Twice As Nice (5 page)

Maybe everyone else in that room understood that, but I didn't. Why was she better off now that everyone knew she had protruding ears? It didn't help them look any better. It didn't help her earn the money to get them fixed. It didn't take away all the teasing she'd had to bear her whole life. As far as I was concerned, it just spread the misery around.

After Sara's story, the meeting kind of went downhill. A few other kids shared some minor secrets, but nothing that could compare with Sara's. Ms. Carew recited a poem by a guy named Keats that said that beauty is truth and truth is beauty. I didn't get it. To end the meeting, Ms. Carew put on some crazy flute music, and invited everyone to free dance, letting their bodies express their inner secrets. I was the only one who didn't accept the invitation.

“You're not dancing,” Ms. Carew said when she saw me perch on one of the desks pushed against the wall.

“I need steps when I dance,” I said. “And a beat doesn't hurt, either.”

“I see. Well, maybe next time you'll feel like dancing. I hope you come back, Charlie.”

“Thanks,” I told her. “I probably will.”

But a little voice inside me, the one that doesn't speak out loud, was saying just the opposite.

“I can't do it,” I told Sammie on the walk home. “I can't be a Truth Teller. It's just not me.”

“Sure you can,” she protested. “Everyone loved you.”

“First of all, they didn't love me. Every time I opened my mouth, I got weird looks from people. I don't blame them. In that room, with that group, I am weird. I don't fit in.”

“But didn't you feel how powerful the group was? Like when Sara described her awful ear problem. It was just so honest and raw.”

“I feel sorry for her, I really do. She's a nice girl and I'm glad she's one of your best friends. But that doesn't mean she has to be my best friend.”

“Okay, we can talk about this more over our pizza at dinner tonight,” Sammie said. “Dad said he'd take us to Barone's, and he's even agreed to pay for it. Apparently, yesterday's match moved us up in the rankings so he's in a generous mood.”

Sammie and I paused at the red light on the corner of Pacific Coast Highway. Traffic was backed up with people headed to the beach to watch the sunset. There's this public parking lot right next to the club and at four o'clock, they open the gates and let everyone in for free. People either sit in their cars and watch the sun go down, or get out and walk along the beach, waiting for that exact moment when the sun flattens out and disappears into the Pacific. Before dinner, Sammie and I usually go down to the beach with GoGo and watch the sunset. GoGo says any time you have a chance to watch the sun set over the ocean, you should not miss it. I think that's pretty good advice.

I was glad for the heavy traffic because the roar of the cars whizzing by made it hard to talk or be heard. I was tired of talking. Sammie and I were never going to agree, and I was tired of her trying to convince me to love her friends. You can't make yourself love people you don't love.

And speaking of love, when we crossed the street and pushed open the gate to the Sporty Forty, who should we find sitting on the deck but Spencer Ballard. Apart from being the cutest boy I know, with dimples the size of the Grand Canyon, he is also the only boy I've ever kissed. Okay, it was just one kiss one night on the beach. That was before everything blew up between me and the SF2s, and he's kept some distance between us since then. He's nice and polite and everything when he sees me, but he's definitely acted awkward the few times we've been alone together since then. I can understand that he's not sure how to act around me anymore. It just sucks.

“Hey,” he said when he saw us. “You guys always get home this late from school?”

“Oh, we were at a Truth Tellers meeting,” Sammie blurted out. I wanted to stuff a sock in her mouth.

“Sammie was at the meeting,” I hurried to explain. “I was just checking it out.”

“I'm trying to get Charlie to join,” Sammie said. “She could use some better friends, if you know what I mean.”

I thought Spencer would hate her saying that. But he just nodded and gave me one of those smiles where his dimples light up his face like stars in the sky.

“The group has been pretty rough on you,” he acknowledged. “I keep telling them they haven't been fair, that they need to see things from your point of view, too.”

If I hadn't been so tongue-tied, I swear I would have asked him to marry me right there on the spot. I know twelve is too young to get married, but at least we could get engaged.

“But Lauren says that maybe you're going to join some club she's starting,” he added. “So that's a good sign.”

“That's what she thinks,” Sammie said. “Charlie and I have other ideas.” She seemed prepared to go on about it, but lucky for me, she was interrupted by GoGo yelling from the kitchen.

“Quesadillas just out of the pan,” she called. “Any takers?”

And before you could say s
alsa verde,
Sammie had dropped her backpack and dashed into the clubhouse.

“So what exactly did Lauren tell you?” I asked Spencer when she was out of sight.

“Only that she's invited you back into the group. I said that would be cool. For me, at least.”

I felt myself melting and it wasn't from the sun. I looked down, trying to come up with just the right words to tell him that I had missed him. I didn't want to be overly gushy like the Truth Tellers, but I didn't want to be too distant and cool, either. As I turned some possible responses over in my mind, my dad came jogging off of the tennis court, a towel around his neck and his racket in his hand. It was so like him to pick the worst moment to show up on the scene.

“Spencer,” he called out. “I just finished your mom's lesson. She wants you to play a couple games with her. Apparently, I didn't tucker her out enough.”

“Guess I gotta go,” Spencer said with a shrug. “I'll see you around, Charlie.”

He stood up and walked off toward the tennis courts, looking all golden in the setting sun. My dad flopped down in his seat.

“Thanks a lot, Dad,” I said.

“For what?” he replied cluelessly. He popped the top off a bottle of Gatorade and dabbed his forehead with his towel. “Mrs. Ballard has a nice forehand. Nice level stroke. Actually, I think she's got much more potential than Mr. Ballard. Don't tell him that, though.”

Tennis, tennis, tennis. Did he ever talk about anything else? Well, as a matter of fact, he did, right at that very moment.

“Lauren called,” he said, taking a swig of Gatorade. “Three times.”

“You didn't tell her where I was, did you?”

“I told her you were with Sammie. She was really eager to talk to you. In fact, she asked if I had made a decision yet. Is there something you haven't told me?”

If I had ever doubted whether or not I wanted to go back to the SF2s, my conversation with Spencer had put everything back in perspective. There was no decision to be made. What I wanted was crystal clear to me.

“Lauren and the girls are applying to start a Junior Waves club at school,” I said. “They want me to be part of it. And I totally want to do it.”

He nodded.

“So tell me, how much of your time do you think this club will take up? Because you know my feeling . . . school and tennis take priority over social activities.”

Of course, I knew he was going to say that. It's his standard response whenever either of us asks to do anything. I pulled out my ready-made speech.

“I'm getting all As in school, Dad, except for maybe a B in Spanish, but I can bring that up if I practice with Esperanza and Alicia. And tennis-wise, Sammie and I are on a roll. You saw me finish off Fritz and Fernandez yesterday.”

He nodded again. That was a good sign. I was so glad I had pulled it together for the tiebreaker.

“Well, I like the idea of you being part of a sports fan club,” he said. “That makes a lot more sense than that wacky stuff your sister is into.”

That was a typical comment. My dad thinks anything that isn't sports related is wacky.

“So I can do it?” I asked.

“School and tennis first. Do we understand each other?”

I nodded so vigorously that my head was in danger of toppling off my neck. He reached out and tousled my hair. “Okay, go call Lauren; she's waiting to hear from you.”

“Thank you a million, billion times, Dad,” I said, throwing my arms around his neck. “I won't let you down. I promise.”

I practically flew into the kitchen. Inside, Sammie and GoGo were sitting at the counter, sampling several different kinds of quesadillas from a serving platter.

“Hey, Noodle,” GoGo called. “Come have a taste. I'm trying to decide which one to serve as appetizers at Bethany's party. It's down to chicken and cheese or veggie with avocado.”

“I'll be right back, GoGo. I've got to do something first.”

I ran into my room and closed the door, grabbed my phone, and called Lauren.

“My dad said yes,” I said without even so much as a hello. “I'm in!”

“Oh, Charlie, this is super awesome!” I heard her whisper “She's going to do it,” to someone else in the room. In the background, I heard Jillian and Brooke cheer and echo Lauren's “this is super awesome” comment. Everyone in the SF2s, especially the girls, winds up talking like Lauren. She's the kind of person you want to be like.

Jillian grabbed the phone from Lauren.

“Can we come to the club right now and do the application?” she said. “The sooner we get it in, the sooner we'll know.”

The last thing I wanted was for us to be sitting around working on the application with Sammie hovering nearby. It was going to be hard enough to tell her my decision, and I didn't need a constant stream of critical remarks from her.

“Would it be okay if I came to Lauren's instead?” I asked.

“Let me check.” Then I heard Jillian whisper, “She wants to come here.” Lauren whispered something back to her, but I couldn't hear what she said.

“Lauren wants to know if Ryan is there at the club.”

“No, he's at a volleyball team dinner.”

I heard her whisper that to Lauren and then I overheard Lauren say, “In that case, tell her to come here.”

“Lauren says it's great if you come here. We'll get the papers ready and order pizzas.”

I ripped off my school clothes and put on my new hot-pink tank top and matching ballet flats I had been saving for a special occasion. Then I went back to the living room and slid onto the stool at the counter next to Sammie. Just by looking at what I was wearing, she knew what was up.

“They got you, didn't they?” she said.

I didn't answer, just reached out and took a bite of each of the quesadillas. Sammie talked while I chewed.

“You're not seeing things clearly, Charlie,” she said. “I'm trying to protect you. These girls are using you. The last thing I want is for you to get hurt.”

“I vote for the veggie with avocado,” I said. “And Sams, I don't need your protection. I am old enough and smart enough to make my own decisions about my own friends.”

“Charlie has proven that she can use good judgment,” GoGo said. That shut Sammie up. Then turning to me, GoGo added, “Follow your instincts, and if it turns out you've made a mistake, learn from it. That's all we can do in life.”

“Thanks, GoGo. See you guys in a little bit.”

I slid off the stool and ran outside to find my Dad.

“Can you drop me at Lauren's house?” I asked.

“Well, that didn't take long,” he answered. “Can this wait until after dinner? I thought you and Sammie were going out for your pizza celebration.”

Oops. In the excitement of everything, I had totally forgotten about our plans. “I can't tonight. The girls have already ordered pizza for us,” I explained.

“Did you tell Sammie your date is off?”

“She'll understand, Dad! Besides, she's already eaten a ton of quesadillas and she's probably full. We'll go to Barone's tomorrow. I know she'll be fine with that.”

“Maybe you should talk to her first.”

“I can't, Dad. I don't have time. Everyone is waiting for me.”

“All right. I guess that's between the two of you, anyway. I'll get my keys.”

Lauren lives in a huge house in the Palisades, overlooking the ocean. It's only a few minutes away, but the ride there seemed to take forever. It's strange how that is . . . when you want something to happen really fast, time seems to slow down just to torture you. Finally, we pulled into the circular driveway of Lauren's house. There's a fountain in the middle with a statue of a little boy peeing. We all think it's gross, but Lauren's mom says every elegant Italian mansion has one. I hopped out almost before my dad stopped the car.

“Don't bother saying good-bye,” he called out as I ran to their huge front door with the stained glass windows and rang the bell.

From inside, I heard a ton of footsteps thundering down the stairs. The door flew open, and Lauren, Brooke, Jillian, and Lily were all there, holding out their arms to me.

I couldn't have asked for anything better.