“Nah, I’ll take you shopping. Those things don’t even fit.”
That was when he spotted me. “Hey, Em. Can you tell your mom to wait dinner? I’m going to take Lisette shopping.”
“You don’t have to do that,” she protested again.
“I’ve missed ten years of Christmases and birthdays. Now’s my chance to make them up.” He hugged her again. I limped out of the room.
During dinner, Mother glowered at me. Daddy had called to tell us to go ahead and eat without them. He and Lisette were going to Swenson’s.
After dinner, I went to my room and waited. Had Mother been right about Lisette, that she was trying to steal Daddy from me? It almost seemed that way. I hadn’t noticed the spot on the shirt, but now I wondered if Lisette had purposely chosen the worst thing I’d given her, just to make herself look more pathetic. Couldn’t she have worn her own pants if mine hadn’t fit? Did she just want to make me look bad?
I didn’t go downstairs when Lisette came home, but a few minutes later, there was a knock on the door. Lisette was there, holding a shoebox. She held it out.
“I noticed you didn’t have any cute sandals to show off your pedicure. I got Dad to buy you some.”
I opened the box. It even smelled expensive. Inside were the cutest strappy sandals exactly the color of the blue polish we’d used.
“You’re about a size eight, right?” Lisette said.
I nodded. “Yes.” I was three or four inches shorter but had much bigger feet.
“I thought so. I got the same ones, see?” She held up her foot. “We can wear them to school Monday if you want.”
I did want. “That’s so sweet of you to think of me.”
“Of course I did. You’ve been so nice. How’s your knee, by the way? It looked like you really banged it.”
“It’s fine.”
“Good. Dad said, if you wanted, he could drop us at the mall tomorrow night, to see a movie or something.”
My doubts about Lisette dissipated. She definitely wanted to be friends. I guess I couldn’t blame her for going out with Daddy. She couldn’t go to school in stuff that didn’t fit. And the other thing, wearing the shirt with the spot on it, must have been an accident, just like my giving her the shirt had been.
“So you can go?” Lisette said.
I could just picture the girls at school, especially Courtney, seeing me at the Falls with my cool new sister.
“Yeah, I’d like that.”
“Try them on.” She wiggled her blue toes.
So I did. The shoes fit perfectly, and from the ankles down, we could have been twins.
5
Monday, Daddy went late to work so he could drive us to school and register Lisette.
“I’m so excited!” Lisette squeezed my hand.
I squeezed back. I was too. The more I got to know Lisette, the more I knew my—and my mother’s—fears were unfounded.
I hadn’t been sure at first. When I’d awakened Saturday, Lisette and my dad had already left the house.
“They were gone when I woke up,” Mother said with a nod. “Left a note saying they went sailing.”
I spent the day reading. Lisette and Daddy returned that afternoon, sunburned and laughing. I met them downstairs.
“Hey,” Lisette said. I noticed she was holding Daddy’s hand.
“Did you have fun?” I tried to keep the hurt from my voice.
“Hi, darling.” Daddy kissed my forehead. “You were sawing wood when we left.”
“I wish you’d woken me.”
“I know you’re not much into sailing,” Daddy said. “Lisette said so.”
Something she could use against me.
“Yeah,” Lisette agreed. “Now you don’t have to go anymore.”
“I was thinking I’d like to try again.” Which wasn’t true. A week ago, I’d have been thrilled at the chance never to go sailing. “Maybe now that I’m older, I’ll like it better.”
“I’m sorry, Pumpkin,” Daddy said. “I didn’t know.”
He really had looked sorry, so I said, “It’s okay. I just wanted to do something together, all of us.” My voice sounded whiny, even to my own ears. “Maybe tomorrow we can do the butterfly garden.”
Daddy rubbed his arms. “I don’t know. Your old dad’s not as young as he used to be. Maybe next weekend.”
“Sure.” I wanted to stomp my feet and whine that he wasn’t doing anything with me, just Lisette, but I knew that would be a bad idea. Lisette’s mother had just died. I’d look like a brat.
“Are we still on for tonight?” Lisette’s newly pink cheeks accented her bright blue eyes and the highlights in her hair.
“Sure. I thought you’d forgotten.”
“Never. We’re sisters now, right?”
I nodded. “Sisters.”
That night, walking around the Falls with Lisette in her new clothes, I felt like I was with a movie star, like I was a movie star. Everyone stared at us, and I was special by association. I kept searching the crowds, looking for Warner Glassman. It was stupid. He wasn’t there, of course. He was probably sitting at home, reading a book, which is what I’d have been doing but for Lisette. I did see Midori, though, Courtney’s best friend. I hoped she saw me.
Now, as we got out of Daddy’s car, I said, “Can I go to the office when you sign up Lisette?”
“It may be a long process,” Daddy said. “You shouldn’t miss class.”
Daddy touched Lisette’s waist to lead her into the building, but Lisette pointed at a poinciana tree. “Let’s meet there after school, so we can compare notes.”
“Great.” I’d been looking forward to walking through the hall with Lisette. At least she’d wait for me after school.
When I got to language arts, everyone was looking at Kendra Hilferty. Kendra was new this year, and ever since she’d moved here, there’d been rumors, crazy ones, about her. People speculated she was a spy, hired by the school board to expose weak teaching practices. That she had grown up in a commune. Or a convent. Or a circus, where she was principal contortionist. That her mother had been a famous dancer, and Kendra herself was the illegitimate daughter of the president of France. That she’d had to leave her previous school because she’d threatened another girl, and then the girl disappeared. Of course, no one bothered to ask Kendra if the rumors were true. It was more fun to gossip. Besides, people were afraid of her.
Today, she wore her usual black, a lace dress that looked like it was from a thrift shop. I noticed it only came to her knees. That was another rumor, one I happened to know was true—that the school had asked that she stop wearing floor-length skirts that could conceal a weapon. I knew that because, the day it happened, I was in the office calling Mother about a stomachache when Kendra exited the guidance counselor’s office. “You’ve just made dress code history,” she had said. “You’ve got a hundred girls in microminis, and you’re asking me to wear a shorter skirt.”
Kendra spent a lot of time in the guidance counselor’s office, another rumor that was true. Whenever Kendra was in class, stuff happened, stuff like the fire sprinklers going off or the earthworms we were dissecting in science class heading en masse for the parking lot. Or once, the tennis balls the teacher put on chair legs to make them quieter all got loose at the same time and started bouncing around the room. No one could ever pin this stuff on Kendra. It just happened when she was there.
I didn’t have anything against her, but I had her in three of my classes, and she sat next to me in all of them. That meant when people stared at her, they stared at me too.
Right now, she was balancing a pencil by its point on her fingertip, staring with great concentration. I couldn’t figure out how she did it, but I guessed she’d been at it awhile.
I realized Kendra probably sat next to me not because we were such great buds but because I was the one who always had an empty seat beside me. Maybe now that Lisette was here, that would change. I hoped to have her in at least one class.
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“Hi,” I said to Kendra, because it was the polite thing to do.
“Hi, Emma.” The pencil clattered to the floor. Ms. Dillon told us to be quiet because the Pledge was starting.
During the moment of silence, there was a knock on the door. Everyone looked up from their talking and texting to see who was there. Then, they stared.
It was Lisette. She found my face, as if she’d known I’d be there, and smiled before turning to Ms. Dillon. “I’m Lisette Cooper. They said I’m in your class.”
“Welcome, welcome, Lisette. We were about to discuss Of Mice and Men. There’s an empty seat in back.”
I twisted to look. Of course. The empty seat was right next to my former BFF, Courtney, who sat with her new posse, Midori and Tayloe. Lisette walked toward them but, as she passed, she dropped a sheet of paper on my desk.
A note? I checked it out. It was her schedule. Five of our six classes were the same, the only difference being German Two, fourth period. Lisette was in Spanish One. I glanced back at her. Had she asked to have the same schedule? To be with me 24/7? She smiled and gave me a thumbs-up.
“Okay, then,” Ms. Dillon was saying. “What can you tell me about the character of George Milton? Yes, Courtney?”
“I think maybe he was named for John Milton, the author of Paradise Lost, and that symbolizes his quest for utopia, just as Adam and Eve fell from grace when they were banished from the Garden of Eden.”
Fell from grace? Quest for utopia? Who talked like that? Certainly not Courtney. She’d obviously gotten this stuff from the internet or maybe Cliff’s Notes. I doubted she’d even read the book. Back when we were friends, I told her the answers to every single Accelerated Reader test I’d ever taken, so she’d get enough points for class. Teachers never questioned the fact that we’d read the exact same books every quarter. If they had, we’d have said we were best friends, that we did everything together.
That had changed in sixth grade. The month before we’d started middle school, my family went on vacation to North Carolina, in the mountains where there was sucky cell phone reception. I texted Courtney every chance I got, but she didn’t always text back. When we returned, I called her. And again. After about the fifth try, I got a text from her saying she was busy, but she’d see me the first day of school.
But when I got there, she was ensconced in a group of girls who hadn’t gone to our elementary school, prettier girls, cooler girls, girls who looked like they’d been born with the best cell phones attached to their hands, born to hang out in a clump, girls whose parents had no rules. “Hey, Courtney,” I’d said.
“Hey,” she replied before turning back to the others, giggling.
I sat next to her at lunch because that’s what I’d done every single day since kindergarten. Even when we hadn’t been in the same class, I’d always snuck over to her table, or she to mine.
“Sorry,” she said. “This seat’s saved for Midori.”
“Okay.” I started for the seat across from her.
“And Tayloe’s sitting there.”
The seat diagonal from Courtney was empty, so I took that one. When Midori and Tayloe showed up, Courtney didn’t introduce us. They all ignored me.
I never figured out what I’d done to lose Courtney’s friendship. As days passed, I tried to talk to her, but she acted like she didn’t know why I was bothering her, and her new friends started picking on me. Then, Courtney herself had. At home, Mother kept asking me why I didn’t ask Courtney to sleep over anymore. When I said she didn’t like me anymore, she offered to call Courtney’s mother. Like that would help.
The whole thing was like a divorce. When we divided everything up, Courtney got my dignity, and I got the heartache. I didn’t understand. Popularity was like a kind of science, but unlike my school subjects, I couldn’t learn it.
Now, Ms. Dillon said, “That’s exactly right, Courtney. Anyone else? What was George like? Emma?”
“Um…” I squirmed and looked at my chipped nail polish. Ms. Dillon always called on me because she knew I’d have the answer she wanted. I hated it, though. I knew that the other kids, that Lisette, would think I was a suck-up. I considered giving the wrong answer, or even saying I hadn’t read the book. How much did middle-school grades really matter, after all? But somehow, I just couldn’t do it.
“He was lonely. That’s what the book was about, the lonely lives of migrant workers. George hung out with Lennie, and he acted like he had to, but really, he was a loner. He didn’t fit in with anyone else.”
Why did I say that? Stupid! Sure enough, behind me I heard a giggle. “She should know about that,” someone—maybe Midori—whispered.
The comment stung like a jellyfish in calm water. I’d learned not to let their barbs hurt me, but now Lisette was there. Lisette, who maybe hadn’t noticed that I was the geek of the universe. Why did they have to ruin it for me with her?
I wanted to look back at her, to see if she’d heard. No. I had to keep talking.
“George is really responsible, though,” I told Ms. Dillon. “He takes responsibility for Lennie. In the end, he even takes responsibility for—”
“Uh-uh,” Ms. Dillon interrupted. “No spoilers! I want everyone to finish, and they’re not all as voracious readers as you.”
More giggles from behind me, and Courtney said, “She has nothing else to do.”
Sigh! I’d better shut up now. I glanced back at Lisette, to see if she was disgusted by the fact that I’d finished the book. She smiled. Beside her, Courtney widened her eyes, like what was I looking at. I didn’t care. As long as I had Lisette, I’d be happy. I pictured us being like Jo and Beth in Little Women or Elinor and Marianne in Sense and Sensibility, real sisters, confidantes.
Midori made a face. “What a suck-up,” she whispered. “Ow!” she shrieked.
“What’s the matter, Midori?” Ms. Dillon’s voice was a sigh.
“I don’t know. Just—ow!—I’m getting these weird shooting pains.” She clutched her abdomen. “Ouch!” She squeezed her eyes shut, like she was trying not to cry.
“Cramps,” Ms. Dillon said, and a few people giggled. At Midori. “Go to the nurse, then. Courtney, why don’t you take her?”
Midori limped out, still holding her stomach. Courtney followed her.
After class, Lisette stood by my desk, waiting for me to put my books away. She said, “Isn’t it cool? I asked if we could have all our classes together, so they made them all the same, except Spanish.”
“Wow. They’re not usually that nice about scheduling.” I was amazed she’d even asked.
She shrugged. “I guess because of what happened.” She glanced away. “I told Dad to ask, and he agreed it would be good to have a familiar face.”
I wondered if she’d just asked to impress my father. No, that was stupid. Why couldn’t I just believe that Lisette liked me, that she wanted a sister, like I did?
We walked to second period together and actually got to sit together in third. When we split up for our language arts classes, Lisette said, “See you at lunch.”
But when I got to the cafeteria, Lisette was walking in with Courtney.
6
Our cafeteria looked the way I’m guessing most school cafeterias do, white and black spotted floors dulled by years of spilled chocolate milk and dirty sneakers. Louvered windows that let in barely enough light to see your food … probably a good thing. Skinny girls sat by the salad bar. Those with weak stomachs were near the door. I walked down the rows of tables, my soles sticking to the floor. Usually, I sat toward the middle, where I could be most invisible, with some girls from my fourth period whose names I probably wouldn’t remember in a year.
The one weird feature of our cafeteria was, it had a single table with four chairs attached to it. Probably it was for the teachers, until the teachers realized they didn’t have good enough health insurance to risk the cafeteria’s version of empanadas. Courtney, Tayloe, and Midori, as the most “popular” eighth-grade
girls, sat there. The fourth chair was always empty. Once, some clueless sixth graders had parked there. The first day, Courtney and Company had allowed it. The second, the sixth graders had stood to reveal red food coloring all over the butts of their Abercrombie jeans. No one could prove anything, but the next day, they sat on the benches.
I watched Lisette head, with Courtney, to the fourth seat.
Okay, so that was how it was going to be.
I glanced around, trying to find Erin, the quiet girl from my fourth-period class. I usually sat with her, but I’d left her in the dust to make sure I caught Lisette.
But wait! From across the room, Lisette was waving.
“Hey, Emma! Em, come over here!”
Courtney grabbed her elbow, and I saw her gesture at the table, pointing to each seat, showing Lisette there was no room.
Lisette started to walk away.
Courtney glanced around, as if trying to decide if she was hallucinating, or if she’d been transported to some alt universe where people preferred to sit with me. It was a difficult concept, even for me, and Courtney had never been bright. Courtney’s size-one rear hovered over her chosen seat. She stood, then half sat again, like a competitive toddler playing musical chairs.
Finally, she strode, a little too fast to be completely dignified, after Lisette. People were noticing now, probably wondering if there was going to be some kind of mean girl takedown with Courtney shrieking, “No one turns their back on me, beeyoch!” Lisette had almost reached me when Courtney touched her shoulder.
“Wait!” Courtney gestured to one of the rectangular tables. “We can all fit here.”
Lisette glanced at the seats, then at me. “Oh. Okay, if you’re sure.”
“Of course.” Courney grinned, or bared her teeth. “Em and I are old friends. We’ve literally known each other since birth. Right, Emma?”
“I guess.” It was raining, and I glanced at the window to see if rain was falling up.
“So we can all sit here,” Courtney said. “Together.”
While we were standing around, two girls started to take Courtney’s chosen seats.