#5 Not What I Expected (5 page)

But I knew Brynn wasn't actually confiding in her. She wasn't trusting Sophie—she was sending her a message that Billy belongs to her. I looked at Sophie, but it was hard to tell what she was thinking.

I had to step in. “All this boy talk is getting boring.” I grabbed Sophie and Brynn by the arms and led them over to the trampoline.

We all got on and started bouncing around. As Brynn and I demonstrated the flips we'd perfected during years of jumping, Brynn dropped the subject. I'm still not sure Sophie was aware of what Brynn was doing. Even though she's super cool in lots of ways, sometimes she seems kind of clueless when it comes to other people.

I hope she didn't know what Brynn was doing. But I knew.

And I didn't like it.

I am the poet of the Body and I am the poet of the Soul.

—Walt Whitman, “Song of Myself”

Saturday, September 27, 1:15 p.m.

Busy week, no time to write

We had our first dance competition this morning, and our team did really well! Everyone was laughing and talking on the bus ride home. Brynn sat next to me, and we chatted the whole way about the other teams and how they performed. We were just a few minutes from school when I got a text from Sophie asking me if I wanted to hang out this afternoon.

Brynn looked over my shoulder at my phone and read the text. “I was going to ask you if you wanted to do something,” she said.

I couldn't believe she'd read my text, and it made me kind of mad because we'd been on the bus for almost an hour and she hadn't said a word about doing anything until she read the text from Sophie. I felt like she was trying to make me choose between her and Sophie, and I wasn't going to do that.

I couldn't hang out with either of them anyway. Mom had already asked me if I'd come downtown when I got home and help her paint the store. When she'd asked me, I'd grumbled something about child labor laws and how they were enacted for a reason. I'd already babysat three nights during the week while mom sewed. But I knew Mom needed my help, so I begrudgingly agreed to do it.

I'm glad I did. I'd much rather paint than deal with this drama.

7:52 p.m.

While painting a store wouldn't be on my top ten list of fun things to do on a Saturday afternoon, I actually enjoyed it today.

Mom and I painted the walls white and one wall robin's egg blue. “It's very tranquil,” said Mom. “I'm thinking about making it my signature color.” She showed me samples of the other shades of blue she'd considered, and we both agreed this one was the nicest. Then she showed me where her antique sewing table was going to go and the cabinet she'd custom ordered to hold all of her fabrics. It was nice bonding time with Mom. But that wasn't what made the day so good.

When Mom and I had been painting for hours and we were both hungry, I went to the deli next door to get us some sandwiches. I had on overalls with a tank top and my hair was piled on top of my head in a messy ponytail. It was still dirty from sweating at the dance competition this morning. I wasn't thinking about what I looked like, but I wish I had been.

“What can I get you?” the guy behind the counter asked when I walked in.

I looked at him. He was skinny and tall, and he had big blue eyes and he was wearing glasses that made him look like a teacher. I read his nametag: Leo. It suited him.

I looked up at the handwritten menu behind the counter. There were way too many choices to make this easy. Leo must have been a mind reader. “First time?” he asked.

I nodded. “My mom is opening the store next door.”

“Welcome to the neighborhood.” He gestured to the menu behind him. “This can be overwhelming, but don't worry. It's my job to make sure you get the perfect sandwich. You can go the ham and cheese route, which I believe is greatly enhanced with honey mustard. Or you can try my favorite, which is turkey, avocado, and organic sprouts with cranberry mayo. And if neither of those appeal, knock yourself out choosing from the thirty-three options on the board behind me, or you can make something up. Dealer's choice.”

I laughed. He was cute, in a funny sort of way.

“You take your sandwiches very seriously,” I said.

“That I do.” I looked down at the gloved hand Leo had extended in my direction. “Oops!” he said, recognizing what he'd done. He peeled off the glove and started over. “Leo,” he said less formally.

“April,” I said as I shook his hand. I was surprised at how warm and smooth it was, for a guy.

He read my mind again. “I have very soft hands,” he said. “I always have. Or at least that's what my mother tells me.” The thought of his mother telling him that made me laugh. Leo smiled. “You didn't come here for a comedy show,” he said winking at me. “What will it be?”

“I'll have the turkey and avocado with sprouts and ham and cheese for my mom.”

“Excellent choices, April. Might I suggest that you have both on the multigrain bread. I believe the subtle nuttiness of the crust enhances the flavor of any sandwich.” It was a weird thing to say, but it sounded cute when he said it.

“Sure,” I said. I bit my lip to keep from smiling. Leo looked at me and our eyes met. It was kind of embarrassing, like we both knew it had happened but there was nothing we could do about it, so we both looked away.

Leo started making the sandwiches, and I pretended to read through the choices on the menu board behind him. When he finished, he wrapped the sandwiches in butcher paper and put them in a take-out bag. “Drink and chips to go with this?” he asked.

I nodded and asked a question of my own. “What's the name of the sandwich you made for me? I don't see it anywhere on the menu board.”

Leo smiled. “It's the Leo Special. I only make it for special customers.”

“Am I a special customer?” I couldn't believe I'd been so flirtatious.

But Leo didn't seem to mind. “Quite possibly,” he said.

I have to admit I liked his answer almost as much as his sandwich.

When in doubt, tell the truth.

—Mark Twain

Wednesday, October 1, 10:00 p.m.

Working on To Kill a Mockingbird paper

Sort of

Is it normal to be fourteen and loathe (vocab word: check!) your life?

I don't loathe my whole life, just the part of it I spend at home. If someone were to psychoanalyze me, I'm sure they'd blame me. They'd say I'm a teenager with a bad attitude. But I don't think I'm at fault here. I'm not the one who created the loathsome conditions that exist.

The problem is that Mom's store is opening in three weeks, and it's affecting my life in many unpleasant ways.

For starters, Mom literally spends all of her time sewing, which means I'm spending all of my time babysitting when I'm not at school or dance. I think I've been a pretty good sport about it, even when I've had to do things I don't think should be my responsibility. I'm pretty sure it's the parents' job to help their young children study for a spelling test or wash a dirty soccer uniform when there are games two days in a row, right?

I can handle the babysitting and even the laundry, but what I can't handle is the arguing. And there has been lots of it lately. Not in plain view for all to see, but behind closed doors for me to hear. I know Mom and Dad are arguing in the privacy of their own room, and I shouldn't be listening in. But in my opinion, it's like playing music at full volume. Other people can't help but hear it and complain that the sound is up too high (or not say a word and just be pissed off about it). And the worst part is that they always fight about the same thing—money.

It costs a lot of money to open a store. I know this for a fact because Dad talks about it constantly. I also know that some costs are fixed and some are flexible. Writing that makes me sound like some kind of finance geek, but I'm not. I've just been spending the last several nights listening to my parents argue over which flexible costs—like having real models to model the clothes at the opening versus people we know—are necessary.

Listening to them fight about stupid stuff (and I classify this as stupid because Dad should know that no one we personally know in Faraway could even remotely fall into the model category) stresses me out.

But last night, Mom and Dad had their biggest fight ever, and it seriously upset me. It started small. They were disagreeing about the model thing, then one thing led to another. “Flora, you're being incredibly selfish and putting stress on everyone in this family,” said Dad.

Mom sighed loudly enough for me to hear it through the door. “It's really disappointing how limiting your outlook on life can be,” she said to Dad.

Their room got quiet after that. I held my breath and waited. Whenever they fight, they do this little thing where they say
“I love you, but I don't like you right now.”
I waited outside their door for a long time, but they never said it.

So this morning, I asked Dad if he could drive me to school and on the way, I asked him if he and Mom are having problems. I thought for sure he'd say they weren't, but what he said was, “April, I prefer honesty, and yes, your mother and I are going through a difficult period.”

Listening to him say that (and thinking about it all day) was highly unpleasant.

There. I think I very accurately depicted the unpleasantness at hand. It's a shame I can't turn in what I just wrote for my English paper.

Friday, October 3, 6:17 p.m.

Home from dance

Today at dance practice, we worked on the dances we're doing for the Homecoming assembly next Friday and for the half-time presentation during the game that night. The steps in both dances are really fast and working on them today took all my energy. When we finished practice, I was so tired. All I wanted to do was go home and crash on the couch.

“Wait up,” said Brynn as I was leaving the gym. “I'll walk with you.”

I could tell by the way Brynn rushed to catch up with me that there was something she wanted to talk to me about. She didn't waste any time telling me what was on her mind. “Do you think it's weird how Sophie and Billy are spending so much time together on SGA?”

I really didn't want to get into it with her.

I took a deep breath. “Next week is Spirit Week and Homecoming. Everyone on SGA has been working on it.” Brynn knows Homecoming is one of the most important events of the school year.

“I know what week it is,” said Brynn, like my explanation had been insulting and unhelpful. “I get that everyone on SGA is working on it. It's just that Sophie and Billy seem to be working very closely together.” She eyed me as she talked. “Did you know they're doing a skit together to kick off Spirit Week?”

I actually didn't know that, and I was glad I could tell Brynn I didn't. It made it seem like less of a big deal.

Then I reminded Brynn that just this week, Ms. Baumann had explained that each grade would be doing group dances in the show in November. “Kids who are on SGA doing stuff together is the same thing as girls on the dance team doing dances together.” I thought that was a pretty good analogy. But apparently Brynn didn't.

“Obviously,” she said. Then she looked at me like she was disappointed in what I guess she perceived as my lack of depth. “Sometimes you just don't get it. Sorry if that hurts your feelings, but it's the truth.” She raised a brow at me like it was my turn to apologize.

But I didn't. This wasn't about me not getting it.

It was about her being ridiculously jealous.

Saturday, October 4, 8:45 p.m.

My un-date

I had my first un-date today.

When I woke up, I had no idea that's how I'd be spending my afternoon. This morning Mom and Dad both left early, so I made breakfast for May and June. (That sounds like I made something fancy like crepes, but all I did was pour milk and cereal into bowls and slice bananas on top of it.) We ate our cereal on the couch and watched
The Sound of Music
.

It was a fun way to spend the morning.
The Sound of Music
is one of my favorite movies. I think what I like about it is that every time I watch it, I find something new that sticks out to me. This morning, I actually didn't know what that thing was, but I figured it out this afternoon. What stuck out today was the scene when the nuns tell Maria that when God closes a door, he opens a window. I needed a window to open.

I've been so stressed lately with everything going on at home. Mom opening the store has definitely made Dad feel a lot more pressure. I feel it too. Even though it has put a strain on things in lots of ways lately, today something good came out of it.

After lunch, Dad came home from the diner to take June to a birthday party. May ended up riding with them, so I walked downtown to Mom's store to help her get ready for the opening.

She was hanging black and white photos she'd taken of the clothes she designed. “These look great,” I told Mom as I helped her hang them. The photos were very artsy, and I could see how ladies would like her clothes. I have to admit her store was shaping up in a cool way.

When we were done hanging photos, Mom told me I could go. “I need to do some paperwork and there's not much left here that you can help me with today.” She hugged me. “Thanks so much for your help, honey.”

It was midafternoon, and I was feeling good that I'd been helpful to Mom. As I left her store, I was trying to decide what I was going to do for the rest of the day, when I saw Leo. He was leaving the deli.

“April!” He sounded happy to see me.

I stopped and waited for him to catch up to me.

“What's a girl like you doing in a place like this?” he said gesturing to the mostly empty streets of downtown Faraway.

I laughed. It sounded like a line from an old movie. “I was helping my mom.”

“Do I detect the use of the past tense?” asked Leo.