“Good luck,” Mary Anne said, slipping away to her room.
“Thanks.” I walked into Mom and Richard’s bedroom and closed the door. I still felt a little sneaky, but I had already made my decision.
Sitting down on the bed, I picked up the phone and tapped out my dad’s number.
“Helllll-lo!” sang a sweet and chipper female voice.
My stomach tied itself in a knot. It was definitely not the voice I’d expected.
“Carol?” I said.
“Yes! Who is this?”
“Uh, Dawn. Dawn Schafer.”
“Well, hello, Dawn Schafer!” Carol laughed. “Did you think I’d forgotten your last name?”
I couldn’t figure out why that was so funny. “No, I —”
“How are you? Oh, wow. This is so cool. I was just thinking about you.”
Oh, wow? So cool? I had to shake my head. This was a thirty-two-year-old I was talking to. “Really? I’m fine. And you?”
“Great. I’m making a fancy salad — radicchio, edible flowers, sun-dried tomatoes. You should see it! Oh, your dad will be so happy to hear you called! I better give the phone to him. Besides, I have olive oil and lemon juice all over my fingers. When are we going to see you?”
“Well, I —”
“Oops, here he is! He’s taking the phone out of my hand. Oops! ’Bye, Dawn!”
“ ’Bye!” I said.
(I thought I liked Carol. Maybe I was wrong.)
“Heyyy, how’s my Sunshine?” Dad greeted me.
“Hi, Dad!” I felt all my gloominess wash away. I wish you could hear my dad’s voice. It’s so deep and laid-back and comforting. Honestly, I think he could have been a TV announcer. “Do you have a few minutes to talk?”
“For you? As long as you want!”
We chatted for a minute. Then, taking a deep breath, I said, “Dad, um … I’ve been thinking really hard about how much I miss California.”
“Yeah. But you know, honey, I think Connecticut is one of the most beautiful —”
“Well, not California, exactly, but you. And Jeff. And my friends. And even Mrs. Bruen.” (She’s my dad’s housekeeper.) “What I mean is, I really want to move back for a while. Like for a few months. I’m not asking permission. I just want to know what you think.”
“What do I think? Well — I — Dawn, are you sure about this?”
Gulp. I felt as if I were on an elevator that had just dropped ten floors. Dad was supposed to sound thrilled — or at least a little positive.
“Yeah, I’m sure,” I said. I explained all my reasons, and he listened silently.
At the end, I could hear him sigh. “How does your mom feel about it?”
“Not too great.”
“Mm, I wouldn’t think so. I mean, with Jeff already out here.”
“You don’t sound too happy, either, Dad.” I was fighting the urge to cry.
“Oh, Dawn, I’d be overjoyed if you came. Don’t get me wrong. It’s just that … well, I hope you’re not setting yourself up for disappointment. It’s not easy going back to a place after you’ve left.”
“I know, but I don’t want to move back. It would just be temporary.”
Dad was silent for a long time. Finally he said, “I suppose I should talk with your mom.”
“Mom?” I was mortified. “But — she doesn’t — she’ll think —”
“Don’t worry. I’ll explain everything. I’ll say you called only to discuss the idea, not to make me side with you against her. Okay?”
“Okay. I’ll go get her.”
I ran out of the room. Mary Anne was peering from her doorway with huge, questioning eyes. I smiled and ran downstairs.
Mom was practically asleep, watching some old bearded man conduct an orchestra full of younger bearded men and unbearded women. “Mom?” I said.
“Huh?”
“Dad’s on the phone. Can you talk to him?”
Mom looked a little — well, annoyed, shocked, scared, wary, you name it. She picked up the extension in the kitchen. “Hello?”
I pretended I had things to do downstairs. I walked around the living room. Then I wiped off the clean dining room table. Then I inspected the dishwasher.
I heard snatches of conversation: “… midterm enrollment … after-school activities … statewide achievement standards … sure I feel that way. I’m human … six months … you think so? … That would be nice … so sad lately….”
It was a looooong conversation. My imagination was going wild dreaming up ways to make myself look busy. By the time Mom hung up, I was examining the front hall carpet.
I ran into the kitchen. “Well?” I said. “Did you talk about it?”
I expected Mom’s face to look all grumpy and thoughtful. But she gave me a warm smile. “Sure we did. It’s the only thing we talked about. Give us some time, Dawn. It’s a big change. We’re going to sleep on it and talk again tomorrow. Okay?”
“Okay, sure,” I said. I nodded and went upstairs. I was cool. I was reasonable. I walked straight to my room. I shut the door behind me.
Then I buried my face in my pillow and screamed at the top of my lungs.
Mary Anne came running in. “Did they say yes?”
“No,” I said, grinning.
“Then why were you screaming?”
“They didn’t say no. And Mom wasn’t angry!”
Mary Anne looked at me as if I were crazy. “Uh, okay. I guess that’s progress.”
“Yup,” I said.
Mary Anne gave me another curious look, then went back to her homework.
Me? I guess I was happy to have the matter out in the open. I was sure that if I stuck to my guns, I had a chance.
And all I needed was a chance.
“Yes, it is early in the school year, but I’m not sure you understand,” Mom was saying into the phone.
It was Sunday afternoon. Mom and Dad were talking for the second time that day. Their earlier conversation had been horrible. Mom had been crabby, and obviously Dad hadn’t been any better. Fortunately, they seemed to be pretty calm now.
Mary Anne was off sitting for the Kuhns, and Richard was food shopping, so I had to face the tension alone. What do I like to do to relieve tension? Talk on the phone! Doesn’t it figure? So instead, I decided to read a mystery — in the living room, conveniently within earshot of the kitchen.
“They’re already a few weeks into the curriculum,” Mom continued. “Yeah, I guess I should ask Mrs. Amer.”
Whoa. This was a big breakthrough. Mrs. Amer is my guidance counselor. So Mom and Dad were no longer talking about whether I should go, but how I would adjust if I did go!
I pulled myself together. A real “yes” was still a long way off. I knew I should remain calm, calm, calm.
“Okay, what else?” Mom said. “Yes, she does date … occasionally. Steady? Well, no, but there is a boy she writes to pretty often.”
I blushed. That boy is Logan Bruno’s cousin, Lewis. We had a great time when he visited, but we’re more pen pals than anything now.
“Yes,” Mom continued. “She has to be home by nine on weekdays and ten on weekends, unless she’s sitting late…. Baby-sitting…. Clothes? Uh, yes, she picks them out herself. She’s thirteen, you know.”
Hmm. Dad was asking some pretty serious questions — some pretty dumb ones, too. I guess he was just trying to find out all he could about my life now. Visits are one thing, but Dad was going to have to be a parent to a teenaged girl.
Maybe. Maybe. I had to take things one step at a time.
When Mom hung up, I debated running into the kitchen. But before I could make up my mind, I heard her tapping out another number.
“Hi, Linda. It’s Sharon Spier. I just need to know the going rates for coach airfare to Los Angeles…. I don’t have a date yet. How far in advance do flights book up? … Uh-huh, right…. Well, thanks a lot…. Okay, ’bye.”
Airfare? My jaw almost hit the floor. I flew into the kitchen. Mom was scribb
ling something on a pad of paper.
“Mom?” I squeaked.
She smiled knowingly. “Just checking things out. Airfares are so crazy these days.”
“But those things you and Dad were talking about….”
“You weren’t supposed to hear that!” Mom laughed. “We’ll discuss it over dinner with the whole family.”
“Over dinner? Come on, Mom. That’s not fair. I’m dying to know what happened! What did Dad say? You decided something, didn’t you? Otherwise you wouldn’t want to talk about it with the whole family! Right? Oh, please please tell me.”
Mom kept smiling, although I thought I could see tears in her eyes. “Okay. Sit down, sweetheart, before you fly through the window.”
I sat.
“We just don’t know whether or not the Palo City school is teaching the same things as SMS,” she began. “If not, you could end up terribly bored or terribly lost. Now, I need to talk to Mrs. Amer tomorrow, and your dad’s going to talk to a guidance counselor out there —”
“And if they say it’s all right?” I butted in.
“Well, if they convince us that you’ll be able to cope with the change, then yes, we’ll let you go for six months.”
I rocketed out of my chair and threw my arms around her. “Ohhhhh! You are the best, wonderfulest, understandingest mom in the universe!”
“Honey, please don’t get your hopes up yet,” Mom said gently. “Let’s wait to hear what your counselor says.”
“Right.” I nodded and stood up. “I understand.”
Ding-dong! “Delivery man!”
It was Richard. He pushed open the front door and clomped through the living room, loaded down with four humongous grocery bags. I have no idea how he managed to ring the doorbell.
Mom and I ran out and helped bring in the other bags. They barely fit on the kitchen counter.
“Quite a haul, huh?” Richard said proudly.
Richard shops with a boxful of coupons organized by category. He takes his calculator and makes sure to get only the groceries that are on sale. Then he figures out the percentage he’s saved over the regular prices.
Mom and I glanced inside the bags. “Did you remember the acorn squash?” Mom asked.
Richard’s smile disappeared. A mistake! I don’t know who was more surprised, Richard or Mom and me.
* * *
Well, we managed to reassure Richard that he had done a great job shopping. And he did bring us some slices of fabulous prepared lasagna for dinner (vegetarian for me).
While we were eating, Mom broke the news to Mary Anne and Richard about her conversation with Dad. The four of us talked about it then, but only a little. No one wanted to talk about it too much until the trip was definite.
Later on Mary Anne and I squirreled away in my room. “I am sooo nervous!” Mary Anne squeaked.
“You’re nervous?” I said. “How do you think I feel? What if Dad calls tomorrow and says the kids out there are studying, like, Ancient Streptococcus or something?”
Mary Anne burst out laughing. “Ancient Streptococcus? What’s that?”
“I don’t know. I made it up.” I began pacing. “Oh, I can’t stand this. How am I going to sleep? And what about tomorrow at school? What am I going to tell everybody?”
“Nothing,” Mary Anne replied. “There’s nothing definite to tell.”
“But Kristy’s going to want to know right away. Remember when I went to visit Jeff when he was sick? That was only a couple of weeks, and it was hard to replace me!”
I realized how conceited that sounded, but Mary Anne understood what I meant.
“But suppose your parents say no, Dawn? Not that I’m wishing that, but just suppose? Then you’ll upset everybody for no reason.”
I sighed. Mary Anne was right. It was best to keep it quiet.
* * *
I was a wreck the next day. Every time I walked by the guidance office I could have sworn they were talking about me. I have no idea what happened in any of my classes — except that during math Alan Gray (the Official SMS Jerk) kept cupping his hands over his mouth and saying, “Come in, Dawn. This is earth. Do you read me?” At lunch I managed to dip my hair in a glass of tomato juice (very cool). Claudia helped me clean it off in the girls’ room — and I practically exploded from wanting to tell her my secret.
After the final bell, I met Mary Anne in front of school and we ran home. Mom was at work, so I threw my books on the kitchen floor and called her office.
“Good afternoon, Mrs. Ballmer speaking.”
“Hi! May I speak to Mrs. Schafer?” I blurted.
“Who?”
“Mrs…. Mrs. Spier?”
“No, this is Mrs. Ballmer. B-A-L-L —”
“Sharon! Is Sharon Spier there, please?”
“Oh. Uh, just a moment.”
I was dying. My stomach felt like a pretzel. I hoped Mrs. Ballmer wouldn’t go wandering away and forget about the phone.
“Hello, Sharon Spier here.”
“Mom, it’s me! Hi! Did you call Mrs. Amer?”
“I sure did —”
“And did you call Dad?”
“Yes, and —”
“Did he call the counselor there?”
“Yes, Dawn —”
“Well, what did they say?”
Mom laughed. “Let me finish a sentence. A couple of the courses you’re taking now have a slightly different emphasis in the SMS curriculum.”
“You mean they’re harder?”
“Well, some harder, some easier, it seems. But the point is, both counselors think you shouldn’t have any trouble making up the work — either moving there or moving back here.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
“So that means I can go?”
“Yes, it does. I booked you a flight for three weeks from this past Saturday.”
“AAAAAAAAAAAAUUUGGHHHHHHH!” I screamed. “Ooh, sorry!”
“That’s okay,” Mom said. “I have another ear.”
“Oh, Mom, thank you! Thank you! I love you so much. You are the greatest.”
“All I can say is, you better write.”
“Every day! Twice a day!”
“Well, I’d even accept once a week. Now listen, sweetheart, I have to get back to work. We’ll celebrate tonight, okay?”
“Okay. ‘Bye!”
“ ’Bye.”
I slammed the phone down. Mary Anne was standing an inch away from me, grinning like crazy. We threw our arms around each other and shrieked.
“I knew it!” Mary Anne said. “Tell me everything.”
I repeated what my mom had told me. Mary Anne nodded excitedly
“What a relief!” I said. “Now I can feel like a human again. I couldn’t stand not talking about this!”
“What about the meeting today?” Mary Anne asked. “Are you going to break the news?”
“I guess so. You think I should?”
“Why not?”
“Maybe I should call Claudia in advance so she can hide a cake in her sock drawer or something.”
Mary Anne giggled. “Dawn, I’m so happy for you! You’re like your old self again.”
“California, here I come!” I screamed.
Whoa. Ease up, Dawn, I told myself. I realized I was being totally inconsiderate of Mary Anne’s feelings. As if I were happy to be leaving her.
But she just smiled and kept asking me questions about my trip. No tears. Not even a sniffle. She seemed just as happy as I was.
For a moment, just a moment, I wondered whether Mary Anne was really going to miss me.
But I pushed that thought out of my mind. I couldn’t wait to tell my friends the news.
“This meeting will come to order!” Kristy barked.
I had sat in Claud’s room for five whole minutes without saying a word. I wanted to wait for the perfect moment to break my news.
“Does anyone have any club business?” Kristy asked.
That was it.
>
“I do!” I called out. “I’m going to be moving back to California for six months!”
Cheers rang out. A brass band clanged through the room. Reporters formed a circle around me.
Well, not exactly. My friends stared at me blankly, as if I’d made my announcement in Swedish.
Finally Stacey asked, “For real?”
I nodded.
“Is this, like, an emergency?” Mallory asked.
“No,” I said. Patiently I told my story. I made sure to mention (several times) how much I would miss everybody, and how I would definitely come back when the six months were over.
Finally Stacey looked at me with this warm smile. “Dawn, you sound so happy,” she said.
“But six months?” Claudia chimed in. “We’re going to miss you so much!”
“Yeah!” Jessi, Mal, and Stacey agreed.
Then everyone began talking at once:
“What are you bringing?”
“Is it still swimming weather there?”
“Are you going to have to go to school?” (That was Claudia’s question.)
“Send pictures!”
“Send pictures of guys on the beach!”
“Just send the guys!”
Before long we were all giggling. All except Kristy. She was trying not to look angry, but she couldn’t keep the frown from her face.
“Ahem,” Kristy finally said. “Maybe we should talk about the consequences of this?”
Claudia rolled her eyes. “Come on, Kristy. She’s not moving. She’s just going for a visit.”
“Right,” Kristy replied. “And we’ll be short one member for six months. That’s twenty-six weeks, times three meetings a week is … what, Stacey?”
“Um, seventy-eight,” Stacey answered. “But Kristy —”
“Seventy-eight meetings is a lot,” Kristy said. “As it is, the seven of us are booked solid. In case you haven’t noticed, we’ve been calling on Logan and Shannon all the time. What’s going to happen when we lose one member?”
“Kristy, come on —” Claudia began.
“Well, we have to think of these things, right?” Kristy protested. “I mean, I know you miss your dad, Dawn. But six months just seems like a lot.”