“Absolutely not,” Caroline Hastings’s mom said. I didn’t really know Caroline all that well. She was in a group who sat on the other side of the class from mine. They were all too trendy, brainy, and hardworking for me: Caroline, Robert, Max, and Vanessa. They weren’t unfriendly or weird or anything. They just kept to themselves and seemed to spend hours on end doing homework or discussing when they were next going to their time-share apartments and their villas in France. Just not my kind of kids. And the parents were nothing like mine! Or at least, they never used to be.
“I was talking to the principal just last week,” Mrs. Hastings went on. “And he said he was perfectly happy with the amount of homework the children were getting. If you ask me, he was just avoiding the issue. Laziness — that’s the problem with these teachers nowadays. They just can’t be bothered.”
Mom hitched her designer handbag higher up on her shoulder. I stared at it. Mom usually carts everything around in a nasty old recycled bag with SHOP LOCAL written on the side under a picture of a pumpkin. “Well, I have a good mind to say something to Miss Holdsworth myself,” she said. “They need more homework; it’s as simple as that. I don’t want my Philippa starting St. Anne’s at a disadvantage.”
St. Anne’s? The private school on the other side of town? Why was she talking about St. Anne’s? I was going to Walchester High!
“Miss Holdsworth has probably gone home now,” I said quickly, just in case Mom was planning to march in there right away.
“Philippa, sweetie, don’t interrupt while we’re talking,” Mom said with a quick smile. My cheeks burned up on the spot. Mom never scolded me! And in front of other people, too! I stood stiff and still, praying we could get away soon.
Caroline came over then, and Mrs. Hastings turned to get her car keys out of her bag. “Let’s discuss it further. We need a plan.”
Mom took an electronic planner out of her bag. I stared at that as well. It looked almost as high-tech as Daisy’s MagiCell. Mom is the most scatterbrained person in the world — or the second most. Dad’s worse. She does buy a planner each year, but she’s usually lost it by the end of January and spends the rest of the year writing herself notes on scraps of paper that are lost almost as soon as she’s written them.
I looked over her shoulder as she pressed buttons and scrolled through the dates. Arrangements and appointments were crammed into virtually every space. “Let’s do dinner. How about coming over on Friday?” Mom said.
“Can’t do Friday. Bridge night. Tomorrow?”
“Perfect!” Mom smiled. “Eight at my place?”
“Sounds fab. We can prepare the battle plan,” Mrs. Hastings said with a laugh, and they both entered the date into their fancy gadgets.
Battle plan? High-tech planners? Dinner? This was not the mom I knew.
“So what’s this about St. Anne’s?” I asked as casually as I could as we got into the car.
Mom checked and reapplied her lipstick in the mirror before answering. The lipstick that I had never seen her wear in her entire life. In fact, I’d never seen her wear any makeup at all.
“What about it?” she asked, putting the lipstick away and starting the car.
“About me going there?”
Mom laughed. “What about you going there, darling? Really, you’re talking in riddles today. Are you feeling all right, sweetheart?”
“So I’m going to St. Anne’s?” I asked nervously. I couldn’t be! I mean, Mom has always hated it. Not just the school itself, the whole idea of private education. The way she talks about private schools and private hospitals, you’d think they were the biggest form of evil that had ever plagued the earth. (After factory farming. And nuclear weapons.)
“Sweetheart, where else would you be going?”
“Walchester High?” I said tentatively.
Mom burst out laughing. “Oh, Philippa, you do make me laugh sometimes,” she said. Then she flicked on the radio and listened to a boring talk-radio program all the way home. I didn’t dare say anything else. I couldn’t risk hearing any more awful news.
St. Anne’s! No one I knew was going there. It was bad enough that Charlotte had moved away, but at least Lauren and Beth and most of the rest of my class were going to the same high school. Now I’d be starting a brand-new school on the other side of town, and the only kids I knew who were going there were the bratty, brainy ones. And they had horrible uniforms. You had to wear berets and blazers with a stupid coat of arms on them.
For the first time since I’d made the wish, I seriously began to wonder if I’d done the right thing.
Until dinnertime!
Dinner was the most amazing meal I’d ever eaten — or at least, it was the most amazing thing Mom had ever cooked. You really had to have experienced Mom’s cooking to know how bad a meal can get. Not this one. Roast chicken, potatoes, loads of gravy, and chocolate mousse for dessert!
“That was absolutely delicious!” I said as I wiped my mouth.
Mom smiled. “Thanks, sweetheart. It was no different from usual, though.”
“No different from usual?” I burst out. “It was about as different from usual as you could get!”
Then I realized what I’d said.
“I mean — it was different from other people’s usual cooking,” I added quickly. “From what normal people eat. That is — other normal people. Like you. Because you’re normal, of course. Obviously.”
Mom stared at me.
I took a breath and started again. “All I’m trying to say is that it was a delicious meal. Thank you.” Then I shut my mouth and wished I hadn’t opened it in the first place.
Mom smiled at Dad. He had the paper in front of him again. He had hardly spoken all the way through dinner. That was another thing that was unheard of. Dad usually talked constantly through meals, or insisted that we play games while we eat. Now he was glued to the financial pages again. “Look at our daughter,” Mom said. “So polite, so good.”
Dad glanced up from his paper. “Of course she is,” he said with a quick smile. “That’s how we’ve raised her.”
I was too embarrassed to listen to them talking about me like that, so I got up and took my plate to the sink. I started rinsing it. Dad and I usually cleaned up together.
“What are you doing?” Mom asked.
“Cleaning up.”
“Put them in the dishwasher, silly,” she said with a laugh.
Dishwasher? Since when did we have a dishwasher? Mom always said they were a criminal waste of electricity. I opened a cabinet under the sink. Not there; just a trash can. Another door next to it. Washing machine.
Dad got up and opened the door on the other side of the sink. Dishwasher. He put his plate inside as though that was what we did every day.
“Right, I’d better get going,” he said, giving Mom a quick kiss on the forehead. “Don’t wait up, sweetheart. Not sure when I’ll be back.”
“Do you really have to go out again?” Mom asked. “We haven’t had a night in together for nearly a week.”
“Come on, darling, it’s important that I turn up for squash. You know all the deals get done on the court.”
“Or in the bar afterward,” Mom sniped.
“Darling, it’s for you I do it. For all of us. It’s not just fun, you know.”
Mom squeezed her lips tightly together, but she didn’t reply.
“See ya, kid,” Dad added as he passed me. And with that, he was gone.
Mom brought her plate over. “I’ll take care of this,” she said with a sigh. “You can go and get started on your homework.”
“It’s OK. I’ll help,” I said. I cleared the table while she filled the dishwasher. We didn’t talk as we worked. I didn’t know what to say to her, this strange, distant woman, my mom.
Later in my bedroom, I unpacked my bag to get started on my homework, and the letter from school fell out. I stole a quick look. It was all about a talent show at school next week. The prize was a choice of vacations for the
whole family. I tried to imagine going away with my family. Where would we go?
In the old days, we’d have gone camping and made our own entertainment with songs and jokes and conversation. I couldn’t imagine my new mom and dad doing that. They’d probably want to stay at a five-star hotel with Jacuzzis and pools and tennis courts.
Well, that didn’t sound too bad, either. Not that we’d win the prize. Talent show! There was one small problem with that: the word talent. And the fact that I didn’t have any. Plus the fact that I could never stand up in front of a big group. Not again. Sometimes I wished I could. Would I ever be able to do it again? I couldn’t imagine it. I could never risk the humiliation of what had happened last time. The very last time I helped at a party.
I couldn’t even think about it.
I stuffed the letter back in my bag and got out my math homework.
But I couldn’t concentrate. It was too hard, anyway. I’ve always preferred words to numbers. Charlotte was much better than me at math, and she used to help explain things to me. We’d always done our homework together.
I considered going up to the tree house and asking Daisy. But she wouldn’t want to help me. I didn’t even know if she was good at math. I didn’t really know anything about her. In fact, the more I thought about it, the more I realized I didn’t know anything about anyone anymore. Mom and Dad were practically as strange to me as Daisy. Charlotte was hundreds of miles away. Nothing made sense in the normal way.
I shut my math book and grabbed my magic book instead. Anything to take my mind off the strange and unfamiliar reality of my world.
Things looked better in the morning. They smelled better, for a start. Bacon and eggs. Is there a more perfect way to start your day than bacon and eggs?
I shook off the previous night’s miserable mood and got ready for school. As soon as I’d finished breakfast, I ran down the road to mail my letter to Charlotte. I’d finished it last night. I told her everything — I’d just have to wait and see whether or not she believed me.
I was ready to jump in the car as soon as Dad called me. I didn’t even mind him listening to the radio. It gave me a chance to look out the window and think about the day ahead. The day that wasn’t going to start with anyone embarrassing me. Bliss.
For the second day in a row, I arrived at school smiling.
“Hey, what do you think about the talent show?” Lauren whispered across the table as Miss Holdsworth took attendance.
I shrugged. I didn’t particularly think anything of it.
“Beth and I are going to enter,” she said, beaming with pride at her best friend.
“Really?” I couldn’t keep the shock out of my voice. Beth and Lauren were about as exceptionally talented as me, as far as I knew. “What are you going to do?”
“Sing!”
“Not on our own,” Beth said. “A few of us from choir are going to do a couple of songs.”
“Really? That’s great,” I said.
“What about you? Why don’t you enter?”
“And do what?” I asked.
“You three, are you paying attention?” Miss Holdsworth asked.
“Sorry, Miss Holdsworth,” we replied in unison. I was glad she’d stopped the conversation before we’d gotten around to discussing in detail how untalented and uninteresting I was.
Daisy burst through the door. “Sorry I’m late,” she said, panting. “I overslept.”
Her uniform was all askew, her shirt untucked, and her sweater loosely tied around her waist. She yanked her sweater on as soon as she sat down, but not before I’d seen the bulge under the back. It looked as though her shoulder blades were about twice the normal size. I wasn’t the only one to spot it, either. Trisha Miles and the others at her table were all pointing at Daisy and whispering to one another by the time she sat down.
Miss Holdsworth nodded briskly and ticked her name off on the list. “I’ll let it go just this once, since you’re new,” she said. “Try not to do it again.”
Daisy looked across at Trisha and her gang as she pulled up the chair next to me. They were still pointing at her and giggling behind their hands. I wanted to say something comforting to her. I wanted her to know that it wasn’t just her, that those girls laugh at anyone, given half a chance. Daisy just gave me a sharp look and stared down at her books. Her face was absolutely purple, though.
“What?” I asked, wondering why I was the one getting dirty looks.
“I tossed and turned all night in that place,” she snapped. “I only got to sleep at about five this morning.”
“How’s that my fault?” I whispered.
“I didn’t say it was, did I?” Daisy whispered back.
I rolled my eyes.
“Look, I know it’s not your fault,” she went on. “But do you think you could sneak me out a blanket? I’m not used to sleeping on hard, wooden floors.”
I nodded. “I’ll see what I can do.” Then I opened my notebook and tried to concentrate on the lesson without getting too annoyed by Daisy moaning and groaning her way through everything we did.
As the day went on, I kept thinking about my first wish and wondering if I’d really made the best use of it. I mean, OK, Dad had been really embarrassing and made me feel like I stood out in front of my friends sometimes. And Mom could be a bit of a pain. But had they honestly been all that bad? And had changing them really made a major difference in my life? Was I truly any happier now?
Mom was chatting with her new friends again when I got out of school. “See you tonight,” she called over her shoulder to them as we got in the car. By the time we were halfway home, it occurred to me that she hadn’t even asked how my day had been. Mind you, I hadn’t asked about hers, either. The more I thought about it, the more I felt dumbstruck. I didn’t know what to say to my own mom.
I went straight to my room when we got back. I was lying on my bed, reading “How to Snake-Charm a Pencil,” when there was a knock on my door.
Mom’s face poked in. “Sweetheart, shouldn’t you be doing your homework?” she asked.
“I’ll do it in a minute. Just want to finish reading this trick.”
“I’d rather you did it now,” Mom said firmly.
I closed the book. Mom had never nagged me about homework before. And I’d never turned anything in late. Why the big fuss? I wanted to say something, but it all felt pointless. “OK,” I said instead. But there were some strange feelings bubbling and curdling around in my stomach. Anger. Injustice. Frustration. It just wasn’t fair!
“And I’d like you to make yourself scarce when Mrs. Hastings comes over later. We’ve got some private matters to discuss. I’ll make your dinner earlier, all right?”
“What about Dad?” I asked.
“What about him?”
“Will he eat with me?”
“Don’t be silly, darling. Your father will be at the office. You know it’s his late night tonight.”
“But he was out last night, too.”
“He’s a busy man. And a successful one, too. Would you rather he was at home all the time and we couldn’t afford to buy decent food?”
I was about to answer. Yes, I would, actually! I wanted to say. I would rather he was home! I don’t care where you get our dinner from; I’d just like to feel that we’re a family again. I want my dad bounding around doing magic tricks; I want you to be interested in me, not just plot my education with the snobby moms. I even want . . .
My thoughts stopped dead. When they started again, I was shocked to discover what they were. I even want our stupid, old, bright-yellow VW van back, and I don’t care if Dad embarrasses me on the way to school. At least you both cared about me before. At least you noticed me.
“No, of course not, Mom,” I said, instead of any of that. “Sorry.” I put my magic book down and got out my homework.
“There’s a good girl,” Mom said with another of those tight smiles. “Dinner will be ready in an hour,” she added as she closed the door behin
d her.
As soon as she’d gone, I shut my schoolbooks. I didn’t even have much homework to do. What was the big deal about homework, anyway? What happened to dancing around the kitchen and pulling pennies out of my ear and thinking that spending the evening talking to one another and playing games were more important than cleaning up or working?
For the twenty billionth time since Charlotte had left, I wished I had a friend I could talk to. Or even just the company of someone my own age. I remembered Daisy asking if I could bring her a blanket. I knew it was unlikely that I’d get any sympathy from Daisy, but at least if I went to see her, it would be someone to talk to. Maybe she’d understand. Maybe she could do something to make the wish work a bit better. It had to be worth a try. Anything would be better than feeling like this.
I pulled a blanket out from the closet in the hallway and grabbed a couple of textbooks. “I’m going to work in the tree house,” I said as I went through the kitchen. “Just taking the blanket to make it more comfy. Is that OK?”
“I don’t know what you see in that tree house,” Mom said. “It’s about time we tore it down and did something useful with the yard.”
I tried not to let Mom’s words get to me. She didn’t mean it. They wouldn’t tear down the tree house. Surely they wouldn’t.
Too miserable to reply, I set off down the backyard, praying that Daisy could think of something, anything, to stop my life from feeling like it had gone from bad to terrible!
“Daisy?” I pulled myself up through the trapdoor.
She was sitting on the floor, punching buttons on her MagiCell and writing notes on some paper from a notebook of mine. She looked up when she saw me.
“About time,” she said, reaching out for the blanket. “Is this the best you could do?”
I took a deep breath before replying. Don’t let her get to you. Just don’t. “Yes,” I said firmly. “It’s the best I could do. Why? Isn’t it good enough for you?”
Daisy sniffed. “It’s hardly better than the floor. You might as well have not bothered.”
Suddenly, it was all too much. Something snapped inside me. I threw the blanket down. “Well, in that case, I’m sorry I did!” I snapped. “I’m sorry I bothered bringing you a blanket, and I’m sorry I made that stupid wish! I’m sorry I ever laid eyes on you!”