No, I told myself. She wouldn’t.
The stoop of our brownstone is one of my favorite things. It’s big and wide, with black wrought-iron rails along both sides. Mom bought two huge clay pots and planted some bright pink geraniums to put next to the double front doors. Above the doors is a small sign that says The Chorus Inn.
I had yet to sit on the stoop, so that’s what I did. I went down a few steps and took a seat. I didn’t have my notebook with me or I might have pulled it out and written a few words. I thought about texting one of my friends, since I did have my phone with me, but it was kind of nice to sit there and do nothing for a change.
A tall boy with blond hair and wearing board shorts was walking a dog down the block. He stopped at the bottom of the stoop and said, “Hi.”
“Hi. Pretty dog.”
“Thanks.”
“What’s his name?”
“Odie.”
“Odie?” I said. “Do you have a cat named Garfield, too?”
He smiled. “Nope. Just the dog. Hey, do you know if there’s a pool close by?”
“I’m not really sure,” I said. “We just moved in a few weeks ago.”
His face changed. All of a sudden, it was like he recognized me, even though we had never met before. “Wait. Are you Lindy?”
“Yeah. How’d you know?”
“My grandma. She told me about you and your family.”
I stood up. At the word grandma, something snapped inside of me, like a giant rubber band. This was Vivian’s grandson. “You’re Tyler?”
“Yep.”
Relief washed over me. I’d been worried that he might be too cool for me. Or not very friendly. But he seemed nice. Plus, he had a dog.
I went down the steps. “That’s great you got to bring Odie with you. Can I pet him?”
“Sure. He loves people.”
“What kind is he?” I asked as I reached the bottom step.
“Golden retriever.”
Odie’s beautiful brown eyes stared into mine as I stroked his fur, and the longing for a dog that I kept pressed down all the time came rushing up. Ever since I went to Talia’s tenth birthday party at her place and met her puppy, Rudy, a Scottish terrier, I’ve dreamed of having a dog—a small one who could sit on my lap while I read. If it were a boy, I’d name him Sparky. If it were a girl, I’d name her Honey. Obviously, I’ve thought about this a lot. If only my mom loved dogs as much as I do. One bit her on the hand when she was a kid, so she’s scared of them now.
“I was hoping I could find a pool nearby,” he said.
“The outdoor pools aren’t open yet,” I told him.
“Aw man,” he said. “That is not what I wanted to hear.”
“Sorry,” I said. “When they do open, you could go with me and my brother. It’s one of his favorite things to do in the summer, too.”
His face lit up. “Really? That’d be awesome.”
“And your grandma will do other fun things with you. I mean, it’s New York City! There’s a ton of stuff to do.”
“Yeah, I know. I just love swimming. She told me you’ll be going around the city with us on Saturdays. For a school project or something?”
“Right. She offered to help me with it.” He didn’t say anything. I couldn’t tell if he was disappointed or what. “Hopefully it will be fun.”
“Yeah,” he said quietly, leaning down and petting Odie. “Hopefully.”
Before I could say anything else, I heard the door open behind us, followed by Dad’s voice. “Lindy, there you are. I came down to tell you dinner’s almost ready, and you weren’t there. Scared me for a second.”
I turned around. “Sorry. Dad, this is Tyler, Vivian’s grandson. And his dog, Odie.”
Dad walked down, still wearing his dress shirt and slacks, and shook Tyler’s hand. “Nice to meet you.”
“You too,” Tyler said. “I should go. I need to walk Odie around the block and get back for dinner. But I think we’ll see you on Saturday.”
“Oh, good, for the grand opening,” Dad said. “See you then.”
“Bye,” I said.
Tyler gave us a wave before he took off with Odie down the sidewalk.
“So that’s her grandson, huh?” Dad asked. “He seems nice.”
“Yeah. He does.” I couldn’t help but wonder what Tyler thought about me, though.
“We should go up,” Dad said as he took my hand. “Mom’s gotta be wondering what happened to us. After dinner, you want to jam with your old man?”
“If it means I don’t have to dust anymore, then yes,” I said.
“You’re getting better with the ukulele, you know,” he said as we walked up the steps of our pretty porch, the bright pink flowers waving at us in the breeze.
“I don’t think so,” I replied.
“It’s hard to see it when you’re the one playing. Or doing anything, really. Try not to be so hard on yourself, huh?”
“I feel like that might be impossible.”
He chuckled. “Well, maybe at twelve, it is. But hopefully not forever.”
I sighed. “I think being twelve is just plain hard.”
With a squeeze of my hand he said, “You may be right about that.”
I’ve been thinking about Tyler and Odie a lot since I met them. I have questions. Many questions.
1. Why is he staying with his grandma for an entire month? That’s a long time. Won’t he get bored?
2. Where did he come from? That makes it sound like he’s an alien. I mean, where does he live?
3. How old is he, exactly? She said he was about my age, but he might be a year older or a year younger or … who knows?
4. Does he like NYC?
5. Won’t he miss his friends? And his family? Because a month is a really long time to be away from home. Oh yeah, I already said that.
I’ve never been away from home. The last two years, Mom tried to get me to agree to go summer camp and I said, “No way.”
I don’t want to go away to a place where I don’t know anyone. Yes, I’d love to travel and see new places. Like, I would have loved going to Paris with Nora. But I don’t want to go someplace new, by myself, and try to make friends.
“People do it all the time,” Dad said when I was explaining my reasons. And I know it’s true, but that doesn’t mean I have to do it, does it? Making friends is hard. Especially when everyone is good at something. I’d just rather hang out with the friends I have or read books. There’s nothing wrong with that. Is there?
After school on our last day, there was a lot of screaming and yelling when the final bell rang. I’m not the screaming type, but I might have let out a small “Woo-hoo!” Maybe. Probably.
Because really, is there anything better than that feeling on the last day of school before summer vacation? I don’t think so.
We’d cleaned out our lockers a couple of days before, so all I had was the backpack I’d carried with a notebook and a pencil inside. When I met up with Talia and Nora, like I always did after school, they were all smiles.
“We made it,” Talia said, her graceful brown arms reaching down to give me a hug. “We’re top dogs now, can you believe it?”
“Please don’t say that next year we’ll rule the school like my dad did last night,” Nora said. “We’re eighth graders now, not royalty.”
Talia and I laughed as we joined the stream of kids and headed toward the front doors. “Want to come over for a while?” Talia asked. “Mama said we could make some cookies-and-cream ice cream in our ice cream maker to celebrate. It’s so good.”
“Sure!” Nora said. “I can call my mom at work and let her know.”
As soon as we stepped outside I eyed Frannie and Davis waiting for me in our normal meeting spot. “I can’t,” I said, gesturing toward them. “Sorry.”
“Aw man,” Talia said. “I’m sorry, too. I wish you still lived in Brooklyn.”
At lunch a few days ago, I had told them what my dad had said about riding the s
ubway by myself. Like good friends do, they’d let me whine and complain about it. Now there was really nothing to do but suck it up.
“Yeah,” I said. “Me too. Have some ice cream for me.”
“We will,” Nora said as she gave me a quick hug bye. “See you tomorrow, though! I’m excited to see the place!”
“Okay, bye.”
I watched for a moment as they scampered along without me, taking all the school-is-out joy I’d felt just a couple of minutes ago right along with them.
“Come on, Lindy!” Davis yelled impatiently.
I glared at him.
“Everything all right?” Frannie asked me.
“Fine,” I said. “Just wish I could go with my friends. They’re so lucky they don’t have to …” I almost said, “be followed around by a nanny.” But that wouldn’t have been very nice, even if it were true.
She nodded as we turned to go. “I understand. You’re disappointed. Would it help you to know that when I was your age, I had to work in the summer, picking berries?”
Great. I was the one feeling left out and now she wanted me to feel sorry for her? “Nope. Doesn’t really help,” I muttered.
She continued talking. “I grew up in the state of Washington, and back then, kids could work in the berry fields. Things have changed now—stricter laws and all that. We didn’t make much money, but our parents expected us to be out there earning something if we were able to. I made enough to buy myself a bicycle.”
“Wow,” Davis said. “I wish I could do that.”
Frannie laughed. “It’s hard work, though. Harder than you might think.”
“How’d you get to the berry fields?” I asked.
“An old bus would drive around and pick us up,” she said.
“Did a nanny have to go with you?” I asked. I knew I was being a brat, but sometimes when you’re in a bad mood it’s what comes naturally.
“I think you know the answer to that,” she said. “We went alone. Or with our siblings, if we had them. It was a different time. Kids definitely had a lot more freedom. Anyway, my point in telling you all of that is you still have it pretty good. Yes, I’ll have to take you into Brooklyn to see your friends. But you’ll still get to go, right? If you were working the way I did when I was your age, you’d be missing out even more.”
“I guess,” I said.
I’ve always wondered why adults love playing the “it could be worse” game. It’s like it’s supposed to make us feel better, but it never really does because we still aren’t getting what we want. I mean, why didn’t she simply say, “It’s okay. Be upset. You have every right to feel that way,” and leave it at that?
“I also had to babysit my three younger siblings all the time,” Frannie said as we made our way down the steps to the subway station. “You can probably imagine how fun that was.”
“Do you feel lucky yet, Lindy?” Davis asked. “Aren’t you glad you don’t have to take care of me all day every day? Hey, can we go out for doughnuts? That place in Chelsea Market is soooo good. Please, Frannie? To celebrate the last day of school?”
Frannie smiled. “Now, that is a fabulous idea. What do you say, Lindy? A doughnut will surely cheer you up, don’t you think?”
One thing about Frannie, she loves sweets. Of course, doughnuts with my brother and my nanny wouldn’t be nearly as fun as ice cream with my friends. Still, I was hungry. And those doughnuts were one of the best things we’d discovered since moving to Manhattan.
“Okay,” I said.
“It’s going to be all right,” she said as we stood on the platform with all the other people, waiting for the train. “You’ll see.”
I could only respond with the same word Tyler had used with me on Thursday. “Hopefully.”
Once there was a little monkey named Chunky who lived in a forest in Africa with lots of other monkeys. They were happy there, until humans came to plow down trees, and the monkeys had to find a new home.
The monkeys weren’t able to stick together because there were too many of them. Finding a home big enough for all of them would have been too difficult. So they scattered across the jungle. Chunky’s family ended up in trees on the edge of the forest. Sometimes when Chunky was high up in the tree, he would look down and see two rhinos, grazing in the grasslands nearby.
Chunky missed the other monkeys. He wanted to make new friends. So one evening he went into the grasslands to meet the rhinos. But when he talked to them, he realized they couldn’t understand him because they didn’t speak monkey.
How can I be friends with them if they don’t speak my language? Chunky thought. Not only that, he realized they didn’t do the same things. Rhinos didn’t climb trees. They didn’t swing from branches. They didn’t sit and groom their friends or family members. They seemed to do a lot of standing around. At least it seemed that way to little Chunky.
Soon, the sun began to lower toward the earth, turning the sky bright orange and red. In the tall grass, Chunky had difficulty seeing the sun as it sank lower and lower. He wanted to watch until it disappeared completely.
He crept closer to the rhinos. And closer still. And when he was as near as he could be, he did the only thing left to do—he climbed up the back leg of one of the rhinos and found a comfortable spot in the middle of his back.
The monkey and the two rhinos watched the earth swallow the sun. It was like nothing he’d ever seen before—a spectacular show. He’d never watched the sunset because he’d been busy doing all the things that monkeys do.
He wanted to ask the rhinos, “Do you watch the sun set every evening?” But since they didn’t speak the same language, he couldn’t ask. All he could do was come back the next night to find out. What a nice surprise when he discovered them there again. And again. And again.
It wasn’t long before Chunky spent every evening with the rhinos, watching the sunset. If the rhinos wandered away during the day, they made a point to come back to their special spot so Chunky could join them.
The rhinos could never be monkeys. And the monkey could never be a rhino. But they found a way to have fun together. Because that’s what friends do. And that’s what they were—friends.
The big day arrived. Mom and I got up early Saturday morning, but Dad and Davis slept in since they’d been out late at the game the night before. Around eleven, all four of us walked to the bodega with the best flowers and brought home a bunch of different bouquets. Mom said fresh flowers are one of the best things you can do to make a place feel warm and welcoming.
Mom and I went to work putting the flowers into vases at the dining room table while Dad and Davis prepared trays of snacks for our guests. We were serving cheese and crackers, veggies and hummus, and some adorable sugar cookies in the shape of a brownstone.
“This is fun,” I told Mom as I stuck a sunflower into a vase with a pink rose.
Mom shook her head and took the rose out of the vase. “Those don’t really go together, Lindy. Why don’t you use the white daisies with the sunflowers? I’m going to do some simple bouquets with just roses in these square vases. See?” She cut a few roses down fairly short and stuck them in the vase to show me. “Isn’t that pretty?”
“Sorry,” I muttered. “I’ve never done this before.”
“Oh, sweetie, did I hurt your feelings? I didn’t mean to. It’s just that some colors go together more than others, you know? And the texture and style of the flower matters, too. It takes a bit of practice, I suppose. I’ve been looking at a lot of bouquets online, so I have some ideas in mind. I should have told you that before we started.”
“It’s okay,” I replied. “At least this is more fun than dusting.”
“Next time I’ll let you pick out some flowers and make a bouquet any way you’d like. How’s that?”
“I’m just not sure I’m very artistic,” I said. “You’ve seen the paintings and drawings I’ve brought home from school. I’m really not good at that kind of thing. Like, to me, all colors go together.
Why wouldn’t they? They’re colors!”
Mom laughed. “Well, when you say it that way, I see your point. Just so you know, I love your artwork. Art is what you make of it. There’s really no right or wrong way.”
“But some people are so good at it,” I said as I stuck a few daisies into the vase with a couple of small sunflowers.
“And some people also practice a lot.”
“I guess. I think there’s more to it, though. I feel like some people are born with a special talent. Or maybe everyone is, but only some actually figure out what it is.”
Just then, Dad and Davis walked in. “What’s for lunch?” Davis asked. “I’m starving.”
Mom glanced at the big decorative clock on the wall. It was almost twelve thirty. “Oh my gosh, lunch! I almost forgot.”
“Why don’t you keep working, and I’ll make us some sandwiches?” Dad said.
“Thanks, honey,” Mom said. “That’s a big help. Though don’t make anything for me. I’m too nervous to eat anything right now.”
Dad gave her a disapproving look. “Julie, it’s going to be fine. You’ll see.”
“I hope so.”
“I know so,” Dad said.
We finished with the flowers and put the vases in various places on the first floor. The vase I’d worked on, with the sunflowers and daisies, went next to the sign-in sheet, where people could sign up for the newsletter Mom planned on emailing out every once in a while.
After Dad, Davis, and I scarfed down some tuna fish sandwiches upstairs, Dad said he was going to join Mom and wait for the guests to show up.
“When Nora gets here, send her up, okay?” I told him.
“You sure you don’t want to come down and help greet people?” he asked.
“Absolutely positive.”
“Okay. If you say so.”
After he left, Davis asked me, “Want to play Mario Kart?”
“No, thanks. I’m just gonna hang out in my room and read or something until Nora gets here.”
“Aw man, you’re no fun,” Davis said.
“Oh, look at that, a late-breaking story—little brother thinks older sister is boring. More news at eleven,” I said as I walked toward the bathroom.