Who I Am (21 page)

On the way home I asked Chloe about the song she'd sung (I'd never heard it before), and she told me she'd made it up!

“You're kidding?”

“No, I make up songs all the time. Usually I play them with my guitar.”

“Wow, you should think about doing that professionally.”

She just shrugged. “Oh, it's nothing, really.”

“No, Chloe, it's not nothing. You're really gifted. Has anyone ever heard you sing?”

She shrugged again. “Not really. It's usually something I just do on my own to alleviate boredom. I hadn't planned to sing tonight; it just sort of happened.”

“I think Jewel really liked it.”

Chloe smiled. And I realized how little I'd seen her smile.

“Maybe you could bring your guitar next time,” I suggested. “I mean, if you want to come again, that is. I know it's not all that easy.”

“Yeah, after the last time I wondered why in the world I'd agreed to come again. But now I'm thinking I kind of like it. I mean, I think it's making me appreciate that I'm alive or something. Plus I like it that Jewel can't really respond–not that I don't want her to. But it's kind of freeing being around her. In fact, I'm wondering if it'd be okay for me to just visit her on my own sometimes.”

“I'm sure it would. I'll give you Anna's phone number. She's the one who handles the schedule. I know there are still lots of times when no one's there. And I think it must be pretty sad for Jewel to be all on her own like that.”

“Yeah, it must be really lonely.”

When I dropped her at her house, I told her again that I really meant what I said about her singing. “You're really good, Chloe. You should know that. Really, I was
totally blown away by your voice.”

I noticed a little pink glow in her cheeks, sweet and innocent and an odd contrast to her spiky hair and piercings. “Thanks, Caitlin. I appreciate it. And thanks for taking time to spend with me. I know it must be pretty boring hanging with a junior high kid.”

“Chloe, I don't even think about your age anymore. I mean, you're really smart and you're pretty mature for your age.” I laughed. “Not like my little brother who can really act like a goofball sometimes. I can't believe he'll actually be in eighth grade next year. But then I've heard that boys don't mature as soon as girls.”

“Oh, I think Ben is sweet.”

I eyed her curiously. “But probably not your type, huh?”

She shook her head. “No, but he's a nice kid.”

This afternoon Beanie and Jenny and I went to the mall together (first time we've all three done that in ages). And it was just like old times. We were silly and goofy and even went looking at prom dresses (pretending that we were actually going to the prom).

“Hey, why don't we?” said Jenny suddenly.

I just rolled my eyes. “Oh, sure, you mean like the Sadie Hawkins dance–just go out and invite some guys for a one-night thing? Or maybe we should hire some sort of male escort service.”

“No, Caitlin, I mean maybe the three of us could go together!”

Beanie started giggling. “Oh yeah, sure. I s'pose you think you can get me to wear a tux.”

“No, we'll all wear prom dresses and just go as a girls trio. We can even go out there and dance if we want to. Or we can just hang out and watch people.”

“Jenny, you're nuts!”

“Why? Are you afraid?”

I stood up straight. “No. But I know you can't be serious.”

“I'm totally serious. I wouldn't want to do it with just two girls–they might think we were gay or something. But I think we could get away with doing it with three girls. I would think you'd love this idea, Cate. I mean, it could be like really making a statement about not dating.”

“And you were just whining about how you were the only one who hasn't been to a prom,” Beanie reminded me.

“I told you not to repeat that,” I told her.

“I'm not afraid to do it,” said Beanie. “I think it'd be a hoot.”

“Are you in, Caitlin?” asked Jenny.

And so I agreed. And as crazy it sounded, I started thinking it might be fun. At least until we started looking at the price tags of the dresses and considered the cost of prom tickets and everything.

“I'm trying to save my money,” I admitted.

Beanie sighed. “Me too.”

“Yeah, it does seem a little silly to put out that much
money for just one night. But how about if we go retro?”

“I can get into that,” said Beanie eagerly. “And I know just the places to look.”

And so it was we hit all the thrift shops in town as well as Jenny's attic. And we finally came up with three very retro outfits that actually looked pretty cool. Okay, I'll admit that at first I thought we looked a little like hookers or disco dancers or something from an Archie comic book, but then didn't everyone in the seventies look like that? My dress is a little sequined affair with bright psychedelic stripes of aqua blue, lime green, and hot pink. I'll wear it with knee-high boots (very white and shiny) and several strings of beads. We all plan to wear white or really pale lipstick and lots of gaudy eye shadow and fake eyelashes. It should be pretty funny. I showed my parents my outfit and they both just totally cracked up.

“It's like a bad sixties flashback,” said my dad, pretending to squint.

“I kind of like it,” my mom confessed. “I remember seeing teenagers dressed like that when I was just a little kid, and I wanted to dress like them, but I wasn't old enough.”

“Maybe I should hang on to it in case you want to wear it sometime,” I teased my mom.

“Hey, that's not a bad idea, but I'd have to lose a few pounds to fit into that tiny thing. But who knows, maybe by next Halloween.”

Then I carefully removed my outfit (since it already needs a seam mended) and went down to help Mom make
a couple batches of soda bread. And it was fun being with her in the kitchen. She seems pretty much back to normal now (after losing her baby). And it's good to hear her laugh again. I'm afraid to bring it up, but I do wonder how she feels about the whole thing now. I mean, is she kind of relieved not to be pregnant and about to undergo a real life-changing event? Or does she still wish she were having a baby? Maybe I'll never know for certain.

Wow! Nana and Grandpa really came through with the Irish stuff. I got two boxes packed full of all sorts of Irish trinkets (linen towels, small pieces of pottery, inexpensive jewelry, T-shirts…) as well as some nice big posters. My booth is going to look totally great. And every night this week, Mom and I will be making either soda bread or brown bread. Dad says he's already put on five pounds just smelling it baking. And Ben's been really helpful cutting shamrocks out of green construction paper (to be stapled all over the booth). It feels almost like Christmas at our house (well, make that an Irish Christmas).

What's kind of cool about this is that it's got Dad remembering things his grandpa (the one who originally immigrated from Ireland around the turn of the century) told him as a little boy. And so while we're making bread and stuff, Dad sits there on the counter stool and (using a pretty bad Irish brogue) tells us stories about “the old country.” And I never realized those poor Irish people had
it so hard. It's like getting a free (and somewhat humorous) history lesson in our very own kitchen.

“Someone should write these stories down,” I told my dad as I filled another bread pan with dough.

“Well, you're the writer, lassie,” he said. “I'll be leavin’ that all up to you now.”

“Oh, sure make me the family historian,” I pretended to complain. “I mean, it's not like I don't already have enough to do.”

“But you are a good writer, honey,” said my mom. “Which reminds me–are you thinking about your major yet?”

I groaned. “Please, don't remind me about that. Besides, I don't have to figure that out right away.”

“I know, but I just hope you won't forget what a good writer you are. You know, it's wrong to waste talent, Caitlin.”

“Yeah, but anyone can write. It's no big deal.”

Suddenly my words reminded me of Chloe and how easily she'd dismissed her musical abilities. “But I'll think about it,” I quickly added, not wanting to endure any more lecturing on the subject. Then I suddenly remembered how the language arts director (Mr. Olinski) had asked me to submit a thousand-word essay for the state writing contest last spring. I haven't even told anyone else about it, because I'm so certain I don't have a chance. I mean, I don't even write very good essays in the first place. Plus I know the one I did must be pretty lame (although it was about the Mexican kids). But the problem was I wrote it
too fast because so much was going on just then, and I handed it in too late to get any editing help or critiquing on it. I probably shouldn't have even wasted the school's money to submit it (Mr. Olinski told me there was an application fee). But hopefully he's forgotten all about it by now. I know I did.

Man, am I ever exhausted! But, oh, was it worth it! The cultural fair was a total success. I think almost everyone in town must've come. And to think I'd been worried (after setting up my booth) that we had too much stuff to possibly sell all of it. But we sold every single thing! Our booth alone made over seven hundred dollars!!! It was totally amazing.

I couldn't believe how great all the other booths were too. Everyone just really came through with flying colors. It was incredible. Even the mayor stopped by to congratulate me, and a photographer from the paper took my picture (along with a bunch of others, but I might be in tomorrow's paper). Steph is acting as treasurer, and we won't know the total until tomorrow. But I suspect it's a lot. I can't wait to hear. The fair ended at six, and then it took us a couple hours to tear down. But Martha got several local pizza places to donate pizzas to the workers, so we took a nice break and stuffed ourselves. Trent was even there (actually helping Jenny with the Scandinavian booth), and the two seemed to be acting
like old friends. Jenny told me that he's had several sessions with Tony, and while she couldn't give me any details (for which I'm grateful), she thinks it's going really well.

The African-American booth (the biggest one of all the booths) was a big hit with all kinds of great foods–everything from black-eyed peas to great big chunks of the best corn bread I've ever tasted. And both Shonda and Natala worked in it all day.

There's just too much to even begin to write about, but the bottom line is “All God's Children” hit a home run today. And it looks like it'll be back again next year.

Although I'm thankful to say I probably won't be quite as involved. I mean, I'd like to do something, but I'm ready to let someone else jump in and help out. And now I'm totally exhausted and plan to thank God for this fantastic and amazing day and then crash. I might even sleep until Monday!

Well, I didn't sleep
until Monday after all. Actually, I wanted to hear the financial outcome of yesterday's fair and knew I'd have to get my tired, aching body off to church if I wanted to get the news first hand. And it was good news.

“All God's Children” made $15,843.25! Wowsers! That sounds like a small fortune to me. I know even half of that will do a whole lot for the garbage dump kids. But here's what really blew me away today. When Pastor Tony made the big announcement, he also said that the church had decided to finance my trip down there this summer to present the funds! I was so happy I stood up and cried in front of the entire congregation. I felt pretty stupid but totally happy too. I mean, I'd already saved up enough to get me down there and back (whether anyone from church goes or not). My parents still
aren't too thrilled with the idea of me going down there alone, but the mission has assured me that they will arrange to have someone come up and escort me from the border so I really don't think there's anything to wig out over.

I couldn't wait to e-mail Josh the news. Okay, it probably sounds like I'm bragging now, but our fund-raiser actually did better than his. Although, to be perfectly fair, his raised more money for Mexico than ours since 100 percent of their funds will go down there instead if half. Still, I'm not sorry that the Garcia family is getting half. We have a committee that will meet Jewel's mom at the hospital tomorrow to give her the check. (Joel's in charge of this one.) And even though our gift won't even begin to cover the hospital expenses, I think it will be encouraging, and I hope it will make a difference.

All in all, the cultural fair was a great experience and I learned a lot. Still, I can't pretend that I'm not happy (and hugely relieved) that it is over now. And I'm looking forward to just hanging with my friends and living a more “normal” life (whatever that is?). Next week is the prom, and we haven't told anyone what we're doing. I didn't even tell Anna (when she was feeling sorry that I wouldn't be there). She's so happy to be going with Joel–thankfully they're still together, although I wonder how long it will last. (And almost hope I'm not around when it ends–isn't that terrible of me?)

First I want to say that it was totally and unbelievably cool when Joel presented Jewel's mom with that check. She just broke down and cried. She couldn't even talk And pretty soon most of us were crying too. But finally she said thank you (over and over) and then we all started hugging. I don't know if everyone felt as jazzed as I did, but I have a feeling they did. And now I totally believe that it really is better to give than to receive because I can't imagine anyone giving me anything that could make me any happier than how I felt when I saw how touched Jewel's mom was by our gift.

THANK YOU, GOD!

But now here's the latest news flash in the constantly changing life of Caitlin Renee O'Conner. Beanie found out on Monday that she'd been hired by the park district to work at the day care center at the park all summer. And she was sooo glad. First, because it gets her out of the Pizza Hut, plus she only works weekdays, and on top of that she'll get paid more. She was going on and on about it, when stupid, stupid me! What was I thinking? Obviously I wasn't! Anyway, I made this totally lame wisecrack about how it wasn't fair to get paid as much as I make for just playing with rug rats and curtain climbers all day (like my job is so mentally challenging–not!). But as I mentioned, I just wasn't thinking (or maybe I was…). And naturally she
took offense. Not seriously, thank goodness, but enough to ignite a lively debate. (And of course it happened in the lunchroom, so lots of kids were listening).