by Coco Simon
“If I don’t get home and eat lunch, I’m going to eat the car,” said Molly.
“Let’s go, girls,” said Dad. “I can afford lunch, but I can’t afford another car!”
Jenna was sitting at the kitchen table, scrolling through her phone, when we came inside.
“How was hockey?” she asked.
“Fine,” I said. “It was a nice morning to be outside.”
Jenna looked at me strangely. “Well, yes, but how did you do in the practice?”
“Okay, I guess,” I said.
“How were the other girls?” asked Dad.
He was making himself more coffee as Molly made a peanut butter sandwich.
“They’re good,” I said.
“Last year they had really good offense but not such a great defensive line,” said Molly. “Is Amanda playing this year?”
“Yes,” I said. “She was on my scrimmage team.”
“Oh wow,” said Jenna, “so they paired you with the star. That’s a good sign.”
“A sign of what?” I asked.
“That you’ll make the team,” said Jenna, speaking slowly.
“Oh, I’ll make the team,” I said. “There are only four girls from my year trying out. They’ll use us somehow.”
“But you might not get to play,” said Molly.
“Eh,” I said. “I don’t mind. I still get to play in the practices. Besides, the games might be too much pressure.”
“Kelsey, are you sure you even want to be on the team?” asked Dad. “If you want to play and not compete, you can probably just play with some friends when you feel like it.”
The three of them were looking at me like I didn’t understand field hockey. I could feel my face get hot, and my hands balled up. I stood up and faced them.
“I understand that I’m not going to be the star of the team. I understand that I might not even make the first line. But I can still be part of a team and still have fun,” I snapped.
I looked at Dad. “And that is why you and Mom tell us to play in the first place. So if I got that wrong, and you want me to be stressed out and beating myself up and not enjoying a morning on the field getting a great workout with some girls, let me know,” I added.
Molly’s and Jenna’s eyes popped open wide. Even Dad looked like he didn’t know what to say.
I looked at them all like they were crazy, grabbed a glass of water, and marched upstairs.
Maybe they could all go away, I thought, and just leave me here in peace.
Chapter Six The More the Merrier—Not!
Monday mornings are the worst. The worst. But Monday mornings in my mind actually start on Sunday night.
Sunday night in our house is “planning night,” according to Mom. We go over everyone’s schedule for the week, and then Mom and Dad make sure everyone is covered—that means anyone who needs a ride or needs to be picked up somewhere has a parent to meet them or bring them where they need to be. Mom puts everything on the board, and some weeks can get pretty insane with all the scribbles.
Mom was just about to write in next weekend’s plans when Jenna said, “It’s Fall Fest this weekend!”
“Wow, that happened fast,” said Mom. “Time is just flying by.” She shook her head and wrote it on the board.
Fall Fest is a big deal in town. One Saturday every fall, there is a festival with a parade, music, and food.The Park is a big part of it, and Donut Dreams, of course, because who doesn’t love an apple cider donut at a fall festival?
A lot of the businesses or even school groups, like the high school field hockey team, have booths that sell stuff or give away things like T-shirts or even mugs. Everyone wears school colors, which are red and white.
That night, after performances from a few of the school choruses and the high school marching band, there’s a big bonfire at the lake. Everyone comes down with blankets, and families sit together with chocolatey s’mores and watch the fireworks that end the night.
Fall Fest is also a big deal for our family. Since everyone in our family is usually a little crazy working at Fall Fest, between the food that the Park provides and the donuts that Donut Dreams sells in the morning, we have a tradition called Family Fall Fest.
The night before, Dad fills in for Mom at the restaurant, helping to pack up food and equipment to move it to Main Street, which is where the parade and booths are.
Mom takes the three of us out for dinner—“just us girls,” as we like to say—at one of our favorite restaurants, Louie Louie, which is a couple towns over. They have two things that we always get: fried ravioli and something called butter cake, which is this gooey vanilla cake that I could eat for days.
We actually get dressed up, even though the restaurant isn’t too fancy, and it’s a lot of fun. Even Molly wears a skirt or a dress.
“So next Friday is Family Fall Fest?” I asked excitedly.
“Seems that way,” said Mom.
“Butter cake!” Molly yelled. “Yes! Oh, I can taste it already!”
“Fried ravioli!” cried Jenna.
“I want you to remember St. Louis fried ravioli the next time you think about going to school in California,” teased Dad.
“I’ll just have it when I come home, Dad!” said Jenna, laughing. “Besides, in California you can have strawberries all year round. Much healthier for you!”
“Yeah, but fried ravioli tastes better!” said Dad.
This perked me up. I loved Family Fall Fest, and I was excited because even if the week was a hard one—hello, math test—there was a really great weekend waiting for us.
“This year Lindsay is coming with us,” said Mom.
She was acting as Dad’s sous chef, chopping the veggies for the stir-fry he was making.
“To Fall Fest?” I asked, confused.
“No, to Family Fall Fest,” said Mom without looking up. “I thought it would be nice to include her. The more the merrier.”
“But Mom, it’s supposed to be just US!” I wailed.
Mom looked up from the cutting board, surprised, and Dad turned around to look at me too.
I didn’t mean to sound so angry about it, but a tradition was a tradition. It was pretty rare that the three sisters were together with just Mom, and besides, Family Fall Fest had always been that way.
“Well,” said Mom slowly. “Lindsay is family. And Family Fall Fest is, well, about our family. I think she’d really appreciate being included.”
“Well, if it’s Family Fall Fest, then why not invite Dad,” I said testily. I knew it didn’t sound very nice when I said it out loud, but I just couldn’t help how angry I was.
“It’s just girls,” said Mom. “And Dad is helping Grandpa, Nans, Uncle Mike, and Uncle Charlie so they can prep for the next day.” I could tell by her tone that she was quickly getting irritated and impatient with me.
“Kelsey, you have been such a brat all weekend,” said Jenna. “What is going on?”
“I’m not a brat!” I yelled.
But even as I was saying it, deep down inside I knew I was.
“Girls!” said Dad. “Cease-fire!”
He and Mom exchanged glances, and I could tell that he had probably told her about how angry I got after being grilled about hockey practice.
“I’ve already invited her,” said Mom in that kind of voice that means this is done and we are not discussing it further. “And she was so happy. Remember, Kelsey, that it’s been a tough time for her, and family is all about being there for each other when times are tough.”
“Well, it’s been a tough year for me too!” I said, and as Mom was opening her mouth, I added, “And no, I don’t want to talk about it!”
I stomped up the stairs to my room, which thankfully was nice and quiet and, most importantly, away from my family.
In our house you can pretty much hear everyone from every room, and I could hear Mom and Dad murmuring about me and asking Molly what was going on at school.
A few minutes later there was
a knock on my door, and, expecting it to be Mom or Dad telling me it was time for dinner, I said, “I’ll be right there.”
But Jenna poked her head in. “Hey, pip-squeak,” she said, calling me a nickname that she hadn’t used in a while.
She flopped down on the bed next to me and looked at my face. “Are you wearing lip gloss?”
I sighed. “Yeah.”
“It looks nice,” she said.
Then she ran out of the room and came back with what looked like a giant tube of lipstick.
“What’s that?” I asked.
“A blush stick,” she said. “Hold still.”
She dotted the apples of my cheeks and rubbed it in, then sat back and smiled. “Oh, that looks good. Go look.”
I looked in the mirror on the back of my door. It looked like I had just gone for a brisk walk, and even though it wasn’t obvious, I looked happier and a little glowy. But I did not feel glowy inside.
“Sometimes,” said Jenna, “even when you don’t feel great, you have to put on a happy face, and soon enough the rest of you follows.”
“Huh?” I asked.
“Look, middle school is hard,” said Jenna. “I get that. Your friends are changing and it seems like everything is happening all at once. But sometimes you just have to go with change and see where it takes you. It could be really good.”
“So I should pretend to be happy all the time and just wear makeup to mask the grumpiness?” I asked.
“Not at all!” said Jenna. “That’s not what I’m saying. You can be mad and sad and disappointed. But just saying no to trying something different and sitting out the chance to change isn’t great either. You never know what new things could be exciting or open up new doors.”
I moaned. “You sound like Mom,” I complained. “New opportunities! Well, what if I like the old opportunities?”
“I think you’re missing the point,” said Jenna. “Just be open. Just because Lindsay is coming with us to dinner doesn’t mean that Family Fall Fest can’t be great. It just means that while we’re having one of our favorite nights, we’re including someone who is family and who very much wants to be there with us. That’s what family does, Kelsey.”
I knew she was right, but she could be right and I could still be angry at the same time. I let those two things float around in my brain for a little bit.
“Dinner in five,” said Jenna, and hopped up from the bed.
“Jenna?” I asked. “Will you miss us?”
“When?” she said.
“When you go to college in California. Will you miss us as much as we’ll miss you?”
“Okay,” said Jenna. “First of all, we still have a year and a half before I’m going anywhere. Second, I don’t know for sure that I’m going to school in California. I have to be accepted first. And third of all,” she said, holding up three fingers, “are you serious? I will miss you guys like crazy! I’ll be thinking of the four of you and probably be lonely that it’s just me on my own!”
“So why don’t you just stay close?” I asked.
“I might,” said Jenna. “But I also think it’s kind of cool to see what I can do on my own. I’ll always have my family, and it doesn’t matter to me if they’re five minutes or five hours away. I know they’re there.”
I thought about that. It mattered to me. I’d much rather be five minutes away from my family.
Jenna gave me a hug. “No matter where I am, I’m always your sister,” she said. “Your big sister. Your big, bossy sister who will always tell you what to do, even when you’re fifty!”
I giggled just as Molly appeared in the doorway. “What’s so funny?” she said.
“Me when I’m fifty,” I said.
“Huh?” said Molly. “Uh… okay. Dad sent me up to tell you it’s dinnertime. It’s the Sunday Special too. Shrimp.”
Ugh, I hate shrimp.
See, sometimes Monday morning starts early.
Chapter Seven Just Another Manic Monday
Principal Clarke was trying to get everyone’s attention for the morning meeting. “It’s a big week in Bellgrove!” she said. “Settle down and tune in, because there is a lot going on!”
I was sitting with our new crew, which was Isabella, Olivia, Hannah, Riley, Michelle, and Sophia. We filled out a whole table sitting together. Addition is better than subtraction, I heard Mom say in my head. I guess she should know; she is an accountant.
“First of all, the student council elections are coming up,” said Principal Clarke. “This week you’ll see those campaigns start with posters in the halls. Next week we’ll hear from the candidates in prepared statements, and then we’ll have a Q and A session, when you can ask them questions. Then we’ll have the election. It’s an exciting time at Bellgrove Middle School!”
I looked over at Hannah and Olivia. Olivia was biting her nails. I guess running for office could be stressful. There’s no way I would ever want to sit in front of the entire school and answer questions. Ugh.
“Next,” said the principal, “as many of you know, we have Fall Fest this weekend.”
The room erupted in cheers.
She smiled. “I know, it’s a great weekend. We have many opportunities to volunteer, so check the sign-up board in the back of the cafeteria if you’d like to help out. Even if you just come to the event, be sure to show your school spirit and wear your red and white colors!”
Sophia nudged me. “Can I borrow your red cardigan?” she asked. “The one with the pattern on it?”
I nodded.
The rest of the day was, well, it was a Monday.Somehow I smooshed my turkey sandwich that Dad packed me for lunch and the soup sloshed out from my thermos, soaking the brownie he’d put in there because we always got a special treat on Mondays. I slammed my locker on my finger and was late to French class because I forgot my book and had to run back for it.
And because it was Family Fall Fest on Friday, we’d switched my day working at Donut Dreams to Monday for this week.
I trudged into the Park, and sure enough, Grandpa was waiting at the podium.
“Okay, this cranky face is getting to be familiar,” he said. “And I don’t like it.”
I couldn’t tell if he was teasing me or reprimanding me, so I tried to make my face look as happy as I could.
“It’s been a Monday, Grandpa,” I said.
“Mondays are rough,” he said, nodding.
I don’t know why, but just then I kind of flung myself at him and buried my head in his arm.
He gave me a big hug and patted my back. “Is this more than a miserable Monday?” he asked, concerned. “Everything okay, sweetie?”
My grandpa was what most people described as “a force,” but he could also be a really big softy, especially with his grandchildren.
I took a big breath and lifted up my head. “Yeah,” I said. “It’s okay. Middle school is hard.”
“Ahhh,” he said. “Change is hard. Why do you think I just sit at this podium every day?” He chuckled and looked up as Mom was rounding the corner. “Melissa, your daughter says middle school is hard.”
“What happened at school today?” asked Mom with a worried look.
“Nothing,” I said.
Mom and Grandpa looked at each other, and Grandpa shrugged. “Well, something happened to your mom today,” he said. “Big news!” He beamed.
Mom laughed. “Well, I don’t know if it’s big news, Dad. But they asked me to come speak at a conference in St. Louis about small businesses.”
“It is big news!” said Grandpa. “Of all the people in that big city, they asked our Melissa! That’s because she’s so smart and such a good businessperson. She keeps this place humming!”
“Oh, just Melissa keeps this place running, huh, Dad?” teased Uncle Charlie as he put down his clipboard and came over to join us.
“When is the conference?” I asked, curious.
Mom never really went away on business trips, but once in a while she, Uncle Charlie, and
Uncle Mike would go to a convention.
“It’s in a few weeks, actually,” said Mom. “Which means I need to put together a presentation pretty fast.”
Uncle Mike came over then. “Is this a staff meeting?” he asked. “Or a family convention over here? Because I have donuts to sell and Fall Fest to plan. What does everyone think about red frosted donuts this year, so we’re in with the school color theme?”
“Red donuts sound gross, Mike,” Mom said. “Plus, they might not look too appetizing.”
“Well, maybe more pink?” said Uncle Charlie. “Or you could just have jelly donuts. Those are red on the inside. And we’re all red on the inside for Fall Fest!”
I laughed. “I’m reporting for duty,” I said, saluting them and walking over to the donut counter.
Lindsay was there, as usual, before me. It should seem weird that she would beat me to work, since we both got out of school at the same time, but I took the bus home with Molly and then Dad or Jenna drove me over.
Lindsay was picked up at school by Nans, who brought her to the Park. I felt a little twinge just then because I got to go home, where Dad was always waiting for me.
After Lindsay’s mom died, she came to the restaurant with her dad after school. She and Skylar used to sit in a booth and do their homework until someone could take them home.
I remembered just then that Aunt Amy made these really great pies in the fall, and I wondered if Lindsay missed going home to her mom, in a kitchen that smelled like fresh apple pie.
Lindsay was helping Mrs. Ellis pack up a box of donuts to take to the soccer team.
“Hi, Mrs. Ellis,” I said. “Mind if we put one in there for Molly?”
“Oh, this is for everyone on the team!” she said. “Or everyone trying out. Gosh, I hope they all make it. They are all such terrific girls.”
I popped in a chocolate-glazed donut, which I knew was Molly’s favorite. Then I threw in an old-fashioned donut, because I knew that was Riley’s favorite. I didn’t know what Isabella’s favorite was.
“Okay, we have two of each kind,” said Lindsay. “So hopefully no fights over who gets what!”