The Teashop Girls

by Laura Schaefer

  another awesome illustration by genna. This is the main sitting area in the Steeping Leaf, with all the comfy old-fashioned furntiture. Doesn’t it make you want to settle in for hours with a nice cup and a good book? I’m surprised people ever go home!

  Chapter Eighteen

  Find yourself a cup of tea; the teapot is behind you. Now tell me about hundreds of things.

  —SAKI

  Genna’s dot was green, like it always was, so I shot her a quick message

  cuppaAnnie:HE’s coming. To your party.

  Gengenski00: work it

  cuppaAnnie:I don’t know what to wear

  Gengenski00: bikini of course

  cuppaAnnie: r u insane?!?!?!?!?!?

  Gengenski00: i might be i hear voices

  cuppaAnnie: k good luck with that

  I IMed Zoe next. She was almost never available online to chat, so it was nice to see her tennis shoe screen name pop up.

  cuppaAnnie: Jonathan is coming to gen’s party

  Kswiss211: who?

  cuppaAnnie: very funny. bring some high school people!

  Kswiss211: what high school people? we’re in 8th grade

  cuppaAnnie: i don’t know

  Kswiss211: i’m tired

  cuppaAnnie: take a nap, or meditate

  Kswiss211: i am

  cuppaAnnie: i don’t think you can at the same time as iming

  Kswiss211: good point

  cuppaAnnie:cu later

  After that, I spent two hours trying on clothes, painting my toenails, and carefully examining my face. It was clear for a change, but my freckles were still pretty fierce. Finally, I put on a short pleated skirt and a top over a tankini. Perfect! Well, as close as I could get. My hair went into a ponytail thing that kept it under control. Lip gloss! Where was my lip gloss ? I ran into Beth’s room.

  “Did you take my lip gloss?” I asked. “You know, the expensive stuff?”

  “No.” She was listening to her French lesson on her iPod at max volume and didn’t bother to turn it down. “Why are you so dressed up? We’re just going to some Italian place. You know how Dad is addicted to Alfredo sauce and breadsticks. Ugh. Heart attack–ville. I’m getting a salad and that is it. Not that I can eat pasta even if I wanted to.”

  “What?!”

  “For Dad’s birthday. Hello. It’s practically all he’s talked about for a week.”

  “Aughhhhh! I forgot about that.”

  “Just because you’re too busy chasing around teashop boy.”

  “I do not chase teashop b—I mean Jonathan, anywhere. How do you know about that? I can’t believe I forgot to get a present.”

  “If you give me ten bucks, I’ll put your name on mine. Cough up.” Beth looked at me happily. She always needed money.

  “I bet Mom gave you the money to buy a present in the first place, but fine. What did you get?”

  “A bird feeder, what else?”

  “Great. Why haven’t we left yet, then? It’s almost six.” I couldn’t believe that the one time I had actual, nonlame plans, my dad had to go and have a birthday and decide to have dinner so late. I thought about trying to get out of it, but there was no way. My parents think Family Time is, like, holy.

  “What’s with you? In a hurry to get back here and watch a DVD?” Beth teased.

  “No. I’m—none of your business.”

  Mom called up to us that it was time to go. I grabbed the phone and quickly dialed Genna and Zoe, who promised they would try to keep Jonathan at the party if he actually did show up. It’s not that I didn’t enjoy spending time with my fam—Billy and Luke could be pretty funny when they decided to stop trying to shoot juice out of their noses—it was just that Jonathan and I had actually talked today. And now he was coming to the party. This night had the potential to be a serious turning point. And I would be spending it eating ravioli and breadsticks.

  We picked up Louisa at her little bungalow near the university and all piled into my dad’s van. Beth had earbuds in; the boys were fighting. Louisa chatted with my mom about the lovely weather. She was holding a nicely wrapped gift for her son-in-law, never the type to forget to get something, unlike yours truly. When we arrived, I put my arm around my dad.

  “So how does it feel to be eighty-six?” I asked him. He was sporting a special T-shirt for the occasion, which said “Our Business is Monkey, and Business is Good.” My dad and his shirts. What were we going to do with him?

  annie’s Dad’s Favorite T-Shirts

  with commentary by annie green

  “When did my wild oats turn into shredded wheat?” (Okay, who really wants to think about my dad having wild oats? Ew. Also, everyone knows he is old, so is it really necessary to advertise that fact on a T-shirt? Why can’t he wear a nice button-down and normal shoes like Zoe’s stepdad?)

  “I’m your father, not an ATM.” (Ha-ha. So funny. Can I help it if a mixed green salad at Tutto Pasta is seven bucks?)

  “What if the hokey pokey is really what it’s all about?” (What what’s all about? I don’t get it. Also, if I ever had to see my dad do the hokey pokey, I would die. Another reason for me never to get married or have a wedding reception.)

  “The sports team from my area is superior to the sports team from your area.” (Duh. Go Badgers!)

  “I appreciate the Muppets on a much deeper level than you.” (Um, okay, Dad. If that makes you sleep better at night, good for you.)

  “I’ll have you know I’m not a day over forty-three.” It was true; my parents had been high school sweethearts. Gag. He loved to tell the story of how he had stared at Mom’s red hair in chemistry—’nother gag—and known she was the one. They went to different colleges in entirely different states, but my mom came home for grad school and the rest is Green family history. I guess before they got married, they wrote, like, a million letters back and forth from the East Coast to the Midwest. Can you imagine living before IM? Me neither.

  “Happy birthday, Dad.”

  “Thanks. Now let’s see if we can’t set a new breadstick record!” What was it with Dad and carbo-loading? I wondered. My dad ran one marathon one time about a million years ago and still acted like he was in training. But the only part of the training he really did was the carb part. Not so much with the running-every-day part. Well, unless you count chasing my brothers, which I suppose I do.

  Thank goodness, we got a table right away. The server came after a century. I kept repeating hurry, hurry, hurry in my head and tapping my foot. It took about three years for the drinks to come. Louisa was watching me carefully. Sometimes it wasn’t the greatest thing in the universe to have an adult around who was so in tune with your energy, if you know what I’m saying. She just smiled at me and didn’t say anything. I smiled back.

  Aughh! I gnawed impatiently on my complimentary breadstick. By the time the birthday cake came, it was going to be after eight thirty. Wasn’t anyone thinking about the fact that it could get past Billy’s bedtime? Was I the only responsible person in the whole family all of the sudden?

  “Mom, can we order?” I begged. I shot Beth a look. Once in a while, if Beth was in a really good mood, she’d take my side.

  “Yeah, I have a date,” she said. Yes.

  “I’m hungry,” Luke whined. No matter that he had had a full meal probably not three hours before. I sent my brother silent telepathic thanks. Everyone finally, finally ordered their dinners. When the meals arrived, I finished mine in three bites, hardly tasting anything. I didn’t want my stomach to stick out in my suit. Which I was still wearing. I noticed my mother looking at me curiously. That was the thing about moms, even my own. They could tell in three nanoseconds if something was different with you … when they were supposed to be thinking about important stuff like chord progressions or whatever.

  About seven years later, everyone else finished eating. I ran to the bathroom and called Genna on Beth’s phone. I can’t believe she let me use it, but like I said, my sister is very occasionally decent.

/>   “Tell me what’s going on. I’ll be there in a half hour.”

  “Relax. Jonathan just got here. But he looks pretty uncomfortable.”

  “Hmm. Is everything under control?”

  “What do you mean? Everything’s fine, we’re just swimming and stuff.” And stuff.

  “All right, I have to go.”

  “’Kay.”

  “Bye.” I washed my hands and returned to the table, where a bunch of waiters were singing “Happy Birthday” to my dad. He had to be the only person on the face of the planet that was happy to have chain restaurant waiters sing to him. We all passed our gifts over and Dad oohed and ahhed about the birdhouse, a Weedwacker from the boys, some socks made from organic fibers from Louisa, and a first edition Hemingway from my mom. I remembered that for my last birthday, I had gotten a new computer and felt guilty about slacking on the gift. I promised myself I’d get Dad something really nice for Christmas. Then I remembered Louisa always talking about how stuff doesn’t matter. Hmm …

  We all piled back into the van once again, returned Louisa to her place with hugs all around, and went home. It was getting late. I didn’t think my mom would let me leave even though it was a weekend night. I decided to go the begging route and give about six different phone numbers for Genna’s housekeeper and parents. Fortunately, it worked. I had to promise to be home by ten thirty, though, which was so harsh. Thank goodness Genna lived close by.

  Annie’s Tea Pops

  * * *

  INGREDIENTS

  2 cups (approximately one small pot) herbal tea, brewed double strength

  1 cup orange juice

  2 tablespoons sugar

  * * *

  Brew hot tea using double the amount of leaves you usually would. Let steep for 4 minutes, then allow time to cool.

  Stir the orange juice and sugar into the cooled tea, then pour the mixture into ice pop molds or ice cube trays, leaving some room at the top.

  Place in freezer and wait 3 hours or until solid. Then, take out pops and lick two or three between cannonballs in Genna’s pool!

  Chapter Nineteen

  Love and scandal are the best sweeteners of tea.

  —HENRY FIELDING, LOVE IN SEVERAL MASQUES

  I made it to Genna’s a bit out of breath. Sure enough, there were a very large number of “close friends” all over the place. I found Zoe, who was wearing a plain Speedo and sitting with her feet in the water, trying to decide if she wanted to get her hair wet. It took forever to dry.

  “Hey, how’s it been so far?” I asked her, trying not to be too obvious as I craned my neck around, looking for Jonathan. She rolled her eyes.

  “He’s over there.” Zoe pointed, unimpressed. Jonathan was stuffing his face with Genna’s Doritos and gulping some sort of energy drink with a lightning bolt on the side. “Annie …” She trailed off, and I gave her an I’ve-got-this-under-control smile. Which was funny, seeing as I pretty much never had anything under control.

  “I’m going to go find a soda.” I wandered off into the main part of the house, only to see Genna and one of her friends from drama club in the den playing DDR … in their wet swimsuits.

  “Hey, Gen,” I yelled over the music, poking my head in the room.

  “Annie! You’re here!” She abruptly stepped off her dance pad and hugged me. Her skin was cool and her hair was soaked.

  “Yes, finally. You’re all wet!” I said, a little bit horrified for the carpet. If my mom were here, she’d be in a tizzy.

  “Oh yeah, whatever. Anyway, get back out by the pool and your boy! Or wait, see if he wants a tour of the house.” Genna grinned, wiggling her eyebrows.

  “Um, I’ll think about it.” I left Gen to her dancing and found the fridge. After I grabbed a soda, I returned to the pool, trying to figure out if I could trust my swimsuit in the water. I wandered over to my target.

  “Hi, Jonathan. I’m glad you came.” Though I sounded ultra casual and alluring, he just nodded, raised his plastic cup, and jumped into the pool, yelling, “CANNONBALL!” When he got out and toweled off, I followed him more or less inconspicuously.

  “So, where’s Beth?” he asked, a hopeful expression on his face.

  “Um, actually she couldn’t make it. Homework or something,” I lied. He looked really disappointed.

  “Oh. Well … I should probably get going.” He toweled off his head and started gathering up his stuff.

  I wished that there were some magic words I could say to make him stay and talk to me. Before I could ask Genna what to do, he began talking into his cell phone and putting on his shoes. I will not cry, I will not cry, I told myself over and over, quickly wiping my nose. I took a deep breath and tried to forget about Jonathan and his stupid crush on my stupid, stupid sister. Genna came back to the pool and saw Jonathan leave. She looked at me sympathetically and threw her arm around me. When I spoke, my voice actually sounded pretty normal.

  “Genna, this place is a disaster.” It was. The entire pool room was covered in wet towels, pieces of cookie, flip-flops, and hair bands. Since people had been splashing for over two hours, the pool level was down about a foot and every piece of furniture was soaking wet. Genna didn’t care, though. Her face was flushed and there was a flower in her hair (a miracle, given the approximately eleven times she had been thrown in the pool by various boys).

  “I know, isn’t it great? There must be at least twenty people here!” She sashayed away, saying something about needing more chips, very pleased with herself.

  Horror of horrors, who should sidle up just then but Zach Anderson. How on earth had he been invited? I took a laaarge step away from him and made a face.

  “Little Annie Green, teashop girl, at a party? Did your mommy say you could?”

  “Shut up, Zach. Were you even invited?”

  “Oh I got invited, Green. Gen-gen is all over my business.”

  “She is so not, Zach. Ick.” I shuddered. Fortunately, some squealing girls at the deep end distracted him and I walked away, feeling like something vile had been spilled on me.

  I was just considering jumping into the pool to join a game of chicken (my plan was to pretend my opponent was Beth) when Genna’s landline rang. Uh-oh. It was after ten thirty. Oops. About three seconds later, Gen’s housekeeper appeared and called for me. Embarrassing. Everyone’s head swiveled, wondering why I didn’t have a cell phone yet. I went to take the call.

  “Hello?”

  “Annie? Why are you still out? I thought I said ten thirty.” My mother’s voice sounded impatient.

  “Oh. I’m sorry, Mom. I lost track.” Why did parents have to be so literal?

  “I’d like you to come home. Now.”

  I tracked down Zoe and explained that I had to leave. She did too, which made me feel a little better. We found Genna, surrounded by a group of freshmen. I suddenly felt angry. It was so unfair that Genna could do whatever she wanted and dress like a twenty-five-year-old fashion designer, while I, Annie Green, had to get home by ten thirty and work for spending money. I did some calming breaths like Louisa taught me and pulled Genna away for a second.

  “I have to go.”

  “Aww, already?”

  “Yes, Genna.” I hugged her with a sigh, told her to throw everyone out soon so her long-suffering housekeeper could go to sleep, and then gathered my stuff. She waved. It was a wasted night. No romance at all, and I hadn’t even gone swimming.

  Tea Combat

  A Zen story

  as told by Annie Green

  A long time ago in ancient Japan a master of the tea ceremony once accidentally upset a soldier. Even though the tea master said he was sorry, the soldier said they must settle things in a sword duel. The soldier was probably a lot like Zach, from the sounds of things. Anyway, the tea master had no experience with swords, so he asked his friend the Zen master what to do.

  When the Zen master was served his tea, he saw how the tea master performed his art precisely, with total concentration and calm. The Ze
n master said, “Tomorrow, when you prepare to duel, face the soldier and hold your weapon with the same concentration and tranquility with which you perform the tea ceremony.”

  The next day the tea master did as he was told. The soldier, as he got ready to duel, looked at the tea master for a long time, seeing his fully attentive and calm face. At last, the soldier lowered his sword, apologized for his arrogance, and left.

  Chapter Twenty

  Tea drinkers are never bored.

  —LOUISA

  The next day at the Leaf, I was actually busy. It wasn’t because we were supercrowded or anything (bah!), but Louisa wasn’t feeling well, so I told her to take it easy in the back, promising to bother her only if I was really confused about something. Gift certificates, for example, were still a little terrifying.

  Anyway, it was up to me to run the shop, so I didn’t really have time to think much about Save the Leaf operations or Jonathan or my homework assignments. It was kind of nice. Instead, I made Ling’s cucumber sandwiches, Mr. Silverman’s oolong, and several other drinks and snacks. As I was running around and asking after everyone’s day, it occurred to me that Mr. Kopinski had been right. I really was a hostess and a businesswoman. Maybe I could handle high school in the fall after all.

  At that, the front door chimed and Meg came in with Denise, laden with guidebooks like last time. Their trip must be getting really close. They pulled out chairs from one of our bigger tables and began spreading out. I went over to them.

  “Hi, guys,” I said, remembering how Louisa had said it was okay to greet younger customers informally as long as I remembered to be more respectful with our older visitors. “You must be taking off soon.”

  “Hey, Annie.” Denise nodded. “Our flight leaves next week. I’m so excited!”