Oh, Brother!

by Cochran, Peg

  “Did you write your paper yet?”

  I groaned. “No. Did you?”

  “No. How was dinner with your mother’s boyfriend last night?”

  “You wouldn’t believe it,” I cracked open my bedroom door and peeked out. My mother was putting some stuff away in the hall closet. I closed the door quietly. “I can’t tell you about it now, though. The parental unit is right outside my door. Meet me at the library?”

  When I got to the library Emily and Celia were already there. They’d managed to get a table, behind the stacks, where the librarian couldn’t see us. Mr. Lasick wants us to use actual books for research, can you believe it? It’s such a waste of time when we could get all the information we needed in a couple of minutes on the computer.

  “I’ve got the “W” volume of the encyclopedia,” Celia whispered as I sat down. She pushed this huge book toward me.

  “Never mind that. You won’t believe what happened last night.” This old lady flipping through a newspaper at the next table gave me a dirty look, but I didn’t care. If she needs that much quiet she should go sit in a church or something.

  Celia looked up and stuck her pen behind her ear. There was a smudge of ink on her right cheek. Emily was engrossed in some book on Ireland, and I had to tap her on the shoulder to get her attention. That girl is becoming obsessed. It could be dangerous or something.

  “Guess who I had dinner with last night?”

  “Dunno. Your mother I guess.” Celia said.

  I shook my head. “Well, my mother was there, but guess who else?”

  Emily squinted up her little eyes but couldn’t think of anything.

  “Travis Cooper,” I declared like one of those game show hosts on TV announcing the winning answer.

  Celia started to splutter, and we had to tell her to be quiet. The old lady was giving us really dirty looks, and I was afraid she’d tell the librarian or something.

  “How...what?” was all Emily could say. Sometimes I wonder how that girl got on the honor roll.

  “Well, it turns out that Travis Cooper is my mother’s fiancé’s son,” I announced triumphantly.

  “Whoa!” Celia yelled a little too loudly.

  I looked around to see Miss Urnwright bearing down on us. She wears these really small glasses and has short gray hair brushed back from her forehead.

  “Girls. If you can’t be quiet, I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

  “Sorry, Miss Urnwright,” we chorused.

  “Well,” I said as soon as I saw her disappear around the stacks, “we weren’t making that much noise. She just likes to pick on teens. She’s not bugging that old geezer over there who’s making such a racket turning the pages of that newspaper.”

  “I guess you’re going to have to find a new boyfriend.” Celia pushed her glasses up her nose and stared at me from under her unibrow.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well you can’t go out with Travis now that he’s going to be your stepbrother.”

  “Why not?” Emily looked up from the book on Irish Country houses she was reading.

  “Well, isn’t it illegal or something like that? Like incest or something. I mean, he’s going to be living with you and all.”

  “I wouldn’t like that,” Emily said as she turned the page. “He’ll see you without your make-up on or your hair fixed. You’ll even have to share the same bathroom. It’ll be like, well, like you’re brother and sister or something.”

  Ohmigod. That’s something I hadn’t really thought about.

  I started to wail as Miss Urnwright bore down on our table like some kind of steam engine run amuck.

  Chapter 8

  Dear Lucy Love,

  I really want to be one of the popular girls. How far should I go to get accepted?

  Sincerely,

  Left Out

  Dear Left Out,

  As far as necessary.

  Yours,

  Lucy Love

  All of a sudden, time speeded up, and it was the day of my mother’s wedding. She was flapping around the house like a demented duck so I made her a cup of tea.

  “Oh, Mac. That is so kind of you. Just what I needed, too. I don’t know why, but I’m so nervous.”

  She had her robe on over this all-in-one bra-slip thingie. The hairdresser had done her hair that morning, and it was softly curled all over. I have to admit, it didn’t look half bad.

  “Are you getting ready?” She peered at me anxiously.

  “Yuppers. Just about to go get dressed.”

  At least it wouldn’t be the first time Travis Cooper saw me in something worthy of the Hideous Dress Hall of Fame. My mother picked it out. Obviously. As she kept reminding me, it’s her wedding. Fortunately I was now too depressed to care, so I got the dress out of the closet and pulled it on.

  It was lilac and made of some kind of silky fabric that rustled every time I so much as breathed. The skirt was long and full, and the matching top wasn’t sleeveless, but it didn’t exactly have sleeves either. It had these little bits of material that just covered my shoulders. Like flippers or something. We got it at one of the those bridal shops at the mall where they have a zillion wedding gowns and things. I had had my eye on this little strapless number, but my mother said “no way!” So here I was dressed like someone from the ball scene in Cinderella. Everything but the birds landing on my shoulder.

  This huge car came to pick us up. It was pretty exciting although I tried to act cool about it. It was, after all, my second time in a limousine—the first time was in fifth grade when Grace Prendergast’s parents hired one to take a bunch of us out to dinner and a movie for Grace’s birthday. I guess her parents thought it would make us like her, but it didn’t work. The next day everyone went back to hiding from her as usual.

  On the way to the church I put the windows down and waved to people walking along the sidewalk or raking their front lawn. It made me feel like Princess Diana or something. My mother got irritated, though, and made me stop.

  The church was packed, and I had to walk down the aisle holding this bunch of flowers. I was afraid I was going to trip in the high heels my mother made me wear. I wanted to wear flip flops, but she said no even though no one could see my feet under the acres of material in my dress.

  After the ceremony I had to stand in a line and let all these strange people come up and kiss me and say hello and comment on how much I had grown. Did they expect me to stay the same size forever like some kind of teenage pygmy? They had to get up all close in my face too—especially the older ones. I guess they left their glasses and hearing aids at home. And their breath. Hello? Can you say “mouthwash” people?

  Mom and Mark went to the reception in the limousine, and I had to get a ride with the grandparents. Travis was in the parking lot and offered me a lift, but Grandma said “no thanks, she’s coming with us.” As if he had asked her. I just hope she lets me cut my own meat when we get to the restaurant.

  There was a band at the reception. Four old guys in bright blue tuxedos and ruffled shirts playing a bunch of Beatles songs and stuff. Mom and Mark got up to dance. I suppose they thought they were cool or something.

  My Aunt Janice poked me in the ribs and said, “Ooh, doesn’t she look so pretty?”

  Travis was wearing this suit which I don’t think was too comfortable since he kept tugging at the neck of his shirt. He still looked hot though. We were hanging around the edge of the dance floor when my mother came up to us and said in a really loud voice, “why don’t you two young people go out there and show us old folks how it’s done.” And she pushed us toward the middle of the floor.

  The band started playing some number that must have been popular back in the day. Like when dinosaurs roamed the earth or something. I was hoping we’d have an earthquake or tornado or the fire alarm would go off or something to get me out of it. But no such luck.

  I could tell my face was glowing red like a stop light. All the grown ups gathered around to wat
ch. I wanted to die. Travis shot me a look, and I knew he felt the same way.

  Travis is an okay dancer. I kind of watched him out of the corner of my eye as I tried to figure out just how to dance to the stupid song they were playing. I had expected him to be a lot smoother. At least considering how he moves around on stage with his guitar.

  Mom invited Alex and his parents since they have lived next door to us since forever. Mrs. Woodmere is really tall and works in New York City in public relations. Whatever that is. Mr. Woodmere jogs around the neighborhood all the time since he is always running marathons and stuff like that. He and Alex sometimes go off to Colorado or some place where there are a lot of mountains so they can go rock climbing.

  Alex came over and asked me to dance, but just then the band decided to take a break. Probably needed to check on their false teeth or something. Instead we went to get something to eat.

  There was this huge buffet with all kinds of good stuff like shrimp cocktail and roast beef and a whole bunch of desserts besides the wedding cake. Alex carried our plates over to one of the empty tables. Of course then Aunt Janice had to come over with my icky cousin Amanda. She’s sixteen and thinks she’s really cool because she’s going to get her driver’s permit soon. She had on a strapless dress, and I wondered how it stayed up since she does not have a bosom yet even though she is older than me. Amanda said she didn’t want to sit at the “children’s table” and flounced off. Aunt Janice just shook her head and smiled. A few minutes later I saw Amanda go over to talk to Travis, but I couldn’t bear to watch.

  A couple of gazillion hours later Mom was ready to throw her bouquet. She had changed into her “traveling outfit” as she called it even though she wasn’t going any further than the fifth floor of the hotel. They were going to take a honeymoon to the Bahamas which is so not fair since I have never been there. But then Mark had to work or something so now they can’t go until later.

  Beforehand she told me that she wanted me to catch her bouquet so we could take it home and dry it, although why anyone would want a bunch of rotten dried flowers, I don’t know. I had to do it because I’d promised her, but I didn’t want to. The person who catches the bouquet is supposed to be the next one married, and how ridiculous is that since I’m only fourteen?

  Amanda elbowed me out of the way and got out in front and waved her arms around wildly. Anyone would think she was desperate. She jumped in front of me at the last moment, but fortunately I was still able to snag the bouquet. She gave me a really dirty look which was actually very satisfying.

  Chapter 9

  Dear Lucy Love,

  This fast crowd at school has suddenly shown an interest in me. But I feel like I’m in over my head. What should I do?

  Sincerely,

  Confused

  Dear Confused,

  Learn to swim.

  Yours,

  Lucy Love

  The day had arrived. The day Travis was supposed to move in and officially become my stepbrother. Emily, Celia and I were looking out the window when the moving van pulled up in front of our house. I don’t know what they needed a van for—our house is already so full I don’t know where they think they’re going to put their stuff.

  “What’s your mother doing?” Celia had her forehead against the window and was leaving these nasty breath prints on the glass. “It looks like she’s having a spazz.”

  I peered over her shoulder. My mother was making all these motions at the van—like a crossing guard on speed or something. I shrugged. “I guess maybe she wants them to move up.”

  Celia grunted. She pulled a granola bar from her pocket and began to unwrap it.

  Two men unloaded a sofa and chair in this striped fabric. “Whoo, so very manly-man,” Emily said. She had joined us at the window. I noticed she had on a new top, and she had done that black liner stuff with her eyes again. “Where’s Travis?” She nearly knocked me over to get a better view out the window. She was going to have to watch it, or she’d end up making a fool of herself.

  There was a noise from the room next door. It sounded like someone had banged against the wall. The room used to be empty except for the computer and a bunch of old stuff my mother didn’t know what to do with. Like a lamp with the shade missing, a broken ironing board and a chair with only three legs. She’d cleaned it all out so Travis could move in.

  “Sounds like they’re bringing in Travis’ stuff.” Celia peered around the edge of the door. Crumbs from her granola bar were dropping all over the carpet. My mother was going to have a cow.

  There was a male voice, and Emily squealed. “It’s him!” I gave her a dirty look.

  “Mind if I use your bathroom?” A man appeared in my open door. He was wearing a stained t-shirt, khaki shorts and work boots.

  “Sure.” I pointed to the door across the hall.

  There was still no sign of Travis, but we could see Mark coming up the front steps of the house. He had this I’m in charge look on his face, and he was walking the ugliest dog I have ever seen. Short and chunky with this smooshed-up looking face. I didn’t want that thing living in my house. I didn’t want any of them living in my house.

  Celia and Emily finally left, and I hunkered down with a book trying to ignore the noises next door.

  “MacKenzie,” my mother trilled up the stairs. I was at this really good part and thought about ignoring her, but I knew what would happen. She’d just trill louder and louder, and then finally she’d come right upstairs and open my door and scream “MACKENZIE” at the top of her lungs, getting all red in the face and such. I figured I would save her the trouble.

  “Yeah?” I shouted back.

  “Travis is here,” she sang in this disgusting flirty-sounding voice.

  Like I’m supposed to care? But I went out into the hall anyway. Travis was just going into his room, but he stopped when he saw me.

  Will my heart ever stop doing that funny thumping thing when I see him? If not, I’m going to wear it out before I reach twenty.

  I heard this weird snuffling noise, sort of the way Celia sounds when she’s got a cold. The thing was coming down the hall, looking right and left and slobbering all over itself.

  “This is Rufus.” Travis bent down to scratch its ears. “He’s very friendly.”

  Rufus made this grunting noise in my direction. Clementine must have heard all the heavy breathing because she stuck her head around the corner of my door. Rufus got all excited and lunged at her. Clementine freaked. She squealed loudly and disappeared back into my room. I can’t say I blame her.

  Travis was carrying his guitar and went over to prop it in the corner. He has the cutest butt—small and tight but round and curvy all at the same time.

  He turned around, and for a minute I thought maybe he had seen me looking. I wanted to die. I ran back into my room, slammed the door, and leaned against it for good measure.

  This was so not going to work. My mother was going to have to get the fastest divorce on record, and Travis, Mark and the thing were just going to have to move out.

  I tried to go back to my book, but I could hear Travis moving around in his room. Drawers opening, closet door shutting, bed squeaking. I picked up Clementine and tried to turn her into a pair of ear muffs, but she was having none of it. Just gave me a dirty look and began to groom herself pointedly.

  “Dinner. Mac. Travis. Dinner.” My mother yelled up the stairs. She was going to hurt her vocal cords if she kept yelling like that. At her age she should be more careful.

  I heard Travis’ door open and then footsteps on the stairs.

  I couldn’t go down to dinner and pretend everything was fine. That I liked having a new stepfather and stepbrother. That I didn’t mind our house being taken over by an alien species. That it was okay that the hottest boy in school was now occupying the bedroom next to mine.

  Unfortunately I was starved. I guess this is what my mother means when she says I am cutting off my nose to spite my face.

  If only she
would let me keep food in my room. But, no. She worries about ants and other bugs. Like the minute a piece of food arrived in my room, word would go out to the entire insect kingdom, and within minutes they’d all be camping on my doorstep. How likely is that? It’s not as if ants have email or anything. They don’t even have newspapers or cell phones or fax machines. They’re stuck with rubbing their antennas together to tell each other things if Mr. Kodac in biology is to be believed. And how long would that take? By then I’d be done eating whatever it was I’d brought into my room in the first place.

  Anyway, if you ask me, my mother worries entirely too much. She needs to take up yoga or meditation or something calming like that.

  She’d sure be worried if I starved to death. My stomach was grumbling fiercely. That would show them. I’d become one of those stick figures with all those ribs and things.

  I guess I am just going to have to eat those crumbs Celia left all over the carpet.

  I wouldn’t have gone down to breakfast the next day either except I was starved, and I couldn’t possibly go to school with my stomach rumbling so loudly. The teachers might think my mother didn’t feed me, and they would alert the authorities, and then she would get in trouble which I wouldn’t want to see even though she does annoy me most of the time.

  Usually I got a bowl of cereal or made myself some frozen waffles because my mother would be getting ready for work. Today I walked into the kitchen, and I had to blink and rub my eyes because I thought I was dreaming. My mother was standing at the stove with an apron over her suit, flipping pancakes.

  Travis and his father were at the table.

  I skidded to a stop. Travis was wearing that sweatshirt—the one with “Travesty” written on the front. It reminded me of the time I waited outside his classroom door. He looked up and smiled at me. My heart began that thumping business again.

  Mark looked up too. “Ah, there you are, MacKenzie. All ready for school?”