Mom met us at the front door in her robe and nightgown. “Where have you been?” she demanded in a tight voice. “You scared me half to death.”
“I’m sorry, Mom,” I murmured. “We should have left a note.”
Mom made both of us sit on the couch. Then she paced back and forth, ranting and raving. I’ve never seen her so worked up. And I felt as though all of her anger were directed at me.
“What was going through your head, Claudia? I got up to get a drink of water, walked by your room, and found the door open and you missing. I didn’t know what had happened. I was worried sick.”
“I said I was sorry.” I stared at my hands clasped tightly in my lap and felt the warmth rising to my cheeks. I really hate being scolded. But when it happens in front of people it’s too embarrassing for words.
Finally, Peaches spoke up. “Look, Rioko, I’m very sorry. This is all my fault. I was hungry, so I woke Claud up and asked her to go for a pizza with me.”
“A pizza!” Mom threw her hands in the air. “There’s plenty of food in the house. If you were so hungry, why didn’t you just make a sandwich here?”
I could tell Peaches was feeling just as uncomfortable about being yelled at as I was. She shrugged and murmured, “I had a craving.”
Mom did a silent stroll back and forth in front of us. I think she was recharging her battery because she started in again. “I’m not going to punish you, Claudia, because you were with an adult —” She narrowed her eyes at Peaches as she said the word. “An adult who should have known better. But I am most definitely not happy with your behavior.”
“I promise I won’t do it again,” was all I could say. My face was getting warmer by the minute and I could feel tears of embarrassment and frustration threatening to overflow any second.
“I’m just so disappointed in you, Claudia,” Mom went on. “We have been very lenient with you about your homework lately. Meanwhile your grades keep getting worse and worse. And midnight excursions like this don’t help matters one bit.”
That was it. I couldn’t sit there another minute and listen to my mother accuse me of deliberately avoiding my homework.
“It’s not my fault,” I shouted. “I try to do my homework, but every time I open a book Peaches is there wanting me to help cook a big dinner, or look at some catalogues, or help with her exercises. I mean, what am I supposed to do?” I pointed to Peaches. “If you want to yell at somebody — yell at her. She’s your sister!”
Everything was a blur as I turned and raced up to my room. I think Peaches may have called after me, but I didn’t want to hear her. I slammed the door and threw myself onto my bed.
The weekend seemed endless. I felt rotten and Peaches looked miserable. I didn’t mean to ignore her, but I really didn’t know what to say to her. So I spent a lot of time in my room.
Finally at lunch on Sunday Peaches asked if I would like to work with her on planning the baby’s room. “You could help me pick out fabric for the curtains and wallpaper, and maybe we can even find a frieze for the wall. I’ve brought a whole stack of swatch books home from the store.”
I knew it was Peaches’ way of trying to make peace, so I couldn’t say no. “Sure,” I said. “I think I’d really like that. But I can’t do it today. I have to finish my homework.”
Peaches pursed her lips. “I understand, Claudia,” she said, giving my mom a sideways glance. “Your homework should come first.”
“Maybe we could look at your books tomorrow after school,” I replied politely.
“Tomorrow would be fine.”
We sounded so formal. It made me cringe inside, but I didn’t know how else to act. It was clear that something had come between us, and we were fumbling for a way to move past it. I took a bite of my sandwich and hoped that maybe this was just an awkward phase we had to work through.
I worked all Sunday afternoon and evening on my school work, and I still didn’t finish everything. When you fall behind, it’s really hard to catch up. I didn’t want to listen, but this tiny voice inside my head kept saying, “It’s all Peaches’ fault.” So instead of growing less angry, the more I worked, the more resentful I felt.
“Do you need any help with your work, Claudia?” Peaches asked when I came down to the kitchen for a snack that evening.
“What do you know about anemones?” I shot back a little grumpily.
Peaches winced. “Not much. I think they’re pink.”
I opened the refrigerator without even looking at her. “Then I guess you can’t help me.”
Peaches left the kitchen without another word. As I poured myself a glass of milk and grabbed a handful of cookies, I felt bad that I’d been so rude. But then that tiny voice said, “She promised to help before and never came through. Now she offers, but she doesn’t know anything about science. She’s a washout.”
I didn’t see Peaches again until after school on Monday. I’d forgotten all about our plan to look at wallpaper books. Instead I was hoping to work on my sculpture. I’d salvaged a whole box of Styrofoam peanuts from the Dumpster at school — I thought they would add wonderful texture to my piece. So let’s just say I was less than enthusiastic when Peaches met me at the front door.
“Hi, Claud,” she called cheerily. “I have the swatch books all laid out on the coffee table. I even fixed us a snack to eat while we think.”
My shoulders slumped. “Oh, the wallpaper. I forgot about it.”
Peaches pursed her lips. “If it isn’t convenient, I can take a rain check.”
“No.” I sighed. “There’ll never be a convenient time. Let’s just get it over with.”
“Get it over with?” Peaches clipped each word as she spoke. “If that’s how you feel about it, then forget it. I don’t want you to help me.”
I really hadn’t intended to make her angry, so I quickly tried to change what I’d said. “I didn’t mean that the way it sounded,” I tried to explain. “It’s just that I’m feeling a little overloaded —”
“Look, Claudia,” Peaches cut in. “I’m sorry that my presence here is complicating your life. But you’re not the only one who has problems, you know. Russ and I are trying to deal with moving and having a baby and buying a new house. And I’m trying to deal with quitting my job. It doesn’t help matters to have to deal with a sulky teenager. I said I was sorry about taking you out for pizza, so would you please just get over it!”
With that, Peaches turned and marched into the den. I was left speechless.
Just then the doorbell rang. It was Mary Anne, ready for our next knitting lesson. I’d forgotten about that, too.
“Claudia, what’s the matter?” Mary Anne asked when I opened the front door. “You look like you’ve just seen a ghost.”
I put my finger to my lips and gestured for Mary Anne to follow me upstairs. I was afraid Peaches might overhear our conversation. When we reached my room I said, “I don’t think I want to work on the blanket anymore. I’ll give you back your yarn. Maybe you can do something else with it.”
“Did something happen with your aunt again?” Mary Anne asked. Of course I had told my friends about my frustrations with Peaches and how my mom had yelled at me on Friday. They were sympathetic, but encouraged me to work it out. “I thought you were going to try to smooth things over.”
“I know, I know.” I flopped miserably onto my bed. “But I was grumpy with her when I came home from school, and Peaches really let me have it.”
I tried to relay the exact words that had passed between us. Mary Anne listened carefully until I was through. “It sounds like you’re both on edge,” she said. “I’m sure Peaches didn’t want to hurt your feelings. And you didn’t want to hurt hers, did you?”
“No.” My lip was quivering a little. “I love Peaches. It’s just that she can be so pushy.”
“But isn’t that also one of the things you like about her?” Mary Anne asked gently. “I mean, if she weren’t pushy, you guys would never have had half the adventures y
ou’ve had.”
Mary Anne was right. But it was hard for me to admit it.
“Don’t stop working on the blanket just because of this little spat,” Mary Anne continued. “After all, nothing so very terrible has happened. You’ve both said a few things that you probably wish you hadn’t. That’s all. You’ll make up soon and everything will be fine. And besides, the present is for the baby, right? And you’re not mad at the baby, are you?”
“Of course not,” I murmured.
“Well, then you better keep knitting. Because …” Mary Anne grinned. “At the rate you’re going, the baby will be twelve before the blanket’s done.”
“Oh, all right.” I dug the yarn out of my closet and handed it to Mary Anne. Mary Anne held up the inch-long blanket and raised an eyebrow.
“I know, I know,” I muttered. “I haven’t done a stitch all week.”
“Well, the good news is,” she said diplomatically, “you haven’t made any more mistakes.”
That made me giggle. It was the first laugh I’d had in at least three days, and it felt good. As our lesson progressed, I felt better and better. By the time the Monday afternoon BSC meeting started, I was actually feeling cheery.
Kristy called the meeting to order and then Shannon reported on the Friendship Campaign.
“I hate to admit it,” Shannon began, “but Plan A didn’t work. I invited some kids to come play with Natalie, but all they did was cluster into their own groups. None of them wanted to play with her. And frankly, I don’t blame them. She turned into a really bossy, unpleasant little girl.”
“Natalie’s really a very sweet kid,” I said. “Odd, maybe, but not bratty. I think we should give this campaign another chance.”
“Claud’s right,” Stacey said. “Maybe Natalie wasn’t feeling well that day or something.”
Kristy tugged at her visor. “You know what? It sounds like the kids she already knows fell into the old pattern of ignoring Natalie. And she was uncomfortable, so she acted bossy. Maybe it’s time to introduce her to a whole new batch of kids — ones she’s never met before — and let her make a fresh start.”
“I’m supposed to sit for Natalie on Wednesday,” Jessi said, checking the schedule in her dance bag. “Why don’t I take her to my neighborhood? I’ll ask Becca to introduce Natalie to her friends.”
“Great,” Kristy said. “On with Plan B!”
The rest of the meeting was really busy. Everybody left in a good mood, and I was reasonably happy, too. But as I waved good-bye from the open door, I caught sight of Peaches’ stack of wallpaper books, and my warm glow evaporated. Despite my talk with Mary Anne, I really didn’t feel any differently about Peaches. It was hard to forget her harsh words.
Jessi’s first meeting with Natalie started pretty much the way everyone else’s had. Not long after Mrs. Springer left, Natalie turned to Jessi and said, “Will you be my friend?”
“I’ll be your friend, Natalie,” Jessi answered, taking Natalie firmly by the hand. “And I’ll also introduce you to some of my friends.”
“Your friends? Are they here?”
“Nope. I’m going to take you to meet them. But first I need to write your mom a note.”
Jessi told Mrs. Springer where they were headed, in case Mrs. Springer came home earlier than expected. And Jessi left a phone number where they could be reached. She taped the note to the refrigerator, where Mrs. Springer couldn’t miss it.
“Come on,” Jessi said, turning to Natalie and rubbing her hands together. “Let’s go meet some kids.”
“What kids?” Natalie asked warily.
“My sister and some of her friends,” Jessi replied.
They walked hand in hand the few blocks to Jessi’s house. When they arrived, Becca and Charlotte Johanssen were playing jump rope in the front yard. One end of the rope was tied to a tree and Charlotte was twirling the other end.
“Not last night but the night before,” Becca chanted as she jumped, “twenty-four robbers came knocking at my door. I ran out and they ran in, hit them over the head with a rolling pin.”
“Hi, Becca. Hi, Char,” Jessi called. “Say hi to Natalie!”
Becca didn’t stop jumping. She just called, in rhythm with the rope, “Nice to meet you, Nat-a-lie!”
Natalie, who was still holding on to Jessi’s hand, suddenly became incredibly shy. She ducked behind Jessi and murmured, “Hello,” so softly that only Jessi heard her.
Jessi had made a few calls on Tuesday, inviting kids to come to her house after school. For half a second she was afraid they weren’t going to show up. But they soon began arriving from all directions. First the Hobart boys showed up. James, who’s eight, was towing his four-year-old brother, Johnny, in a red wagon. Mathew, who’s six, carried a soccer ball under one arm.
“G’day, Jessi,” James called (the Hobarts have these great Australian accents). “Is this the girl we’re supposed to meet?”
Jessi stepped sideways and gestured to Natalie, who couldn’t stop staring at James. “Yep. This is Natalie. And Natalie, meet the Hobarts. They’re from Down Under.”
“Down under?” Natalie shoved her glasses up on her nose, totally confused.
“She means we’re from Australia,” James explained.
“Wow, that’s a long way away,” Natalie was impressed.
Mathew tossed the ball in the air. “Halfway around the world.”
There was a long pause as the Hobart boys and Natalie stared at each other. Finally Mathew held up the ball and asked, “Who wants to play kickball?”
“I do!”
The answer came from half a block away. Jessi spotted a girl with a thick halo of red hair skipping down the sidewalk. “Hi, Rosie!” she called. “Come and meet Natalie.”
Rosie Wilder is really talented and outgoing. She’s one of my favorite kids to baby-sit for. She saw Jessi and did a grand jeté (that’s a leap that looks like a split — I know that much from hanging around Jessi), then landed in a curtsy in front of Natalie. “Hi, I’m Rosie.”
Natalie smiled and took several steps backward. She backed up so far that she tripped over Johnny’s wagon and fell flat on her seat.
“That’s what I call being bowled over,” Jessi joked. “Rosie always has that effect on people.”
Rosie giggled, but Natalie blushed. And not just her cheeks — her whole face went bright pink.
Luckily James shouted, “Rosie, step on it, will you? We want to play ball!”
Rosie raced to join them and nearly collided with Jamie Newton, who was running from the opposite direction, accompanied by Mary Anne. He scooped up the kickball and shouted, “I’m the first pitcher!”
“No fair!” Mathew shouted. “We were here first, so we get to pitch first.”
The game of Kickball quickly turned into a game of Keepaway as the kids chased Jamie all over the yard trying to grab the ball.
“Go and play with them,” Jessi urged Natalie. “It looks like they’re having fun.”
“They don’t want to play with me. They don’t even know me.”
Jessi had braced herself for heading off some bossiness, but Natalie was acting anything but bossy. In fact, she was being so clingy that Jessi was starting to feel concerned. She was about to coax Natalie into joining the kickball game one more time, when she noticed that Natalie wasn’t watching the game at all. Her attention was focused on Becca and Charlotte and the jump rope.
“Do you know how to jump rope?” Jessi asked Natalie.
Natalie nodded firmly. “I know some good jumping rhymes, too.”
“Great! Why don’t you teach them to Becca and Charlotte?”
“I couldn’t,” Natalie said, backing away once more. “They probably already know them, anyway.”
“Let’s go see.” Jessi took Natalie by the hand and they approached the girls.
“Becca?” Jessi called. “Natalie says she knows some pretty good jump rope rhymes. Would you two like to learn them?”
Charlotte, wh
o was jumping, stopped immediately. The rope dropped around her ankles. “Sure. I’m really tired of Not Last Night but the Night Before. We’ve done it at least twenty times.”
Natalie clasped her hands in front of her and stared at the toes of her shoes. “Do you guys know Teddy Bear, Teddy Bear?”
Becca and Charlotte looked at each other and shrugged. “No.”
“How about One Frog, Two Frog?” Natalie asked.
They didn’t know that one either.
“That’s my favorite,” Natalie said, lifting her chin and smiling a little. “Because at one part you have to jump like a frog.”
“That sounds fun,” Becca said. “Why don’t you show us?”
Natalie looked to Jessi for support. “Go ahead, Natalie,” Jessi said. “Show them. And don’t worry if you mess up.”
“Yeah,” Becca added. “I’ve stepped on the rope five times today.”
“Six,” Charlotte corrected her.
“Okay, six,” Becca said with a grin. She untied the rope from the tree, adding, “I’m glad you want to play with us, Natalie. Sometimes it’s hard to jump with the rope tied to the tree.”
Charlotte nodded. “It catches on the bark and then we have to start all over.”
Once they had untied the rope from the tree, the girls moved over to the driveway, where it would be easier to jump. Charlotte and Becca stood ready to twirl. Natalie took a deep breath and said, “I’ll start with Teddy Bear, Teddy Bear, because that’s the easiest. I hope I don’t forget it.”
“You won’t,” Jessi said. “Just get in there and jump.”
The rope looped high in the air several times. Finally Natalie got up her nerve, ran into the middle, and began to chant her jump rope rhyme.
“Teddy Bear, Teddy Bear, turn around;
Teddy Bear, Teddy Bear, touch the ground.
Teddy Bear, Teddy Bear, run upstairs;
Teddy Bear, Teddy Bear, say your prayers.
Teddy Bear, Teddy Bear, turn out the light;
Teddy Bear, Teddy Bear, say goodnight.”
Jessi watched as Becca and Charlotte each took a turn at Teddy Bear, Teddy Bear. Then Natalie showed them One Frog, Two Frog. She had to help them with the words and motions, but she never sounded bossy. And when she stepped on the rope she wasn’t embarrassed at all. In fact, Natalie, who had started out so shy, now wore a grin that stretched from ear to ear.