knew about that part. What else?” He patted the seat on the couch next to him, and I sat down.

  “I don’t know,” I said. “All I’ve really thought about is the jog-a-thon. You’re going to leave work early so you can come, right?”

  “I told you I would,” Dad said.

  “You’ll be the only one of the family there,” I said. “Except me and Aunt Jean.”

  “Mom wishes she could be there,” Dad said.

  “No, she doesn’t,” I said. “I told you she would find a reason not to come.”

  “Of course she wishes she could be there,” Dad said. “But Julie needs her that day.”

  “Julie doesn’t care if Mom is with her. She’s not even speaking to her,” I reminded him. “She hasn’t spoken to any of us in two weeks.”

  “I know,” Dad said.

  “It’s not fair,” I told him. “It’s not even my fault.”

  “I’m sorry this is hard on you,” Dad said. “But there’s nothing I can do to change it.”

  “Yes, you could,” I said. “You could tell Mom not to make Julie go to Stanford. She doesn’t even want to go to Stanford.”

  “You’re right,” Dad said. “She doesn’t. And you know I want Julie to be happy. But Mom thinks this will be a good opportunity for her. Julie needs help in school, and this might actually be good for her in the long run.”

  I started to remind Dad how hard we had all worked and how the jog-a-thon was important in the long run too. But Dad cut me off.

  “I’m sorry, Katie,” he said. “We’ve made up our minds.”

  I heard footsteps moving toward us from the hall, and I knew it had to be Mom. Julie was way too angry to just drop into the den to talk to Dad and me. Sure enough, Mom peeked her head around the corner. “What are you two up to?” she said.

  I said, “Nothing,” and at the same time Dad said, “Katie and I were t
alking about Julie’s tests.”

  “Those tests are very important,” Mom said. She turned to look directly at me and put her hands on her hips. It’s like she’s always ready for a fight even when I haven’t done anything wrong. I thought maybe Dad would stick up for me or even just try to change the subject like he sometimes does when Mom is getting worked up about something for no reason. But Dad just picked his paper back up from the ottoman. I sighed loudly so he would know I was upset, but he didn’t put the paper down again.

  “I’m going to my room,” I said loudly, and I stood up from the couch.

  “All right, Katie-Katie,” Dad said from behind his paper, as if everything was fine. Maybe he didn’t even realize anything was wrong. He treats me like a baby sometimes, like I’m too young to know anything. And he sides with Mom about Julie needing more help with school. But if you ask me, sometimes Dad acts like he doesn’t know anything at all. I looked over at him. He held the newspaper up so I couldn’t see his face. Just the top of his head was visible. He’s sort of going bald a little bit, so his forehead is longer than it used to be. The hair at the edge of his hairline is also a little gray. I thought he looked too old to be acting so completely clueless, and I waited a couple more seconds in case he looked up to see me. But his head stayed bent down toward the paper, and I turned to walk toward the stairs.

  “Don’t bother Julie when you go up there,” Mom called after me. I didn’t even answer her. My whole body felt hot. I stomped back up to my room and closed the door. I had forgotten all about my letter to Sophie. It was sitting on the couch in the den, but I didn’t want to go back down and get it because then I would have to see my parents again. I would just wait to get it in the morning.

  I tried to distract myself by thinking about the jog-a-thon, but I only felt worse. I had wanted to plan it with Jake and make everyone proud, but nothing had worked out the way I’d imagined it.

  Every time I thought about the jog-a-thon, I remembered that Julie and Jake wouldn’t be there. I saw Julie in the mornings when we got ready for school. Sometimes I would walk into the bathroom as she was walking out. But she would brush past me and not say anything, like I wasn’t even there. It was the same way with Jake. Besides homeroom, we had one class together—social studies—so I saw him only in that one class and during our lunch period. In class he stared straight ahead at Mrs. Katz. He paid more attention to her now than he ever had before we were fighting. At lunch he would sit at the table with a bunch of kids from the track team, and I would sit with Doriane and a few other girls from my grade. Once I looked up and caught him looking at me from across the room. Our eyes met, but he turned away quickly and pretended that he hadn’t seen me at all. Jake and I had never gone so long without speaking to each other. I bet he didn’t even miss talking to me. He probably thought he was better off with his friends from the track team and decided he couldn’t be best friends with a girl after all. Just like Julie had said.

  Even thinking about Sophie didn’t make me feel much better. She had written me back after I’d told her Jake was mad and had quit the jog-a-thon. I went to my desk to get her letter, and traced her handwriting with my finger. “I know how it feels to lose your best friend,” she wrote. “But trust me—it gets easier. Just think about all you’re doing for those kids in Mexico and how practically the whole school wants to help you.” She had signed her name, “Sincerely, Sophie.”

  Sincerely. There was that word again. Sophie probably meant it when she said “sincerely.” I put down her letter. If she knew the truth about me—that I was a terrible liar—then she would probably never write to me ever again.

  I put Sophie’s letter back on my desk, and I looked around my room to see if there was anything to do to distract myself. Everything I’d ever owned was there—the pictures above my bed, my books, my desk, my stuffed animals that I was really too old to play with but I didn’t want to throw away. I thought about how things could be ruined so quickly and easily, in an instant, in ways you can’t even control. The ground shakes and splits and swallows everything you ever had. There had been earthquakes in California before. If there were a big enough earthquake the next time, it could all be taken away from me, too, hidden in rubble. Emily hadn’t lost her home, since she’d been only visiting Mexico, but she’d lost her family. They were there one minute, and then they were gone. Even her sister, Julie. “It’s a random event,” Aunt Jean had said. Kids at school used that word sometimes: How random, they said, when someone said something strange. “Random” meant “different, odd.” But “random” could mean “dangerous,” too.

  There was so much to be scared of. I still have all my stuff, but there are so many ways to lose people, and things had been taken away from me too. It wasn’t random—it was my own fault. I turned around and around—there was my bed, my desk, the photo collage of Jake and me, my closet full of clothes, including the hand-me-downs from Julie. I realized that, in my mind, the jog-a-thon wasn’t just for Emily. It was for Jake. I had wanted it to be something we could do together. And it was for Julie, because Emily had lost her sister, Julie, and I still had mine.

  That’s when I remembered Julie’s black skirt. It was the skirt she’d wanted to give to me weeks ago, and she had kicked me out of her room when I’d said I didn’t want it. Somehow it had ended up in my closet. I knew that meant Julie had gone into my room when I wasn’t looking, and I had pushed it toward the back, next to a couple of shirts and a pair of pants that had also been Julie’s. I had never tried any of it on. Now I slid off my jeans and stood in front of the mirror. The skirt was made of a soft, stretchy material. I liked the way it felt—sort of like a sweatshirt but with more elastic. Maybe I should have listened to Julie all along—maybe Jake would like me better if I dressed the way Julie did.

  I undid my ponytail and pulled on Julie’s skirt, and then I turned and stared at my reflection. It’s funny how the same clothes can look completely different on different people. I fingered the widow’s peak on my forehead, but it didn’t make me look pretty at all. I made myself start to laugh so I wouldn’t feel bad that I didn’t look a thing like Julie. I lay down on my bed in Julie’s stretchy skirt and imagined waking up and looking like her.

  That night I had the worst dream about the earthquake ever. It was the day of the jog-a-thon. I was there early to set up. Mr. Gallagher and I were the only ones on the track at the high school. Suddenly there was a loud noise, like a horrible crash. The ground was shaking. I crouched down on the ground just like I was supposed to, and brought my hands up over my head. I was staring at the ground beneath my feet, and I saw a crack running along the ground. I looked up, even though I wasn’t supposed to, and the crack was spreading as the earth kept shaking. Then the ground split wide open and I was falling inside it. “Mr. Gallagher!” I cried. “Mr. Gallagher!”

  “Katie!” he said. He appeared right above me. I was hanging on to the edge of the crack, and I looked up and reached out for his hand. But instead of giving me his hand and pulling me up, he handed me a bag of candy. It was the same bag of miniature chocolates that I had found in Mrs. Brenneke’s drawer.

  “Here,” he said. “Mrs. Brenneke said you wanted this.”

  “No, no,” I told him. But he wasn’t listening. He was already walking away. I lost my grip as I called after him, and then I was falling and falling.

  I woke up sweating. My body felt gross and sticky, and I stood up to change. My legs were shaky as I moved across the room. I turned on the light so I wouldn’t feel so afraid, and I walked toward my closet to get a fresh shirt and a pair of sweatpants. I passed by the mirror and realized I was still in Julie’s skirt. My eyes looked bigger, like they belonged to a whole other person. I stared at myself, and felt different and strange, kind of like when you say your name over and over again until you can’t recognize it anymore. With my eyes so big and my hair all messed up from my sleep, the skirt kind of looked good on me. I wanted Julie to see me like that, looking sort of pretty, an
d I wished I could walk into her room and wake her up. But it was the middle of the night and Julie would yell and not look at me anyway, so I peeled off the skirt and pulled an old T-shirt over my head. I decided to leave the light on when I went back to sleep.

  • • •

  The next morning Julie and I walked past each other in the hall. She had a towel wrapped around her head and I could smell the sweet scent of her shampoo—it’s called Sugar & Spice. I looked right at her, but she pretended not to see me. I wanted to tell her that I’d finally tried on her skirt. She would be so mad if she knew I had ended up using it as pajamas. Was it just my dream that I’d looked sort of good in it? I would have asked Julie about it if she were speaking to me.

  Dad offered to drive me to school, but I told him I would walk. I was still mad at him about taking Mom’s side. Besides, it’s not so bad walking to school, since it’s all downhill. When I got there, I saw Mr. Gallagher walking into his office. He waved at me when he saw me. I felt my heart start to pound because I remembered my dream from the night before. “It was just a dream,” I reminded myself. “Mr. Gallagher is a perfectly nice guy. Julie always says so, and besides, he’s been great about the jog-a-thon.” My heart was still beating fast, but it wasn’t because I was afraid of Mr. Gallagher. It was because some things were going to be up to me to change. Some things you can’t control, like the slow rumbling of an earthquake, and some things you can. I had an idea.

  I couldn’t believe I hadn’t thought of it before. If anyone could talk Mom into letting Julie come to the jog-a-thon, it would be Mr. Gallagher. He was the one who’d once said Julie could be a normal kid in normal classes. Mom listened to him and trusted him. But I didn’t have much time. I had to talk to him that day. As soon as my last class was over, I ran across the parking lot to Mr. Gallagher’s office.

  I ran so fast that I was panting when I got to his office. “Hey, Mrs. Sutton,” I said in between breaths. “Do you think I could speak to Mr. Gallagher? It’s kind of an emergency.”