Every Single Second (2 page)

“The baby,” he said. “The new baby’s coming.”

Nella rubbed her eyes. Baby? Today wasn’t the baby’s day. It was hers. Hers hers hers. She jumped out of bed, hoping her mother would tap her forehead and say,
You’re right! How could I forget? Get dressed, Bella. I’ll fix you a special lunch.

But her mother stood clutching the edge of the kitchen table, her lips drawn back in a way that stopped the words in Nella’s throat.

Then it was all a crazy confused rush, with her father
yelling at her to get dressed, and Salvatore wailing, and a wild ride to Nonni’s, where Salvatore wailed even louder because he was scared of the old lady, and somehow they were pulling up beside the school and Nella, shoes still untied, was getting out of the car. Alone. Both her parents looked stricken. Maybe they would change their minds.

“You’ll be okay, kiddo.” Her father pointed toward the grown-ups standing on the playground. “They’ll help you. And—”

But then her mother gave a cry, and he hit the gas.

That was when Nella remembered her beautiful new lunch box. Still standing on the kitchen counter.

The school was next to the church. On the edge of the asphalt school yard stood a statue of St. Amphibalus. His hand was raised in blessing, but his eyes were blank. No eyeballs. This was kind of creepy, but who else did she have? She huddled close, setting her hand on his foot.

Please let me have a friend.

“Look,” said a voice. Another pink shoe appeared beside hers. The laces were dazzling white and tied in neat double bows. “We’re twins.”

That wasn’t true. Nella had short curly brown hair, and this girl had long yellow braids. Once Nella had sat behind her in church, and it was all she could do not to reach out and stroke those silky braids. Besides, her own shoelaces
were undone and already a little dirty.

“Don’t cry,” said the girl.

“I’m not!”

“Are you in kindergarten too?”

“My shoes aren’t tied and I don’t know how.”

The girl ran away, making Nella start to cry for real, but within moments she was back, dragging a tall boy. The two of them could have stepped out of a fairy tale. She would live in a cottage in the woods, with her father the woodcutter, but he would be a prince, the lonesome kind, looking for true love.

His name was Anthony.

“Tie my friend’s shoe,” the girl commanded, and Prince Anthony bowed.

He had the same pale hair, but thick and curly. Cinderella, that’s who Nella was when he crouched at her feet. He tied her laces in double bows to match his sister’s, then stood up tall and straight.

“You two stick together,” he said.

“Roger that,” his sister said.

A big brother. A brother who looked out for you. (Destined for a lifetime of needy-pest brothers, Nella would always remember that moment.)

The girl, whose name was Angela, had gone to day care. She knew about forming a line, zipping your lips, and
raising your hand. By lunchtime, Nella was doing everything Angela did. They were twins after all.

As they went into the lunchroom, she noticed Angela didn’t have a lunch box either. That was comforting, until the lunch lady handed Angela a tray of food. Nella held out her hands, hoping for one too, but the woman, whose hair was trapped in a spidery web, ignored her.

“You don’t get free?” Angela asked.

“No, I guess.” Tears pushed at the back of Nella’s eyes. Why couldn’t she get free too? She was suddenly so hungry. The room was so loud. The thought of her beautiful lunch box, home on the counter, made her miss her mother so much. Nella slumped forward, her head in her arms.

“Bella.”

Out of nowhere, her father loomed over her. He hadn’t shaved, and his hair stood on end. He looked familiar but strange, nearly a stranger, in this strange place. With a jolt Nella understood:
The world is much bigger than they told me.

“Great news, kiddo. You have another brother.”

Daddy wasn’t big on smiles, but he beamed as if he’d delivered the best news ever.

“What a day, huh?” He ruffled her hair. “He’s got a set of lungs on him. I swear he’s louder than Salvatore.”

Angela sat very still, like a girl trying to memorize
everything she saw and heard.

“Nonni will pick you up. Keep Sal out of trouble. Wow, kiddo. You’ve got two little brothers now. You’re Super Sister, know that?”

He dropped a kiss on top of her head and was gone. Leaving her there, red-eyed and lunchless.

“Your mom had a baby,” said Angela softly. “I wish my mom would have a baby.”

“A stupid brother!” The words burst out fierce and ragged. “I already got one of those. I want a sister!”

Angela blinked. She broke her chocolate chip cookie in half and put it in her mouth. Nella’s own mouth watered.

“Don’t cry,” Angela said.

“I’m not!”

Angela held out the other half of the cookie.

“I don’t got a sister either.” Angela leaned forward till their foreheads touched. “You and me,” she whispered. “We can be secret sisters.”

Nella’s mouth filled with sweetness.

“Okay,” she whispered back.

AN ANNOUNCEMENT

now

T
heir seventh-grade classroom swam with the smells of lilacs and B.O. Sister Rosa had made a May altar in a corner of the room, with a statue of the Virgin Mary and armloads of perfumed blossoms. That sweet scent would make you dizzy, if not polluted by the reek of boys yet to learn the word
deodorant
. It was just after recess, where the boys hurtled around the asphalt playground bouncing off each other—like nuclear fission, her best friend, Clem, said. The girls clustered near the statue of old, eyeball-less St. Amphibalus.

Except for Angela, who stayed in to help Sister Rosa.

The way Angela sat on her hands now, Nella knew she was trying not to bite her nails. Her blond braids streamed down her back. Once upon a time Nella was jealous of those braids, but now they annoyed her, like so much else about Angela. She had beautiful hair—why didn’t she leave it loose, or at least go for a ponytail? You’d think those perfect braids held her together. You’d think if she undid them, she’d come unglued.

Nella wanted to tell Angela about the braids but was afraid it would sound mean. Even though Nella no longer wanted anything to do with Angela, she didn’t want to be mean.

Nella stretched her legs, her mile-long, ostrichlike legs that refused to stay under her desk. They had that kinked-up feeling—what if she was growing again? She was already a freak of nature, towering over everyone in the class, including Sister. Across the room, Clem’s spiky head bent over a graphic novel. Casually, nonchalantly, Nella let her glance wander to the Knee of Sam. Which was, as usual, jiggling like crazy. This afternoon that restless knee had a streak of dried dirt shaped precisely like a fish. Nella smiled. Her face grew warmer yet. Raising her eyes, she discovered Sam looking back at her.
Knee stalker.
He grinned.

“My children!” Sister’s voice was honey and cream, the voice of a young woman, though who knew how many
centuries old she was. She didn’t really teach anymore, just filled in here and there around the school. She’d been Nella and Angela’s first-grade teacher, and prehistoric even then. Nella loved her so much. Over the years, she’d Band-Aided Nella’s scraped knees and dabbed her cheeks with a snow-white hankie when she failed yet another math test. Sister had taught them all to read and to recite their prayers.

Who made you?
Sister asked.

God made me,
they chorused back.

At St. Amphibalus, every question had its answer. This drove Clem insane. But she wasn’t Catholic. She wasn’t anything, which was so hard to imagine. Clem claimed the word
faith
was just an alibi.
Give me proof,
she said.
I’ll give you a knuckle sandwich,
Nella told her.

The classroom door swung open. Sister Mary Anne, the principal, strode in.

Abrupt and thunderous silence.

Sister Mary Anne was a modern nun, with steel-gray hair and a no-iron blouse. She spoke in a low voice to Sister Rosa, who produced another snow-white handkerchief from her endless supply and pressed it to her lips. Her sweet face crumpled. Was she crying? What was going on? The principal straightened her already painfully straight shoulders.

“Boys and girls,” she said, “I have an announcement. One I prayed I would never have to make.”

She folded her hands as if she might start praying some more. Everyone was staring. “As I’m sure your parents have told you, the diocese has been in financial difficulty for some time. Months ago, Bishop Keller ordered a school-use study to determine which buildings were most effective. That study is now complete. This morning, we received word from His Excellency’s office that . . .”

Her lips pursed. Sister Rosa twisted her hankie.

“. . . word that St. Amphibalus School will close at the end of this school year.”

A lilac petal drifted down and settled on the floor. Nella was sure she heard it touch.

“It’s not the decision we hoped for.” The principal’s voice trembled. “Our school has been the cornerstone of this neighborhood for generations. We hoped to educate your children and your children’s children. But such is not to be.”

The spell broke. The class erupted. Someone burst out crying. Sister Mary Anne held up a silencing hand, and when she spoke again, all wobble was banished from her voice.

“Here is what will happen. Next year you’ll attend other schools. But you’ll always remember where you’re from. You’ll always be St. Amphibalus kids! I trust you to carry our traditions of scholarship and faith out into the
world and to be shining credits to our beloved school.”

Sister Rosa dropped her face into her hands. More girls started crying. Sam pounded his knee with his fist, obliterating the mud-fish. Clem tapped her pointy nose, looking thoughtful rather than upset. But when Nella looked at Angela, she saw a mirror of her own disbelief.

The principal raised her arms, palms up. The signal to stand.

“Boys and girls, this is a very difficult time for us all. We need to remember the verse from Proverbs: ‘Trust in the Lord with all your heart, and lean not on your own understanding.’ Now let us pray.”

Nella barely survived the afternoon. How could this happen? The school always was and always would be. She could pinpoint the exact lunchroom table where she sat the day Dad came to tell her Kevin was born, and the very desk where she suddenly, magically, knew how to read. The corner of the playground where she, but not Angela, joined the Disaster Dolls Club. The spot beside St. A’s statue where she stood, mesmerized, the first time she saw Clem.

Clem. Nella had to talk to her. But when at last the day ended, Clem’s father, Dr. Patchett, waited in his car across the street.

“Zoinks!” said Clem. “I have sax.”

“Say you’re sick! You are sick, aren’t you?” Nella grabbed
her friend’s pointy elbow. (Clem was the definition of
pointy
.) “I can’t believe it! I love this school!”

“You do?” Clem looked surprised. “All you ever do is complain about the hideous uniforms and the meaningless—”

“Still! It’s my school. How can they just decide to close it? And force me to go to some strange, alien place where I won’t know anyone?”

Clem’s surprise morphed into mild amusement. “You’re forgetting that’s what I did, like just last year.”

“Oh. I guess so.” It was true—changing schools was nothing new for Clem. Dr. Patchett tapped the car horn.

“The mother ship awaits.” Clem started toward the car. “Call you after sax!”

“Did she say call you after sex?”

Nella wheeled around to find Sam right behind her. She bent her knees in a futile attempt not to tower over him. She could feel the idiotic blush spreading across her cheeks.

“So good-bye, old St. Amphibian.” He pulled off his tie. “Where you going next year?”

“How am I supposed to know? We just found out!”

“My parents said this would happen. Enrollment’s way down, and it costs too much to maintain a school as old as this.”

Nella bit her lip. She hadn’t even known about the bishop’s study. Her parents never said a word. That was so typical! Her mother was the world’s most impractical person and her father . . . well, Nella and he didn’t do a lot of communicating anymore.

“I’m going to give Garfield a try.” Sam rocked back on his heels. “Considering how far away St. Moloc’s is, plus tuition’s higher.”

“Garfield?”

Nella was shocked. That school had the world’s scariest reputation. It was at the bottom of the hill, in that neighborhood. Everyone said the place had metal detectors but they didn’t work, and all the kids carried weapons. The bathrooms had no doors. Detention was in a rat-infested basement.

Garfield kids were mostly black.

Nella didn’t know a single black person.

There were maybe three in all of St. Amphibalus. Not counting Mrs. Turner, who cleaned at night.

Not that this had anything to do with anything.

Her bent knees gave a painful creak.

“We’ve got to bust out of this cocoon sooner or later. Why not sooner?” Sam’s voice was confident, but worry flickered in his eyes. His nut-brown eyes, with their fringe of impossibly thick lashes. What he said next made her
heart skip. “You should go too. We could stick together.”

Before Nella recovered her voice, an eel slithered in between them. No, wait. It was Victoria. Her mascara was running. (No makeup allowed at St. Amphibalus, but Victoria got away with things.)

“Oh my God!” She laid her head on Sam’s shoulder. Two inches shorter, she was the perfect fit for him. “We’re getting split up! Oh. My. God.”

Kimmy and the rest of Victoria’s flock huddled around crying. Mob psychology—Nella had heard of it. Sam shoulder-hugged Victoria. He’d be sorry later when he found the mascara smears on his shirt.

“You should go to Garfield,” Sam told Victoria. “We should all stick together.”

Nella straightened her knees and charged across the school yard. Her little brother Kevin chased her, but she shook him off. On the edge of the yard, in the shadow of the statue of St. Amphibalus, stood Angela.