Call Me Sunflower

by Miriam Spitzer Franklin

  “Okay,” I said. “Where would you like me to sit?”

  ***

  I stared into the mirror a while later, unable to take my eyes off my reflection. “Wow,” I said. Black liner made my eyes look huge, like a cat’s, and I’d chosen the same sparkly blue shadow and mascara that Jessie was wearing. She’d brushed pink powder on my cheekbones and used one of her tinted lip balms to make my lips shiny. Not only that, Jessie had trimmed a few scraggly strands of hair and used the flat iron to make it look straight and smooth. “I look like a different person!”

  “You could pass for sixteen,” Jessie said.

  “Sixteen?” My eyes opened wide. “Really?”

  “Well … fourteen, at least. You should wear your hair this way to school. You look amazing.”

  “Thanks.” I turned around to face her, and the words just came rushing out. “Hey, do you think you could do a makeover for my mom?”

  Jessie laughed. “Your mom wants a makeover?”

  I shrugged. “I don’t know if she wants one, exactly … but I thought it would make a good photo. To send to my dad.”

  Jessie thought about it for a minute. Then she smiled. “I’d love to help. That’s what friends are for, right?”

  SUNNY’S SUPER-STUPENDOUS PLAN TO GET MOM AND DAD BACK TOGETHER

  1. Tell Scott that Mom has heavy bags under her eyes from crying so much, and to please send the Eezy Breezy Sleep Mask or a pound of cucumbers. Hasn’t sent anything yet. Sent cukes with dressing. He totally doesn’t get it.

  2. Ask Mom to send Scott a pair of suspenders. Tell her that he has already lost four pounds because he’s too sad to eat, and his jeans keep falling down. Mom laughed when I told her this. She said, “Don’t you worry. Scott knows how to take care of himself. I bet he’s living it up, eating at a different restaurant every night. Gained four pounds is probably more like it!”

  3. Put up photos of Scott all over the house: on the refrigerator, on Mom’s desk, on top of Mom’s dresser, and on the bathroom mirror. Mom is too busy to notice. I asked her if she saw the photo on the bathroom mirror. She didn’t even look up from her laptop. Just said, “Mmm-hmm,” and kept right on typing.

  4. Find glamorous photos of Mom and send them to Scott. Haven’t found any yet. Mom is wearing old jeans with her hair pulled back in all the photos I’ve looked at. Will have to think about this one more. Jessie’s going to help! We may be on to something here!

  5. Send flowers to Mom from “A Secret Admirer.” This will make Scott jealous enough to change his mind about letting Mom move so far away. It made Mom start talking about old boyfriends, which was totally disgusting. And Scott just laughed about the whole thing. UGH.

  6. Make a playlist of Scott’s favorite love songs—the mushier, the better! Be sure to blast it in the house and in the car every time you get in. Make a playlist of Mom’s favorite love songs and send it to Scott. Time to get started on this one. Made the playlist and play it around Mom every chance I get. Mom always sings along. She is probably thinking of Scott while she sings, so this may be working! Scott thanked me for the playlist but hasn’t said anything to Mom about it yet (as far as I know).

  7. Ask Mom to make Scott’s Manicotti Special. At the table, take a bite, sigh, and say, “It just doesn’t taste the same without Scott here to share it.” Mom’s too busy with classes. Grandma Grace does all the cooking. Maybe I should cook it?

  8. Ask Mom about the old days, when she and Scott first fell in love. Ask Scott the same thing. Haven’t gotten around to it yet! Unfortunately, Mom seems to have a bad memory. Or could it be that she doesn’t want to share her memories with me?

  9. Bake Mom’s special mint Oreo pie and send it to Scott. Put a card inside the box that says “Made for you, with love from Rebecca.” How do you send ice cream pie through the mail?

  10. Ask Grandma Grace for a chore list to earn some extra money. Buy a gift certificate for Mom and Scott to a fancy Italian restaurant. Make sure it has candlelight, wine, and spaghetti for two, just like in Lady and the Tramp. Give them the gift certificate when Scott comes to visit at Christmas time (or sooner). Haven’t asked Grandma Grace yet—she doesn’t seem like the type who will actually pay me for chores.

  11. Enter one of those Perfect Family contests. When Mom and Scott see the winning entry, they’ll realize how much they belong together. Not only that, but the whole family wins a trip to Disney World! Looked in Grandma Grace’s magazines but I haven’t seen any contest listings.

  12. Enter the “Perfect Husband” contest. Tell all about how Scott would make a perfect husband for Mom and wait for your entry to be published, then show it to Mom. Enter the “Perfect Wife” contest and send the winning published entry to send Scott. I’ve been looking for this kind of contest and all I can find is one called “The Perfect Man” or “The Perfect Woman.” The winner gets to choose the eligible bachelor or bachelorette of his or her choice.

  13. Convince Mom she needs a makeover. Buy her a red shirt because “studies show that both genders are more attracted to people when they wear red.” Snap her photo afterward and send it to Scott in a sparkly frame with hearts around the border. Jessie’s going to do the makeover! I’ve already made the perfect frame.

  14. Make a photo album with lots of pictures of Mom and Scott when they were young and in love. Include a few pictures of Autumn and me to show how we glued them together as one big family. Give it to Mom on her birthday. Having a bit of trouble finding photos of just the two of them. Have asked Scott to look through his stack of photos since Mom is not the least bit sentimental.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  On Saturday, we met for our first Odyssey of the Mind practice at Lydia’s. With all the props and set-building to be done, we’d need to meet some weekends to finish everything on time, and it would have to be at someone’s house whose parents didn’t mind if the team made a huge mess. Lydia had been the first to offer her basement.

  Mom dropped me off before another “critique” date with Jeb. They were going to be meeting at the coffee shop.

  “I’ll pick you up at three o’clock,” Mom said when she pulled into Lydia’s driveway.

  I grabbed my notebook and folder, then took another glance at my mom. She was wearing her hair loose, curls tumbling over her shoulders. She also had on a light-blue fitted shirt instead of her usual baggy T-shirt. “Why aren’t you wearing a ponytail?” I asked.

  “Oh, I just needed a change.” Mom glanced away from me and started fiddling with the radio.

  Things were getting more and more disastrous by the minute. I needed to do something, and quick, so I reached for Mom’s phone and snapped a photo.

  “Sunny?” Mom blinked at me. “What are you doing?”

  “Um, well, you look so nice that I wanted to take a picture.”

  Mom ran a hand across her hair and smiled. “Thanks.”

  I stared at her a minute longer, then said, “Don’t be late!” before slamming the door for emphasis. When I got home, I was going to send that photo to Scott with a message: Mom’s dressing up like this to go out with a guy. Thought you should know!

  Jeb was probably one of those writer types who wore a stylish cap and had a jacket with patches on the elbows. I bet he drank his coffee super black, no sugar.

  Scott liked lots of sugar and milk in his coffee. Whipped cream if he could get away with it. And the only caps he wore had words on them, like MYSTIC BEACH.

  I closed my eyes and squeezed them tight, trying to wipe the picture of Jeb out of my mind just as Mrs. Applebaum opened the door.

  “Hi Sunny!” she greeted me. “Come on in. Everyone’s downstairs.”

  Lydia’s house looked a lot like our home in New Jersey. Comfy. Sunlight poured through large windows in the living room where every empty space was covered: coffee mugs and magazines on the table, shoes scattered across the floor, blankets and pillows on the sofa, a cat on the recliner.

  Her house had an interesting smell, too, like oatmeal co
okies baking in the oven mixed with incense burning in another room.

  I stopped to pet the tabby curled up on the chair, feeling that familiar ache of missing my own cat. “What’s his name?”

  “Aristotle. Einstein and Copernicus are wandering around here somewhere.” Mrs. Applebaum smiled at me. “By the way, feel free to call me Darlene.”

  “Okay,” I said, though I didn’t think I would. Lydia and I were barely on speaking terms, and I’d feel funny calling her mom by her first name, as if we were best friends.

  I headed down the stairs to the basement. Everyone else was already there. Green carpet covered part of the concrete floor, which had been painted in rainbow colors. An old sofa that looked like it was being used as a cat scratching post sat against one wall. Drawers with all kinds of art supplies lined the other wall. There weren’t any windows, but posters like the ones at the health food store brightened up the room.

  I sat down next to Jalia on the sofa while Coach Baker led a brainstorming session, writing down our thoughts on chart paper. Then we broke into groups to start on the scenery. A couple of kids were putting together PVC piping for a stand, and a few others were trying to decide how to make a 3-D spaceship. I wandered over to Lydia and Jalia, who were on the floor sketching out the first scene.

  “Can I help?” I asked.

  “Sure!” Jalia said before Lydia could say anything, so I sat down on the floor next to them.

  “Have you ever seen Hamlet?” I asked as I helped roll out the white paper we’d use for the backdrop. “I don’t know a thing about Shakespeare. Except that he was writing a long time ago.”

  “Mom took me to see Macbeth,” Lydia said. “But I didn’t understand much of it.”

  “I thought you were a big Shakespeare fan,” I said. “You’re the one who really wanted this problem, right?”

  “I wanted to do musical theater. It sounded like fun.”

  “So you don’t know anything about Shakespeare, either?” Jalia asked her.

  “Nope.”

  Jalia put down her pencil and sat straight up. “Am I the only one on the whole team who’s seen the plays?”

  “Probably,” Lydia said without looking up.

  Jalia heaved a big sigh.

  “It doesn’t matter,” Lydia said. “To Be or Not to Be is a skit about a character realizing the easy way out isn’t always the best choice. We’re supposed to use our imaginations, remember?”

  Jalia pushed her glasses back up on her nose. “Well, sure. But the winning team’s going to be one that uses lots of Shakespeare puns and references in their skit.”

  “So that’s where you’ll come in handy,” Lydia said. “Besides, the rest of us can do some research. All you have to do is use the Internet and type in ‘Shakespeare quotes.’ I bet we’ll have way more than we know what to do with.”

  “Hey, that’s a great idea,” I said. Lydia didn’t respond to me, but I could tell she looked pleased by my compliment.

  Jalia sighed again, but then she got back down on her stomach to work.

  An hour later, our forest scene was starting to take shape. “Not bad,” Lydia said, sitting up and looking over the backdrop. “You’re pretty good at this, Sunny.”

  “Thanks.” It was the first nice thing Lydia had said to me in a while, so I breathed it in and let her words fill me up.

  “Mom says we can meet here again next week,” Lydia told Coach Baker. “We’ve got tons of paint and art supplies.”

  “Excellent!” Coach Baker said. “Team handshake, everyone!” We gathered around and put our hands on top of one another’s, one at a time, the way we always did at the end of a meeting. “Good job today, guys!” Coach Baker said as we pulled our hands away and gave ourselves a round of applause.

  As I put away art supplies, I noticed a stack of flyers on top of a cabinet—the same ones that had been posted on the bulletin board at Earthly Goods.

  The animal rights meeting, the one about Fur-Free Friday, was two weeks away. Mom had said not to confront Grandma Grace about animal rights, but as I picked up the flyer and stuck it in my pocket, I realized something important. If I went to the meeting and helped make signs for the protest, it didn’t mean anyone had to find out.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  From: MadelineL@ilovebooks.com

  To: SunnyKid@CreativityisCool.com

  What’s New?

  I haven’t heard from you in a while! How’s your musical coming along? We started working on putting the car together. So far there’s been a lot of arguing. Plus, I hammered my finger last week and my nail is turning purple. OWW! Maybe I should have picked musical theater instead.

  Carmen Santelli invited me to her sleepover this weekend. I’m not really friends with her, but she’s inviting almost all the sixth-grade girls. I heard she has a huge basement!

  Wish you could come, too.

  Maddy

  From: SunnyKid@CreativityisCool.com

  To: MadelineL@ilovebooks.com

  Re: What’s New?

  We have a pretty good team here. We’re doing things a little backward, starting on the set before we’ve written the script. But we’ve come up with a storyboard and the coach seems to know what he’s doing since he’s taken a team to Worlds before!

  Have you seen Stellaluna lately? I know Scott takes good care of her, but it’s good for her to hear a girl’s voice.

  I’ve been feeding this stray cat that comes around every once in a while, but I haven’t told Grandma Grace. Her name is Ripple.

  Sunny

  P.S. When did you change your name to Maddy?

  ***

  “What are you doing this weekend?” I asked Jessie in art class on Monday. “Can you come over to do Mom’s makeover?”

  She pulled out her planner. “I’ve got dance class Saturday morning, a sleepover Saturday night, and youth group Sunday evening. I can come over on Sunday, from one to three. You better warn your mom.”

  “Really? That would be great. But I haven’t asked her about it yet. Mom can be stubborn about things …”

  “Don’t worry,” Jessie said. “We’ll come up with something. Now, what’s your address?”

  I scribbled it down on a piece of paper and handed it to her, hoping Jessie was right.

  ***

  Before I knew it, Sunday had arrived and I hadn’t done a thing to prepare my mom. Luckily, she didn’t have a meeting with Jeb or a long lunch date planned with old friends, and she said she’d be home all afternoon. But I had no idea how we were going to pull it off.

  The doorbell rang at exactly one o’clock. Jessie was dressed for the occasion in a short skirt and ruffled top, and I could tell she’d taken extra care with her makeup for a Sunday afternoon.

  “You look great,” I told her as she walked inside.

  “Thanks, Sunny.” She spotted my mom at the table in front of her laptop. “You know I always feel better when I look my best,” she said loudly.

  I bit my lip to keep from bursting out laughing. If this was Jessie’s plan, I figured I’d let her run with it. Jessie walked right over to my mom and said, “Hello, Mrs. Beringer. I’m Jessie Landers. It’s very nice to meet you!”

  Mom looked up from her computer and smiled. “Hi, Jessie. I’m glad that you could come over today. Well, you girls have fun,” she said, waving us up the stairs.

  Jessie didn’t move from her spot. She looked over at me as if to say, You were right. She’s going to be a tough one. Then she put her bag down on the chair next to my mom with a loud clunk. “Actually, Mrs. Beringer, we were hoping you might help us with a project.”

  “Sunny didn’t mention a project.” Mom logged off her computer and closed the top. Then she turned toward us. “How can I help?”

  “Well,” Jessie said, clearing her throat and glancing over at me, “this is actually my project, not Sunny’s. See, I’m taking a modeling class. And we’re learning how to do our hair and makeup correctly—”

  “I have to say that
you’ve done a great job with it,” Mom said. “But aren’t you a little young to be worrying about hair and makeup?”

  “You’re never too young to take pride in your appearance,” Jessie said, opening her bag and placing a stand-up mirror on the table. “Our instructor says, ‘You’re never too old, either.’”

  I choked back a giggle and ended up making a noise between a snort and a cough.

  “You okay, Sunny?” Mom asked.

  I nodded. “I think you should help Jessie with her project.”

  Mom hesitated, then said, “Okay. What do I need to do?”

  “Great!” Jessie said, clapping her hands. She began laying out her supplies: little containers of shadows and powders, mascara, a flat iron, a hair brush. “We’re supposed to practice on an adult so we can learn proper technique.”

  “Oh, no.” Mom shook her head. “You’re going to put all this stuff on me?”

  “It won’t take long,” Jessie said. “Ms. Lee says that doing your hair and makeup is a fine art, and that we need to practice on others. We have to take pictures of everyone we do makeovers on. Sunny said you wouldn’t mind.”

  Mom raised her eyebrow at me.

  “Come on, Mom, it’ll be fun! Oh, and you need to change into this,” I said, handing her a gift bag. Jessie had picked out a red shirt for Mom at the mall with her Frequent Shopper Discount Card.

  Mom pulled out the shirt, then looked up at me. “Red is not exactly my color, you know.”

  “Sorry, it’s part of my assignment,” Jessie said quickly.

  Mom hesitated. “Oh, all right.” She picked up the shirt and scooted out of the room.

  I looked over at Jessie and grinned. I couldn’t believe my mom actually fell for our plan. “Ooh, red is so your color,” Jessie said when Mom returned with a shirt that fit her perfectly. I watched as Jessie got to work, expertly applying creams and powders, the same way she had with me.