Remember Dippy

by Shirley Reva Vernick

Leesha seemed surprised to see me. I guess Mem didn’t mention how we were as good as handcuffed together this summer. When I told her I sacrificed my day, my summer, my big chance with Jo for this scheme, she said thanks and sorry and it’ll be worth it, but she still wouldn’t tell me what it was all about. “I can’t, not in front of Mem,” she whispered. “He’ll be too upset if it bombs. You know, like Monopoly upset or me moving back to Chicago upset. Later, though. Honest.”

  Great.

  The bus dropped us off right in front of the hospital. We piled out, along with a few other people, and went straight to the surgical ward on the third floor. Mr. Boots had a room to himself down at the far end of the hall. When we got there, he was sitting up in bed, eating Jell-O and fiddling with the TV remote.

  “Chip!” Mem gushed from the doorway. “Chip, it’s me. And this is my friend Leesha. She’s my new friend. My friend and Johnny’s friend too.”

  “Well, I’ll be,” he said, stopping his spoon midair. “Come inside, all of you,” he waved with a hand attached to some sort of monitor. He looked good, considering he’d just had an operation. He needed a shave, and the hospital-issue pajamas didn’t do much for him, but he looked pretty much his usual self.

  “Hi, Mr. Boots,” I said, trying to ignore the smell—like powdered eggs mixed with Lysol.

  “Have a seat, why don’t you?” he said.

  Mem sat down at the foot of the bed, and Leesha took the chair next to the IV pole. I was heading for the recliner in the corner when Leesha said, “Um, Johnny? I need to talk to Mr. Boots.”

  “Go ahead.”

  “Privately.”

  Wait a minute—did she really drag me all the way to Burlington just to throw me out? I took one look at her face and knew the answer.

  “Please,” she said.

  I looked to Mr. Boots, who only shrugged and changed the channel. “Fine,” I said. “Just perfect.” I couldn’t believe I’d blown it with Jo for this. “Mem too?”

  “Mem,” she said, “do you want to go with Johnny or stay here and watch The Weather Channel?” Like he was going to pass up a chance to watch Martin the Meteorologist. So it was just me being expelled. Figures.

  There was a small waiting room at the other end of the hall, so I holed myself up in there. For a full half-hour, I paged through the magazines on the coffee table and watched the nurses walk past, their rubber-soled shoes squeaking against the linoleum. The last time I looked up, Dr. Gold was walking by. She was probably on her way to check on Mr. Boots and give him The Talk, I figured. Not good. Mem was bound to get unstrung all over again if he had to hear that speech, and I wouldn’t be in the room to talk him down. Well, I’d probably hear him howling all the way from here, so I could run down there if I needed to.

  Twenty minutes later, Leesha and Mem came to get me. Leesha offered no explanations or sorries. She just said, “We can go now,” so we did. We caught the 1:10 bus and spent the whole ride in silence, with Mem drifting off, Leesha smiling faintly to herself, and me picturing a whole long summer without Jo. When we got off at Hull, Leesha mouthed to me, “Later. Promise.” Like that was supposed to make everything all right. Like that meant I wouldn’t be miserable anymore.

  • • •

  There’s not much to say about the rest of the day. Jo wouldn’t take my calls—surprise, surprise. I tried four times until her mom finally said, “Look, Johnny, I don’t know what’s going on, but maybe you should give it some time.” I asked her if she thought time might actually help. She didn’t say anything, but she didn’t need to. The answer was crystal clear: I’d lost Jo forever.

  When Mom called to say hi, she was all excited about paint chips and fabric swatches and floor tiles. I tried to sound enthusiastic, but I must not have done a very good job of faking it because she said I sounded a little hoarse and wanted to know if I felt all right. I told her it must be a bad connection because I was fine.

  That night, I went to bed earlier than I had all summer, which made Aunt Collette worry that I was sick too, but the truth was, I just wanted this day to be over. I didn’t even care what Leesha’s big mystery was anymore. It’s not like it could bring Jo back to me. Nothing could do that. When it’s over, it’s over—I learned that when my parents got divorced. And while my dad might have turned around and met Kim a heartbeat later, I knew I was never going to get over Jo. Never.

  That’s what I was thinking about when Mem tiptoed into my room, followed closely by Millie. I was lying in bed listening to my iPod. It was almost 11:30.

  “What?” I said, pulling my headphones off.

  “Phone. For you. She says, I don’t know, she wants to talk it over.”

  I jumped up and seized the phone, motioning Mem out of the room. I couldn’t believe she was going to give me another chance. This was too good to have hoped for. “Jo?”

  “Leesha.”

  “Oh.” I dropped onto the bed. How stupid could I get?

  “Try to contain your enthusiasm.”

  “I just thought…”

  “I know what you thought. Look, I need some help.”

  “I think I’m all done helping, Leesha. I’m tired.”

  Silence. Some static. A throat-clearing. Then, “Johnny, I’m desperate. I wouldn’t be bothering you except that it’s crucial. I really, really need help.”

  I rubbed my face and fell belly-up on the bed. Millie jumped up and curled herself into a ball next to me. “What kind of help?”

  “The kind for managing the system.”

  “Is it legal?”

  “Of course it’s legal. I’ll explain everything, like I promised. But first can I tell you what I need or not?”

  “Might as well,” I said. It wasn’t like I had anything else going on.

  Chapter 16

  “Hey guys,” Aunt Collette said. “Help TJ move the television into the sitting room, would you? I’m going to rig up a footstool.” It was two days after our bus trip to Burlington, and we were getting Mr. Boots’ place ready for his return home.

  “You ever been inside here?” I asked Mem as we headed to Chip’s bedroom, Millie at our heels.

  “Uh-uh. But it’s just like your side.” He was right, sort of. The rooms were the same shape and size as my side of the duplex, but Mr. Boots’ stuff was so different—older, darker, dusty-smelling—you felt like you were in a different century.

  “Believe it or not, I was only in here once,” I said, “when I ran in to call the ambulance the other day.”

  “But you live right here,” Mem said.

  “I know.”

  “And you’re friends.”

  “Yeah, well…”

  “Okay, boys,” said TJ in his yellow Hawaiian shirt. He unplugged the TV, a hulking, old-fashioned one that took over the entire top of Mr. Boots’ dresser. “This is going to take all three of us. Johnny, you take one side. I’ll take the other. And Mem, you direct us into the living room, all right?”

  The trip to the living room went pretty smoothly, except for when we almost got stuck in the doorway. And when Mem tripped over Millie. And when I backed into the grandfather clock. Anyway, we made it. TJ and I set the TV on the coffee table, which Aunt Collette had pushed against the wall opposite the couch. She already had the sofa set up with extra pillows, the remote, three days’ worth of unread newspapers, a tray on wheels, and a milk-crate footstool.

  “Looks great,” TJ said, surveying the room we’d designated as Recovery Headquarters.

  “Not bad,” Aunt Collette agreed.

  I watched the two of them, trying to get used to the idea of them as a couple, imagining them being a family one day. Okay, so it was a little early to start ringing the wedding bells, but at least they had a shot now. Last night, we all went to talk to Mr. Dempster about the golf course and the zoning change. Aunt Collette, TJ, Mem and I showed up at the Dempsters’ door right after supper, and hallelujah, Mr. Dempster was in a decent mood, and he said it sounded like a pretty good idea. Something about how i
t would bring people and their money to town. So I hadn’t screwed it up for them. Maybe I’d screwed things up for Jo and me, but Aunt Collette and TJ still had a fighting chance.

  “Johnny, when is Mo supposed to get here with the gas?” Aunt Collette asked. “I want to get the lawn mowed before Chip arrives.”

  “He’s getting a ride from his mom. I’ll give him a call, see where they’re at.” As I headed toward the kitchen though, a car pulled into the driveway. “That must be Mo now.” The car honked, and Millie ran to the front door, woofing.

  “Quiet, Millie,” Aunt Collette hushed.

  “She just wants to say hi,” Mem said. “C’mon, girl, let’s go see.” He opened the door, and she barreled down the front steps. Only, it wasn’t Mo pulling in. It was Leesha and Holly delivering Mr. Boots! We all ran outside.

  Mr. Boots was half-sitting, half-lying in the back seat with his casted leg propped on the center console. He looked a little worn out, and his face was thinner than before, but he was all smiles just the same. When Leesha opened the door for him, Millie jumped right in. You’d think she hadn’t seen her master in a year, the way she was yelping and running in circles on the car seat.

  “Hi, Chip!” Mem crowed. “Hi! Bet you’re glad to be home, huh? Bet you’re glad we helped you get home!”

  “Okay, all right, little missy,” he told Millie, who was now covering his face in kisses. “You bet I am, Mem. Let’s get inside already.”

  Holly got his crutches out of the car, and we all escorted him inside—all of us except Leesha, who was rummaging for something in the trunk. The front steps were slow going, but TJ gave Mr. Boots a hand, and it was okay.

  “Well, will you look at this?” Mr. Boots said once he stepped inside, panting a little from the stair-climbing. “You’ve set me up so I never have to leave the couch.”

  “Just while you’re getting better,” Aunt Collette said. “Now, let’s get you comfortable, and then I’ll fix some lunch, how’s that?”

  “Doubt there’s anything fresh in the ’fridge. How about we order some pizza, my treat?”

  “Pizza my treat! Pizza my treat! Hooray!” shouted Mem. “I’m starving. How about you, Johnny? How about you, Leesha…Leesha?”

  “Coming,” she called from the front porch. She walked in, carrying a big black bag on each shoulder. “Heavy objects coming through. Somebody show me where.”

  “I will,” I said, taking one of the bags from her.

  “Me too,” Mem chimed.

  The three of us went into the spare bedroom—the bedroom that was just like mine, kind of. Same shape, same double window, but it was off-white instead of green, it had an old-fashioned quilt on the bed instead of a down comforter, and there were no band posters taped to the walls. Leesha dropped her shoulder bag onto the bed, and I set the other one next to it.

  “So?” I asked.

  “It’s fine,” she said, glancing around. “Could be better, could be a lot worse. I won’t be in here much anyway. I’ll be way too busy.”

  “Tell us again,” Mem urged. “Tell us what you are now, Leesha.”

  “I am…” she gleamed. “I am Chip Boots’ professional companion-slash-assistant. I am a Hull resident for the whole summer. The occupant of this fine bedroom. The person who’s going to cut Chip’s hair this afternoon. The girl who doesn’t have to go back to Chicago tomorrow. The one who’s going to hang out with the two of you until September.”

  “Hooray!” shouted Mem. “Hooray for the whole summer! Hooray for miracles!”

  For a terrifying moment, I thought we were going to have to do a group hug. Leesha put both arms out, and Mem started leaning in—but I was saved by the bell. The doorbell, that is. Finally, Mo. “That’s for me,” I said and hurried out of the room.

  “Come in, Mo,” I heard Aunt Collette say. “Leave that can outside though. Millie, you stay here.”

  “Hey,” I said. “Thanks for the gas.”

  “Sure,” Mo said.

  “Want to hang for a while? We’re ordering pizza.”

  “You don’t have to.”

  “It’s no problem.”

  “No, I mean you really don’t have to,” he said nodding toward the front door.

  I didn’t know what he was talking about, but I took his cue and stepped out onto the front steps. Mo’s mother was still parked in the driveway, and someone was getting out of the passenger side. It was Jo, carrying three big boxes of pizza! I hadn’t seen or talked to her since I blew our bridge date. She looked beautiful in her white sundress. I ran down to meet her while her mom backed out and drove away.

  “Hey,” she said, handing me the still-hot boxes.

  “Hey.”

  “I thought you might be hungry.”

  “Thanks. Um, yeah, thanks. I…do you want to come in?”

  She gazed down at her feet and then up at the house. “Mo told me what happened the day we were supposed to go tubing. What you were doing for the old guy.”

  “I’m sorry, Jo. I really should have—”

  “No, let me talk. I’m the one who’s sorry. You were doing a good thing, and you didn’t have a choice, and I should’ve…” Finally, she looked me in the eye. “I should’ve…”

  I was smiling now. “You know what? I’m starving.”

  Jo looked incredibly relieved. “Me too. Let’s eat.”

  As we turned to head inside, I suddenly felt like I was floating above the rooftop, looking down. I saw Jo and me on the driveway, Mem and Leesha in her room, Mr. Boots and Millie on the couch, Aunt Collette and TJ in the kitchen. Funny how the summer that started out in the pits had turned into something so exceptional. And none of it would have been possible without Mem. Granted, I didn’t know what was going to happen down the road with Jo and me, or with Aunt Collette and TJ, or with Leesha and her family problems. But I did know one thing: Mem and I were always going to be more than cousins. We were going to be friends.

  As I looked down at Jo and me one last time, I wondered what kind of pizza was in the boxes. But it didn’t really matter. It was going to be perfect, even if it had tofu on top. As perfect as blue skies and starry nights.

  About the Author

  SHIRLEY REVA VERNICK'S interviews and feature articles have appeared in Cosmopolitan, Salon, Good Housekeeping, Ladies’ Home Journal, national newspapers and the publications of Harvard, Johns Hopkins and Boston Universities. She also runs a popular storytelling website, storybee.org, which is used in schools, libraries, hospitals and homes all over the world. She lives in Amherst, Massachusetts.

  In 2012, her debut novel, The Blood Lie, was listed on the American Library Association’s list for Best Fiction for Young Adults. It received the Simon Wiesenthal Once Upon a World Children’s Book Award and was an Honor Book for both the Sydney Taylor Book Award and the Skipping Stones Award.