by Rue, Nancy
“Make her be goalie then.” Rianna jabbed a finger toward Lucy.
But Coach Neely shook her head. “I think I’ll be goalie. That will be fair to everybody.”
“We’re all about Fair Play, right?” Sarah said to Rianna as she punched herself into the line.
“Whatever,” Rianna said, and sent Lucy a look that slithered through her like a worm.
At lunch, Lucy let out a long, relieved breath when she saw Rianna head away from their table.
“What is with her?” Sarah said, flipping her very long ponytail over her shoulder.
Taylor’s black eyes narrowed. “We had a girl like her on our team at home. She was totally bossy. We were so glad to see her go.”
“What happened to her?” little Kayla said.
“We killed her.”
“What?”
“No you did not!”
“Nuh-uh!”
“Just kidding!” Taylor smiled so big she showed every one of her too-many teeth. “But trust me, we wanted to at least put her down the garbage disposal.”
Patricia pushed her out-of-control hair back tighter into her headband and pointed at Lucy. “What do you think we should do about her?”
“Me?” Lucy said.
“We can’t just let her ruin our whole team.” Patricia looked around the table. “Right?”
Only Bella shook her head.
“What?” Sarah said to her.
Bella held up one of Rianna’s blue fliers.
“What?” Taylor said.
Bella just looked at Lucy. Everybody did.
“The Fair Play Code,” Lucy said.
Taylor snorted. “Which Rianna totally doesn’t believe in. She’s up to something.”
Lucy studied the peanut butter and pickle sandwich Dad had packed for her.
Patricia squinted at her. “You know something, don’t you?”
“EWWWWWW!”
All heads snapped to the far end of the picnic area, where it looked like the junior girls’ team had just shaken all the members out of their seats. Even from six tables away, Lucy could hear them squawking —
“Gro-oss!”
“Nasty!”
“Oh, no, you did not!”
Laughter laced the voices, all except one. A chubby child, even plumper than Januarie, stood in the midst of the squealers, twisting as if she were trying, unsuccessfully, to see her own backside. As the other girls pointed and gasped and howled, she opened her mouth and squalled, “I didn’t poop my pants! You put mustard in my chair! You — ”
She navigated her chunky self around and thrust a finger straight at Januarie.
Lucy didn’t know which to stare at: the runny yellow mess plastered all over the back of the poor kid’s shorts or the red, delighted face of J.J.’s little sister. Lucy had never seen her look that pleased with herself.
“That is so immature,” Waverly said.
Sarah shook her head. “It’s the way some kids are raised.”
“And where they’re from,” Taylor said. “That one girl is just trash. And that other one’s sister is the girl that got kicked out the very first day.”
Lucy stood up. By now, Mustard Girl was sobbing, and no one on her team had even handed her a Kleenex. Januarie was doubled over with laughter.
“Are you through eating already?” Sarah said.
Lucy didn’t answer. She just marched past the tables where most kids had gone back to their sandwiches and juice boxes and stopped behind the crying girl.
“Who has a napkin?” Lucy said.
“She needs toilet paper!” somebody said, and the giggling reached a new height.
“Hey! Napkin! Now!”
Nine-year-old bodies froze. A very skinny one snatched up a wet wipe and tossed it to Lucy.
“Hold still,” Lucy said to the mustard-drenched girl who was now hiccupping so hard Lucy thought her teeth might rattle out. She went after the back of her shorts with the wet wipe, but she spat her words at the figure who stood there like she’d been shot and hadn’t quite been able to fall down.
“Apologize, Januarie,” Lucy said.
“It wasn’t my idea,” Januarie said. “They — ”
“I’m not talking to them — I’m talking to you. Apologize.”
“She can’t make you, Jan-Jan,” somebody said.
Lucy glared at her. Januarie mumbled something that sounded like it might be, “I’m sorry” and took a step back.
Right into a pair of long legs.
“Do we have a problem here?” Hawke said.
All the little mouths that had had so much to say moments before were suddenly silent. Fingernails, shoelaces, and belly buttons became instantly interesting. Hawke looked at Lucy, but she wasn’t sure what to say either.
“Lucy?” he said. “Problem?”
“An accident with some mustard, sir,” Lucy said.
Hawke searched them all with his eyes, picking them clean. Lucy thought she heard at least one girl sniff. They were all sweating; she was sure of that.
“I hope whoever was careless has apologized,” he said finally.
“We’re working on it,” Lucy said.
He looked down at Mustard Girl and tilted his head. “Are you satisfied with that, Yo-Yo?”
There was one big holding of breath. Januarie’s face was almost blue.
Slowly, “Yo-Yo” nodded.
“Then let’s go find your coach and see if we can come up with some clean clothes for you to change into.” Hawke looked over his shoulder at Lucy. “I’d like to talk to you later,” he said.
When he was gone, Januarie’s team melted into a blob at Lucy’s feet.
“Thank you SO much — ”
“We would have gotten in so much trouble — ”
“You’re not gonna tell on us now are you?”
Lucy held up her hand, but they kept begging until Januarie said, “You better listen.”
“You guys should have thought about all that before you put mustard on that girl’s seat,” Lucy said. “Didn’t you get the Fair Play Code this morning? The blue sheet?”
“I thought that was about soccer,” the very skinny girl said.
“It’s about acting like a human.” Lucy gave them all a black look.
“I’m not helping you next time — so don’t let there be a next time.”
Heads bobbed. Eyes filled. Mouths let out sighs. Lucy was sure they’d all head for the bathroom as soon as she walked away.
She didn’t get two steps before Januarie was tugging at her hand.
“Are you gonna tell, really?” she said.
“I should.”
“But are you? You can’t, Lucy, or my whole team will hate me.”
Lucy stopped and shook away Januarie’s hand. “What were you thinking doing that to that girl, Januarie? Don’t you hate it when kids tease you?”
“Yeah, but — ”
“Then I don’t get it.”
“They dared me to do it because her sister’s that girl that yelled at the ref, and everybody hates her, and I had to — ”
“What?”
“They just started being friends with me. If I didn’t, they wouldn’t like me.”
“If they can’t like you just because you’re you, they aren’t your friends anyway.” Lucy’s words rang in her own head, as if she’d just said them to herself. She looked over at her own table, where half the team looked quickly away, and the other half was already whispering to each other.
It’s where they’re from, they’d all agreed.
If they find out you’re from Los Suenos, they’ll make fun of you, J.J. had warned her.
Lucy turned to leave Januarie there alone, but she grabbed at Lucy’s wrist again.
“Are you gonna tell J.J.?” she said.
“I don’t know.”
“Please don’t!”
“I said I don’t know!”
Before they could exchange any more exclamation points, Lucy pulled away. Lunch wa
s over. She picked up her lunch bag and went back to the soccer field.
“I hear you’re wiping noses now,” Rianna whispered to Lucy when Coach Neely was dividing them up for the afternoon match.
Lucy leaned over to stretch. Rianna went down with her.
“While you were doing lunch duty, I was talking to Hawke about the ODP people.” Rianna shook her head. “Too bad. You could have been in on it too, if you weren’t busy hanging out with losers.”
She popped back up before Lucy could tell her she’d just caught her in a big fat lie. And she said Lucy was a loser.
Lucy was barely buckled into the van before Dusty poked a folded piece of paper into her hand. She drummed her fingers while Lucy read it.
Something is WAY wrong with J.J.
He won’t talk to anybody. Help!!!!
Lucy opened her mouth, but Dusty put a finger to her lips and darted her eyes toward Januarie. Lucy didn’t tell her they didn’t need to worry about Januarie being a little snitch right now. She figured she could tell Januarie she’d won the lottery and she wouldn’t breathe a word to anybody.
Instead, Lucy took the purple pen Dusty handed her and scribbled, “I’ll find out.”
But when Veronica’s mom dropped them off, J.J. was already at his front door, and Lucy watched him disappear inside.
“Did you decide?” Januarie’s voice wound up into Chihuahua range. “Are you gonna tell J.J. on me?”
Lucy held out her hand. “Give me all the mustard and ketchup you have. All of it.”
Januarie dumped her whole backpack onto the brick sidewalk. There must have been ten packets mixed in with her cleats and shin guards and candy bars.
“I won’t tell him,” Lucy said when Januarie had handed over the condiments, “if you promise me you will — ”
“I’ll never play a trick on Yo-Yo again. I swear. Even if she does have the weirdest name ever.”
“Not good enough,” Lucy said. “You have to promise to make friends with her.”
Januarie’s double ponytails nearly stood straight up. “Friends?” she said.
“Am I speaking French? Yes, friends. Do you promise?”
Januarie looked as if Lucy was requiring her to fork over all the candy bars too.
“You’re mean, Lucy,” she said, lower lip wobbling.
“So are you, Januarie,” Lucy said, “and I am so sick of mean people.”
12
Lucy slammed her way through every gate and door until she was in the kitchen. Mora even looked up from her cell phone.
“Who peed in your Cheerios?” she said.
Inez hissed at her and rested a soft gaze on Lucy.
“You are colerico, Senorita?” she said.
“That’s angry — ”
“Yes!”
Lucy dropped into her chair and glared at the tortilla chips in the wooden bowl. They were Inez’s homemade ones, still steaming, but Lucy pushed them away.
“Wow.” Mora set her phone aside and practically licked her chops. “Is it about a boy?”
“It’s about people being stupid and bossy.”
“Oh, I hate that,” Mora said. She scooted her chair in. “So, dish. I want details.”
“I think we will look to Senora Queen Esther instead,” Inez said.
“No offense, Inez,” Lucy said, “but I don’t see how she’s gonna help me this time. I’m not a queen.”
“You have the same power,” Inez said. “You will see.”
Mora rolled her eyes and selected a chip. Lucy sighed.
After Inez ran a brown finger down the tissue paper page with her lips moving silently, she closed her eyes as if she was seeing the story behind her eyelids.
“There is one evil hombre in the court of Senor King,” she said.
“There always is,” Mora said. “Otherwise there wouldn’t be a story.”
“His name is Senor Haman, and he is the highest next to Senor King.” Inez’s eyes darkened. “But he is hungry for the power, and he makes the law that every person must bow down to him.”
Mora stopped in mid-bite. “I wouldn’t bow down to him.”
Lucy was sure Mora wouldn’t. She couldn’t even picture it.
“Everyone, they bow down to Senor Haman, but not Senor Mordecai. He is the Jew. He will bow to no one but God. Senor Haman wants to kill Senor Mordecai, and not only him, but all the Jewish people.”
“See?” Lucy said. “People are just mean.”
“Senor King, he trusts Senor Haman. He says okay kill the Jews, and they must not fight back.”
“What did they ever do to him?” Mora said.
Inez folded her hands. “They worship God, not him.”
“Well, yeah, God is, like, God!”
“Senor King — he does not believe this. Senor Haman, he says Senor King will lose his power if the Jews, they are not killed — ”
“Wait a minute,” Lucy said. “That means all Esther’s relatives will get killed.”
“But not her,” Mora said. “King Hottie doesn’t know she’s a Jew. I hope she keeps her mouth shut.”
Inez went back to the open Bible. “Senora Queen Esther, she does not know of this plan of Senor Haman. She only hear her people weeping in the street. She can see Senor Mordecai at the gate, dress in the sackcloth and the ashes.”
Mora wrinkled her nose. “Gross. What’s that about?”
“This is what the Jew will do when he mourns. So everyone, they will know his grief.”
“But Esther doesn’t know why he’s all crying and stuff,” Lucy said.
“No, until Senor Mordecai send the messenger to Senora Queen. He tells her, go to Senor King and ask for the mercy for the Jewish people.”
“But she can’t!” Mora cried. “He’ll find out she’s a Jew too!”
“That is not the most worser,” Inez said.
Lucy didn’t see how it could get any ‘worser.’
“If Senora Queen Esther go to the king when he has not called for her, she could be put to the death.”
“What?” Mora said. “That is just wrong!”
“But it is so,” Inez said. She looked from Mora to Lucy and back again, her black eyes shining. “What will you do if this is you?”
Mora opened her mouth, but to Lucy’s surprise, she looked at her.
“What do we do, Lucy?” she said.
“Why are you asking me?”
“Because you always know the right thing to do. You’re like one of these people — ” She wafted a hand toward the Bible. “Only your name’s not as weird as theirs.”
Lucy stared at her.
“Well, you are,” Mora said. “I bet you’d go marching in there to King Hottie and tell him to back off your people. You totally would.”
“That is what Senora Queen Esther, she does,” Inez said in a quiet voice.
Mora put her hands over her ears. “If the king kills her, I don’t want to hear it.”
“He does, doesn’t he?” Lucy said to Inez. “The story can’t end that way!”
“In case you haven’t noticed,” Mora said, pulling her hands from her head, “this isn’t Disney we’re studying.” She stuck her hands back over her ears. “Tell me when she’s done with the bad part.”
“I think we stop here for today,” Inez said.
“Abuela!” Mora wailed. “I hate it when you do that.” She pushed her chair away from the table. “Is there any more salsa?”
She went to the refrigerator, and Inez put her warm, brown hand on Lucy’s.
“Senora Queen Esther, she will help you.”
Lucy shook her head. “I don’t know how.”
“You will,” Inez said. “You will.”
Lucy settled in that night to read to Marmalade — and Lolli, who joined them on the bed and pretended to be more interested in bathing than in goalkeeping. But Lucy couldn’t read more than a paragraph without crawling to the window to see if there was a signal from J.J. He hadn’t answered any of the signals she’d tri
ed to send him.
“You know what?” she said to the kitties. “J.J.’s acting like Mortimer — no, Mordecai — whatever they call him.” Mora was right about the names. “Dusty says J.J.’s all moping and weird. I just wish he’d send over a messenger.”
She sighed. They used to use Januarie for that. It seemed like everything had changed. And she wanted it all back the way it was before — even some of the things they thought were so bad. This was much worse.
There was a tap on the door.
“Yes, I’m reading,” Lucy said.
Dad popped his head in. “I wasn’t checking up on you. I just knew you’d want to know that Aunt Karen called.” Even though they were sightless, his eyes could still sparkle.
Lucy stiffened. “She’s not back from her vacation, is she?”
Dad chuckled. “You still have another week, Luce. She actually sounded like she was having fun.”
“Uh-huh,” Lucy said. Aunt Karen’s idea of fun was having her nails done.
“I think this trip has been good for her.” He grinned. “And for us.”
Lucy loved Dad for saying that. He really was the best at understanding stuff. She sat up straighter. Why hadn’t she told him all about the soccer tangle? And about what they suspected about the soccer field?
“And Champ?”
“Yeah, Dad?” Lucy said.
“I’m still praying about our situation this fall.”
Oh. That was why she hadn’t told him. He had way bigger problems on his mind.
“And I know you’re still being your Lucy-best.”
“I’m on it,” Lucy said.
But she wasn’t sure she really was. Everybody thought she was Queen Esther all over again. Everybody but her.
J.J. didn’t talk to anybody before he climbed into Emanuel’s mom’s car Thursday morning. Januarie said she didn’t know why, and Lucy believed her. She wasn’t about to mess with Lucy right now.
When they arrived at camp, Lucy climbed over her to get out first and was headed straight for J.J. when a motor putt-putted up beside her under the cottonwood branches.
“Morning, Lucy,” Hawke said from his golf cart.
His sharp eyes smiled right along with his lips, but Lucy’s mouth still went dry.
“We need to have that talk,” he said. “I’ll find you for lunch.”