“Mei's turn this time,” Hope said. Mei shrugged with a smile and took the bowl.
“Here goes,” she said, unfolding the papers. She read them aloud:
“SOLUTION: Don't mind what other people think about Kyle. Try to have a good time at the wedding and don't get embarrassed by him just because he's having fun. Remember: the people who mind don't matter and the people who matter don't mind.
“SOLUTION: Go buy some new stilettos—as if you need any more—and step on Kyle's toe so he'll be in too much pain to dance!
“SOLUTION: When the dancing starts, get a ‘headache’ and make your mom take you home.”
Leighton rolled her eyes. “Like, what I need is to get out of going to the wedding altogether,” she groused.
“But we deal in practicalities,” Tricia said. “Your mom's going to make you go, so make the best of it… hopefully without putting Kyle in traction.”
… … …
BOOM!
Tricia's sister, Everly, covered her ears and screeched, half playfully, half fearfully.
“They're just fireworks, silly,” Tricia said, holding her sister tighter.
“Look, Everly,” Mei said, pointing skyward as more bright colors exploded overhead. “Aren't they pretty?”
“Too loud,” Everly assessed, but she was obviously having a good time. Tricia's mom and stepdad had suggested that Tricia invite her friends to the city's Fourth of July fireworks display, and they were all snuggling on the riverbank in the cool night air. They were surrounded by hundreds of people, but the blanket felt cozy and intimate.
“A blue one!” Everly said, bouncing on her big sister's lap.
“Be still, Hissy,” Tricia said.
“Don't call your sister Hissy,” her mother said in the monotone she reserved for if-I've-told-you-once-I've-told-you-athousand-times commands. Tricia teasingly hissed in her sister's ear. Everly squealed on cue.
“How's Elizabeth doing at her grandparents’ house?” Tricia asked Hope.
“Okay, I guess. She called yesterday and didn't sound too desperate. She said she'd give us the 411 when she gets back. She loved that we went to see her. She couldn't stop talking about it.”
“Good,” Tricia said. “How about Jacie? Is she still driving you crazy?”
“Oh, she's my BFF,” Hope cooed sarcastically.
Mei frowned. “I thought you two were getting along better.”
Tricia smiled knowingly. “Even if they were, Hope would never admit it,” she said. “It's easier for Hope to make jokes than to get real. Too bad for Jacie that she's the butt of the jokes.”
Tricia's tone was light, but Hope felt a pang of irritation. Maybe if Tricia's mom hit the road and never looked back, Tricia would be reluctant to “get real,” too. Maybe reality was highly overrated.
But she shook off her annoyance. Fireworks lit the sky. She was with friends. She shifted to default mode: humor. “Hey, why don't we start a Jacie fan club?” she said. “But instead of pink T-shirts, let's go with black for this club. Slimming, you know.”
“Sounds right up Leighton's alley,” Tricia said.
“Hey… speaking of Leighton… what's she doing tonight?” Mei asked.
“I dunno,” Tricia said, then felt a twinge of guilt. “I guess I should've invited her to come with us tonight. But fireworks with the family…it doesn't seem like her style.”
“Yeah, the fireworks migh leave her hair smelling sooty,” Hope said, rolling her eyes. “We couldn't have Miss Perfect smelling of smoke, now could we?”
The girls giggled, but again exchanged anxious glances. It didn't feel right to be making fun of fellow Right-Unders, even if Leighton practically begged to be made fun of.
“She's not so bad,” Tricia said protectively.
“Wait till school starts,” Hope said. “She'll treat you like you have the plague. She's got a reputation to protect, you know. She's bored enough this summer to tolerate us, but once cheerleading season begins, it'll be a whole new story.”
“An old story, actually,” Mei added wryly.
Still…Tricia wished she'd at least asked Leighton if she wanted to come to the fireworks show. It felt like the least she could do for a fellow Right-Under.
… … ”
BOOM!
Elizabeth's grandmother smiled nervously. “They're so loud.”
Elizabeth and her grandfather looked at each other. They hadn't been sure whether the fireworks show at the lake would be a good idea. Even after the short time Elizabeth had spent with her grandparents, she could tell her grandmother was becoming increasingly moody and unpredictable.
“We don't have to go,” Elizabeth had told her grandfather earlier in the day, sensing he was making the effort for her sake.
“We need to go,” her grandfather responded, nodding sharply. “If it doesn't go well, we can always leave.”
So there they were, sitting on lawn chairs on the shore of the lake, surrounded by dozens of other onlookers. Elizabeth was enjoying the chirps of crickets and the croaks of frogs as much as she was enjoying the fireworks. She felt invigorated in the evening air under the starlit sky. And tomorrow, she was going back to Hope's house.
She smiled at the thought, then swallowed hard to push down a lump in her throat. How could she be happy about leaving? Her visit had been tough, but it had also been kind of… special. As more pages were added to the scrapbook every day, Elizabeth had learned more and more about her grandmother. She'd learned how her grandma had broken her arm in fourth grade falling off a jungle gym, and how she had adopted a motherless squirrel one summer, and how she had baked her first brown Betty one rainy Sunday afternoon for a boy she had a crush on. What Elizabeth had learned most of all was that her grandmother needed her now. It felt good to be there for her.
Her grandma's face softened in the glow of the glittery night sky. She was smiling, sometimes even clapping in delight. The moment might not last; she might turn angry or fearful any second now. Elizabeth pushed every unpleasant thought from her mind and intertwined her fingers with her grandma's. At this moment, her grandmother was happy. And that was enough.
16
Elizabeth flew into Hope's arms the next day as Hope got out of the car in the Carsons’ dusty driveway.
“I missed you,” Elizabeth said, resisting the urge to cry.
“We missed you, too,” Hope said, feeling her cousin's heart pound against her chest as they held each other tightly. “You'll have to tell me all about your visit on the ride home.”
Elizabeth pulled away and shook her head. “Can we wait a couple of days? Until the next Right-Under meeting?”
Hope wrinkled her brow. “Sure,” she said. “I just thought you'd be full of stories after ten days on the farm.”
Elizabeth's eyes fell.
“Elizabeth?” Hope probed anxiously. “What's wrong?
“Nothing. I just…I just want to go home and act goofy for a few days.”
Hope's dad walked around the car and tousled Elizabeth's hair. “We missed you, squirt!” he said.
She hugged him.
“Hello, Jack,” her grandpa said, coming down the driveway and extending his hand. “The missus isn't feeling so well. She said to tell you hello.”
“Well, please give her my best,” Hope's dad said. “Elizabeth, did you say goodbye to your grandmother?”
A light breeze blew through Elizabeth's blond curls. “Yes,” she said. She turned to hug her grandfather. “I'll see you soon,” she whispered in his ear.
He held her tighter. As she pulled away, she saw that his eyes were moist with tears.
“Grandpa?”
She was ready to march right back inside with her suitcases if he wanted her to. All he had to do was say the word. He smiled warmly, seeming to read her mind.
“We'll be fine,” he said firmly.
Hope's dad cleared his throat. “We better hit the road,” he said, taking a suitcase in each hand.
Elizabeth kissed
her grandpa's cheek. “I'll call tonight, after Mom gets here,” she said. A silly thought crossed her mind: Since Elizabeth was “Margaret” to her grandma most of the time now, who would Margaret be? “Take good care of Grandma,” she said to her grandfather.
“Take good care of yourself,” he told her. She got in the car and waved as it pulled away, leaving her grandpa in their dusty trail.
… … …
“The July eighth meeting of the Right-Under Club is now in session.”
Tricia tapped the Problem Stick on the floor like a gavel, then looked from one member's face to the next.
“Welcome back, Elizabeth,” she said. “We had a blast on the farm, by the way.” Elizabeth waved with a bashful smile. “Leighton, since your cousin's wedding isn't until Saturday, we'll follow up on your problem next week. Today, we'll follow up on Elizabeth's. Elizabeth, how was your visit with your grandparents?”
Elizabeth paused and stared at her hands, trying to decide what to say. But when she raised her eyes and began talking, her voice was surprisingly firm.
“My grandmother has Alzheimer's disease,” she said.
An uneasy silence hung in the air.
“Is that the old-people disease where you lose your mind?” Leighton finally asked. The girls tossed her withering glances. “Okay, chill,” Leighton responded. “I was just asking.”
“Alzheimer's means you start forgetting things,” Elizabeth explained patiently.
“Why?” Leighton persisted. The other girls looked uncomfortable, but Elizabeth didn't seem to mind talking about it.
“I've been reading about it on the Internet,” she said. “Doctors don't really know what causes it, but this stuff called plaque starts building up in your brain.”
“Like the gunk on your teeth?” Leighton said.
Elizabeth shrugged. “I'm not really sure. But whatever it is, it sort of short-circuits your memory. Especially recent stuff. It's funny… Grandma remembers songs from when she was a kid, but she has trouble remembering whether she's eaten breakfast.”
“My aunt had Alzheimer's disease,” Mei said. “She didn't even know her own name. Shouldn't your grandmother be in a nursing home?”
Elizabeth's lips tightened. “Maybe. Grandma's sister had it, and that's where she ended up. But she was in really bad shape. Grandma's memory kind of comes and goes. Sometimes, you wouldn't know anything was wrong with her. But not most of the time. I told my grandpa I didn't think it was safe for her to be alone. He got a little mad at first, but he knows I'm right. We had a long talk with my mom. She's spending some time with them now, and she and Grandpa will decide what they need to do next.”
Hope's eyes searched Elizabeth's. “Why didn't you say something?” she asked. “You were there for over a week. You should've called us right away. I could have helped you.”
“It was okay,” Elizabeth responded. “Grandpa and I turned into a pretty good team. I got better at understanding how to help Grandma. I liked being able to help her.” She folded her hands in her lap. “We made a scrapbook.”
“A scrapbook?” Tricia said.
Elizabeth nodded. “I didn't want to leave her alone, and there wasn't much to do. So I thought a scrapbook might be fun… that it might help her, you know? Grandma has dozens of old pictures, and I brought my digital camera, so I took lots more. I thought pictures might help her remember. Pictures of people, pets, stuff around the house… that kind of thing.”
“That was a really good idea,” Tricia said quietly.
“I think so, too,” Elizabeth said. “She keeps it on her coffee table. She likes looking through it just for fun, and sometimes she really needs it. She was trying to explain something to Grandpa the other day and got really confused. She started flipping through the scrapbook and saw the picture of the toaster. I wrote the name of it and what you use it for by the picture. She was so glad to see that picture. She said, ‘Toaster! That's the word I was looking for!’”
Elizabeth smiled at the memory.
“Wow,” Leighton said, shaking her head slowly. “I would've freaked if it had been me.”
“I was kinda scared at first,” Elizabeth conceded. “And I was really sad. But after the shock wore off, it wasn't so bad.”
“Does your grandma know who you are?” Mei asked.
“Sometimes. Other times she calls me Margaret, my mom's name. And a few times, she looked at me like she'd never seen me before in her life. Creepy, huh? So I've been asking her a million questions about her life while I still have a chance. You know what it's like when somebody breaks open a piñata and you scramble to collect all the candy that's falling out? I felt like I was scrambling to collect all Grandma's memories before they fell out.”
Hope's eyes glistened with tears. “But I wish you'd let us help you,” she said.
Elizabeth peered at a ray of sunlight streaming in through a slit in the cedar planks of the tree house. “It's okay,” she said. “It was time for me to do the helping.”
… … …
None of them could put the feeling into words, but the RightUnders were anxious for a change of scenery after hearing Elizabeth's story. It was time to step out of the box of the tree house and do something different. Tricia even postponed the new business of turning over the Problem Stick to someone else. A new problem would have to wait for next Thursday's meeting. For now…
“Ice cream!” Tricia announced. “Let's make sundaes.”
The girls left the tree house one by one, crouching out the door and inching gingerly down the spiral steps. The backyard smelled of honeysuckle and jasmine. The girls drank in the scent. They carried their flip-flops in their hands so they could sink their toes into the thick grass in Tricia's yard. Tricia led them to the deck that extended from the back of her house.
“Sit at the patio table and I'll bring the ice cream out here,” Tricia said. She went inside through the back door, then came back out a few minutes later with four kinds of ice cream tucked in her arms. Her mom came behind her carrying bowls, followed by Everly, who gleefully tumbled headlong into her sister's legs.
“Ice cream!” Everly sang.
“So do you girls have a club or something?” Tricia's mom asked as she scooped ice cream into the bowls. “Tricia refuses to tell me what R.U. stands for.”
The girls giggled conspiratorially.
“We could tell you, but then we'd have to kill you,” Tricia deadpanned.
“Then I'll have to guess,” her mom said. “Red umbrella? Ripped underwear? Rich uncle?”
The girls laughed. “Not even close,” Tricia said. “Give it up, Mom.”
Her mom handed out the bowls. “Aren't you glad Troy made you that tree house?” she asked Tricia.
“I thought it was Everly's tree house,” Hope said.
Tricia blushed, recalling how embarrassed she'd been when her new friends spotted the tree house… how babyish she'd thought it would seem, how she'd pawned it off as Everly's.
“Your stepdad made it for you?” Leighton asked.
Tricia shrugged noncommittally.
“What a great stepdad,” Mei said.
I wouldn't go that far, Tricia thought.
“He made it himself? With his very own hands?” Elizabeth said.
Tricia nodded. What was the big deal?
“Wow,” Elizabeth said. “He just may be the coolest stepdad on the planet.”
“Certainly cooler than mine,” Leighton said.
Tricia's mom brushed her index finger against her daughter's nose. “ ‘Cool’ is not the word Tricia usually uses to describe her stepfather,” she told the others, but her tone was playful.
“He's okay,” Tricia said grudgingly.
“Just okay?” Mei asked.
Just okay, Tricia thought to herself. She knew it wasn't fair, but it didn't really matter how cool Troy was. It wasn't who he was that was the problem. It was who he wasn't.
17
“Leighton Lockwood. Let's go! Now!”
> Leighton rolled her eyes. Why was her mother always rushing her? That woman spent half her life standing at the foot of the stairs hollering for her daughter to hurry up. Didn't she realize that beauty can't be rushed?
Leighton carefully applied blush to the apples of her cheeks. She still had to straighten her hair, which would take another ten minutes. Her mom could just chill. If they were a few minutes late, well, it served her mom right for making Leighton go to this stupid wedding in the first place. Besides, she had to look just right for Scott. Perfection took time.
Kyle poked his head into her bedroom. “Why do you have to stress her out every time we go somewhere?” he asked his stepsister.
Leighton tossed him a sidelong look. Half his shirttail was hanging out of his pants, and his tie was too short. His glasses were askew and his hair was tousled. He was hopeless.
“Out!” Leighton snapped, but Kyle lingered.
“It's really inconsiderate to keep everybody waiting,” he said.
Leighton snapped her blush container shut. “If I was content to look like you,” she said with a sneer, “I could be ready in five minutes flat. But if little things like combed hair and basic hygiene are priorities, you'll need to give me a few extra seconds.”
Kyle shook his head. “You drive your mother crazy,” he said. “And she's such a nice person.”
“Do you mind? I don't need you to tell me about my mother.”
The nerve. Had Leighton asked to share her life with two strangers? Had she asked her dad to split and never look back when she was only two? Not that it bothered her… she wasn't like some whiny kids who blamed every problem on an absentee dad. Leighton never even missed the guy. Who needed him? She had her mom. They were best friends; they did everything together. Until Kyle's dad had arrived on the scene, that is, bringing Klunky Kyle along for the ride. And now Kyle had the nerve to stand in her bedroom doorway telling her what her mom was like. Please.
“Go away, Kyle. The musty smell of your suit is wilting my hair.”
Leighton grasped the heated hair straightener and pulled it through her chestnut locks.
The Right-Under Club Page 11