“We can hear you when you practice in your room with the door closed,” I told her, and she rolled her eyes. “Speaking of which,” I went on, “you’ll have to take down the NO PEARL sign now. You can’t forbid me to come in my own room.”
“It isn’t your—,” Lexie started to say, but thought better of it. Instead she grumped over to her door and ripped the sign off. “Happy now?” She glared at me. “And don’t ask me to take down the other sign. This room is still at least half mine and I have some rules for living in it. One of them is being fully clothed. Period. End of discussion.”
At dinnertime I said, “It’s going to be weird not to sleep in my own bed tonight.”
Lexie narrowed her eyes at me. “Why won’t you sleep in your own bed tonight?”
“Hello. I just moved into your room.”
“But Daddy Bo isn’t here yet,” said Lexie. “You’re not sleeping in my room until he gets here.”
“But my underwear is in your dresser! Do you want me coming into your room naked to get my underwear tomorrow?”
“You can put your school clothes in your room tonight,” said Lexie, “and get dressed there tomorrow morning after you wake up in your own bed.”
My mother cleared her throat. “Actually, Lexie, your father and I cleaned Pearl’s room this afternoon and made up the bed for Daddy Bo. So Pearl is now officially your roommate.”
“Yes!” I cried.
For once my sister was speechless.
When dinner was over, Lexie went to her room to finish her homework. She sat at her desk with her algebra book open in front of her, which I’m not really sure what algebra is. I lay on my back on the bottom bunk, my knees bent, and pretended my legs were a sliding board for the seven stuffed animals I had moved into my new bedroom. “Whee!” I said as Owlie slid onto my feet. “Wahoo!” I said as Mr. Cougar tumbled off my legs and onto the floor.
“Pearl,” said Lexie.
“Yes?”
Lexie sighed. “When I say ‘Pearl’ like that what it means is, ‘Could you please be quiet so I can concentrate?’”
“It would be more helpful if you just said what you meant.”
“Could you please be quiet so I can concentrate?”
“Okay.” I retrieved Mr. Cougar from the floor. “Whee,” I whispered.
Lexie whipped her head around. “I can still hear you. And I’m studying for a test.” She stood up, stepped into the hallway, then turned back to me. “I see that we’re going to have to establish some rules for homework, and also for privacy. Mom? Dad?” she called.
Half an hour later there were a couple of new rules in place. The first was that I had to respect Lexie’s need for silence while studying. (Mom and Dad reminded me that I didn’t have to spend all my time in my new bedroom. There was still the family room.) The second rule was that Lexie and I were each to have one hour of “alone time” in her room every day, and neither of us could disturb the other until the hour was up. My hour was to be in the afternoon, Lexie’s was to be after dinner. I had a feeling that all the good phone calls and things were going to take place during Lexie’s alone time, but there wasn’t anything I could do about it.
“I’m not going to need my alone time,” I announced to Lexie.
“What?” Lexie murmured.
“I said, I’m not going to need my alone time.”
Lexie and I were in the bunk beds, settled in for our first night as roommates. There was no reply from above.
“Lexie?”
“What?”
“I said—”
“I know what you said. I’m trying to read.”
I perched Owlie on Mr. Cougar’s back. “Don’t you want to know why I won’t need my alone time? … Lexie?”
“WHAT?”
“Don’t you want to know why I won’t need my alone time?”
“No.”
“It’s because I don’t need any privacy.”
“Pearl, don’t you have something to read?”
“Nope.”
“Not a single thing?”
“I left my books in the other room.”
“So go get one.”
“That’s okay.”
“Then read something of mine.”
“No, thank you.”
“Then be quiet so I can read.”
I lay in my bed in silence until I began to feel sleepy. I wondered how long it would take for Lexie to discover the new sign on her door.
9
On Monday morning Lexie’s alarm clock went off and she slung back her covers in a flash. She scrambled down the ladder, opened the door to our room, and saw the new sign.
“What is this, may I ask?” She held out the PEARL’S ROOM sign, which she had ripped off the door.
“I made it,” I replied from the bottom bunk. “Do you like it?”
My sister didn’t answer. She dropped it in the wastebasket.
“Lexie?” I said. “How come you’re so mean to me?”
She paused. Then she sat on the edge of my bed and sighed. “Pearl, I don’t like being mean to you, but let’s see. You hide my shoes—for sport. You show my baby blanket to my boyfriend. You scare me for no good reason. And those are just some of the things you’ve done recently. Really, Pearl, what do you expect?”
“I don’t know,” I mumbled.
Lexie stood up. “I’ll use the bathroom now,” she said, “and you can get dressed. Then you can use the bathroom while I get dressed, okay?”
“Okay. Lexie, could you take down the other sign? Please? It would only be fair. I know this isn’t my room, not entirely, so my sign was wrong. But this is half my room, at least for a while, and you can’t make me promise that I’ll always be fully clothed in here. I might have to wear just my underwear sometimes. In fact, I’m going to be in my underwear in a few minutes, while I’m getting dressed.”
“Okay,” said Lexie. “You’re right. Fair enough.” She took down the NO UNDERWEAR VISITS sign and threw it away with the other ones.
On Tuesday afternoon just before my alone time was supposed to begin, I said, “Lexie, I really don’t need my hour.” (I hadn’t needed it the day before, either.) “So you can come in if you want.”
“That’s okay,” Lexie replied. “I’m going to practice my violin out here.” She was standing in the family room. “It’s nice and quiet, I have plenty of space, and I still won’t have an audience.”
“How come you don’t like audiences? If you become a violin player, won’t you want people to hear you?”
“I’ll want them to hear me play, not practice. I like to make mistakes in private.”
“Lexie?” I said. (I wasn’t done talking.) “I think we should give Daddy Bo presents. To welcome him to his new home.”
Lexie arranged some sheet music on the stand. “I already made one for him,” she said. She stuck the violin under her chin.
“So did I! What did you make?”
“A scarf. I finished knitting it last night.”
“Oh.”
“What did you make him?”
“A map.”
Lexie lowered the violin. “A map of what?”
“Our apartment building.”
Lexie started to snort but turned it into a laugh. “Why does he need a map of our apartment building?”
“So he won’t get lost, duh.”
“Tone of voice, Pearl!” called my mother from her office. How had she heard me with the door closed?
“What I meant,” I said to Lexie, “is that Daddy Bo hasn’t been here in a while, and anyway, he’s never lived here, so he might not know where certain things are, like Justine’s apartment or the laundry room or the storage units or the mailboxes. Oh, or that room people keep their bicycles in.” I stopped talking when I saw the look on my sister’s face. “And before you say anything, I know Daddy Bo doesn’t have a bike and plus he broke his shoulder, but he might need to know where the bike room is sometime. For some reason.”
Lexie
laid her violin in its case. “Can I see the map?” she asked.
I retrieved it from my notebook, which I had jammed under my new bed.
Lexie looked and looked at the map, but her eyes didn’t give away her personal, private opinions. Finally she said, “I can tell you put a lot of thought into this, Pearl.” She sounded like Mr. Potter when he wasn’t sure what to say about something, such as once when Jill spent forever making a painting in art class and no one, including Rachel and Katie, could figure out what it was a drawing of. Mr. Potter had leaned over Jill’s shoulder then and said, “I love all the colors you used—and there’s so much energy here!”
Still, when Lexie said she could tell I had put a lot of thought into the map I kind of believed her, and I felt proud.
Lexie folded her handmade three-color scarf into a box, which she wrapped in striped paper, and I rolled up the map and tied it with a green ribbon. We were ready for Daddy Bo.
He arrived the next afternoon. Dad had skipped work that day and had driven to New Jersey, gone to Daddy Bo’s house, and packed up some of his stuff, then rushed over to the hospital, where he’d collected Daddy Bo. He and Daddy Bo and the stuff arrived at our apartment late in the afternoon.
I was in the family room with Lexie and Bitey when I heard the key in the lock. “They’re here!” I shouted, and Bitey skittered behind the couch.
The door swung open and there stood Dad and Daddy Bo. Puffing in the hallway behind them was Reginald, who’s the porter in our building, which means he lugs stuff around for you if you need help. Reginald, who was sweating in addition to puffing, was pulling along a very rattly metal cart, and piled on the cart were three suitcases and two cardboard boxes.
“Daddy Bo!” I shrieked.
“Daddy Bo!” called Lexie.
“Mom, Daddy Bo’s here!” I yelled.
“So I hear,” said Mom, who as it turned out, was standing right behind me.
I took a good look at Daddy Bo, half hoping for bruises and bandages and stitches, which would have made his accident even more interesting, but all I saw was a white sling keeping his shoulder in place.
“Where’s your cast?” I asked him.
“Pearl!” hissed Lexie. And I knew this was another of those times when “Pearl” meant a whole lot more than just my name. This afternoon I think it meant, “Quit being so nosy.” I think it also meant, “You’re embarrassing me,” and I could see why she didn’t want to say that out loud.
But Daddy Bo didn’t seem to mind my question. “No cast,” he replied. “Isn’t that boring?”
“Oh, well,” I said. I started to fling myself at Daddy Bo, but Mom pulled me back.
“Careful,” she said. “No hugging for a while. I’ll bet Daddy Bo is pretty sore.”
Daddy Bo gave us a sad smile. “Sore isn’t the word.”
“What is the word?” I wanted to know.
“That’s just an expression, Pearl,” said Lexie. Then she stepped forward and helped Daddy Bo remove his coat.
This is the nice thing about my sister. She might not have wanted me to move into her room, but she also didn’t want Daddy Bo to think he was causing any trouble. She loves Daddy Bo as much as I do.
We walked slowly into the family room then. Lexie held Daddy Bo’s uninjured arm and I patted his back while he shuffled along, moving about one half of an inch at a time. Behind us, Mom and Dad helped Reginald unload the cart, and then Reginald and the empty cart disappeared onto the service elevator.
“Sit right here,” I instructed Daddy Bo. “This chair is the most comfortable seat in the whole apartment.”
“Thank you, Pearl,” he replied. “You’re a gem.”
The first time Daddy Bo had said that to me I hadn’t understood the joke. So Lexie had explained it to me and then I’d told it to Justine, but she’d remained mystified, even after I’d explained it to her twice.
“Hey, careful!” Lexie exclaimed, as Daddy Bo lost his balance and pretty much fell into the chair.
“Lawsy,” said Daddy Bo. “First day with my new feet.”
Daddy Bo was breathing hard, and I glanced nervously at Lexie. Then I looked around for Mom and Dad, but they were wrestling the suitcases and cartons down the hallway to my old room.
Lexie glanced back at me. After a few moments while we stood uncertainly over Daddy Bo, listening to him try to catch his breath, Lexie said brightly, “We made presents for you!”
“For me? How nice,” said Daddy Bo. “I certainly am lucky.”
“If you were really lucky you probably wouldn’t have fallen,” I told him.
Lexie glared at me, but Daddy Bo started to laugh. “True enough,” he replied.
I retrieved Daddy Bo’s presents from where I had hidden them, which was behind the couch. Bitey had been sitting on Lexie’s gift and I hoped she wouldn’t notice the dent and all the gray fur. She did, but she didn’t say anything. She just handed the box to Daddy Bo. When he opened it he exclaimed, “Fabulous! This will keep my neck extra warm. I can’t believe you made it yourself. Thank you, Lexie.”
“Now mine! Open mine!” I said. I hopped back and forth from one foot to the other.
Daddy Bo slid the ribbon off of the map and unrolled it.
“It’s a map of the apartment building!” I announced as he studied it. “Now you’ll know where everything is around here.”
“This will come in very handy,” he said seriously. “I had no idea there was a bike room in the basement.”
I looked triumphantly at my sister, who ignored me and pretended to be all adult by saying, “Daddy Bo, would you like to settle into your new room now?”
“Thank you, but I need a moment to collect myself.”
“While you’re doing that, could I sit in your lap?” I asked. “I’ll be very careful, I promise.”
“Sure,” said Daddy Bo.
So I settled into his lap, leaning gingerly against his good shoulder. After a moment I couldn’t help myself: I poked his double chin, making it sway back and forth. “What’s this for?” I said, like I always did.
Daddy Bo smiled. “I was wondering when you’d ask,” he replied. “That’s where old people keep their pills.”
I sat in Daddy Bo’s lap for a long time while he wore his scarf and consulted his map and we listened to Lexie play (not practice) her violin.
10
My grandmother (not Daddy Bo’s wife, who’s dead, but my other grandmother) once said to Lexie and me, “You poor babies. Growing up in the city. You don’t even get to see the seasons change.” Well, obviously, that grandmother had not spent much time in the city. Because for instance, today, which was a Saturday in early autumn, I could see red and yellow leaves swirling around outside our windows. And I could hear the wind blowing a little. And when I looked down onto the street I could see that people were wearing jackets. Also I could see that La Verne, the woman who owns the hot chestnut cart, was wheeling it toward Fifth Avenue. I have to be honest and tell you that hot chestnuts actually taste like hot bars of soap, but I like La Verne, and her cart was a true sign of autumn.
Since it was the weekend, I was wearing my pirate outfit. I had spruced it up, but not with a hook hand, which Mom and Dad still refused to buy me. Instead I had spruced it up by tying a checkered scarf around my neck. And I had decided to make a flag with a skull and crossbones on it.
I worked busily on the flag, sitting at the table in the family room and painting a square of black fabric. Daddy Bo was reading the paper on the couch. He had been with us for over two weeks and his shoulder was much better. He was still wearing the sling, but he could move around more and I didn’t have to be so careful when I climbed in his lap to poke his chin.
“Isn’t this a nice day?” I said to Daddy Bo as I dabbed white paint onto the black cotton.
“It’s a gem of a day, Pearl.”
“I don’t have any homework.”
“Neither do I.”
I smiled. “And we don’t have to go anyw
here or do anything unless we feel like it. This is the best kind of day ever.”
The doorbell rang then and I ran to answer it.
“Hi, Pearl,” said Valerie, stepping inside. “Is Lexie here?”
“Yup!” said Lexie, rushing to the front door. “Here I am! Hi, Valerie! I didn’t know you were coming over.”
“I was wondering if you wanted to go to the park and watch the boys’ soccer team practice,” said Valerie. “Polly just called and she and Chloe are already on their way over there.”
“Oh, Lexie, too bad. You can’t go,” I said.
“She can’t? Why not?” asked Valerie.
“Because last night she threw up. In her bed.”
Lexie’s face turned a very bright shade of pink. “I did not!” she yelped. “I did not throw up in my bed!”
“Yes, you did.” I turned to Valerie. “She really did. A little bit before she got to the bathroom. I heard her. And I saw Mom take the blanket off her bed. There was definitely throw-up on it.”
“You must have been dreaming, Pearl,” said Lexie, but her face was as pink as ever.
Valerie looked questioningly at Lexie, who looked furiously at me. My sister reminded me a little of Mrs. Mott when she catches people riding on the regular elevator with their dogs.
“Are you okay?” Valerie asked Lexie.
“I’m fine now. Do I look sick?”
Lexie actually did not look sick. She was dressed and she was eating a pear.
“I guess not,” said Valerie.
Lexie shrugged into her coat, grabbed her purse, and put her cell phone in it. “Mom!” she shouted. “Dad! I’m going to the park with Valerie!”
Ten minutes after Lexie left, my parents announced that they were going to run errands.
“We’ll be gone for about an hour,” said Dad.
Ten Rules for Living With My Sister Page 6
