Zoe in Wonderland (9 page)

Nana's Cure

B
ecause I'd run away from school and because I'd been what everyone was calling
blue
—which means “mostly not happy”—since my best friend had gone, I'd been summoned to Nana and Grandpa Reindeer's apartment for the weekend.

“I want you to stop this moping around, Zoe,” Nana told me. “It does not become you. It's not like you've had your heart broken . . . yet. Just like those tears we talked about that Jade used to make you spill, better to save that moping for later, when you'll need it.” Nana got in my face and grinned. “Now give me a smile.”

I almost smiled.

“I'd tell you a good joke if I knew one, but I was never good in the joke department. Don't suppose you know one?”

I shook my head and kept peeling potatoes.

Nana inched closer to me until we were standing side by side. “Seems to me you've grown a little,
my
Zoe.”

Why were people suddenly calling me
my
Zoe like they owned me?

The store was called Zoe's. Inside, there were rows and rows of life-size dolls for sale and all of them looked just alike, just like Zoe G. Reindeer—except they each had on a different extremely cute outfit. They were selling for $199.99.

“Zoe?” Nana said.

“Yes?”

“I said, seems to me you've grown a little.”

“A little,” I replied.

I watched my nana as she washed the celery and onions for the potato salad we were making. Her silver hair was pulled back into a bun and red earrings dangled from her ears.

“You like eggs in your potato salad, don't you?” she asked as she opened a carton of eggs.

“Yes.”

Earlier, we'd gone shopping and Nana had bought me two new dresses and a pair of sparkly lavender sneakers. Even though she always treats me nice, today felt special because I barely ever have her all to myself. Nana had held my hand now and then as we shopped, and I almost told her I'm too old for hand-holding, but I didn't. I really liked not sharing her.

“Every so often, a young lady needs to be doted on,” she'd told me later as we sat side by side, eating burgers and fries at a fifties diner.

“What's
doted on
?” I'd asked.

“Spoiled rotten.”

I'd finally smiled.

“Now, that's
my
Zoe.” I'd leaned my head into her shoulder, soaking up her flowery smell. “No more running off from school, promise me? We were worried sick,” she'd whispered.

For the zillionth time, I swore I would never do it again.

“Can I use your computer to check my e-mail?” I asked after I'd peeled the last potato.

“Of course,” Nana replied. “Expecting a note from Quincy, I suppose?”

“Hope so.”

“Must be really hard on Quincy with his mom being sick and having to move and go to a new school,” Nana commented.

I nodded in agreement and thought about what she'd said for a little while. Nana's right. It must be really hard for him.

When I turned on the computer and entered my e-mail address and password and saw that there was a new message from Quincy—that made me grin. But when I read it, the inside part of me finally started dancing again. I leaped up and ran into the kitchen.

“He's coming back . . . next week!” I shouted.

Nana patted the top of my head.

“And his mom is almost done with her treatments,” I told her. “I know he'll be happy to see her.”

Nana winked. “And you.”

For some reason, her saying that made me feel a little ashamed. With Kendra being so sick, I shouldn't even be thinking about myself, but I couldn't help it. I missed him so much and couldn't wait to have my only friend back.

As if Nana were reading my mind, she asked, “I never hear you talk about any other friends. You must have some, don't you?”

I shrugged. “I'm not very good at friends.”

“Maybe you could join a club.”

“Not good at clubs either. Mostly, people think I'm odd.”

“Sounds like me at your age. I had a hard time fitting in too.”

I stared into Nana's brown eyes. “Did you wear glasses?” I asked.

“No, but I was always tall for my age, and kids teased me something awful,” she replied.

“How tall are you now?”

“Five foot ten,” she answered.

I remembered Mrs. Warner's comment about big feet and being tall and snuck a peek at my nana's feet. “Were your feet really big too?”

Nana laughed. “So big, I used to trip over them. But my being tall paid off later.”

“How?”

“Made a little book money modeling during college, and it probably helped me nab your grandpa,” Nana answered.

“How?” I repeated.

“He was six foot four. Liked me being tall.” She paused, then added, “Some things are in the genes. Can't change that, Zoe.”

“Were you shy too?”

“Still am sometimes. No crime in that.” Nana patted the top of my head. “Lots of people feel a little odd at your age. Like those shoes you keep growing out of, you'll grow out of feeling so different. I sure did.”

Nana had a way of being right about lots of things. I hoped this was one of them.

A Sign

T
hat night, as soon as Grandpa Reindeer dropped me off, the first thing I did was make a beeline to the greenhouse to give the baobabs a dose of water. They'd sprout soon, I hoped.

When I finished, I headed to the house. “Quincy's coming home on Saturday!” I loudly proclaimed as I burst through the kitchen door. But the kitchen was empty, the dinner table had been cleared, and the dishwasher was running. I followed the blare of the flat-screen into the family room, where Jade and Harper sat, their eyes glued to the TV. When I came into the room, they didn't even look up. Shopping bags filled with the stuff Nana had bought me dangled from my arms.

To get their attention, I stood in front of the screen and grinned.

“What're you so happy about?” Harper asked.

Jade eyed the bags. “What! Did Nana buy you a bunch of stuff?”

I nodded.

“So that's all it took to make you happy again?” the snox asked.

“Plus Quincy's coming home on Saturday for the weekend.”

“Yay,” Jade said. “Now can you move out of the way before you make us miss the best part?”

“Yeah,” Harper agreed.

I had been gone for two whole days and I thought Jade and the snox might have missed me a little, but obviously they hadn't. Silly Zoe.

“Where are Mom and Daddy?” At least they'd be glad to see me, right?

“In their room,” Jade said.

“Fighting,” Harper added.

“About what?” I asked.

Jade glanced up. “Money, what else?”

Not again.

I hurried down the hallway to my parents' room. Their door was closed, but I could hear them.

“It's time to stop dreaming, Darrow!” Mom shouted angrily.

“I'm not dreaming!” Daddy yelled back.

“It's a very good offer! The best ever! We could pay off all of the bills and buy a real house!”

“A real house? What's that supposed to mean?”

“It means this one needs a new roof, needs painting, the plumbing is a mess, the kitchen is an embarrassment . . . Do I have to go on? Sometimes it seems like you care more about those trees and plants than you care about us. We're one step away from foreclosure, Darrow! We could lose everything!”

“You worry too much, Gabby! I'll sell some of the mature exotic trees to that landscape architect who's been needling me. Maybe I'll get a night job! And if it turns out that we have to sell, I've got my eyes on a couple of things . . . another tropical plant nursery, or maybe this time a flower farm. Saw some for sale in Oregon, one in Carlsbad, another in Hawaii, and even one in New Zealand. Always wanted to go to New Zealand.”

Sell the Wonderland? Weeks ago, he said he'd never sell the Wonderland. New Zealand?

Mom had the same thought. “New Zealand? I give up,” she said in a quieter voice.

“It'd be an adventure. Life's supposed to be an adventure, Gabby!”

I'd never heard him say that before.

But Mom didn't agree. “I don't want an adventure! I just want a normal life and not to worry about money. You're not going to get a better offer than the one Bob Lockwood gave you today. We'd be on easy street. I don't understand what you're waiting on . . . for us to lose everything?”

There was about a minute of quiet before Daddy said in a soft voice, “I'm waiting on a
sign
, Gabby.”

“You and your
signs
.”

What does that mean, I wondered—waiting on a
sign
?

I lingered outside their room, motionless, until the hallway grandfather clock ticking beside me and the noise from the TV in the other room were the only sounds. I kept thinking that this is exactly what Quincy said his parents were like before they got divorced.

Right then, I wished that I hadn't heard their fight. My worry list kept growing.

Silently, I counted down from twenty to zero. Then, I knocked.

“It's me.
Just
Zoe. I'm back.”

“Come in,” Daddy said.

I turned the knob, cracked the door, and stuck my
head inside. They both tried hard to put those happy-to-see-you looks on their faces, but Mom looked tired and Daddy's eyes had zero happiness.

“Did you have a good time with Grandpa and Nana?” Mom inquired.

I stepped inside their room. “Yes,” I replied. The smile I'd come home with had vanished.

Daddy stood from the chair where he was sitting. “Then why the sad look?”

I stared at the Reindeer parents and asked three questions. “Are you going to get a divorce . . . what's foreclosure . . . and what's a
sign
?”

The Trouble/Worry/Problem Zapper

H
ow long have you been listening?” Daddy inquired. His oh-no look was pasted on his face.

“Long enough.” I set the shopping bags on the floor.

Mom faked a smile. “Looks like your nana splurged on you.”

Does she really think it's going to be that easy to change the subject? Think again, please.

“So, are you guys getting a divorce?” I repeated.

“No!” they replied in unison.

“What gave you that idea?” Daddy asked.

“I'm worried because you're acting just like Quincy's mom and dad did before they went splitsville.”

“Splitsville?” Mom asked.

“Yeah, his mom and dad went splitsville because
they were always fighting about money, and now you guys are doing the same thing.”

Daddy laughed.

Three Things Adults Should Never Do When Kids Are Being Extremely Serious

1. Laugh.
   
2. Try to change the subject.
   
3. Tell you to relax.
   

My parents were now guilty of two of the three offenses. I glared at him. “It's not funny, Daddy.”

Daddy apologized. “Sorry, Zoe. But we are definitely not getting a divorce.”

I stared at him and asked, “Promise?”

He patted my shoulder, then gave it a gentle squeeze. “I promise, Zoe. No divorce. Relax.”

Relax? Now they were guilty of all three offenses.

But somehow, the look in his eyes had convinced me he was telling the truth. Going splitsville was off the Zoe worry list. My interrogation of the Reindeer parents continued anyway. “What's
foreclosure
mean?”

This time, Mom did the denying. “It means you're late on the mortgage payment and the bank could take the house. But we are not in foreclosure yet.”

All I heard was
yet
.

I had one last question for Daddy. “What did you mean by ‘waiting for a sign'?”

Daddy gazed into my eyes. “Some clue that'll tell you what to do. Something that'll happen that leads you in the right direction. Like a sudden answer to a mystery . . . understand?”

I didn't but I nodded.

“One other thing . . . I really don't want to leave the Wonderland, and I sure don't want to move to New Zealand. Do they even speak English there?”

“Yes, they do.” Then Mom sighed. “So you heard everything?”

“Pretty much.”

Daddy picked nervously at his nails. “Don't say anything to Harper or Jade; we don't need them worrying too.”

“I promise.” I was just about to leave when I remembered. “Quincy's coming for the weekend,” I blurted.

Daddy cracked a real smile, and Mom hugged me and said that was good news. “G'night,” we all seemed to say at the same time.

Down the hallway in the family room I heard Jade and Harper laughing at something on the TV. They certainly weren't worrying about anything.

But even though my questions had sort of been answered, I still couldn't stop worrying. Where would we live if the bank took the Wonderland? And I still didn't understand what
waiting on a sign
meant.

Why did there have to be so many problems and troubles and worries?

Zoe was a super-geek tech-genius—the creator of the
T
ROUBLE/
W
ORRY/
P
ROB
LEM
Z
APPER
app—an app that could be downloaded to your phone that allowed anyone to type in their problem, press delete, and presto-change-o—problem gone. The only thing it couldn't delete was annoying people, because deleting people, no matter how annoying they are, is a crime. Almost everyone on Earth had downloaded the app, making Zoe G. Reindeer a gazillionaire. Her three-story house in the Malibu Hills had a panoramic view of the ocean.

Tonight, no lights from Mrs. Warner's candles next door danced on my walls and none of her old-time jazz music played. The Moon was having one of its days off, so there was total darkness, and the only sounds were the noises inside my mind that even
Imaginary Zoe
couldn't make go away.