by Kim Tomsic
“Please explain,” Ms. Quigly says.
“I purchased crickets from the pet store. I brought them to school. And I put them in another student’s locker.” I swallow. “As a prank.”
The judges gasp.
“Young lady,” the mustached man says, “do you realize—”
“We will deal with her, sir,” Mr. Lehman says. “And I assure you, Mrs. Downy rid the school of Sage’s prank swiftly and unequivocally, and there have been no crickets since.”
I stare at the shoelaces of my new purple Converse.
“Well.” Ms. Quigly turns to Mrs. Downy, her tone friendly. “This is a whole different set of circumstances.”
The judges return the red pens to the curly-haired man, and he drops them into his pocket.
I exhale.
They continue talking to Mrs. Downy, but I don’t hear what they say, because Mr. Lehman and Mrs. Rimmels pull me aside.
Mrs. Rimmels speaks softly. “You, my dear, have after-school detention for two weeks, where you will assist Mrs. Downy in whatever cleaning capacity she needs. You may start after the winter holiday break so you have an opportunity to let your mother know why you’ll be coming home late.”
“Does this mean I can’t go to the dance?” I ask.
“No, the dance is part of our science program, so we still expect you to come.” She winks at me.
Mr. Lehman’s face droops sadder than I’ve ever seen it. “Sage, I’m so sorry you made a bad choice with the crickets, though I’m really proud of you for coming clean. Unfortunately, a detention disqualifies you from the Noodler contest.”
And just like that, my big chance for changing the Sassafras name is over.
Chapter 34
Tears wet my face. Mr. Lehman holds my tray while Mrs. Rimmels hugs me. She pulls a Kleenex from her dress pocket and hands one over. “I’m proud of you for your honesty.” She taps the “Be Kind” button on her collar.
I spend a few minutes blowing my nose before joining my friends. When I go to my lunch table, I take a breath. “Sorry, you guys.” I clutch my tray and stare at the chicken-and-rice dish. “I . . . I did Cricket-gate. I brought the crickets to school, and it was mean and thoughtless, and I honestly feel terrible, and I’m really sorry.” I sniffle. “If I could take it back I would. I already let Mrs. Downy know, and I’m officially disqualified from the Noodler contest, but there are plenty of great artists at this table, so I’m sure one of you can bring in a win for our school.”
“Dang it,” Hudson says.
I nod and look down, holding in more tears.
“Everyone knows you would’ve won. You’re the best artist.”
“Thanks, Hud.” I put down my tray in a spot next to him and climb into the bench. “That’s nice of you to say. Some days I’m the best, and some days it’s you.”
He makes protest noises.
“It’s true,” I say. Gigi’s honesty made me realize that sometimes friends don’t really see each other. “You know what else is true. If I had been honest with Bay, I would never have broken this rule. She wouldn’t have let me.”
Curtis laughs. “True that.”
Bailee gives me a hesitant smile. “I’m not sure there’s a no-bringing-bugs-to-school rule in our student handbook . . . but there should be.”
I laugh, relieved she said something. Baby steps.
“You should’ve waited until after the Noodler contest to confess about Cricket-gate,” Ryan says.
“No, I couldn’t let Mrs. Downy take the fall. It was lousy enough that I did it to Priscilla and Bailee and everyone.”
“We called a truce, remember,” Priscilla says. “And like I already said, I forgive you about the crickets, Sage. I think we all do.”
My friends around the table nod—I look to Bailee, and though she doesn’t agree, she doesn’t look away. Her brown eyes glint with a spark of gold. Hudson smiles at me; so do Steven, Curtis, Jada, Ryan, Gigi, and Justin. I pause. When did Justin arrive? My heart flutters. “H-hi.” My voice wobbles.
“Hey.” He gives me that awesome lopsided grin.
A smile spreads across my face, and all the friendship and forgiveness at the table gives me an idea.
“What do you guys think of calling today and every solstice eve Goldview Kindness Day?”
“What does that mean?” Hudson asks.
“It means be a friend. Like how Priscilla and I became friends. And like how Curtis and Justin forgave me for being a big jerk this week. And you, Hudson, calling me the best artist, because you were trying to make me feel better.”
Hudson grins. “And because it’s true. Sometimes.”
I smile back. “I’m thinking for Kindness Day everyone can find ways to be generous or sympathetic or thoughtful or nice.” I turn to Gigi. “And honest, like you, Gigi.”
She shrinks.
“Seriously,” I say. “It was kind that you told me the truth about how you feel. It doesn’t mean I agree with everything you said, because I like calling myself a lounge llama and saying my color exclamations. But you told me in a nice way.” I shrug. “I don’t know, now that you let out the truth, it feels like we can be real with each other.” I fiddle with the end of my hair, feeling a twinge of awkwardness. “Um, so what do you guys think about Kindness Day?”
“It’s a great idea!” Priscilla says. “I second the motion. Let’s make today, solstice eve, Goldview Kindness Day.”
Priscilla and I exchange looks, and I know she’s finally on board with me believing that the community fed the curse and helped keep it alive. Now we’re relying on our friends and neighbors to help us end it for good.
“I third the motion,” Bailee says, and offers me some of her pomegranate hand gel. The special kind. I bust out my biggest smile of the week.
“You forgive me?” I say.
And she says, “Duh.”
Classes go well, teachers are happy, and we accomplish a pretty awesome day of practicing kindness—Hudson scoots a spider out the window, Bailee picks up trash, and Priscilla and I continue falling all over each other trying to be helpful. Five minutes before the last bell of the day, I say to Priscilla, “Let’s have a doodle-off and test if Kindness Day was enough to squash the curse.”
Before we can try, the school loudspeaker pipes into our history classroom.
“Hello,” the secretary says. “We need Priscilla Petty to come down to the office.”
Priscilla’s shoulders visibly tense. Mine do, too.
“It’s going to be all right,” Priscilla says shakily as she gathers up her stuff.
“Yep,” I say.
The door clicks shut behind her.
“I hope everything is okay with her dad,” I whisper to Bailee.
“It has to be.” Bailee crosses her fingers. I cross my toes.
The bell rings, and Bay and I drop off our books in our lockers. Everyone is buzzing about the dance and the long holiday break, happy that none of the teachers gave us homework. We clang our locker doors shut, click the locks in place, and head outside into the cool pine air.
“Hey, Bailee! Sage!” Gigi runs up the sidewalk to catch us. Her voice is breathy. “I’m wondering if you guys would like to come over tomorrow for my mom’s spaghetti and marinara and to get ready for the dance. A bunch of people are coming.”
Phew! Bailee never has to know Gigi invited me without her.
Instead of smiling, Bailee shakes her head fast and says, “No.” She watches her feet as we walk to the bus. “It’s okay, Gigi. Part of being kind means you have to be honest, and I’ve already heard from enough people that I’m too much of a germaphobe for you.”
“Listen to me,” Gigi says. “I’m sorry. Sure, I don’t like the germaphobe stuff, but I was dumb to blow off our friendship because of it.”
Bailee stays quiet.
“I miss you. I want you to come over, and to prove it, I have some rules.” Gigi says “rules” in a playful tone.
Bailee looks up. “Okay, now y
ou’re speaking my language.”
“Rule one, you’re not allowed to force everyone to use hand gel.” Gigi smiles. “Rule two, I’ll promise you that my parents will wash their hands before they cook, they always do, so you’re not allowed to push gel on them, either. Three, if you want to use hand gel, I won’t judge you. I really do want you to come. Please say yes.”
“You had me at ‘rules,’” Bailee says.
I laugh, loud and goofy. We line up at the bus stop, rubbing warmth into our arms, the air chillier than it has been all week. I’m so confident the curse is lifting that I’m going to beg Mr. Melvin to drive extra fast so I can race home and see if Momma is back to normal.
I look across the parking lot, trying to find Priscilla’s car. But Priscilla steps in line with us at the bus stop. “Hey?”
Priscilla’s shoulders sag. “Goldview Kindness Day didn’t work.”
“What? No. How do you know?”
“My mother called the office to let them know I’d need to take the bus home.”
“That’s good,” I say. “You said you liked riding the bus.”
“I do,” Priscilla says. “But the reason I’m taking it home is because she forgot to charge the car. That’s not like my mother at all.”
As she says this, we hear a car in the parking lot honk and honk and hoooooooonk!
Bailee, Priscilla, Gigi, and I look over.
It’s my mom. And she’s driving a new car!
Chapter 35
You’d think riding home on fancy tan leather seats with new-car smell would be super-fun, but Momma’s mood is worse than ever. Her frown lines etch deep in her face, and she won’t give any of my friends a ride home.
The second I buckle my seat belt, she complains about her day—phone calls with accountants and lawyers, and everyone wanting something from her. The slow-crawling pick-up line adds to her frustration. “Geez, what’s going on?” Momma leans left and tries to see around the Jeep in front of us.
“This is how the car line always moves after school,” I say. Poor Momma looks so tired, and I’m about to thank her for picking me up, until she hollers at the car in front of us, “Hurry up!” She jams her hand on the horn. Hooooooonk!
Heads turn our way. “Momma! People have to drive slowly in a school parking lot.”
“Please don’t manage me, Sage. I’m not in the mood.”
Her words feel like a slap, and I’m inching low in my seat when a Mimi Glosser song comes on the radio. I reach to turn it up. This will change her mood.
Momma immediately clicks it off and says, “My head hurts.” She sighs and forces a kinder tone. “Sorry, I’m exhausted from all the packing.”
I look back at my bus, full of my friends laughing and smiling.
We finally pull out of the lot, and Momma speeds down the road. A few minutes later, the headache must ease, because she clicks on the radio. Instead of playing fun music, she selects a channel where a newscaster says, “With only a few leaves remaining in Goldview, I can safely say that fall is behind us, and just in time for the winter solstice.”
Kindness Day was a bust, but maybe Priscilla’s wish will come true and we’ll magically have a thundersnow and pink lightning. I squeeze my hands in prayer.
“Clear skies in the forecast,” the newscaster says.
I slump lower in my seat. Just like I thought, Priscilla wished on a Saturday and probably deactivated the candle. I’m out of ideas. And tomorrow is the deadline for a whole generation. I might be doomed to be cursed for the rest of my life!
We zoom past the pet store, and I imagine all the dogs, reptiles, crickets, and guinea pigs in their cages, living their lives without a worry.
Guinea pigs?
My brain kicks into gear. That’s it! Suddenly I know what needs to be done to lift the curse. I’ve been focused on getting help from the community, but I’ve forgotten to involve the two most important people.
Momma drives on Seventh Street and we pass Minerva’s. The “Closed” sign still looms on the door. But now I have hope. A few minutes later, Momma parks at our apartment complex, and I race upstairs to call Priscilla. Miss Tammy said people can make their own magic, I think, squeezing the phone. That’s exactly what we need to do. After three rings, Priscilla answers. I can hear my friends on the bus laughing and having a good time. “Hey,” I say. “I’ve got it.”
“What? The plague? What are we talking about?” Priscilla laughs, but this time it’s not mean. It’s a laugh that says we’re becoming friends.
“No, I’ve got a solution. The curse didn’t start with the pink lightning,” I say. “It started when the boa constrictor ate my momma’s guinea pig!”
“I’m listening,” Priscilla says.
“Have Bailee scoot close so you both can hear at the same time.”
A moment later, Bailee says, “I’m here.”
I share my plan.
“I think this just might work,” Priscilla says.
“I sure hope so,” Bailee adds.
It better. The idea is our final shot.
Chapter 36
Friday, December 21
On Friday, I convince Momma to drive by Minerva’s before dropping me off at Gigi’s to hang out before the dance. The shop is still closed. I’m not surprised.
Gigi’s family lives in a small white house with a neat yard and a topaz-blue door. When the door swings open, I breathe in the familiar scents of her house: roasting tomatoes, yeasty bread, and sizzling garlic.
“Sage!” Gigi’s mom hugs me at the front door. I hold on to her a moment too long, and she laughs when I don’t let go. “It’s good to see you, too, sweetie.”
Her papa hugs me, too. “We’ve missed you around here.” His Italian accent is strong and joyful.
“Thank you for having all of us over.”
“You know we love a big party. Another excuse for Martina’s cooking.” He pats his round belly and laughs as Gigi’s mother beams.
In the living room, the couches and end tables have been pushed aside and a long row of card tables stretches the full length of the room. White paper napkins and mason jar water glasses sit at each spot.
“Come on,” Gigi says. “We’re getting ready back here.”
I follow Gigi to her room. Music is playing from Priscilla’s phone. Bailee sits in a white chair, and Priscilla stands behind her, French braiding her hair. Jada is trying on an Egyptian-blue shirt and twisting in the mirror to see herself at different angles.
“That looks cute on you, Jada.” I set my backpack on the floor and sit on Gigi’s starburst quilt bedding. “I love your hair, Bay. You guys all look great.”
“Thanks,” Bailee and Jada say.
“Why’d you bring your backpack?” Gigi asks.
“I have a group project I’m going to announce when everyone arrives.”
“I’ve missed that about you,” Gigi says, beaming. “Your fun ideas.”
“Can’t wait,” Priscilla says. “By the way, you look great. I thought you were going to get ready here with us.”
“My momma wouldn’t let me leave without forcing me to dress how she wanted, and then she insisted on fixing my hair, too.” I’m wearing a blue jean skirt with a soft, snowball-white sweater, and instead of a ponytail, my hair is in smooth waves.
“Sounds familiar,” Priscilla says, giving me a secret look.
“Your mom has good taste,” Jada says. “You look super-pretty.”
“Yeah,” Gigi agrees.
“Thanks. You guys do, too.”
“Does anyone want lemonade?” Gigi asks. “My dad made it with San Pellegrino, so it’s bubbly.”
We all say yes.
“I’ll help you,” Jada says, following her out of the room.
The door clicks shut behind them, leaving me, Priscilla, and Bailee alone.
“I tried to swing by Minerva’s,” I say.
“Me too,” Bailee says. “Still closed.”
“How are you holding up, Pri
scilla?”
Priscilla secures the end of Bailee’s braid with a black silk hair tie, her face serious. “Stressed for my dad. He’s out on bail again. Your plan has to work.”
“It will.” I wish I could sound more certain. “Did your mom agree to pick us up from here?”
“Yep,” Priscilla says. “She’s really excited to see all our outfits.”
Bailee scrapes her chair around to face me and asks, “Everything in place on your end?”
“Well.” I fidget with the key on my necklace. “Not everything.”
“Oh, geez. What happened?”
“I couldn’t convince Momma to be a chaperone, but Miss Tammy was at our apartment watching her fix my hair, and when Momma said no for the umpteenth time, Miss Tammy said she’d chaperone.”
“And?” Priscilla’s voice goes high.
“I told my momma she should drive Miss Tammy to drop her off at the school so she won’t have to take the bus. Momma agreed. Now we just need to have your mom come to the parking lot at that same time and hope nothing goes wrong.”
“Hope and pray,” Priscilla says.
Gigi comes back with the lemonades, and we take our drinks to the front of the house as a bunch of kids arrive—first Curtis and Hudson. Next, Janet, Lily, and Shanie—Gigi’s BFFs from science club. The doorbell rings again and in walks Steven. He’s wearing a blue T-shirt that says, “I’m cirrus about weather.” A few more classmates follow him through the door, including Ryan and a couple of seventh graders, and then Justin.
My stomach knots up. I take a step to the back of the gathering. Does my skirt fit okay? I smooth it down and notice my hands, wishing I had fixed my nail polish. I watch as Justin meets Gigi’s parents and thanks them for inviting him over. The second he finishes shaking Gigi’s papa’s hand, he looks around the room . . .
. . . until he spots me! His eyes light up and he walks straight to me.
“Hi,” I say. I cross my arms and then uncross them and wonder how my hair looks.
“Hey. You look great!”
I smile. “You do, too.” He’s wearing dark-wash jeans, a cobalt-blue shirt, a leather watch, and maybe cologne, because he smells like woodsy mountain air.
