If I weren’t so sick of my own company, I’d have walked right back home and spent the rest of the day inside with Miss Genevieve. But I couldn’t stand being by myself (even with Miss Genevieve)—couldn’t bear being without my best friend—for another minute.
So I climbed the two steps, took a couple of shaky breaths, and knocked. It wasn’t my usual enthusiastic, let-me-in knock. It was so soft I almost couldn’t hear it myself.
But someone must have heard, because the door swung open.
I choked on my own saliva.
Mr. Maguire stood there. His burly frame, his wiry beard and messy hair, the exact same color as Declan’s, his wide smile that made the skin at the sides of his eyes crinkle.
“Darlin’!”
I held back tears. Even before my dad went to jail, Mr. Maguire had been like a second father to me, and I didn’t realize how much I needed that. Darn you, Declan, for making things change when I didn’t need any more changes.
Mr. Maguire scratched his beard. “I haven’t seen you in way too long, Miss Cleveland. How are you? How’s your mom and sister?” He pulled me inside by the elbow. “Come in here, sweetheart!” Then he turned toward the kitchen table. “Look who’s here, boys!”
Boys?
I turned toward the kitchen table. There were two boys sitting there.
Two.
Declan and Todd looked at me with their mouths hanging open, like I was the intruder.
There was a limeade spritzer sitting on the table in front of Todd. That’s my drink! I clenched my fingers into fists.
Mr. Maguire clapped, startling me. “Can I get anyone a snack?”
No one answered, and then Declan scrambled up. He turned to Todd and held up a finger. “Be right back.”
Where is he going? Don’t leave me here with Todd Baker!
Declan raised his eyebrows at me, then led me right back out of the trailer.
There was nowhere to sit anymore. But I was way too irritated to sit anyway. I couldn’t imagine what Declan could say to make this right. I wondered if I should bolt home. If I did, I knew I’d never come back.
Why, oh why, couldn’t I be living in Paris right now?
Dec leaned against the trailer and looked at me with the saddest eyes I’d ever seen. Sadder than Miss Genevieve’s were when we were eating dinner and wouldn’t give him any scraps. Sadder than Georgia’s when her first boyfriend, Marcus Kraft, took another girl to the eighth-grade dance. Sadder than Dad’s the first time we saw him through the screen at the video visitation center. I didn’t know someone could look that sad and not be bawling his eyeballs out.
I desperately wanted to hug Declan but crossed my arms instead.
“Cleve?”
Declan didn’t use his special nickname for me.
This was terrible. Terrible!
Forget Julia Child videos. Forget limeade spritzers. Forget celebrating Halloween together at the end of the month, like we always did. Our friendship was over. Fini.
He held his hands up—his beautiful hands that were always cooking something or tasting something or handing me something to taste—he held those hands up like, What am I supposed to do about all of this?
I knew exactly what he was supposed to do. He should have known too. Every single thing roiling inside me exploded at him. “Of all the friends you could have picked…” I motioned toward the trailer. “Why him, Dec?”
Declan opened his mouth, then closed it. Opened, then closed, like a fish that was dying on a dock.
I wanted to rescue him but was filled to the brim with anger and loneliness and frustration. It was like how I felt about my dad. “Declan Maguire, you knew how much that would hurt me.” I stamped my foot like I was back in second grade. “You knew!”
Then Declan did the most surprising thing.
He walked toward me, opened his arms, and enveloped me in a hug.
A hug! Un étreinte!
My arms were still crossed between us, but I let him hold me. His arms were warm. Safe.
“I know, Cleve. I’m sorry,” he whispered.
I pulled back so I could look at him. Really look at him and make sure he was for real.
He glanced down, then back up at me, with those brown eyes that always gave away exactly how he was feeling. “I’m sorry I hurt you, Scout.”
Scout. Maybe we were still friends after all.
Declan kicked at the rocks littering the ground. “But I… like Todd. I get, I don’t know, tingly whenever I’m around him. I’ve never felt this way around anyone else before.” He looked up, his eyes bright. “If you’d give him a chance, you’d see—”
Tingly? “His dad sent my dad to jail.”
“I know.” Declan ducked his head. “But your dad—”
“My dad what?” I dared him to finish.
Declan held my shoulders and looked right at me. “None of that is Todd’s fault. He didn’t have one single thing to do with any of it. You get that. Right?”
Declan’s words hit me like a smack in the face. “But…” Have I been blaming Todd for something his father did? I remembered when Jenna’s mom said I was bad like my dad. Have I been doing the same thing to Todd? “But even if that’s true and Todd had nothing to do with any of this…” I was having trouble catching my breath. “Wasn’t there one other person in all of Sassafras you could have picked to hang out with?”
Declan answered with one quiet sentence. “He’s the best person in Sassafras.”
My eyes went wide.
“Besides you, Scout. Besides you.”
I didn’t know whether to be happy that Declan basically said I was one of the best people in Sassafras or angry that he thought Todd was too. So many feelings swirled inside me and made me want to jump out of my skin. “This—this—”
“It’s really hard,” Declan said.
In some ways Dec was like a wise old man who always understood what I was feeling. Maybe because of all he’d been through with his mom. “Yeah.” I sniffed.
“I’ve missed hanging out with you, Scout.”
A hot tear snaked down my cheek. “Oh, Dec.” I looked up at the trailer and realized Declan had left Todd in there all this time so he could talk to me. “You know…” I swiped my cheek. “I never realized how boring Sassafras was.”
We both laughed.
“It’s pretty boring.”
Our laughter, it sounded so good, like everything would be okay. Dec was still here, standing right in front of me. He was the same person I’d known since I was in the second grade. He was still my friend.
Nothing had changed.
The trailer door opened, and Todd Baker jogged down the steps with his perfectly styled brown hair with its weird bump at the top and his shiny baseball jersey that was too small on him.
Even if he wasn’t responsible for the terrible thing his dad did to my dad, Todd had just ruined the best moment I’d ever had with Declan.
“I’d better get going,” Todd said.
Yes, you should, I thought. Go!
Declan grabbed Todd’s arm. “Don’t go.” Dec looked at me, then back at Todd. “Stay,” he said with an intensity I hadn’t heard before.
It felt like there was no room for me in that intensity.
Declan moved a half step closer to Todd but turned to me. “Both of you. Please. Stay.”
Todd ran his fingers through his hair. That weird bump stuck up even worse. “Okay,” he said. “Okay. I guess I can stay.”
Then both boys looked over at me.
My heart thumped. Part of me wanted to stay, wanted everything to be like it was before. Another part wanted to run home and have more time to figure everything out. I gulped. “I can stay too. For a little while.”
Declan pretend-punched me in the shoulder. “Thanks, Scout.”
Todd tilted his head. “Scout?”
“It’s from To Kill a Mockingbird.” Dec bumped his hip into mine. “Right?”
“Right.” I stood a little taller bec
ause Declan and I had a secret between us that Todd didn’t understand.
“Never read that one,” Todd said.
Because you’re a dummy. But I kept that thought inside my own head.
I could hardly believe it, but the three of us walked back into the Maguires’ trailer.
Together.
Figuring Out Some Things
GEORGIA LAY ON HER BED across from me. The lights were off in our room, but there was plenty of soft light from the full moon. I wadded up my blanket and hugged it, like it was a stuffed toy animal. I needed comfort, and since Miss Genevieve wouldn’t curl up with me in bed, I had to improvise.
“It was weird,” I told her. “Being at Declan’s with Todd Baker there.”
Georgia filed her nails while we talked. She rarely did one thing at a time. “Weird how?”
“Well, we watched videos.” I rested my chin on the balled-up blanket and thought about the word Declan had used to describe his feelings around Todd—tingly. “Cooking videos. Sports blooper videos. Funny animal videos. You know, all three of us together, but Dec sat real close to Todd while we watched. He kept nudging Todd and poking him, and one time, when we watched a particularly cute baby elephant video, he laid his head on Todd’s shoulder for a second. I was surprised Todd didn’t punch Dec for being so annoying.” I thought Georgia might say something about what a traitor Declan was for hanging out with Todd. I thought she might be mad at me for being in the same space as Todd Baker. I braced myself for her response to be laced with anger, but what she said surprised me.
“Cleveland, do you think Declan likes Todd?”
“Definitely. He likes him so much I had thought he was replacing me as his friend. How much would that stink? But I think he wants to be friends with both of us now. So that’s good. Right?”
Georgia stopped filing and leaned forward. “I mean likes. Do you think Declan likes Todd?”
“Oh.” I thought back to Dec and Todd sitting so close together. How Dec’s cheeks turned shades of pink a bunch of times, which usually meant he was embarrassed. Tingly. “Oh. Oh.” I thought about Craig and William at that fancy restaurant Dad took us to and how Dec kept staring at the two men the whole time. “Oh. Oh. Oh.” I leaned toward my sister. “Georgia, do you think Declan… likes boys? I mean, do you think there’s a chance he might be… gay?”
“Of course he is, Cleveland.”
“Of course he is?” How did Georgia know this and I didn’t? Wasn’t I supposed to be his best friend? I felt like an idiot. Imbécile!
Georgia turned toward me. “It’s not like Declan can be out and proud here in Sassafras.”
I swallowed a lump in my throat. But couldn’t he have been out and proud with me? “Well, that’s not fair.”
“Yah think? That’s one of the reasons I can’t wait to move to Vermont. Ms. Douglas, our school librarian, said it was liberal and open-minded, the best place she’s ever lived.”
“Then why does she live here now?”
Georgia went back to filing her nails, as though we weren’t having one of the most important conversations of our lives. “Ms. Douglas told me she moved to Vermont for college and never wanted to come back, but when her dad got sick, she moved back to help her mom take care of him and never left again. But I’m going to get to Vermont and I’m not coming back.”
The thought of Georgia leaving and never returning hurt my heart. I kept telling myself I’d be in Paris by then, but the truth was, it would be a miracle if I could earn enough money for that by the time Georgia would be going to Vermont. Next fall was just around the corner. How was I supposed to live here without her? I had to try and get to the American School of Paris for eighth grade. I had to!
“I need to live somewhere more open-minded.” Georgia pointed her nail file toward me. “This whole place is stifling.”
“That’s just the humidity.”
Georgia laughed.
I loved that I could make my sister laugh.
“I’m serious, Cleve. I’m leaving Sassafras next year and I’m never coming back.”
I swallowed hard and pushed my blanket mountain away. “I’ll bet they’re open-minded in Paris, George. You could live there.” In a quiet voice, I added, “With me.”
“I’m sure they are, Cleve, but that’s your big dream. Mine’s Vermont.”
“I know.” Why can’t we have the same big dream? “I’ll miss you, that’s all.”
“And I’ll miss you, Cleve, but I’ll always love you. You’ll always be my best sister.”
“I’ll always love you, George.” I grabbed my blanket again and hugged it extra hard. “But I’m your only sister.”
It was so quiet in our room I could almost hear Georgia smile.
I turned and stared at the wall beside my bed, blinking, blinking. The weeks when Declan and I weren’t hanging out and Dad being gone made me understand how bad it feels when someone you care about isn’t around. My sister was leaving and never coming back. I wasn’t going to be okay with that. My best friend was gay, which was A-OK, but it hurt that he wouldn’t share this secret with me. Dad’s brother, Larry, my uncle from California, was gay. He lived with his husband, Uncle Theo, and we had the best time when they visited, which was only once every couple of years. But since they moved to Belgium for Uncle Theo’s job, we hadn’t seen them at all. I decided I’d visit them all the time after I moved to Paris. Yet another reason to accomplish the items on my Paris Project list.
I rolled onto my stomach and thought about Declan. I guessed that cleared up the mystery of why Dec was always hanging out with Todd, why he looked at him the way he did at his locker. And why he wouldn’t give up his friendship with Todd, even though he knew I wanted him to. What kind of friend was I that I didn’t even realize? But didn’t Dec feel he could trust me, Cleveland Rosebud Potts, his very best friend? He should have known I’d be his friend no matter what.
I turned toward my sister in the shimmery moonlight illuminating our room. “Hey, George?”
“Mhmm?”
“What do you think it will be like after Dad comes home?”
Georgia put her nail file down on the table between our beds and didn’t say anything for a while.
“George?”
“I guess it will be the same as before he left, except…”
I held my blanket tight. “Except what?”
“Except we’ll all worry he’ll gamble again and fall into the same problems with stealing.”
Georgia’s voice sounded defeated.
I closed my eyes and remembered what happened the night Dad took my Eiffel Tower tin money.
Mom was waiting for him at the kitchen table. Her lips were pressed tight and she was tapping her foot.
I kept coming out of my room to check on her but pretended I was getting a drink or that I forgot a book on the table.
When Dad finally came home, I was in bed.
Georgia was in the shower, after her shift at work.
I heard the door open. Miss Genevieve’s tags jingled, and I knew he was running over to greet Dad. Miss Genevieve was the only one in our house who wasn’t angry with him.
I thought when Dad came in, Mom would yell, but I didn’t hear her say anything.
“What?” Dad asked.
I had to strain to hear Mom. “I know what you did, John. Cleveland told me.”
Dad was quiet.
“I can’t think of anything worse. You stole from your kid.”
“But I was going to…,” Dad started. “I’d planned to…”
“What?” Mom exploded. “You planned to win big this time? There is no ‘big win,’ John. Just you taking money from your daughter. Cleveland worked hard for that money.”
Hearing Mom’s words, knowing what Dad had done, pierced my heart. My dad had taken money from me. The Paris money I had worked so hard for. He was already going to jail for stealing from his boss, and still, he took money from me.
“And it’s not okay!” Mom screamed, s
tartling me.
Mom was right. She was sticking up for me, but I wanted her to stop making Dad feel bad. Stop making things worse.
“I know. I know.” I pictured Dad running a hand through his fine hair, hair that was just like mine. “But I—”
“No buts! You’re already going to… You’ve got to knock this off! We can’t afford it! You’ve got to… John? John… where are you going?”
The door slammed.
Miss Genevieve whined.
After a long silence, Mom let out one strangled sob that sounded like it would go on forever.
I shivered now, thinking about it, realizing Dad probably went right back to the dog park that night. He shouldn’t have gone out and made Mom cry. I heard Georgia go to Mom after she came out of the bathroom. I heard her murmur soft words that I couldn’t understand. I wished I’d done that—gone out and sat with Mom, put an arm around her shoulders, brought her a glass of water. Something. Or maybe run out after Dad and tried to stop him. I should have done something. But I was really upset with him and couldn’t make myself do anything that night other than feel twelve kinds of sorry for myself.
With the moonlight streaming into our room, I lay on my back and spoke to the ceiling, because it was easier than looking at Georgia while I talked about this. “It’s hard to trust a person after they do a thing like that. Sometimes, George, when I go with Mom to visit Dad, I’m so mad at him I don’t even want to see him. But at the same exact time, I feel sorry for him that he’s in there and want to reach through the screen and give him a big hug and bring him home.”
My sister didn’t say anything. For a moment, I thought she hadn’t heard me or had fallen asleep. Then came a whispery, “Oh, Cleve.”
“It’s okay,” I lied. Why was I so confused about how I felt? I should either hate him for what he’d done or love him because he was my dad, but both of those things were mixed together inside me.
“No. It wasn’t okay.” Georgia’s voice was firm. “Because you know what? A parent isn’t supposed to do that. They’re supposed to take care of their kids, not do things to hurt them. And what Dad did also made everything harder for Mom. She has to work tons more cleaning jobs now, and I still have to help her pay the bills sometimes.”
The Paris Project Page 9
