“Hey, Cleveland. So I’m dying to know. What will you and Declan dress as this year for Halloween?”
I realized Mom and Dad had no idea what had happened between me and Declan. Dad probably assumed things were the same as when he went into jail. I guessed time sort of stopped for him, while things kept going in the world. It must be hard for people who are sent to prison for a much longer time.
I was glad Dad remembered to ask about my favorite holiday, but it made me sad, because it was his favorite holiday too. Dad always dressed up at Halloween, but he couldn’t wear a silly costume this year and give out candy or go to any parties. He wouldn’t have an opportunity to eat my Snickers bars and Reese’s cups. I swallowed hard. “Well, Declan and I plan to go as French chefs. He’s going to lend me the toque his dad gave him last year on his birthday. He’ll carry a spatula. I’ll carry a whisk. We’ll both wear aprons.” I shrugged.
“That sounds great, Cleve. Have a Snickers bar and a Reese’s cup for me, if you get them.”
“I will.” Maybe when Dad came home, I’d buy him some of that candy.
I didn’t tell Dad that Todd Baker planned to join us and was going to dress as a baseball player—the most boring costume ever. Dec said Todd was going to wear his actual baseball jersey and put some black gunk under his eyes. Too bad he’ll look like the odd one out, since Dec and I will be wearing matching costumes.
“What have you been doing, Dad?”
“Hmm.” Dad ran a hand through his hair, and I wondered if I’d asked the wrong question. “They have some car magazines in the lounge room that I’ve been looking through. And we watch Jeopardy! in the evenings like we did at home.”
“That’s awesome.” I missed doing that with Dad.
“Tell you the truth, baby girl, I’d much rather watch it at home with you and yell our questions at the screen like we used to do.”
Mom made a little hiccup sound.
“When I get home in February, we’ll go out for ice cream and go swimming at the pool if it’s not too cold, and then—”
“Time’s up,” the guard said.
I glanced at the timer and saw it flashing zero. “And I’m going to kick your butt in Monopoly!” Dad blew us a kiss and waved… then the screen went black. I was staring at an image of Mom squished next to me.
She squeezed my shoulders and leaned her head on mine. “This is hard,” she whispered into my hair.
“Yup.” I bit my bottom lip.
We held hands as we trudged outside, along with everyone else.
* * *
On the long, hot ride home in Miss Lola Lemon, I thought about how I could miss Dad so much and still feel stomach-clenching angry with him. It didn’t make sense that both things could be happening inside me at the same time. I wished I could stop feeling all these things. “Hey, Mom?”
“Yeah, Cleve?” She kept her eyes on the road and tapped out a rhythm on the steering wheel to a song she must have heard only in her own head.
“Do you think you could help me with my application for the American School of Paris? There are a lot of forms. I printed them out at the library last week and started filling them out, but a couple need to be completed by a parent.” I didn’t add, It’s not like I can ask Dad to help.
Mom glanced over at me. “You know I’d miss you like crazy cakes if you moved all the way to Paris, Cleveland Rosebud Potts.”
I looked down at my lap. “I know.”
“I’ll help you with those forms, Cleve, if it’s what you really want.” She reached over and patted my knee.
I didn’t want to leave Mom, Georgia, Dad, and Miss Genevieve. I didn’t want to leave Declan. Of course I didn’t. But I had to leave. I couldn’t stand how people treated me at school anymore.
I recalled what happened in the lunchroom last Friday.
Sick of eating alone, I took a chance and sat at a table of girls I knew from PE class. As soon as I sat, one of the girls picked up her tray and turned to me. “I’m not sitting near you. We all know what your dad did to poor Todd Baker’s dad. That makes you a lowlife, Cleveland. My mom wouldn’t like me associating with people like that.” She walked away. So did each of the other girls at the table.
I was alone. Again.
Alone and embarrassed, because no one wanted to sit with me, and apparently people were calling me names behind my back.
Glancing up, I saw Jenna watching me, a frown on her face. She’d probably seen the whole humiliating thing. Maybe this one time, Jenna would be kind. Maybe she’d understand how rotten I felt and smile to make me feel better. Maybe she’d remember when she wanted to hang out with me, when we used to have fun together. Perhaps she’d motion for me to come over to her table, let me sit with her and her friends, like before. Nope. Jenna smirked, her lip gloss all shiny and perfectly annoying, then went back to talking with the people at her table as if I didn’t matter.
The car hit a bump and jarred me away from the painful memory. I stared out the open window, felt humid wind blow into my face, and watched the town of Sassafras whiz by, with its boarded-up businesses, tiny churches, and weathered billboards for guns and God.
I turned to Mom.
“It’s what I want.”
A Fallback
BUT WHEN WE GOT HOME, Mom sat with Georgia and helped her with the application to the University of Vermont, so I walked Miss Genevieve and my weekend customers. We had brilliant conversations. I practiced asking where the bathroom was and where certain streets in Paris were located. Unfortunately, they barked at squirrels or ignored me entirely and went about their doggy business, so it was one-sided, but at least I got to rehearse my French vocabulary. I definitely planned to keep walking dogs after I moved to Paris. And they would all be wearing berets like mine.
Back inside our trailer, I scrubbed my hands at the kitchen sink and realized Mom and Georgia were having a heated discussion.
“Please, Georgia,” Mom said, reaching a hand across the table.
Georgia held on to her laptop like a shield. “No.”
Mom turned to me. “Cleveland, talk some sense into your sister.”
I put my hands up. I had no idea what they were arguing about, so I filled up Miss Genevieve’s water bowl and listened in.
“Georgia, you’re so smart, but sometimes smart kids don’t get to go where they want for college. Apply to a couple other schools in case you don’t get into the University of Vermont. You know, as a fallback.”
Georgia slammed her laptop closed. “Thanks for the confidence, Mom. But I’m getting in. I don’t need a fallback school. I’ve worked too hard to need one.”
Mom pulled her hand back and put it in her lap. “Georgia,” Mom said quietly. “A couple other schools won’t hurt. Apply. Just in case.”
I leaned against the kitchen counter.
Georgia let out a big breath. “Mom, it costs money to apply to each school. It’s expensive!”
“I’ll pay for it.”
“Mom.” Georgia tilted her head. “You barely have enough money to—”
“I know. I know.” Mom looked down; I remembered when Georgia had told me she sometimes helped Mom pay our bills. “Okay,” Mom said. “I guess there’s always community college as a fallback.”
Georgia slapped a palm on the table, which startled Miss Genevieve. “I don’t need a fallback! I’m definitely not going to community college in stupid Sassafras.”
“Stupid Sassafras.” I snickered.
Mom gave me a pointed stare, then turned back to Georgia. “That’s why you should apply to a couple other places.”
“Maybe I can help,” I said. “I have over four hundred dollars in my Paris Project fund. I can give you some money toward the application fees, George.” I sat on the floor and scratched behind Miss Genevieve’s ears, the way he liked it, remembering how Georgia pulled out those twenty-dollar bills from her I VERMONT wallet to pay for my dance class. “I’d be happy to do it.”
“Thanks, Cleve. But I�
�m not applying anywhere else. It’s a waste of money and time.”
Mom tapped the table with her fingernail. “Georgia, it’s that—”
“Let it go, Mom! I applied to Vermont. You should congratulate me. A lot of kids in my class aren’t applying to any colleges.”
Mom bit her bottom lip. “You work hard and do well, George. You deserve to go to Vermont. I just don’t…”
Mom didn’t finish her sentence.
Georgia picked up her computer, walked into our bedroom, and shut the door.
I moved into her space at the table, across from Mom. “So, do you have time now to help me with the application forms for the American School of Paris?”
“Not now, Cleveland!”
Mom stood and shook out her shoulders. She looked upset. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I’m a little stressed right now. It’s not a good time.” She went into her room and closed the door.
With two closed bedroom doors ahead of me, I curled up next to Miss Genevieve on the floor, patting the soft white fur over his rib cage, which rose and fell with each slow doggy breath. “Some of the pages have to be filled out by a parent,” I whispered. “If Mom doesn’t help, I’ll be stuck here in Sassafras when Georgia leaves for Vermont.” Saying it out loud hurt my heart.
I kissed Miss Genevieve on his head and went to our bedroom to be with my sister, because I knew even if she was upset, Georgia would never be mean to me. She’d be glad for my company, she’d want me to sit near her, unlike certain awful girls at Sassafras Middle School.
When it came to sisters, I’d hit the lottery.
Are You Sure?
CLEVELAND, IF I NEVER SEE another form to fill out for school or financial aid, I will be a happy woman.”
“I know it’s a lot, Mom.” I watched over her shoulder as she filled out the medical form for the American School of Paris. I felt tingly all over realizing we were moving closer to my goal, completing actual paperwork instead of only talking about it. It had taken Mom two weeks since the blowup with Georgia to find time to help me with this. “I really appreciate it.”
Mom reached up and touched my cheek. “I know you do, baby.”
“Want me to make you a snack?”
“Popcorn would be great.”
Miss Genevieve’s ears perked up as the bag circled inside the microwave. He knew I’d give him a couple of pieces after it cooled off.
“Cleveland?” Mom’s voice was laced with concern. “Have you looked at the cost of applying? I mean, it’s listed in euros, but holy hippos, that’s a ton of money.”
My stomach tightened. “I know it’s expensive, Mom, but I’ve been saving a lot of money from my dog walks. I’m up to six hundred ten dollars already, and next week I’ll have seven hundred.”
Mom got up and massaged her temples as she looked into the microwave. “That is a lot of money.”
“Right?” I puffed out my chest, feeling proud.
The kernels had started to pop, and buttery deliciousness filled the air.
Mom leaned on the counter and brushed off some crumbs. “Cleve, I don’t want you to get your hopes up because, honey, I don’t think there are enough dogs in the world to walk to earn the kind of money it would take to go to this school. And I didn’t see anything on their site about scholarships. Also, you’d have to find housing somewhere. That’s probably expensive too.”
I bit my bottom lip. “It’s a lot of money because it’s such a great school. And I couldn’t find scholarships either.” I deflated a little. The scholarships were an important part of my plan. The school cost almost forty thousand a year in American dollars, plus a bunch of other fees, and that didn’t even include the travel to get over there and someplace to live. I didn’t know how I’d get the money, but I knew I had to try. Even if I couldn’t get there for eighth grade next year, maybe I could start high school in Paris. Maybe we’d win the lottery or I’d get another job. I felt a tightening in my chest. Is that what Dad thought when he went to the dog park all those times, that he’d win lots of money for us? Maybe I wouldn’t earn enough to get to Paris, but I couldn’t give up and stay here in Sassafras, not with the way the kids at school thought about me, and the way the neighbors looked at me. No way could I stay! Pas question!
“Cleve, the capital assessment fee alone is more than ten thousand dollars.” Mom sucked in a sharp breath. “Do you know how many houses I’d have to clean to earn that much money?”
I nodded, even though I had no idea. “A lot.”
“Yes, a lot!”
I took out the popcorn and poured it into two bowls, even though my appetite had evaporated during our conversation.
“Sweetheart, are you a hundred percent sure you want to move forward with your plans for Paris?”
I felt tears well up because I had tried not to think about how expensive the school was. I closed my eyelids against the tears and nodded. “I’m sure, Mom.”
She put an arm around my shoulders. “Okay then. Let’s get back to those forms.”
I suddenly got hungry. “Okay.”
While Mom finished filling out the medical questionnaire, I worked on the candidate questionnaire and autobiography.
Each of us gave Miss Genevieve a few pieces of popcorn.
I stopped worrying about the cost and allowed wisps of hope to float back inside myself. “Thanks, Mom.”
“You know, Cleveland,” Mom said. “That school would be lucky to have you.”
My Formerly Favorite Holiday
DECLAN AND I WERE DECKED out in aprons and toques and had our kitchen implements ready when there was a pounding on the Maguires’ trailer door.
My stomach dropped. I’d hoped Todd would come down with a sudden illness that would make it impossible for him to join us for trick-or-treating. Nothing too dreadful, just a twenty-four-hour virus or a horrible case of flatulence. This would be our last year. Next year Dec would be going into high school, and high schoolers didn’t go trick-or-treating. I didn’t want to share my last Halloween with Todd Baker. I’d wished Mr. Baker would insist Todd stay home for their annual family party, but apparently that hadn’t happened either, because there he was, pounding on the Maguires’ door like he was the police or something; my heart hammered.
But the way Declan’s eyes lit up at the sound reminded me that he wanted Todd to join us, to be part of our annual tradition.
Dec flung open the door. “Hey!”
I stood back, leaning on the kitchen counter.
Todd came in wearing his baseball jersey, with black makeup under his eyes and a dopey grin. He gave Declan a tight hug and waved to me behind Dec’s back.
I wiggled a couple of fingers at him and looked down. My dad was in jail right now and not dressed up for Halloween because of Todd Baker’s dad. Anger bubbled inside me. I wished I were wearing my beret, because it made me feel closer to Dad. How had I not realized how good I had things last year when Declan and I went trick-or-treating by ourselves, and Dad was dressed as a mechanic with a unicorn horn, giving out candy with Mom, who was dressed as Rosie the Riveter, outside our trailer? I sighed. Tonight Mom was home by herself. She’d said she didn’t feel like giving out candy this year.
“How’s it going, Cleveland?” Todd asked.
I shrugged. You are ruining my last Halloween with Declan.
“Great costume!” Declan hit Todd in the chest with the back of his hand.
Todd tipped his baseball cap at him.
At least the cap covered his weird hair bump.
Mr. Maguire came out from his bedroom. “You kids ready for some serious trick-or-treating?” He rubbed his palms together. “Good candy, here we come!”
“Hey, you’re not getting candy,” Dec said.
Mr. Maguire grabbed his keys. “Oh, didn’t I tell you there’s a fee of ten percent of the candy you get for driving you dingbats all the way out to Winter Beach?”
“Boo!” Dec yelled.
“You can have fifteen percent of my candy,” Tod
d said.
“Suck-up.” Dec shoved him.
Todd laughed and shoved him back.
Why do they keep touching each other?
I was glad when we grabbed our pillowcases and piled into Mr. Maguire’s car. The trailer felt too small for all of us. At least it did after Todd walked into it.
Dec sat in the backseat next to Todd. I didn’t think there was enough room back there for me, so I sat in the front passenger seat, feeling left out.
Mr. Maguire put on some fiddle music. The boys whispered and laughed behind me. To cheer myself up, I thought about the kinds of candy we might get at the big houses we visited, like full-size Hershey bars, and maybe some of them would give out money if they ran out of candy early. I promised myself I’d save some of Dad’s favorite candy, even if it was stale by the time he got home in February. It seemed so far away. The candy would definitely be stale by then… if ants didn’t get to it first. I slumped in my seat.
I peeked in the back. Declan and Todd were holding hands.
I stared straight ahead the rest of the ride and concentrated on the fiddle music. I didn’t need to be reminded that Todd was replacing me as Declan’s most important friend.
* * *
Mr. Maguire waited for us in the car with his fiddle music playing and a thick Stephen King novel, which he said was perfect for a good scare on Halloween.
We walked around the neighborhood of fancy houses with big front yards and porches. I walked ahead of Dec and Todd because there wasn’t enough room on the sidewalk for three of us.
Someone poked me in the back. I turned and smiled because I thought it was Declan trying to get my attention, but it wasn’t. It was Todd.
Todd Baker poked me in the back.
My expression turned from happy to annoyed confusion.
The Paris Project Page 11
