“It was fine.”
“Only fine?”
She sighed loudly. “All right, it was fun. Really fun. The whole cheer team went trick-or-treating in Kirsten’s neighborhood with all the big houses, and they gave out really good candy, and then we went back to Kirsten’s and watched scary movies, and it was really, really fun.” Becca didn’t sound like she’d had fun, though. She sounded angry. Scratch that. She sounded furious.
I should’ve apologized right then, but for some reason I started getting angry myself. “I know football is over,” I said.
“So?”
“So, when are we going to hang out? We were supposed to get back on schedule when you were done cheering.”
“We are,” Becca said, annoyed, “but cheering isn’t over.”
“What are you talking about? You said—”
“Competitive cheer started right after football ended. It goes all winter.”
I was stunned. “You never said—”
“You never asked.”
“How was I supposed to know I should ask? I assumed—”
“Of course you did. You assumed I’d decide I hate cheerleading, just because you do.”
“That isn’t what I was going to say,” I said. “I was going to say, I assumed you’d tell me. I’m your best friend. People are supposed to tell their best friends important things.”
Becca pounced. “You mean things like Mimi being pregnant again?”
I choked up. “I—”
“How long have you been keeping it a secret?”
“Only a month,” I said miserably. “Or two.” I hadn’t realized how bad it would sound, but it sounded terrible.
“Didn’t it occur to you I’d want to know?”
“I was planning to tell you! I promise. Besides, you didn’t tell me about cheerleading right away.”
“At least I only waited a week. You waited two months, and this is way more important. Were you planning to let us find out from the birth announcements in the newspaper? In which case, you’re lucky my parents even get the paper!”
“It’s complicated.”
“I know that.” This time she sounded as much sad as angry. “I know that, for crying out loud.”
“How did you find out, anyway?” I asked.
“I saw your moms at the mall last weekend.”
“Huh? They didn’t tell me that.”
“I saw them. I don’t think they saw me. It was across the food court—they were getting ice cream—and I was too surprised to go over and say anything, and anyway, I was with friends . . .”
“Wait a second,” I said. “I thought you were busy every weekend.”
“I was busy,” insisted Becca.
“No, you weren’t. You just said you were hanging out at the mall. With friends.” The word friends managed to sound mean and dirty, coming from my mouth.
“I’m allowed to be busy with things besides cheerleading! My life doesn’t revolve around you,” Becca said.
“I never said it did,” I protested.
“Well, you sure act like it sometimes.”
“I don’t—”
She interrupted. “Look, I’ve missed you. I’ve missed our sleepovers and the half-ton and the goats and Arby and your family. But honestly, I haven’t missed the rest.”
“What’s that supposed to mean, the rest?”
Becca sighed. “You’ve always been different. And I respect that, truly I do. But the whole time I’ve lived in this town, I’ve been Goat Girl’s best friend. A freak by association. Now I’m finally getting treated like a normal person, and it’s hard to be sorry about that.”
I couldn’t help it. I gasped as if Kali had butted me in the gut, and my stomach hurt just as much. All these years, Becca had thought I was weird, along with everyone else. She’d silently suffered teasing and isolation, only because she was too polite to complain until now. So much for being appreciated for who I was. So much for being accepted.
“In that case, I hope you enjoy your normal life and normal friends and normal stupid hobbies like cheerleading,” I said.
“Just because you don’t care about something doesn’t make it stupid,” Becca said. “You act like I sold my soul to be a cheerleader. Well, I could’ve been a cheerleader and your friend, if you’d let me.”
Which I knew. I didn’t care about video games or Legos or drawing or fantasy books, but I’d never called Carina and Yosh’s interests stupid. Why had I done it to my best friend?
But I knew. It was because she’d changed. Not just the cheering, but everything about her. She was no longer the meek girl standing at the edge of the cafeteria, clutching a lunch tray with nail-bitten fingers. She was outgoing and popular, bold and outspoken.
These were good things—in the back of my mind, I knew that—but they made her seem like a different person. A person who might not choose to be my friend, if she had to do it all over again. That terrified me. Like a cornered animal, frightened for its life, I was lashing out.
“You said we’d always be best friends,” I said. “You basically promised.”
“I know,” Becca said. She sounded exhausted. “But maybe I shouldn’t have. Maybe it’s not in our control. Maybe this whole thing is a sign that we need time to figure out if we still have what it takes to stay friends.”
Her words were quiet, yet they rang in my ears like the bells at the railroad crossing. She hung up before their meaning flattened me like a speeding train.
So far, I’ve written about animals that people think are stupid or gross but, in reality, are really awesome. But there’s a whole different category of misunderstood creature. Creatures everyone thinks are cute and sweet but are actually brutal, unfeeling killers.
Take cannibalism. When humans do it, it’s considered criminally deranged behavior, or at the very least, incredibly desperate (e.g., the Donner Party). But some animals do it all the time like it’s no big deal—and not just the so-called scary ones.
Rabbits? Eat their young. Hamsters? Surprisingly bloodthirsty. Chimpanzees? You betcha. Chickens? YES. CHICKENS, TOO.
It gets worse. Everybody loves dolphins, right? They’re smart and pretty and always smiling. Well, guess what? They’ve also been observed torturing their prey and killing baby porpoises FOR FUN.
I’ve always believed animals should be accepted for who they are. It’s how they were made—or, I guess Darwin would say, how they’ve evolved. But what if they haven’t changed for the better in their millions of years on Earth? What if they’ve gone backward instead?
Chapter 21
Life shouldn’t have been any different, really, after my fight with Becca. I hadn’t seen her since early September, after all. We’d barely talked. When you did the math, there was a good chance the majority of our communication had been in emojis. But at least there’d been the promise of things returning to normal someday. Now I didn’t know what normal was. It seemed unlikely we’d ever go back.
I had trouble sleeping, and when I did sleep, I woke in the morning with a sick, nervous feeling, as if I’d spent the whole night running for my life. I ate, but it was out of routine, not because I felt hungry. The last time I remembered feeling this way was when Miles died, which on top of everything else made me feel guilty. How could I feel this bad over a stupid fight? Didn’t I have any sense of proportion?
My whole family was extra nice the next few days. I didn’t know how they knew I was upset, or if they knew why. I silently accepted the hugs. Mom made my favorite apple streusel bars, and Mimi braided my hair, even though all her time was needed for a tough case going to trial soon. Even Rowan laid off his usual teasing, as if I had an injury that shouldn’t be aggravated.
Darwin had been talking about population explosions when he wrote, “As more individuals are produced than can possibly survive, there must in every case be a struggle for existence.” But from where I was standing, he could easily have been talking about friendships. Despite Becca’s protestations,
it was clear there had never been room in her life for both cheerleading and me. When I’d transferred to Osterhout, I’d left Becca’s mind along with her sight. Of course I hadn’t been able to compete. In the struggle for existence, our friendship had gone belly-up with barely a whimper.
The weather grew colder. The farmers’ market closed. It was time for holiday bazaars.
“Is it just me, or does bazaar season start earlier every year?” Mimi asked as Mom consulted her packing list over dinner a week later. She was headed to Ann Arbor the next morning.
“It won’t be a problem until it starts before the farmers’ market closes,” Mom said. “If that happens, I’ll have to clone myself so we don’t lose the income.”
“Your clone will have to eat,” Rowan said, “and we’ll have to find another bed for her.”
“I don’t mind,” Mom said, “as long as I don’t have to pay her.”
“Can I cuddle with her when you get up early to milk?” Mimi said. “The bed gets awfully cold this time of year.”
“No way. I’m staying in bed with you and sending her out to do the milking.”
“Mom, you’re basically talking about slavery,” I said. “That’s immoral and uncool.”
“You’re right, it is immoral and uncool. Forget the clone. Rowan can build me a robot. I don’t have to pay the robot, do I?”
“That depends on which school of ethics you belong to,” Mimi said.
“And which sci-fi movies you watch,” Rowan said. “Unhappy robots can do some serious damage.”
I didn’t go to the bazaar with Mom. Carina had invited me and Yosh to her house. I worried they’d insist on playing video games the whole time. Instead, Yosh brought a board game called Carcassonne, which was like dominoes, except instead of matching black tiles with white dots, we built sprawling medieval cities and roads. Then we watched Monty Python and the Holy Grail. Even though I would’ve rather watched the Darwin documentary I’d borrowed from the library, I was glad I’d seen it with them because they quoted it nonstop for a week.
I could almost, almost forget about Becca.
On Thanksgiving, we drove to Jackson to have dinner with Mimi’s side of the family. Even though Mimi had asked them not to make a big fuss about the baby, there was one anyway. There weren’t any presents, but everyone wanted to feel her kick, and the baby seemed more than happy to oblige, which made everyone even more excited.
With only two months to go, Mimi was the most relaxed she’d been all fall. “Great,” she must have said fifty times, when people asked how she was doing. “I’m feeling great. Morning sickness seems to be a thing of the past, finally. I’m just enjoying the glow.”
People made a fuss over me too, but I squirmed away. Maybe Rowan felt the same way I did. He was polite, but his smiles looked only skin-deep.
It was the same thing all over again on Friday, when we had our annual Friendsgiving. Mom and Mimi invited their closest friends over, and Rowan and I were allowed to do likewise. Paul came, and Aunt Keisha, too, even though she’d seen us the day before. Mom’s parents didn’t have a real home besides their RV. This fall they were in South Carolina, so we weren’t going to see them.
Becca used to come and spend two whole nights at our house because of the long weekend. This year, Mom asked, “Is there anyone you’d like to invite?” without even mentioning Becca’s name. When I said no, she nodded and let it go. I sort of wished she’d ask what had happened between us. Instead she asked me to put a load of towels in the laundry.
I could’ve invited Carina. She probably would’ve said yes, if she wasn’t too busy with her own family’s plans. But I’d known her less than three months. Friendsgiving had seemed like too much to share with her, or burden her with, all at once. Besides, I still wasn’t ready to tell her about Lena and Miles, and I couldn’t be sure they wouldn’t come up.
Instead I spent the last afternoon of break with her at Yosh’s house, playing board games. It was fun, but I came home subdued. I was pretty sure Carina still had a crush on Yosh. Her brown eyes sparkled a bit brighter when he teased her. She laughed quickly at the things he said, and yes, she thought he was super funny anyway, but it was a special laugh—a giggle that started out nervous and hopeful, until he grinned back at her and she relaxed into the chuckle I knew. I wasn’t jealous of Yosh anymore. That wasn’t the issue. But for the first time I wondered if I was missing out by not having a crush of my own.
My suspicions about Yosh and Carina were confirmed as flyers for the winter dance went up all over school.
Most of what I knew about music was through Mimi (old-timey jazz) and Rowan (Russians with pianos and lots of feelings), and forget about dancing. I could barely do the hokey pokey. With high school on the horizon, maybe it was time to learn.
But when I asked Carina and Yosh if they were going, they exchanged a look. Carina said, “We . . . were actually talking about doing something different.”
“Oh. Okay.”
Her answer didn’t surprise me. By now I was used to them announcing plans to play games (video or otherwise) or watch movies together. I didn’t always join them, but I was always invited. What surprised me were her flushed cheeks. She looked somewhere between embarrassed and guilty. Yosh, whose mohawk was now dyed shocking pink, squinted up at the ceiling. If I’d thought he was capable, I would’ve thought he was embarrassed, too.
“Maybe you could hang out, too?” said Carina after a beat. “I mean, it was only going to be dinner at the mall, and the new Marvel movie.”
I wasn’t a romantic expert, but I wasn’t stupid. Dinner and a movie, whether it started at a fancy French restaurant or at a food court that sold curly fries and Orange Julius, meant a date. Whatever was between Carina and Yosh, it was moving beyond Carcassonne and Legend of Zelda. “No,” I mumbled, “I’d better not.”
“Seriously, it’s fine,” Yosh said, heaving a sigh.
“Yes,” said Carina quickly, “you should come.”
They both sounded relieved—like they were glad I’d stumbled onto their plans. It was weird. Did they want to go out together, or didn’t they?
“Ask your moms,” Carina said.
“Only if you’re sure. Both of you.”
“We’re sure,” Yosh said. “Besides, if the movie sucks, we’ll have you to entertain us.”
When I brought up the plan at dinner, Mom said, “Sorry, Hazy, but I need you here. The big holiday bazaar up in Traverse City is this weekend. Rowan’s going to come and help me. I need you to stay here and take care of the herd.”
“What!” Rowan and I cried at the same time. Apparently this was news to him, too.
“But the herd is my job,” said Rowan.
“Hazel can handle it for two days. It’s nothing she hasn’t done before. And Mimi will be here, so she won’t be completely on her own.”
“Why doesn’t Hazel go with you? She loves these things.”
“It’s true,” I said. “I’ll go, no problem.”
Mom ignored me. “You’re going because I want you to go, Rowan. It’s a three-hour drive. We’re going to have a nice long discussion about your future. Taking one year off was fine, but soon you’re going to need to commit to a path, whether that’s going to Stanford or doing something else.”
I could almost hear Rowan biting back a protest—that the reason he’d deferred was to be here for Mimi. Now Mom was dragging him away from her for an entire weekend. Just tell her. Tell her why you can’t go.
“Anyway, what’s the objection?” Mom continued. “I’ve booked two motel rooms. You can watch whatever you want on TV and order one of those garbage pizzas with everything on it.”
Rowan’s face twisted. “I’d just feel better if I could stay—”
“This isn’t up for debate. I’ll expect you to be ready to leave bright and early Saturday.”
Rowan slammed the heel of his hand against the wall so hard Mom’s goddess figurines wobbled in their curio cabinet. He stomped upstairs
. The rest of us stared after him.
“We should’ve given him more warning,” Mimi said. “You know he hates surprises.”
Mom laughed wearily. “Everyone in this family hates surprises. He’ll get over it.”
Later, when I headed up to change into my pajamas, Rowan practically jumped out of his room onto the landing in front of me. “Hazel. You’ve got to help me out here.”
“What do you expect me to do? I offered to go. I want to go. But Mom’s made up her mind.”
“I know. That’s why I need you to watch out for Mimi this weekend.”
My heart sank. All fall, I’d done my best to avoid thinking about the baby. Now, not only would I have to spend an entire weekend confronted with Mimi’s giant belly, Rowan was telling me to pay extra attention to it. “What makes you think she needs watching out for?”
“Besides the fact that she’s thirty-four weeks pregnant and has a history of late-term miscarriage and stillbirth?”
I’d had a feeling he’d say that. “What can I do?”
“Keep an eye on her. Stick to her like glue. Make sure she’s eating and sleeping and stuff. You know how she is when she gets sucked into a big case. And make her call the doctor if there’s the slightest hint of something wrong. This isn’t the time for her to power through.”
Dread gnawed at my stomach. Even though I wanted to refuse all responsibility, I knew Rowan was right. This wasn’t the time to be a baby. My family needed me. “I’ll try.”
“Do better than try. We don’t have room for screw-ups,” Rowan said.
“I won’t screw up,” I promised.
But I felt like I was jinxing myself by saying it. I felt like I was jinxing us all.
Chapter 22
At four a.m. on Saturday, alarm clocks started going off throughout the house: first the faint gentle chimes in my moms’ bedroom downstairs, then Rowan’s clock radio blaring classical music, and finally mine with its no-nonsense beep. I hadn’t slept well. I kept waking up, wondering, Is it time? And it wasn’t, not yet. By the time it was, I was almost as exhausted as when I’d gone to bed—but nervous and excited, too. I had to take care of the goats. I had to take care of Mimi.
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