by Kirsten Rue
“Hey, Julian!” Dad says as he takes a dish out of the oven with his oven mitts. “Think you could set the table?” Whatever’s in that dish doesn’t smell like lasagna or tuna noodle casserole. Dang. “This one’s a new recipe, right, hon?”
“Grated parmesan squash!” Mom sings back.
“Okay, guys, seriously? You’re freaking me out.”
“Why?” Mom asks. Dad sets the glass dish down on two of our potholders.
“Why are you acting so . . . fake?” I ask. I mean, not that I don’t like them being all happy and cheesy, but they do NOT normally act like this. Not at all. Mom scratches her nose, which is a nervous tic she has.
“Hon?” she says to Dad. “We need to tell him.”
My palms start sweating. Here comes the moment of truth. I take some deep breaths. I mean, if there is some scary truth out there, isn’t it probably better to just rip off the Band-Aid? (For the record, it does really hurt to rip off a Band-Aid.) I think of that vision I had when Mom and Dad told me they had to take some time apart. The one where I could see that we all have flaws, and that none of us are perfect. I mean, true, we AREN’T perfect. There’s a spot of mold in the bathroom shower and my Mom loves gross cooked vegetables for every dinner and we don’t have an awesome sound system like the ones I know some Halsey kids have. And sure, I’m probably never going to like watching sports with Dad.
But, overall? I think we’re okay. We’ll stay okay.
“Tell me what?”
Dad breaks into a huge grin. “We’re having another baby,” he says.
For a second, all I hear is the sound of the faucet dripping. That and the sound of the oven humming and a fly that keeps hitting the window above the sink.
I mean, you think it would have figured out that the glass is not a door by now.
“Seriously?”
“Yes,” Mom beams. “We’ve been dying to tell you since yesterday!”
“But, won’t I be kinda . . . old compared to him . . .or her?”
Mom and Dad come over and give me a group hug. I squirm and pretend that I don’t really want the hug, but I don’t actually mean it. Honestly, I could probably use a hug. “I think you’ll make a great older brother,” Dad says. My face is all crunched into my mom’s shoulder, but I’m smiling.
Retirement
Here’s Tina’s reaction to my news: OMG! omG! OMg!!!! I think she’s pretty surprised.
The next day during lunch, we talk about my new little sister (for some reason I’m sure she’s going to be, well, a she).
“By the time you’re a famous singer,” Tina points out, “she’ll just be old enough to come to your concerts.”
“Wait, how long do you think it’s going to take for me to become famous?!”
Tina counts on her fingers. “Umm . . . like twelve years? I mean, just realistically.”
“So, I’ll be twenty-three and she’ll be twelve.” “Exactly. Just old enough.”
I have to admit, the thought is pretty cool. Although, of course, I think there’s a lot of throw-up and gnarly diapers that have to happen first. And maybe I’ll become famous next year! It’s possible.
“Tina. I’ve been thinking about something.”
“Mmm. Hmmm.” She’s already distracted by putting some glittery stickers on one of her notebooks.
“You know how you said, ‘Let it go?’”
“Um, kinda.” She bends over and tries to put a sticker on my sleeve, but I peel it off just in time.
“Well, I have this idea.”
“Good for you.”
“No, I’m serious! Yesterday, I finally let go of a secret I was holding back. And, er, it made me feel so much better.”
“Okay.”
“All those secrets I’ve been keeping?”
“Yessss . . .”
“Maybe my job is to help people let them out.”
“Like a butterfly!” Tina says, her eyes lighting up.
I think of that bug dinging its head against the window last night. “Yeah, kind of like that.”
Tina reaches across the table and squeezes my arm. “Let’s start now,” she says.
I start with Lotte and Steph. I walk right up to them where they’re sitting on the floor in a corner of the cafeteria, making friendship bracelets.
“Um, excuse me?” Lotte says when she sees us standing over her.
Steph stuffs her friendship bracelet threads under her jeans like she’s afraid we’re going to take them or something. Um, don’t you guys realize that we ‘re uncool, too?
“I’m Julian,” I say, holding out my hand. Lotte looks at my hand like it’s an extra math assignment.
“We know who you are,” she says coolly. I take my hand back. Hmmm . . . I hope this isn’t a totally crazy idea. Kinda too late to just walk away now.
“You know your old friend, Dana?”
Steph glances over at the Sweets table, where Dana is sitting, back turned. Lotte rolls her eyes. “Yeah. Right. Dana is our friend.”
“She is your friend.”
“Like a million years ago,” Lotte mutters with a scowl. Steph just looks sad.
“The truth is, she misses you.”
Lotte and Steph exchange glances with one another. “Is this, like, a joke or something? Are you trying to trick us?” Steph asks. I mean, she has a point. They don’t know us. We could be working for the Sweets, out on a mission to humiliate them. “She told me about first grade and your BFF pact,” I continue, hoping that will get through.
“Oh my god, she told you that?!” Lotte turns red. “That is embarrassing.’”
“Well, she misses you. She feels bad about everything.”
Steph looks over at Dana again. “I miss her, too,” she says softly.
“Steph, we don’t need her!” Lotte says angrily.
Without answering Lotte, Steph reaches back under her pant leg and pulls out the half-finished friendship bracelet. “You can give it to her,” she says. Lotte just shrugs. I know when it’s time to quit while I’m ahead.
The next day in English class, I get Dana’s attention at the end of class. “Pssst!” I slide an envelope over to her. On the top of it, I’ve printed: “There is still hope.” As the rest of the students sling their backpacks over their shoulders and start filing out of class, I watch as Dana breaks the seal on the envelope, turns it over, and taps it until the bracelet slips out. She gasps.
“Good luck!” I whisper before whisking out of class myself. I could get used this feeling. It’s sort of a superhero-like feeling. Or maybe what it feels like to be a rock star: changing people’s lives. I help them get rid of burdens. I feel lighter; they feel lighter. Pretty sweet.
I know it’s going to be a bit tougher to release Pramila and Joe Russo’s secret. First of all, I have no idea where Pramila is during the day. I’m not even 100 percent sure she’s a student at Halsey School, based on how many times I’ve seen her in the halls. Joe, on the other hand, is easy to find. You can hear his loud laugh echoing in the gym and down the halls. He’s about a foot taller than everyone else, too, which doesn’t hurt. Still, just because I have this newfound purpose of helping others doesn’t mean I have a death wish. Joe did say not to tell anyone, and even with Tina at my side, no way would I just march up to him and talk to him when he’s with all the Lardos. Being the Unofficial Secret Keeper of Halsey School doesn’t come with bodyguards, unfortunately.
Nope. For this, I need to bring Pramila and Joe together. I remember Joe mentioning that Pramila gets a ride from her dad every morning, so one day I stake out the entrance to the school. Don’t mind me, guys, just doing a top secret mission. Car after car squeaks to the curb and Halsey students get out. They don’t look exactly . . . happy to be here. I know how you feel, guys. Just when I’m getting nervous that I’m going to be late to class, I see a red car pull up. Bingo! Pramila and a girl who looks like her older sister get out.
As casually as I can, I follow them inside. Instead of heading toward
s the sixth grade hall, Pramila heads down the seventh! So that’s why I’ve never seen her around before. I’ve gotta give Joe Russo props— crushing on an older woman and all. However, if you’re a lame-o sixth grader, you do NOT want to be seen in the seventh-grade hall. It’s like a shark tank. Before Pramila can get too far, I run up to her and tap her on the shoulder. She turns around, her eyes round in surprise.
“I have a message for you!” I whisper. “Meet me in the library right after school.”
Pramila must be used to secret missions or something because she asks no questions. “I will do what you ask,” she says. Something about her reminds me of olden times or something. I wonder what she could see in Joe Russo?!
Now comes the tough part. For this, I have Tina. As I hide behind my locker door, Tina strolls straight up to Joe Russo in front of his locker. I have to say I’m impressed. Tina has become very fearless ever since she told off the whole school in the fall. She stops Joe and whispers something in his ear. His forehead wrinkles crunch together and then apart. What’s he going to do? Does he guess that I’m behind all of this? I mean, I don’t take Joe for much of a mystery solver, but then again, I might be the only one at the whole school who knows about his feelings for Pramila.
Slowly, one side of Joe’s mouth crooks up, and then the other side. He’s smiling! Tina knows when to make her exit. She rushes back over to me.
“Score one for Tina! He’s totally going to be in the library after school.”
“What did you tell him?”
“I told him his true love wanted to speak to him.”
“You did not!”
“Did, too! Actually, Julian, I think Joe Russo is kind of a romantic. He even asked me where he could find some flowers to pick!”
“All the flowers at Halsey are covered with dirt.”
“Well, it’s the thought that counts. Geez, Julian.”
After school, we creep to the back entrance of the library, peering through the glass doors.
“Shhhh!” I whisper. Tina can’t stop giggling. Mr. Mahoney, my English teacher, walks by and raises an eyebrow at us. I guess we do look a little funny crouched down in front of the door.
“Ohmigosh, Joe’s there!” Tina hisses at me, pulling me up by my collar to peek in.
“Dude, Tina, you don’t have to yank me up.”
“Well, look!”
I look in and things are unfolding just as I planned. Joe stands, sweating a little bit near the poetry shelf. That’s a nice touch, even if he didn’t plan it that way. In his hand, he holds a cafeteria napkin wrapped around a bunch of bright yellow dandelions.
“Look! The flowers!” I nudge Tina in the ribs.
Five minutes pass, then ten. Joe starts to look disappointed, at least from what I can read on his face. C’mon, Pramila! I see that the librarian is starting to switch off some of the lights in the back of the room. She must be about to close up.
“Oh, no!” Tina moans, turning to me. “This is going to be, like, so sad if she doesn’t show up!”
“I know.”
I can’t help but feel responsible. Here I am, trying to meddle in other people’s lives and help them find each other, but maybe I made a mistake. What did Joe Russo ever do to me? Well . . . besides never choosing me for a team in gym class? Technically, I did break my promise to him, even if I told myself it was for a good cause. Maybe this undercover mission was a terrible idea after all. I start sinking to the floor, but Tina grabs my collar and yanks me up again.
“Ow!”
“Look.”
I look. Pramila is in the library. We watch her break into a smile and move forward. Joe moves forward, too, holding out his straggly little bouquet of flowers. Tina and I turn to each other and grin. Then we run away down the hallway. We don’t watch—I mean geez, who do you think we are?! This is a private moment for Pramila and Joe after all.
As the two of us leave school after missing Tina’s bus, the sun is shining overhead.
“You going to walk home?” I ask Tina.
“Yep.”
“I’ll walk you.”
I feel that lightness again. The cherry blossoms along the road are starting to bloom and the sun warms the back of my shirt. I think of my new sister and all the kids at school holding back their problems and worries. I’m part of them, but then I’m also my own independent person, too. I kick a rock from the pavement in front of me and it soars upwards towards the treetops. It may be my last day as the Unofficial Secret Keeper of Halsey School, but I know we’re all going to be okay. It’s a good feeling.