If a Tree Falls at Lunch Period (11 page)

"I had a slip, okay? Let's not blow this out of proportion. Nobody got lung cancer from one cigarette. Here." She hands Walk the pack. "You can throw them away."

When they get to a gas station, Walk finds a trash can, punches the package past a mess of Styrofoam cups all the way to the bottom.

Back in the 350, Walk slams the door again.

"Why?" he asks.

She pops in Charlie Parker, pops it out. Slides in Fats Waller, takes him out. "I made a mistake. Can we leave it at that?"

"No."

She groans. "Shall we get a pizza on the way home?"

"Yes."

"So what did you do at Kirsten's?"

"Homework."

"Anything else?"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing. I was just wondering what you were doing..."

"I just told you: homework."

"Yeah, you did. Whatever happened with the wallet?"

"Kirsten didn't take it. Some girl named Brianna set her up."

Sylvia takes a deep breath. "So you and Kirsten are ... friends now?"

"Is that what you're upset about? You think she's my girlfriend?"

"No." She sighs, her hand fixes her hair, touches the cigarette lighter. "I had an awful day at work, Walk. This doesn't have anything to do with you."

"You sure?"

"Yes," she says softly, "I'm sure."

When I get up the next morning, my mom is
▼ V
still asleep, but my father's side of the bed looks untouched, like he slept on the couch. Downstairs, Kippy is busy reading
Tree Doctor: A Complete Guide to Tree Care and Maintenance.

"Did you see the new tree Dad bought?" Kip asks.

"Is he here?"

"Yeah. Look, he got me this book. He said I can be in charge of watering, pruning, fertilizer..." Kip follows me to our dad's office, still holding the book.

My father looks up from his laptop. "Well, if it isn't my two brilliant daughters." He puts his arms out to us.

"One brilliant daughter, Dad," I mutter.

"Tell her about the tree! Tell her," Kip says.

"I bought a tree for out front. A new tree. A new beginning. Won't that be nice? Everything is going to be fine here. Yes it is," my father says.

"Yay!" Kippy yells at the top of her lungs.

I wish I could believe him the way she does, but at least he's trying. I even think about showing him my extra credit. Well, for a nanosecond, anyway. I did a good job on that extra credit. That was more work than I usually do all year. But when I showed it to Walk, he was like: "Yeah, fine, turn it in."
Yeah, fine, turn it in.
Excuse me? That was all weekend working my butt off.

I'd better get full points, that's all I can say, because that work is great. More than great. Stupendous, in fact. Now I need a spa day.

When I get to class and see Balderis writing extra credit on the board, I say to myself,
Not me.
Not this week. Besides, Walk isn't even here.

Matteo smiles at me. I look around to see if he's smiling at someone else. He isn't.

"Hey," he whispers. "You want to work together this week? Walk's got some big student council thing."

"Sure." I raise my hand, looking over at Rory. See this, Rory? I've got friends. I don't need you.

But Rory and Brianna have their hands up, too. It's amazing what they'll do to stay in that talent show. Rory is wearing makeup and she's got new clothes. They're tighter, with a lot more skin showing—the kind of clothes fat girls can't wear. When she sits down, you can see her butt crack. She's even given up the backpack she used to carry. It had a tiny unicorn stitched on the front. She never could decide what to name the unicorn. Every day it was something different. Now she has a blue backpack. It could be anybody's.

"All right, I'll let you pick your own partners this week," Balderis says. "One hundred possible points, same as before." Balderis raises a stack of pages in the air.

"Brianna," Balderis calls.

"Can I work with Matteo?" Brianna asks.

Why would Brianna pick him? Must be she needs an A and she knows Matteo will get her one.

"Brianna and Matteo." Balderis writes them down.

Matteo's face caves. He says nothing, but I can hear him dying two seats away.

"Sophia," Balderis calls.

"Tessa," Sophia says.

"Rory," Balderis says.

"Kirsten," Rory says.

Rory picked me?

Brianna picked Matteo. That is the only reason Rory picked me,
I remind myself, but I can't help smiling at her as she slides into the seat next to mine.

"Um, when do you want to meet to work on this?" I ask.

"You could come to my house and then have dinner over." Her eyes are big and innocent like she's my stuffed puppy.

I think about all the sleepovers we did. The day we wrapped each other in toilet paper and pretended to be mummies. The time we went to the beach and a dog stole Rory's shoe and buried it under a dead fish. The Halloween we decided to dress as salt and pepper shakers and fought over who got to be salt and who got to be pepper.

"It's better to work in the library," I say. "They have all the newspapers and stuff."

"The library?" she asks as if I've just suggested we do our homework on the freeway divider.

I shrug.

"We can still be friends, you know, even if I'm friends with them," Rory says.

Oh great, she'll be friends with me when they aren't around. I'm the spare.

But I can't deny the warmth coming from her.

"You've, like, forgiven me, haven't you?" she asks.

"Sure," I say, trying to sound as if I haven't given it much thought one way or the other.

"I was just wondering because ... Where have you been sitting at lunch? I thought I saw you with the"—her voice drops to a whisper—"poor kids."

"The poor kids?" I ask.

"Yeah,
you know.
"

I shake my head.

"Okay, well, whatever. I just miss you. That's all I'm trying to say."

"Are you and Madison doing a lot of sleepovers and stuff?" I can't keep myself from asking this.

"Some. She has, you know,
other friends,
too."

Is this code for Madison is dumping her? Poor Rory. She's really nice. Well, she used to be nice, anyway. Who knows who she is now.

"What do you mean?" I ask.

"Nothing, I'm just saying. We had fun, didn't we?" She kicks at her new could-be-anyone's backpack. "Hey, how are your parents, you know, getting along?"

I look at the backpack, the new pants, the new makeup. This is not the same Rory.

"Fine," I say as the bell rings and I zip up my binder. "Never better."

Walker Jones
October 5

"
All human beings should strive to learn before they die what they are running from, and to, and why."—James Thurber

What's this Thurber guy's problem? Who does he think he is? I'm not running from anything or anyone, and nobody I know is running from or to or around in circles, either. I've got better things to do, okay?

Sorry, Ms. Scrushy. I'm doing my best here, but this guy is dead wrong about this.

The elbow is back.

"What do you want?" Walk asks.

Brianna cocks her head. "Oh, is this bothering you?"

"What do you think?"

"Do you have Dolman?"

"No."

"Lucky you. Matteo does though, right?"

"Uh-huh."

"Matteo is like a math genius, isn't he?" Walk shrugs. "More or less."

"
Yes!
" She pumps her fist in the air. "That's what I thought."

The way she says this bugs Walk. He puts his elbow on
her
desk now.

"What's the deal with you and Matteo?" Walk stares her down.

"The deal?"

"You pick on him. You act like you own the air he breathes."

"What are you talking about? I just said he was a math genius. And besides, I don't pick on anyone. I am very kind to everyone. He's the one acts all weird about it."

"About what?"

She raises her eyebrows. "He never told you?"

"Told me
what?
"

She scoffs. "I thought you were friends."

"Told me what?" Walk demands.

"Hello? About his mom!"

"What about his mom?"

"She's our maid. She, like, cleans my house. Scrub-a-dub-dub," Brianna sings.

"Liar."

She snorts. "Oh yeah? You ask him."

But Walk doesn't have to ask him. He can tell by her stupid smug face it's true.

So that's what's going on.

At lunch I head for the library table where Matteo and Walk usually sit. Matteo's backpack hangs on his chair, but it's Brianna's voice I hear. Brianna in the library? Now that's unusual.

"Brianna!" Matteo calls. "Come on."

Brianna snorts, then suddenly appears from behind the stacks. She glares at me. "What are you looking at?" she asks as she sails out the door.

Matteo sits down. His face looks like a crumpled paper bag.

"What was that all about?"

He shoves his highlighter pack into his backpack, and gets up.

"Hey, wait up," I call, hurrying after him, but just as I get to the door of the library, Dorarian appears, blocking my way.

"Everything okay?" Dorarian squints, pressing her glasses up her nose.

"Yeah, sure, uh-huh." I push past her just as Matteo ducks into the school office.

I hurry after him. He's headed for the outside door.

"Excuse me." The office secretary comes up behind him. She is wearing purple pants, purple sweater, purple shirt, and purple jewelry—all of it large.

"Oh hi," I call to her, waving my Kippy-ish wave, up around my ear.

"You two are not allowed back here," she barks.

"I'm sorry. I'm starving," I whisper. "My mom has me on Atkins. I swear to god I could eat a house. Matteo was just keeping me company."

"Oh." She looks at me, then Matteo. Her big face softens. "I tried Atkins. I would have killed for a banana. And then you're supposed to eat fried pork rinds? It's disgusting.

"Next time, ask first," she tells me, taking the cover off her purple candy dish.

"Thank you! I really appreciate this," I tell her.

Back out in the hall, Matteo smiles at me.

"Now will you tell me what's going on?" I ask.

Walk's head pops up from the water fountain. He wipes his mouth. "Yeah, what
is
going on?"

"Brianna wants to copy my Dolman take-home," Matteo tells us.

"You're kidding," I say.

"You get caught, you'll lose your scholarship," Walk says.

"You think I don't know that?" Matteo whispers.

Walk nods his head. "You're not gonna do it, right?"

"Why would he do it?" I say. "It's crazy."

Matteo's nostrils flare.

I look at Walk then Matteo. "What? What am I missing?"

"His mom works for Brianna's mom," Walk explains.

Matteo gives Walk a sharp look. "How'd you know?" he mutters.

"I know everything," Walk says. "What happens if you say no?"

"Brianna makes trouble for my mom," Matteo tells the floor.

"What kind of trouble?" I ask.

"Accuses her of things. Breaking glasses, plates, platters, stealing ... She comes home and cries and cries."

My mouth drops open. I shut it again. Matteo's mom is the
cleaning lady?
I think about Bonita, our cleaning lady. I hope they don't know we have a cleaning lady. All cleaning ladies don't know one another, right? Of course they don't.

"This time she said she'd say my mom stole." Matteo's voice is so low it's hard to hear him.

"If you don't give her the test?" I ask.

He nods.

"Whoa." Walk sucks his breath in.

"She can't do that," I say.

"Sure she can," Matteo says.

"We can't let her," I say.

Matteo won't look at me.

"But it's not right," I whisper. "It's just not."

Hey, man, you can't keep doing whatever she wants," Walk tells Matteo when they're changing into their gym clothes.