Just Kidding (7 page)

Her father gave her a bunch of posters to take to school. “And tell you what,” he added. “Give me a day and I'll put together some film clips for you, showing some great scenes from that era. I'll bet when the committee sees it, they'll flip out.”

“I know they will!” Maeve cried. “Oh, Dad, thank you! I knew you'd have some great ideas for me!”

She had to leave then, so her father could finish his work for the evening, but Maeve was more passionate now than she had been when she first brainstormed her great idea. She could absolutely see the dance in her mind—everyone in fantastic clothes doing those great spins and lifts Michael and Sarah had demonstrated for them today,
twirling across the decorated gym. Maybe she could even talk Riley into dressing his band in zoot suits, so they could match the theme.

It's going to be positively perfect
, Maeve promised herself.
The very best dance Abigail Adams has ever seen!

G
etting dinner ready with her sister Kelley was not on top of Katani's list of favorite things to do. Katani adored Kelley, but Kelley's autism often put a strain on things. Katani was methodical by nature, and it was frustrating to have all of Kelley's disruptions. They had to do everything in very small steps, so Kelley could help without getting confused or upset. Even having their grandmother, the school principal, in the kitchen with them didn't make things run as smoothly as Katani would have wanted.

I shouldn't be like this
, Katani told herself.
Kelley's such a sweet sister and I wouldn't want her to realize that she makes me crazy sometimes. But I just can't help it.
Suddenly, she remembered what her mother had told her a long time ago. She had ruffled Katani's hair and said, “Honey, I know it's not easy to have a sister like Kelley. It requires so much patience. But Kelley can't help herself, and when you grow up you will thank Kelley.” When Katani had asked
why, her mother answered, “Because by dealing with Kelley, you will have learned how to be tolerant when people make mistakes. And you will be a better person for that.” Katani took a few deep breaths and felt a bit better, but it was hard. Kelley was really over the top today.

Somebody at school had told Kelley about Spirit Week that afternoon, and ever since, Kelley had been talking about it a mile a minute and asking a million questions. Katani tried to answer when she could, but she didn't know answers to all of the questions. When Kelley didn't get an answer that she was satisfied with, she made up something funny and laughed at her own jokes.

Mrs. Fields checked the oven, where they'd finally—after several false starts and unfortunate spills—popped in a shepherd's pie in a crust with chopped meat, mashed potatoes, and spices. “It smells delicious,” she told her granddaughters. “Now we'll let it bake for about an hour, and we'll make a salad.”

“Carrots are health food,” Kelley sang out loudly. “Carrots make you healthy. Health comes from carrots. Carrots are healthy. Carrots are good for you….”

Katani tried to smile, but she knew that once Kelley got a song into her head, she'd sing it again and again, until it was unbearable. And then Katani would find herself singing the same song in the shower the next morning, unable to shake the tune from her memory. Mrs. Fields put a gentle hand on Kelley's head to stop her singing and swiftly changed the subject. “What committee are you interested in working on for Spirit Week?”

“I've got my own committee!” Kelley interrupted.
“Mr. Bear and I are going to be on the same committee.” Mr. Bear was her favorite stuffed animal. She often carried him around to “hear” what everyone else was doing. Whenever Kelley misplaced Mr. Bear, which happened on occasion, she would be inconsolable until the loved and tattered bear was found.

“What committee are you going to join, Kelley?” Mrs. Fields asked.

“The marching band committee!” Kelley announced. “Mr. Bear and I are going to be on the marching band committee. Miguel's marching band is rad, totally rad.” She went on repeating, “Rad, totally rad” again and again.

Kelley was always talking about her friends at school. Katani was so glad that there was a good program at Abigail Adams for kids who needed some extra help.

“I don't think they have a marching band committee, Kelley,” said her grandmother. “I'm sorry, sweetheart.”

“They do!” Kelley insisted. “I saw them today. Mr. Lewis was the head of it, and he was marching up and down, just like I will. I'm going to practice right now.” And soon she was marching up and down the hallway outside the kitchen, her arms stiff, her legs pumping rhythmically.

“Don't you want to practice with Mr. Bear?” Katani suggested gently.

“Oh, yes! Yes! I do, do, do! Thanks, Katani.” Kelley ran off to her room to get Mr. Bear and march with him up and down the hallway, stiffly, like she imagined a soldier would. “Forward, march!” Kelley repeated over and over as she continued the march.

“Maybe you can organize an animal parade.” Mrs. Fields smiled, watching Kelley.

“When we march,” Kelley said breathlessly, “we have spirit too, just like everyone else!”

Katani cheered up as she watched her sister march. “Grandma, who's Kelley's friend Miguel?” she asked.

“Oh, he's a very nice boy,” Mrs. Fields answered. “I'm sure you'll meet him one of these days.”

 

Isabel tiptoed out of her mother's room and closed the door softly behind her. She didn't like to wake her mom when she was resting comfortably. Having multiple sclerosis had sapped her mother's energy badly these last few months. Her new doctors in the city were helping to keep her MS in control, but Mrs. Martinez still spent a lot of her time resting. Isabel had so wanted to tell her mom all about Spirit Week and the curious conversation she had with Kevin today, but it would have to wait. Isabel left a cartoon of a little bird on the nightstand next to her mother's bed. Her mother loved her birds. She said it made her feel “cheery inside,” so Isabel was always creating new cartoons, paintings, and sketches to cheer her up. At least when her mom woke up, she'd know Isabel had been thinking of her.

Without having her mother to talk to, Isabel felt restless. Following the scrumptious smells that were wafting out, she wandered into the kitchen. Her older sister, Elena Maria, was making her famous burritos for dinner. They were Isabel's favorites. Elena Maria did a lot of the cooking for the family, since their Aunt Lourdes worked as a nurse and their mother was often too weak to do many
household chores. Besides, Elena loved to cook, and she was always trying out new recipes. She and Isabel had talked about opening their own restaurant someday, a family-style place with the best food, and beautiful artwork hanging everywhere. Elena said there weren't very many good Mexican restaurants in Boston, so she was pretty sure Casa Elena's El Pompeo would be a hit.

“Mmm, smells so good,” Isabel complimented Elena's cooking as she took a small bottle of apple juice from the refrigerator. She was already hungry, but she wasn't about to spoil her appetite. Elena's burritos were worth waiting for! “Are we eating early tonight, Elena? I can't wait much longer!” Isabel wanted to chomp into the best burrito this side of Tennessee immediately.

“In a few minutes.” Elena rolled up another flour tortilla filled with meat, beans and cheese and slid it onto a tray in the oven. “I'm not sure yet, but I think I may be going out later with Jimmy…to study…at the library.”

Isabel rolled her eyes. “Most girls would
know
whether or not they were going out,” she told her sister. Isabel wasn't crazy about Elena's high school boyfriend. She thought her sister should be treated much better than she was. Jimmy always made plans with Elena and then broke them at the last minute, and Elena pretended not to be upset. Isabel thought that high school relationships seemed way too complicated.

“Stop it, Isabel.” Elena had heard this before. “Jimmy's so busy. He's a real serious athlete. And you know when he starts thinking about football, he gets distracted and can't handle anything else.”

Isabel couldn't stop herself from making another comment. She hated seeing her sister treated disrespectfully by her own boyfriend, and she really wanted to get through to her. “You mean the things everyone should remember, like showing up on time and calling you just to talk and letting you know that he cares about you? Things like that?”

“I said stop it!” Elena didn't like hearing criticism, especially of her boyfriend. “He's cute and funny and maybe he thinks a little too much about football. That's it. But he's my boyfriend, so it'd be nice if you could at least
try
to like him.”

Isabel took a sip of her juice. She didn't want Elena to feel bad, so she tried to speak more gently. “Sorry, Elena. I just want you to be happy.” She tried a different approach. “He thinks so much about football, but you couldn't care less about sports. Is that really a great match, Elena? Do you have anything in common with him?”

“You're too young to understand,” Elena said dismissively. “Here.” Elena took the lid off the pot of soup she was stirring and pulled a big spoon out of the drawer. “Taste this and tell me what you think.”

Isabel knew Elena was trying to change the subject, but she wanted a taste of the soup. As she slurped, Isabel thought that since Elena loved cooking so much, she should hang out with Avery's older brother, Scott. Avery and Isabel had schemed about getting them together, but because of Jimmy, they hadn't done anything about it.
One of these days
, Isabel told herself as she tasted the tortilla soup. “Perfect,” she decided. “I can't wait for dinner.” She gave her sister a little smile to smooth things over.

“Mom awake?” Elena Maria asked.

“No. And I really wanted to talk to her today.”

“Why's that?”

Elena was a good listener, too, and Isabel found herself telling her sister about Spirit Week, but also about Kevin and Amanda and how she'd unintentionally gotten involved in their dramatic breakup.

Elena stopped stirring the soup and turned around to face her younger sister. “Oh, Isabel…sorry to have to tell you this, but that story will be all over school by tomorrow,” she said matter of factly.

“I didn't tell anyone,” Isabel said defensively.

“No, but those girls, Anna and Joline, obviously love to spread rumors.” Elena put the lid back on the soup pot and asked, “Did I ever tell you about Karen Marsh, this girl in my class?”

Isabel shook her head. Elena rolled up two more burritos and set them on another tray that was almost ready to go into the oven before she started the story. Elena told Isabel that Karen had been this nice cheerleader, and she'd volunteered to help one of the football players with his homework. He'd been sick and needed updates on his assignments, and Karen was nice enough to give them to him and get him the right books so he could keep up with his class.

Someone at the school spread the rumor that Karen was only doing it to break up the football player and his girlfriend at the time. Even though Karen had a boyfriend that everyone knew about, the rumors flew all over, fueled by nasty IMs that were passed from one student to another.

Elena slid the second tray of burritos into the oven. “A lot of students just didn't understand that they were hurting Karen's feelings. They thought it was just a joke. ‘We were just kidding,'” Elena mimicked in a singsong voice. “But her boyfriend thought the rumors were true, and he dumped her. Things got so out of control that Karen's mother went to the principal.”

“That's so awful,” Isabel said in an angry voice. “Karen wasn't even doing anything wrong—she was just trying to be nice!”

“And you were just trying to finish an art project and make a new friend,” Elena came to her point. “But to people who love gossip, do you think that matters?”

Isabel started to feel a little sick inside. Hugging herself, she thought about how nasty the Queens of Mean could be, and how much they loved gossip. Were they going to make things so terrible for her that she would have to transfer to another school? What if people in her class started believing the rumors about her?

Elena set a plate in front of her with a fresh, hot burrito on it, but Isabel couldn't even look at it, much less take a bite. Her stomach was in knots. “Hey, what's the matter?” Elena wanted to know. “You were starving just a second ago. You don't like my burritos now?”

“Of course I do. I'm just not hungry anymore.”

“I thought you couldn't wait for dinner!” Elena argued, her voice rising a little. She got upset when people didn't want to eat her food.

“Elena, it's not a big deal. I'll eat a little later, when Mama gets up. Right now I really just can't eat anything.”

Elena looked crushed. “And all this time you always told me you loved my burritos,” she said. “I didn't know you were just saying that to be nice.”

Isabel groaned inside. Either she'd have to stuff herself on food she couldn't look at right now, or Elena wouldn't leave her alone. And all she could really think of was how much she wanted to talk to all the BSG and tell them what was happening. Thank goodness
they
were all her friends; they would help her make sense out of this mess.

L
ate afternoon, Charlotte was standing at her front door, trying desperately to get a leash on Marty, the cute little mutt the BSG had rescued from a garbage can.
Poor Avery
, sighed Charlotte as she tried to untangle the leash. Avery had wanted to keep Marty but couldn't have furry pets at home because of her mother's allergy. “But really, Marty,” Charlotte said aloud to the little jumping ball before her, “you belong to all the BSG, and we love you to pieces, but I'm very glad that you live with me.” She reached down to give the little dude, Avery's nickname for Marty, a pat. Avery usually walked Marty in the afternoons and spent as much time as she could with him, but with Spirit Week, everyone was busier than usual.

“Hang on, Marty,” Charlotte begged the little dancing doggy. Trying to unknot the leash while leaning against the door and holding onto Marty's collar was proving to be difficult. “It'll be just a second.”

When she pulled at a tight knot, the door flew open,
and Charlotte fell back inside the house. “Oh, dear,” murmured her landlady, Miss Pierce. “Charlotte, dear, are you all right?”

Charlotte grabbed for the doorjamb and managed to steady herself just before she fell backward onto the floor. “Oh, hi, Miss Pierce,” she managed. “Yes, I'm fine. I just can't seem to untangle this last knot.”

“May I help? I love untying knots,” offered Miss Pierce.

Charlotte handed the leash to her landlady and stared as Miss Pierce's delicate fingers loosened the knot in record time. Charlotte clapped her hands. “Thanks, Miss Pierce!”

Miss Pierce chuckled and said, “You're welcome, my dear. That last one was a real humdinger.” Charlotte loved how Miss Pierce talked like someone out of an old-fashioned movie.

Charlotte clipped the leash to Marty's collar, and the pup yapped happily at the prospect of a walk in the park. When Charlotte looked away from Marty, she noticed that Miss Pierce, who almost never left the house, was actually dressed to go out–and she looked quite pretty.

Usually Miss Pierce's silvery white hair was rolled into a tight bun on top of her head, but today she had combed it down to her shoulders. She wore a pair of jeans, a warm pea coat, and a great red scarf thrown over her shoulder. “Wow, Miss Pierce,” Charlotte exclaimed. “You look terrific!”

She was even more surprised when Miss Pierce answered, “Why, thank you, Charlotte. I was actually on
my way to the park. If you and Marty are headed that way, I'll walk along with you.”

“Yes–yes we are,” Charlotte stammered. She couldn't remember the last time Miss Pierce had left her house; this must be a very special occasion!

Miss Pierce locked the front door carefully, and they set off toward the park. Charlotte wondered what could possibly have happened to pry Miss Pierce out of her house, but she didn't have to wonder very long; Miss Pierce explained as they walked. “You see, dear,” she said, “I got an e-mail from an old astronomy professor of mine who used to teach at MIT.” Miss Pierce kept astronomy equipment in her lower-floor apartment and also in a special part of the Tower, and she was constantly studying the stars. She was a real astronomer, and Charlotte just loved to hear her talk about the sky and all its wonders. Miss Pierce pushed her hands into her pockets and shivered a little. “My, it's getting cold.”

“Yes, it is,” Charlotte agreed politely. She thought maybe if Miss Pierce went out more often, she would feel more comfortable with the chilly weather!

But she wanted to hear more about Miss Pierce's errand, and when her landlady didn't say anything for a few moments, she prompted her, “You were saying something about your old astronomy professor?”

Miss Pierce had seemed lost in thought, but now she replied, “Oh, yes. He's a widower now and lives here in Brookline. He's retired from teaching, but he tutors college students because he loves the astronomy field so much. He asked if I'd meet him for a chat, to catch up on old
times.” She stopped for a minute and looked thoughtful, but didn't say any more.

“I think it's very nice that you're going out, Miss Pierce,” Charlotte said carefully. She hoped Miss Pierce didn't think she was being nosy, but she wanted to encourage her to get out of the house more often. Being so reclusive was not a fun way to live for anyone, even someone as shy as Miss Pierce.

Miss Pierce looked up at the sky, in which a few clouds were drifting. “You know, Charlotte, I've been realizing lately that I can't spend my life cooped up at home. I'm an astronomer; I need to reach out toward the stars a little.” Her eyes twinkled like stars as she added, “Besides, having you and Marty close by makes it easier to meet my old professor. If I don't like the way things are going, I can always use you two as an excuse to leave a little early.”

Charlotte began to laugh. “It's always good to have a backup plan, Miss Pierce,” she agreed. “But it sounds like you're going to enjoy this meeting; I don't think you have to worry too much.”

Charlotte's thoughts turned to her own concern, the Spirit Week craziness at school. As they walked, she told Miss Pierce about the article she had planned to write for the
Sentinel
and how Jennifer had shot it down in the meeting. Like always, her landlady listened attentively as Charlotte gave her all the details. “So what do you plan to do instead?” she asked when Charlotte had finished. That was just like Miss Pierce. She was sympathetic when things went wrong, but she moved on quickly to uncover
a solution. It must have been her scientific brain that made her so practical.

“I've been trying to figure out what spirit means to different people,” she explained. “I thought that interviewing people about what spirit means to them would give me some good material.”

“Now that's a very good question,” Miss Pierce replied.

Why don't I ask her?
Charlotte mused. Miss Pierce always gave helpful answers. Charlotte knew that Miss Pierce would give her a good answer about spirit, too. Without giving herself time to think any more about it, Charlotte asked boldly, “So what does spirit mean to you, Miss Pierce?”

Miss Pierce didn't hesitate. She looked up at the sky once more and said, “Why, spirit to me means reaching for the stars. One of my favorite quotes is by Ralph Waldo Emerson, who said, ‘Hitch your wagon to a star.' With my career, it's obvious that I took it quite literally, but I believe it also means that you should reach for your dreams and push your limits until you are happy and successful.”

“What a wonderful answer, Miss Pierce!” Charlotte cried. She quickly memorized it so she could write it down as soon as she got home.

They had reached the park. Miss Pierce stood looking around a little hesitantly, fiddling with the ends of her scarf. “Did your professor say where he was meeting you?” Charlotte prompted her.

“He said he'd find me,” Miss Pierce said, her voice suddenly confident. “And I'm sure he will.”

“Why don't you sit on a bench, then, and wait for him?” Charlotte suggested.

“Excellent idea. Thank you, dear. Have a nice walk. You too, Marty. And good luck with your article.” Miss Pierce settled on a bench in clear view of the rest of the park and looked quite satisfied to wait in peace.

“Good luck, Miss Pierce. I hope you have a good time talking with your old friend. I think Marty needs a run today,” Charlotte said, waving good-bye. Miss Pierce waved back at her, but Charlotte knew she was already a world away, thinking about her meeting.

Marty was pulling hard on the leash, and Charlotte looked ahead to see why: Marty had spotted some of his favorite doggy friends. Charlotte saw Louie the bulldog straining at his leash to get at Marty. Even better, she spotted La Fanny, the beautiful pink poodle who was sort of Marty's girlfriend, if dogs actually had girlfriends! And holding the end of La Fanny's leash was her owner, Ms. Razzberry Pink, whom Charlotte had met just a few months ago.

Ms. Razzberry Pink was definitely in the category of the unusual, because she had dyed pink hair and wore the color pink all the time. She had told Charlotte that it was important to dedicate your life to something, and so she had decided to dedicate her life to the color pink. She explained that pink made people happy, and so Razzberry figured that was a pretty good reason to open up her Think Pink boutique. Charlotte guessed that wearing all pink was a good advertisement for her business, too. Maeve was always saving up for the latest Think Pink
item; this time it was an adorable pink velvet duffle with rhinestones. Ms. Pink was always friendly and interested in what was going on with Charlotte and the rest of the BSG, and that day she hailed her enthusiastically. “Hi, Charlotte! How are you and Marty?”

At that moment Charlotte lost control of Marty, who yanked the leash from the end of her fingers and ran off to play with his friends. Charlotte could see he wasn't interested in going anywhere dangerous, just running happily in circles and yipping at the top of his little doggy lungs, so she could spend some time talking to Ms. Pink instead of chasing him. She rubbed her sore fingers and said ruefully, “We're both fine, thanks for asking, Ms. Pink.”

“How's school?” Ms. Razzberry Pink had gone to Abigail Adams Junior High herself, years before, so she always wanted to know about what was new there. “C'mon, sit down on this bench and tell me everything. I'll pretend that I'm young again.”

Charlotte giggled. It was funny because Ms. Pink was actually not old at all…maybe twenty-nine or thirty. She sat down and started to tell Ms. Pink all about Spirit Week. She wasn't sure whether she could explain it very well, but once she started, Ms. Pink nodded knowingly. “Oh, yes. I loved Spirit Week. It was the first time I ever dyed my hair…pink, of course!”

Charlotte couldn't think how to answer that. Although she would never tell Miss Pink because she didn't want to hurt her feelings, she thought the pink hair was a little too much, and definitely not Charlotte's style. But Charlotte could see that Ms. Pink was excited about her Spirit Week
story. So Charlotte, budding reporter that she was, encouraged her to go on. “Tell me all about it!”

“Oh, my, it really was something. Your Spirit Week sounds a lot like ours, with a dance and committees to join.” Ms. Pink waited until she saw Charlotte's nod of confirmation before she went on. “Well, I decided my spirit was going to be about pink, so I dyed my hair and wore it that way the whole week. I knew people thought I was strange, but I didn't care. The pink hair was completely
me
, and it made me feel fabulous. Mrs. Fields was wonderful to me. I think she understood that I was one of those kids who was going to live outside of the box…and so I have.”

“Really?” Charlotte asked. Whenever she talked to Razzberry, she forgot about the pink hair altogether and felt drawn into the Ms. Pink stories.

“Oh, yes, but you know something funny?” the store owner continued. “At the end of the week, when I made my speech about feeling the pink spirit, people clapped like crazy, and I realized I had actually said to the whole school what I really believed in my heart. It was a big moment for me, a real turning point. I think that was the first time,” she said reflectively, “that I really felt good about expressing myself in my own way. And I made some good friends that week too. In fact, they're still my friends today.” She stopped and turned to Charlotte. “Really, Spirit Week was very important in my life. I hope it'll be an amazing week for you, too.”

It had taken Ms. Pink a long time to tell Charlotte the full story. When Charlotte looked at her watch, she realized
that it was time to head home. “Thanks for sharing your Spirit Week story, Ms. Pink,” she said, and she stood up to call Marty. Now that Charlotte had conducted interviews with the BSG, Miss Pierce, and Ms. Pink, she couldn't wait to get going on her article.
Jennifer's bad attitude is
not
going to get me down
, Charlotte resolved. Her angle for the article was really coming together, and she wanted to finalize a list of people who would be perfect to ask for their definition of spirit. She knew she wanted a quote from Mrs. Fields and some of her favorite seventh-grade teachers, and maybe she could even find a great quote from Abigail Adams, the second First Lady of the United States, for whom their school was named. “This article is going to be fantastic!” she whispered to herself. “I think it could be one of the best things I've ever done!”

“Marty, come!” she called. “Time to go home!” She pulled her coat more snugly around herself. It was starting to get bitterly cold. “Thanks so much, Ms. Pink,” she said gratefully. “I can't wait to show my article to you when it's done.”

“I'd love to read it, Charlotte,” Ms. Pink answered, waving her pink-polished hand. “See you soon.”

Marty trotted over to Charlotte obediently. His play time with his friends had tired him out enough that he was delighted to head home. Charlotte looked around for Miss Pierce. She'd left her on the bench right in the middle of the park and hadn't noticed her leaving, but Miss Pierce wasn't there now.

Well, it's getting cold
, she told herself reasonably.
Maybe her professor arrived and they went inside for coffee. Probably to Montoya's Bakery
.

Charlotte walked to the edge of the park and started down Harvard Street, hoping she'd find Miss Pierce at Montoya's. But as she headed for the bakery, she saw two alarmingly familiar figures sauntering toward her. Oh, no! The Queens of Mean were headed right for her, looking pleased with themselves as usual.
Just what I need right now
, Charlotte thought.

 

The basketball was making its usual hollow thud in the driveway of the Madden house as Avery played a game of D-O-N-K-E-Y with her older brother, Scott. Taller than Avery by almost a foot, Scott also had a few more years of practice, since he was sixteen. But Avery was strong and accurate with her shots; she could usually count on winning at least half the D-O-N-K-E-Y games they played together.