Victoria hadn’t been paying any attention when the call came through. She had just gotten off the phone with Melanie, one of her new girlfriends, who was sobbing because her eighth-grade crush had asked another seventh grader to go to the movies. In other words, Victoria was in the middle of an emotional emergency-room situation, and here was Papa pacing and gesturing for Victoria to get off the phone.
Life in the seventh grade is turning out to have a lot of these crisis moments—for her girlfriends, that is. Victoria herself is not allowed to date, and when she tries to pin Papa down on when he’ll lift the ban, her father gets very vague about there being plenty of time for that in the future.
No wonder Victoria has resorted to wishing on other people’s birthday candles for B&B guests with teenage sons! It’s pathetic, if you ask her. Which Papa won’t. The only benefit to being out of the dating game is that every seventh-grade girl with a heartache ends up confiding in Victoria. But then, the one way she can fit in, Papa also ruins by establishing the five-minute-phone-call rule.
Last night with Melanie, Victoria knew she had gone way over this limit. And she would be hearing all about it as soon as she got off the phone. Her father would start in on this being Colonel Charlebois’s house (not that the sweet old man cares a hoot about Victoria’s being on the phone) and how, now that Victoria is going to be thirteen, she really needs to show more consideration.
But no sooner had Victoria put the phone down than it rang again. Papa picked it up, and instead of saying, “Oh, hi, Melanie,” he said, “This is he.” Victoria sprinted upstairs so that when Papa concluded his call and came up to have a word with her, he’d find his eldest fast at work on an assignment, which he wouldn’t want to interrupt. Papa is big on his daughters doing their homework.
But Papa didn’t come up. Victoria could hear him on the second floor getting the rooms ready. She thought of going down to help out but decided that she’d be asking for it. Instead, she got the story secondhand from Cari, who mixed up the details: some water polo team coaches were coming for a meeting. (Cari thought a meet and a meeting were the same thing.) Victoria pictured a bunch of old guys with beer bellies telling corny jokes she would have to pretend were funny.
Quickly, as the guys are now at the door, Victoria slips into the bathroom to check on her hair. She also wants to be sure her jaw is hinged back in place so she doesn’t go downstairs to welcome this weekend’s B&B guests looking like she never saw a boy before in her life.
As she descends the stairs, Victoria has a view of the parlor. Colonel Charlebois is snoring away, which is incredible considering the commotion in the front hall. For a second, Victoria’s thoughts turn to the old man. Several times recently, Tía Lola has mentioned that she is concerned about Colonel Charlebois. He has been sleeping too much. Like maybe he is depressed or sick or taking too many pills or something.
Just inside the mudroom, Essie has already launched into her welcome routine. “Tía Lola’s historic B&B was founded by a direct descendant of Christopher Columbus.” If Papa could hear her! He’d launch into his own routine about historical accuracy. Of course, Essie would argue that Tía Lola comes from the Dominican Republic, which is where Christopher Columbus first landed, and Tía Lola herself has said that almost everyone on the island is her cousin.
“Hey, hey, hey!” One of the guys has caught sight of Victoria. He has curly brown hair and a mischievous grin. “And who is this?”
“That’s my sister,” Essie says, as if pointing out the bathroom.
“Yo there, big sister!” the same guy says. He sure is a bigmouth. Maybe he’s the captain or something.
“My dad’s coaching soccer, but he’ll be back by supper,” Essie rattles on. “He said to make yourselves at home. We have three guest rooms and air mattresses and stuff. We also have some more space in the attic, if you need it.”
“You guys can have my room,” Victoria blurts out, and the next moment her cheeks are burning, as she sounded so eager. “I can sleep in my little sister’s room,” she adds more evenly.
“How about your bedroom with you in it?” The same guy again. His teammates erupt in laughter. Excuse me? That was funny?
“Out of line, Cohen,” the coach barks. “You owe the young lady an apology.”
Cohen bows his curly head and mutters something, maybe an apology. But the harm’s done. All his buddies are looking her over like she’s some menu they’re going to order from. Victoria feels mortified. Until this moment, she had no idea what reserves of courage it took to face seven college guys without looking like an animal surprised in the headlights of a car.
When the phone rings and it’s Melanie, Victoria somehow gets back into the groove of being excited about her wish come true. “That’s right, seven. They’re doubling up. The coach and another guy are taking my room.”
“You are so lucky!” Melanie sighs. “I wish my parents had a B&B.”
“I know,” Victoria agrees. But what she really wants to say is Be careful what you wish for! Another insight of this eye-opening day: a lot of good luck is in the eye of the beholder.
Friday night, the water polo team takes off to practice and get acquainted with the college pool. Papa asks if he can tag along, and Miguel and Essie go with him. That leaves Victoria and Tía Lola and Linda and the younger girls to play dominoes with the colonel in the front parlor. They chat and sip a ginger tea Tía Lola made especially for Colonel Charlebois.
“Mmm, tastes good.” The colonel nods appreciatively. “Much better than my usual brew.” All day he sips tea from the thermos his cleaning girl prepares for him.
Tonight, he seems quite lively. Maybe that’s all the old man has been missing? Some attention? Tía Lola certainly hopes so. She wants to get to the bottom of why the colonel has been so tired recently. She feels responsible for this B&B idea. Maybe Linda was right to begin with, and all this added commotion has been too much for the old man. If so, Tía Lola is ready to close down her B&B, rather than risk the colonel’s good health and sanity.
The phone keeps ringing—that alone could drive anyone crazy. The calls are always for Victoria. Although she has told only Melanie about the water polo team, Melanie can’t keep her mouth shut, and soon most of their mutual girlfriends are calling Victoria to confirm the story.
“Sorry about that,” Victoria says after the last call.
“You certainly are a popular gal,” the colonel notes gallantly. “I feel very honored that you have a free night to spend with us.”
“They’re just girlfriends.” Victoria doesn’t mean to make her girlfriends sound like second-class citizens. It’s just that her calls are definitely not romantic, as the colonel probably imagines. “I’m not allowed to date,” she adds, making a face.
“Date?!” Linda looks shocked. “Don’t tell me seventh graders are now dating?”
“Except for Victoria Espada,” Victoria says with grievance in her voice. One more thing that sets her apart, along with being the only one of her friends whose mother has died, and the only kid with brown skin in her whole class—it turns out that it’s exotic to be Hispanic in Vermont. Add to that a strict papa who thinks dating is only for the middle-aged (like for him and Linda), and Victoria doesn’t stand a chance of being like everybody else.
Linda looks over at her daughter. “Don’t you go getting any ideas, Juana Inés!”
“Maaaami!” Juanita wails. “I’m only in fourth grade! Besides, who’d want to date a yuckety-yuck boy, anyway?”
“Yuckety-yuck, yuckety-yuck.” Cari sways her head left and right to the rollicking sound.
“Apparently, you both will when you’re seventh graders,” Mami says, sighing. But then, wanting Victoria to feel she can confide in her father’s new girlfriend, Linda adds, “Would you really like to be able to date?”
Victoria isn’t sure if it’s the dating she misses or not being able to do the things her friends do. What if she could date and this Cohen guy asked her out? Yuckety-yuck
is right.
“If I were a young man again, I know who I’d be asking out,” the colonel says with a twinkle in his eye. Victoria flashes him a grateful smile. She can’t explain it, but when the colonel pays her a compliment, she feels so special, as compared to the crude come-on of that Cohen guy.
“But alas”—the colonel takes a deep sigh—“those days are behind me.”
Tía Lola’s forehead creases with concern. “How are you feeling these days, Colonel Charlebois? You don’t seem yourself.”
“Don’t you start fussing over me,” the colonel says gruffly, but you can tell he is touched by Tía Lola’s concern. “I’m just a little tired lately, that’s all. And no, it has nothing to do with your B&B or my wonderful new housemates. I suppose now that baseball season is over, there’s not much for me to do. I sit around all day and nod off. I try to read, but my eyes have gotten so bad.”
“I’ve got an idea,” Victoria pipes up. She has been feeling pangs of shame. It’s well into her second month in the colonel’s house, and she can’t remember the last time she sat down to visit with the old man. He’s just been so easy to overlook in all the hectic excitement of their move to a new town, a new school, new friends, the B&B, babysitting for her little sisters. But that’s no reason to ignore him. “How about if I read to you a little every day? Maybe the newspaper or a history book.” Her father would love that. He is big on his daughters knowing the deeds of the past.
“That is a lovely offer, my dear.” The colonel’s eyes have gone all misty. “But you are a busy young lady.”
“No, I’m not!” Victoria says with surprising determination. Her father has often noted that his sweet, pliant eldest has a will of steel once she decides on a certain course. “And this way, I can learn all about the great deeds of the past and stuff.” The offer itself is genuine, but the follow-up is baloney, and the colonel knows the difference. “Really, it’ll be fun,” Victoria adds with convincing warmth.
“Okay, we’ve got a date. But on two conditions: First, I pay for this reading service. Second, I’ve had enough history in my life. I think a little romantic fiction would do me some good, or maybe that Harry Potter fellow.” The colonel winks at Victoria. “Who knows?” he adds, looking over at Tía Lola. “Between your ginger teas and your readings”—he nods to each lovely lady—“I’ll be dancing merengue by Christmas!”
When the phone rings again, Victoria hurries to answer it. But it turns out to be for Colonel Charlebois. “Your cleaning girl,” Victoria says, reentering the room.
The colonel gets up grumpily. He has already told the teenage girl that he doesn’t need her to clean the whole house anymore. The Espada family has insisted on doing the housework as a way of compensating the colonel for not charging them rent. Needless to say, the girl is not pleased. “My mother’s going to kill me if I lose this job,” she has reportedly told him. Partly to help her out, and also because deep down the gruff old man is a sweetheart, the colonel has kept her on part-time to do his washing and ironing, attend to his things, etc. She slips in and out so quietly, no one but Papa and Colonel Charlebois have laid eyes on her.
Out on the hall phone, the colonel sounds like he’s finalizing arrangements for tomorrow’s cleaning. “Okay then, Miss Beauregard. My regards to your mother.”
Tía Lola jumps as if she just sat down on Essie’s whoopee cushion, a gag that Victoria’s sister thinks is so hilarious. Victoria means to ask Tía Lola what’s up, but just as the colonel hangs up, the phone rings again. “Oh, good evening, Melanie,” he is saying. “Let me see if she is available.”
Saturday morning, after sleeping in, the water polo team comes down noisily to breakfast. They wolf down their pancakes, laughing loudly, tossing their napkins across the table at each other. They’re like puppies, Victoria thinks, but even Valentino was better behaved when he was a pup.
The team has a few hours to kill before their game this afternoon. “Any hot spots in town we should take in?” Cohen asks Victoria, arching an eyebrow suggestively, as if she knows what he means. Just to be a pill, Victoria tells him that there’s a great military museum across the lake at Fort Ticonderoga. “You’ll learn a lot of American history and stuff there. Really,” she adds because the guy is looking at her like she just dropped in from outer space.
He snorts and looks over at his friends, who snort back. They sound like a bunch of hogs. “You got to be kidding,” he says at last.
“Victoria is absolutely right,” her father chimes in. He is surprised by his eldest’s recommendation, as Victoria has never shown a particular liking for history. But now that she’s almost thirteen, her tastes are maturing, no doubt. “It’s well worth your while.”
Hog Cohen snorts again. “I’d rather make history than learn about it, you know?” He grins at Victoria, watching for her reaction. It’s as if he gets a real kick out of embarrassing her.
The team takes off, leaving their duffel bags of equipment in the front hall where they dropped them off after last night’s practice. Victoria has to navigate her way through that obstacle course as she heads for the parlor to keep her promise and read to the colonel. She trips over a bulky bag sticking out from the others—probably Cohen’s. Victoria can’t help herself. She whacks it with her foot, once, twice, six, seven times. And one more for good measure. She had no idea guys could be so rude and in your face. If this is what she’d be dating, Victoria will gladly wait till middle age.
Melanie, along with two other friends, Sophie and Emily, drop by just as the water polo team is returning to pick up their gear. Cohen invites the girls to come watch the game. “Just as long as you cheer for us, deal?”
The girls giggle assent. Honestly. Victoria is feeling increasingly frustrated with her silly friends. All they seem to think about is boys. If this is what dating does to the human brain, who needs it?
Victoria would just as soon pass on going to the game, but Papa is off coaching, and so she has to babysit her sisters, who’ve also been invited to the game. Essie would have a major meltdown if Victoria proposed staying at home instead. Besides, Tía Lola is coming along with Juanita and Miguel, which should make it fun. And most importantly, the colonel is eager to go. It’ll do him good to be out and about.
“I’d have you know the last water polo game I watched was the famous Blood in the Water match,” the colonel informs the team. “Summer Olympics, 1956, Hungarians against the Soviets.” The colonel goes on to describe the historic game. Amazingly, the young teammates are hanging on his every word. Even Cohen is listening. Certain kinds of history must be okay to learn about. Victoria can’t help noticing the absorbed, almost sweet expression on the team captain’s face. Maybe when he finally grows up, Cohen will turn into a nice human being whom Victoria might consider dating.
It’s time for the game to start. The home team has already been out swimming laps for a good fifteen minutes. Her friends are gossiping away, so they don’t seem to notice the delay, but Victoria is growing restless. Where is the visiting team?
Finally their coach comes out and confers with the home coach, who shakes his head and accompanies him into the locker room. He comes back out and makes an announcement. The visiting team will need another fifteen minutes. There is some problem with their equipment.
Of course, the first thing that comes into Victoria’s mind is that series of walloping kicks she delivered to the clunky sports bag. What if she broke some critical piece of equipment? She feels awful. She’ll have to fess up. Victoria wouldn’t sink so low as to do something wrong and then be a sneak about it. But this is just the kind of ammunition she does not want to give a guy like Cohen.
When the visiting team finally trots out of the locker room, Victoria is so relieved, she stands up and screams right along with her friends. Thank goodness, nobody’s wearing something broken and patched up. In fact, they’re hardly wearing anything at all, except caps and teensy striped Speedos that look like they can easily be yanked off. And they can be, as
evidenced several times in the course of the ensuing game. Victoria doesn’t know where to look, and neither do her friends. “That’s disgusting,” Melanie mutters. “Yuck!” Emily agrees. “Double yuck,” Sophie adds. Another source of relief for Victoria. Maybe she’s not so different from her girlfriends after all.
When the team comes back to check out from Tía Lola’s B&B, Victoria and Melanie join everyone in the hall to congratulate them on their win. The minute Cohen and his teammates spot Victoria, they turn angrily on her.
“Thanks a lot,” Cohen spits out. “What a mean, double-crossing …” This time, the coach doesn’t tell him that he’s out of order.
Victoria’s eyes burn. It’s her turn to mutter: “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to ruin anything.”
“Well, you did! If we hadn’t won the match, I would’ve wrung—”
“Out of order, Cohen,” the coach barks. “It was a silly prank but not grounds for murder.”
“It wasn’t a prank,” Victoria says, sniffling, and struggling to keep tears from spilling. She doesn’t want to cry in front of seven guys, one coach, her sisters, and her new friends. “I just was mad with all these bags in the way. I didn’t mean to break anything. It was just a kick. A little kick.” She demonstrates, a less vigorous version of the original whacks she gave his bag.
“What are you talking about?” Cohen narrows his eyes, as if he can see right through Victoria. “Don’t try to cover up how you smeared Vaseline all over our equipment.”
“Smeared Vaseline?” Victoria’s sobs immediately stop. It’s as if Cohen has uttered the magic words that control her tear ducts. This is no time to be a crybaby. She has her defense to mount. “I would never do such a mean thing.”
Cohen’s upper lip curls cynically. He shakes his head. He knows better. “You’ve had this thing against us from the get-go.”
The colonel steps forward, ready to do battle for the fair Victoria. “How dare you impugn the honor of a lady!” he thunders, wagging a finger at the surprised young man. “You owe her an apology.”