by Lin Oliver
“I was concerned about you yesterday when you didn’t come back to Truth Tellers,” Ms. Carew began. “I could see that your sister was upset with you.”
“That’s the understatement of the year.”
“I’ll bet you’re very close, aren’t you? Twins usually are.”
“Identical twins, especially,” I added.
“You and Charlie are so much alike on the outside, but inside, you’re very different individuals, Sammie. You do understand that, don’t you?”
I did and I didn’t. Up until now, I had always felt like Charlie and I were more alike than different. Not identical, but almost identical. But this fight we were having was an indication of how truly different we were. Or, at least, how truly different we were becoming.
“You remember what the poet Maya Angelou said?” Ms. Carew asked.
I nodded. “‘Success is liking yourself, liking what you do, and liking how you do it.’”
“That’s right,” Ms. Carew said. “You and Charlie each have to find your own ways to success. And that may take you down separate paths.”
The homeroom bell rang, and we each had to get to class. As Ms. Carew was hurrying off, she turned to me and said, “I hope you stick with Truth Tellers. It’s a good path for you.”
And then she was gone, disappearing into the throng of kids rushing from their lockers to class.
I didn’t run into Charlie all morning, but I figured we’d see each other at lunch. As I walked up to the pavilion, I saw her sitting at the SF2 table, talking and laughing with Spencer. I was relieved to see she didn’t look angry in the least. I waved and started over there, but before I got to the table, she jumped up from the bench and came to meet me.
“Hey,” I said. “I missed you this morning.”
“I left early. I just think we need a little space, you know? We’re not exactly on the same wavelength right now.”
“Separate paths?” I said, quoting Ms. Carew.
She nodded. “That’s a good way to say it.”
Suddenly, she looked really uncomfortable, and then blurted out what was on her mind.
“So maybe it’s best if you don’t eat with us for a little while,” she said. “Lauren’s not too happy with you. And having you at our table makes me . . . I don’t know . . . a little uncomfortable.”
I was stunned.
“Are you saying you don’t want me there?”
“Well . . . sort of. I mean, yes. I mean, just for a while. Until things calm down.”
I’m going to cry. Right here in the middle of the Beachside Middle School lunch pavilion. I’m going to burst into tears and flood the whole place until it’s totally underwater.
Charlie reached out and took my hand.
“Don’t look so sad, Sammie. It’s not like you don’t have your own friends. See, they’re all sitting over there, having a great old time. You can go be with them.”
I looked around and noticed Alicia, Sara, Etta, and Bernard at their table in the sun, sharing food from their brown-bag lunches.
“Hey, Charlie,” I heard Spencer call out. “Get back here. Your bench is getting cold.”
“Coming,” she hollered back. “I think he’s really cute. Great abs, too.” And without another word, she turned and took her place next to Spencer at the SF2 table. I went and sat with Alicia, but truthfully, I spent a whole lot of the time glancing over at Charlie’s table. From the looks of it, I think I was missing her more than she was missing me.
All week in school, it felt so weird not to be hanging out with Charlie. I just couldn’t adjust to the new rules. I mean, it wasn’t like I never saw her. We still practiced tennis after school every day. We congratulated each other on good shots and discussed strategy at the dinner table. And we stopped snarling at each other. But at school, it was almost like we were strangers. She hung out with her friends, and I hung out with mine.
The strangest day of all was Friday. Dad had given us the day off practice to let our muscles recover for the next day’s workout, which was going to be a doozy, he said. We had our first big match on Sunday, and he wanted us to be in tip-top shape. It was great to come home after school and not have to hit the courts. It was one of those hot September days like we often get at the end of summer, ninety degrees without even so much as a breeze. Dad was giving Mr. Hornblower his weekly tennis lesson, and I was sitting out on the beach, just watching the waves break, when my phone rang. It was Alicia calling to say that Ms. Carew had called a special meeting of Truth Tellers for that night. Anyone who could make it was supposed to meet at school in the multipurpose room.
“What’s up?” I asked her. “Why the special meeting?”
“She said that due to a scheduling conflict, they had to change the date of the city council meeting. It’s sooner than she expected. We have to have an emergency rehearsal so we can be ready.”
“Cool,” I said. “I’m not doing anything. Besides, I have a new idea for my performance piece that I want to try out.”
“Good idea. The makeover party didn’t work out so well for you.”
“You think?”
Alicia chuckled. I was glad I could at least make a joke about it now.
“By the way, Sammie, do you think your dad can drive us tonight? Mine has to work.”
“I’ll ask him,” I said. “But I’m sure it’s okay. He’s supposed to be giving an hour tennis lesson, but I don’t think it will go that long. Poor Mr. Hornblower looks like he could use some serious hydration, and he’s only been hitting for ten minutes.”
“Great. I mean, not for poor Mr. Hornblower, but for us. Rehearsal’s at six thirty.”
“No problem. We’ll get you at five thirty.”
I wandered into the kitchen to tell GoGo the good news about the performance. I hoped she’d be able to make it. I really wanted my dad to come, too. When he saw me onstage at the Civic Auditorium, he’d have to understand my interest in Truth Tellers. I mean, when was the last time he performed in front of the city council?
GoGo wasn’t in the kitchen, but she had said she was coming over after school, so I expected her any minute. I looked out the window toward Pacific Coast Highway and saw her car making the left turn into our driveway. I ran outside to meet her.
“Just in time to help me unload the groceries,” she said as she climbed out of her silver Volkswagen Beetle and handed me two bags from the market. I lugged them into the kitchen and set them on the counter. Inside there were a couple of giant bags of chips and avocados and salsa.
“Mmm, looks like somebody’s making guacamole,” I said when she came inside carrying another two big bags.
“Right you are. And Candido’s going to grill burgers and hot dogs for dinner.”
“Why do we need Candido for the five of us?”
“Five? Charlie says there’s going to be twenty guests. Good heavens. You girls started out inviting just a few kids, and before you know it, there are twenty coming.”
“Coming to what?”
“To your beach party, Doodle. Did you forget?”
“No, GoGo, I didn’t forget. I never knew about it.”
She stopped unpacking the groceries and stared at me. She looked puzzled.
“You mean Charlie didn’t tell you about the party?”
I shook my head. Slowly, we both realized what had happened: Charlie was having a beach party. And I wasn’t invited.
“I’m stunned,” GoGo said softly. “When she said she was having some friends over, I just assumed she meant both of you.”
“It’s okay, GoGo. I have to go to rehearsal, anyway.”
In some part of me, it truly was okay. I wanted to go to Truth Tellers. I knew I belonged there rather than at the SF2 party. But then why was my chin trembling, and why was my throat getting so tight? Go
Go looked at me with her beautiful, sympathetic eyes, and as she walked over and put her tan arms around me, I burst into tears. She rocked me in her arms, and I just kept sobbing—sobbing for the old times when Charlie and I were two halves of a circle. I cried for wanting those old times back. And I cried for not wanting them back.
“Shhhh,” GoGo whispered in my ear. “It’s okay. I understand, my darling girl. Growing up is hard. It means growing apart. And that’s hard. So hard.”
It must have been ten minutes before I stopped crying. GoGo gave me a cold washcloth to put over my eyes so they would unpuff before I went to rehearsal. I went to our room and flopped down on my bed.
It was about an hour later when Charlie got home. I could hear her talking with Lauren in the hall, telling her to wait in the kitchen while she went in to talk to me. She looked nervous as she pushed open the door.
“So GoGo told me you know about tonight,” she began.
I picked up a brush and started to brush my hair harder than was really necessary. It felt good, though, and gave me something to do so I didn’t have to look Charlie in the eyes. I didn’t want to cry again.
“Honestly, Sammie, it started out with just a few girls. Lauren and Brooke and Jillian and Lily and me. But then word got around, and pretty soon all the SF2s and a few other kids wanted to come. It’s a great night for a beach party.”
“Really? I hadn’t noticed.”
I picked up my bag.
“You don’t have to leave, Sammie. You can be here with us. It’s totally fine with me.”
“That’s okay. I have other plans. Besides, I would feel weird being here.”
“It’s your house, too. Everybody knows that.”
“You guys have fun,” I said. “I gotta go. We’re picking up Alicia and I’m running late.”
“Tell her I said hi.”
“Same to Lauren.”
I pulled the door open and left quickly. Thank goodness Lauren wasn’t in the hall. She was the last person I wanted to see. I heard music coming from the deck, and I assumed she had gone out there to get the party started and boss everyone around.
I had to pass the deck to get to my dad’s car. Without turning my head, I glanced over out of the corner of my eye and saw them. There they were, the Sporty Forty kids: Spencer, Brooke, the General, Lauren, Jillian, Jared, and all the others. Listening to music, laughing, hanging out, playing Frisbee. Just like they had been three weeks before when Charlie and I first crashed Lauren’s birthday party.
Three weeks. How things had changed in three short weeks. I had a new group of friends and was going to perform onstage, something I never thought I’d do. Charlie had a new group of friends, too, and from the way she was obsessed with Spencer, maybe even a new boyfriend. It was like we had become two different people.
As I climbed into Dad’s car and we drove off, I wondered if it would ever be the same again.
A Tough Decision
Chapter 14
“I’m so glad you all could be here on such short
notice,” Ms. Carew said. We were gathered in the multipurpose room, where she had made a circle of folding chairs on the stage. She wanted us to get an idea of what it feels like to be onstage.
Duh. It feels good. Great, in fact.
“Due to a scheduling conflict, the city council has moved up the date of our performance,” she went on. “We have to get right to work. No time to lose.”
All the Truth Tellers were buzzing with excitement. The opportunity to perform on a big stage in front of hundreds of people was something entirely new for every one of us, and suddenly it was coming right up. We knew that the chance to talk about ourselves—our own lives, our own feelings—was an amazing opportunity to be heard and seen.
“The performance is now scheduled for this Sunday, September twenty-third, at two o’clock,” Ms. Carew said. “The Santa Monica High School counselor will show a PowerPoint on drugs and teenagers, then the jazz ensemble will perform their own composition called ‘Our Generation.’ And we have the honor of going on last. I told them our performance is called You Have to Be Out of Place to Find Your Place.”
Everyone burst into applause. What a great title!
“We have enough time to do eight short pieces,” Ms. Carew said. “That means some of you will have to double up.”
“I can play the dentist in Keisha’s piece,” offered a kid named Bennett. “My dad’s an orthodontist, so I’ve got the moves.”
“That’s cool with me,” Keisha said.
“And I’ll be the tall girl in Will’s ballroom dancing piece,” Sara said. “I can put my hair up on top of my head to make myself look even taller. I have a neck like a giraffe, anyway.”
We got busy talking about which eight pieces we’d do and how to give everyone a chance on the stage. There were so many good ideas to pick from. We all agreed that Alicia should definitely do her cheerleading story. And I wanted to try out something I’d been working on about how it feels to be a girl who’s not into fashion and—
Wait a minute. Wait a minute! Wait a minute!!!! My mind suddenly came to a grinding halt. Did she say September 23 at two o’clock?
My hand shot up in the air like I needed a bathroom pass urgently.
“What is it, Sammie?” Ms. Carew asked.
“Could you repeat the date again?”
“Yes. It’s this Sunday, September twenty-third, at two o’clock in the afternoon.”
My ears had heard correctly. I covered my face with my hands.
“Do you have a problem with that date, Sammie?”
“Yeah, a big one. I can’t go.”
Everyone grew quiet. At last, Alicia spoke. “Why not?”
“Diamond and Diamond versus Kozlov and Shin. It’s our first divisional tournament since we got our ranking.”
“I can’t believe it,” Alicia said. “The exact same time?”
I nodded. I didn’t believe it myself.
“That totally sucks,” said Will. “Sorry, I mean that totally stinks.”
“We’re in the acceptance circle, remember?” Bernard told him. “You can say suck as much as you want. Especially in this case, because Sammie’s situation doesn’t stink—it sucks.”
“You can’t miss this performance,” Alicia said to me. “It’s our big chance to show ourselves. Besides, I want you there.”
“What choice do I have?”
“Wait, Sammie, I have a great idea,” Etta said. “You could do both. Play your match with your sister, then come to the auditorium right away, in your sweaty tennis clothes and everything. You can do a really authentic piece about tennis, like how you feel out of place wearing those dorky tennis skirts. No offense.”
I shook my head. “Thanks, Etta, but that’s not going to work. First of all, they’re called skorts. And second of all, the match will probably go two hours, maybe more.”
“Two hours! We’ll be at the pizza parlor by then,” Keisha said. “Celebrating our successful debut. Oh . . . I’m sorry, Sammie. I didn’t mean to rub it in.”
“That’s okay. I just wish I could be there with you guys. I’ve never wanted anything more—except maybe that Whoopsie Doo drink-and-wet doll for my sixth birthday that turned out to be a huge disappointment, anyway, because she only peed if you pressed her stomach really hard and then she’d leak all over her baby carriage.”
I made a little chuckling sound to lighten the mood, but it didn’t have much oomph.
Go ahead. Try to cheer yourself up, but it’s not going to work. What you really want to do is stomp your feet and throw a total tantrum.
“Can I ask you something, Sammie?” Bernard said. “Do you even like tennis?”
It was a good question. Two months ago, I would have said, “Sure, I love tennis. Tennis is my life
. Tennis is my future. My sister and I are going to be champion tennis players.” But now, I wasn’t so sure.
Tennis was the activity I shared with Charlie. It had been part of our lives together since we were five years old and my dad bought us our first rackets. We had spent every weekend of our lives playing tennis together. We had gone to tennis camp together. We had matching tennis outfits. She played the net and I played back. We were two halves of a circle.
But all that was changing, changing so fast that truthfully, I didn’t know what I thought of tennis. I had never thought of it separately from my sister.
“I’m sorry you have a conflict, Sammie,” Ms. Carew said. “But I have to know right away if you’re coming. If you decide not to perform, it’s only fair to give your spot to someone who wants it.”
“Could I have five minutes to think it over?” I asked.
“Sure. Stay just outside the door so I know where you are.”
When I got up to leave, Alicia asked if I wanted her to go with me, but I didn’t. I needed to be alone to think.
I crossed the multipurpose room and stepped outside. It was still light out, but the sun was setting, so everything was starting to turn that twilight shade of lavender. I looked at the empty lunch pavilion and imagined it as it had been earlier in the day, filled with kids eating, trading sandwiches, telling jokes, and hanging out with their friends. In my mind, I saw Charlie sitting at the SF2 table, flirting with Spencer, taking delicate bites of her peach yogurt with a plastic spoon, and laughing at something silly Lauren had said. She looked so happy. Then it hit me: As I stood there imagining the scene, I didn’t see myself there. I wasn’t part of that table. In my mind, I had already left. Charlie was doing just fine without me.
So then why was I finding it so hard to leave Charlie behind and do what I wanted? I had two choices: go to the tennis match for Charlie or go to the Truth Tellers performance for me. Why was this so difficult? It hadn’t been difficult for Charlie.
When you need to refocus, always hydrate, Dad says. It helps revive the brain.
