by Lin Oliver
“I’ll meet you guys back at the house,” I said. “I’m going to go check this out, Sammie. I’m sure your invitation just got misplaced somewhere.”
Sammie didn’t answer, but I noticed she was doing that lip-biting thing she does when she gets nervous. I do the same thing. Last week during my pre-algebra unit test, I almost chewed my entire bottom lip off.
As I jogged back to the house, I reviewed the possibilities. Sammie’s invitation was probably under a pile of mail or lodged in between the sports section and the business section of the newspaper. If it wasn’t there, then maybe it got delayed and would arrive the next day. Stuff like that happens all the time. Things get put into the wrong bin at the post office. They’d have to make mistakes, with all those millions of letters floating around inside.
As I got to the door of our cottage, Dad was walking Mrs. Addison to her car. I waved and dashed inside to take a frantic look around.
Our whole place is tiny—there’s the bedroom I share with Sammie, our mom and dad’s bedroom, which used to be an old locker room, the living room where Ryan usually sleeps on the foldout couch, and a kitchen with a breakfast nook.
It didn’t take me long to inspect the kitchen counter, check under the couch pillows, and search around the blow-up bed where Ryan was camping out while GoGo stayed with us. He is such a pig; he tossed his blankets all over the floor and didn’t bother to fold them up until Dad yelled at him to do it. I even went out to the mailbox and reached my hand deep inside the dolphin-shaped box to see if Sammie’s invitation had gotten stuck in the back behind the advertising flyers and pizza delivery ads.
Nothing.
Outside, I could see Sammie pushing GoGo’s wheelchair up onto our deck. Quickly, I ran into my room and called Lauren. She would know what was happening. Lauren Wadsworth knew everything that went on at Beachside.
I barely gave her time to say hello.
“Lauren,” I said. “I have a quick question for you.”
“Hi, Charlie,” she said. “I was hoping it was you. I bet I know what your question is. It’s about what we’re going to wear to Ben’s bar mitzvah, right?”
“You’re half right. It is about Ben’s bar mitzvah. But I was wondering if . . .” Suddenly, I felt awkward bringing it up, but then I thought of Sammie and got the courage to go on. “If . . . um . . . if you knew what happened to Sammie’s invitation. She didn’t get it.”
There was a long silence on the other end of the phone, so I went on.
“It’s really embarrassing that I got mine and she didn’t get hers,” I babbled, “so I was just checking to make sure everything’s okay . . . with her invitation, I mean.”
“Charlie,” Lauren said, “I’m just going to tell you this straight out because you’re my friend. Sammie didn’t get an invitation because she’s not invited.”
I almost dropped the phone. How could they? How could they leave her out and invite me?
“That’s not f-fair,” I stammered.
“Think about it, Charlie. It’s Ben’s party. He’s allowed to invite who he wants.”
“But this is going to hurt her feelings,” I said. I sounded like I was begging.
“Sammie has her own friends,” Lauren said. “And face it, Charlie, she doesn’t fit in with us like you do. I don’t mean to sound cold about it, but even you have to admit that’s the truth.”
I had no answer for that. She was right. Sammie was hanging around with Alicia Bermudez and a bunch of kids in Ms. Carew’s Truth Tellers group, an after-school club where they work on expressing their true feelings and dig into their “issues.” They are pretty alternative and, well . . . I don’t want to say dorky because that’s not nice . . . but I think you get the picture.
“Sammie’s my sister,” I said to Lauren. “My friends are her friends. It’s always been like that with us.”
“That’s very noble, Charlie, but listen to this. Spencer called me to make sure you’re going. I think he likes you. You two would make such a cute couple.”
Okay, I confess. For a second I forgot all about Sammie. I’ve had my eye on Spencer Ballard since the first time I saw him. He has this curly, blond hair and a dimple when he smiles and great abs, which I only know about because he displays them when he plays Frisbee on the beach. Even Sammie, who has terrible taste in boys, said she thinks he’s the cutest of all the SF2s.
I held the phone silently, feeling ashamed that the news about Spencer had distracted me from my mission.
“Listen, Charlie, I’ve got to go,” Lauren said. “My dad is making me set the table, can you believe it? He’s totally into this get-good-grades-and-do-your-chores kick. I’ll call you later and we’ll talk.”
As I put down the phone, I could hear Sammie talking to GoGo in the living room, helping her out of the wheelchair and onto the couch. Soon, we’d all be having dinner together, chatting about our days. What would I tell Sammie? That she was left out of the best party of the year? That my new friends were rejecting her?
I picked up the beautiful blue envelope with its shimmering gold letters and just stood there staring at it. And you know what? Suddenly, it didn’t look so beautiful anymore.
Chapter 2
“I have an idea,” my dad announced as we settled into our places at the dinner table. Actually, it isn’t much of a dinner table, more of a breakfast nook built for four that the five of us were crammed into.
“How about if everybody reports one good thing that happened today,” he said as we all let out huge groans. “I’ll start.”
That’s typical of our dad. He is a big fan of his own ideas.
“The best thing about my day is this delicious-looking albóndigas soup that Esperanza made for dinner,” he began, passing us each an empty bowl. “Espie, you’re a lifesaver for staying late to help us out while GoGo is laid up.”
Esperanza, who is the cleaning person at the Sporty Forty, rolled her eyes as she put out some homemade pupusas to go with the soup. She thinks it’s odd that my dad calls her Espie, because no one else in the world does. He gives nicknames to everyone, though, whether they like it or not. It’s a jock thing. Ryan is Ry Guy, and he calls our mom Cinnamon Bun when he’s in a good mood and Boss when they’re fighting.
“Mr. Diamond, can I call Candido to pick me up soon?” Esperanza asked as she dished out bowls of steaming meatball soup. “I do the dishes when I come back tomorrow.”
“No problem, Espie. The kids will clean up. There’s only one person with a broken leg here. Everyone else does their share. Right, guys?”
We all groaned again, and Esperanza laughed as she headed onto the deck to make her call.
“Tell Candido to bring Alicia,” Sammie called after her.
“Good idea,” Ryan chimed in. “She doesn’t have a broken leg, so that means she can help with the dishes.”
Alicia Bermudez is Esperanza and Candido’s daughter. Candido is the groundskeeper at the Sporty Forty and Esperanza works there three days a week. Alicia is in the seventh grade like us and gets to go to Beachside because her parents work in the district. Personally, I think she and Sammie are hanging out way too much these days, which is kind of uncomfortable for me. Don’t get me wrong . . . I really like Alicia, but as I mentioned before, she and her drama-kid friends are . . . well . . . let’s just say different and leave it at that.
“Okay, team, who else has something good to report?” Dad went on. He seemed to be enjoying his own little game.
Before I could stop him, Ryan shot off his big mouth. “Charlie had something great happen today. Isn’t that right, Charles? The invitation of the century.”
I gave Ryan a nasty look that told him in no uncertain terms I didn’t want to talk about it. But he’s so thick, he didn’t get it. He just sailed right along with his mouth flapping in the sea breeze.
“Yup, I’m proud of my little sis here. Barely a month at a new school and, just like me, she’s already in the thick of it. The party girl in the swirl.”
“That makes no sense, Ryan,” I snapped.
“I know, but it rhymed, so that’s cool. Maybe I should become a rapper.”
“Or not.”
I noticed that Sammie had put down her spoon and was looking in her soup bowl, staring down a meatball.
“So who’s having the big party?” Dad asked.
“It’s just Ben Feldman’s bar mitzvah,” I muttered. “No big deal.”
“Whoa, like a party at Dodger Stadium is no big deal?” Ryan exclaimed, for some weird reason making his voice suddenly sound like Kermit the Frog. “An hour ago you were over the moon about it.”
“Well, I’ve changed my mind,” I said. “I’m not going.”
What? Did those words just come out of my mouth? Yes, I believe they did. Good-bye, Dodger Stadium. Good-bye, private locker room tour. Good-bye, amusements galore. Good-bye, cute Spencer.
Sammie looked at me with a combination of surprise and annoyance.
“You can go, Charlie,” she said. “You don’t have to miss it because of me.” Her voice had that bite in it that it gets when she’s irritated.
“It sounds like quite a shindig,” my dad said. “You both should go.”
That was followed by an uncomfortable silence. Can someone tell me why it is that when it comes to social things, dads never seem to get the picture? Is there a male gene for being clueless?
“Good thought, Dad.” Ryan was still talking in his Kermit voice, which by the way, is really bad. “But it seems only one of them has been invited. Besides me, that is.”
“You don’t know that,” I said quickly. “Maybe Sammie’s invitation got lost in the mail.” I knew that wasn’t what happened, but it just seemed so cruel to say the truth.
“Can we not talk about this anymore?” Sammie said. “I think we should change the subject.”
“You’ve got nothing to be ashamed of, Sam-I-am,” Ryan said, giving her a playful punch in the arm. “Even though I’m invited, I’m not sure I’m going to go. Being an eighth-grader, I’m not sure how it’ll look going to a seventh-grade party.”
Sammie really tensed up at that, and you couldn’t blame her. It’s bad enough not to get invited to a party, but it’s even worse to have the whole family discussing it over dinner. I think Ryan was actually trying to make her feel better about it.
“But I still think it blows,” he went on. “Ben Feldman should either have asked both of you or neither of you. Maybe you’re not as slick as Charles here, but you’re cool in your own kind of way.”
Suddenly, Sammie stood up, almost knocking over her soup bowl. “If it’s okay with everyone here, I’d rather not have my entire social life, or lack of a social life, be the topic of our dinner conversation.” Her face was turning beet red, which happens to both of us when we get mad.
“Listen, Sammie,” I said. “Right after dinner I’m going to call Lauren, and she’ll talk to Ben. We’ll fix this.”
“I don’t need Lauren Wadsworth to fix anything for me, Charlie. And I don’t need your pity, either. I don’t care whether I go or not. It’s just a party. It’s no big deal!”
She was yelling now, and I could see her chin start to tremble, like she was going to cry. But instead, she crumpled up her napkin, tossed it down on her seat, and stomped off.
“Sammie, you hardly ate any dinner,” GoGo called after her. “Come back and sit down. Let’s talk this through like adults.”
Sammie didn’t even answer. She just marched across the living room to our bedroom, went in, and slammed the door.
We were all quiet until Ryan spoke. “Does this mean she doesn’t have to do the dishes?” he asked in a weak attempt at humor.
I felt terrible. A lot of people say that identical twins have special feelings for each other. I don’t know if that’s true, but at that very moment, I felt all the rejection and embarrassment that I was sure Sammie was experiencing. I got up from the table and ran after her. Ordinarily, GoGo would have come, too, because she always has a lot of wisdom in these matters, but she was stuck in her wheelchair and not very mobile. As I bolted to our room, I heard my dad say to Ryan, “Everything is so emotional with those two.”
I found Sammie flopped facedown on her bed, holding her history book. She didn’t look up when I came in.
“Can we talk about this?” I asked.
“I’m studying.”
“No, you’re not.”
“Yes, I am. My history midterm is Monday and even Mr. Mintner says it’s really hard. We have to know all the pharaohs of ancient Egypt in order.”
“Well, then maybe if you’re studying so hard, you should turn your book right side up,” I commented.
It wasn’t true that her book was upside down, but the fact that she had to check it told me that she hadn’t even looked at it. She was thinking about the kings of Egypt like I was thinking about the rings of Saturn.
“Look, Sammie,” I said. “I feel awful about this, and I want you to know that I don’t have to go to Ben’s party.”
“If you don’t go, what will you tell Lauren and all your other new friends in the SF2s?”
“The truth. That I don’t think it’s right he didn’t invite you, too.”
“Oh, that’s just great, Charlie. Nothing embarrassing about that. I enjoy being seen as the dork outsider who doesn’t fit in and is a complete social obstacle to her prettier sister.”
“That’s not fair, Sammie, and you know it.”
She picked up her history book and stuck her nose in it, but I could tell she wasn’t reading. Her eyes weren’t even moving. I paced back and forth in our room, which is so small that you can cross it in exactly three and a half steps. I considered my options. Either way, I was stuck. If I went to Ben’s party, I’d feel like a traitor to Sammie. If I didn’t go, I’d be making Sammie the object of everyone’s attention. The last thing she wanted was to feel pathetic.
There was a knock on the door. It was probably Ryan who had come to not amuse us with more of his bad Kermit imitation.
“Go away,” we both shouted in unison.
“Sammie, it’s me, Alicia,” came the voice from the other side of the door.
Sammie sprang to her feet and practically flew to the door.
“I’m so glad to see you,” she said, throwing her arms around Alicia. “I am having a totally miserable night.”
“I know,” Alicia said. “My mom told me what’s going on.” Then she looked at me a little nervously. “It’s not like she was trying to eavesdrop or anything. She just couldn’t help overhearing the conversation.”
“It’s fine, Alicia,” I told her. Alicia sat down on Sammie’s bed. Her dark hair was pulled back in a ponytail, and she was wearing gray sweats, a splattered white T-shirt, and running shoes. There wasn’t a stitch of makeup on her face, and she didn’t even have her usual gold earrings in her pierced ears. Personally, I wouldn’t visit a friend looking like that, but it didn’t seem to bother her. I think she noticed that I was checking her out, because she looked down at the red splotch on her T-shirt, then up at me.
“I know,” she said, laughing. “It’s gross. This is what happens when I cook dinner. You can see every ingredient on my T-shirt. See, there’s the tomato sauce. But, hey, the spaghetti was good.”
We all laughed, even Sammie, which was good because it lightened the mood.
“So, Charlie,” Alicia said. “Let’s talk about this. Sammie and I are Truth Tellers.”
“I know all about it. You guys sit around in Ms. Carew’s room after school and pour your hearts out to one another. No offense, but I’d rather go to cheerleading practice.”
“No of
fense taken,” Alicia said. “We appreciate the truth . . . which means that we have to tell the truth here, too. So tell us honestly, do you want to go to Ben’s party?”
“I already told Sammie I wouldn’t go,” I answered.
“But you want to go, right? Tell the truth.”
I looked over at Sammie to see if she was hating this conversation. She was. I didn’t blame her. It feels terrible to be excluded. I could tell she was jealous and hurt by the way she was frowning and squirming at the same time.
“Alicia, could we not talk about this anymore?” she asked.
“Ms. Carew always says that the truths that are hardest to express are the ones that make you feel uncomfortable,” Alicia said. “That’s why it’s so important to get them out.”
“Okay, the truth,” Sammie said, taking a deep breath. “I don’t really know Ben Feldman, and one part of me doesn’t care about his party. But the other part of me feels left out. That feels just plain bad.”
“How about you, Charlie?” Alicia said. “What’s your truth?”
“I feel bad for Sammie,” I said. “I really and truly do.”
“But you want to go to the party?”
“Well, it does sound kind of fun,” I said timidly.
“The truth, Charlie,” Alicia insisted.
“Okay,” I said. “Here’s the truth: The truth is that Ben’s party sounds totally awesome.”
Sammie nodded. “It does,” she agreed. “That’s why I don’t want you to sacrifice going because of me. That would make me feel really lousy.”
We both just sat there silently for a minute until Alicia spoke up.
“This is good,” she said. “You both said how you really feel.”
I didn’t see what was so great about it. We still didn’t have a solution, we both just felt bad.
“I have a great idea,” Alicia said. “Sammie doesn’t have to miss out on a fabulous party or feel left out. Charlie, I think you should go to Ben’s party and have a great time. We’ll throw our own party and have a great time ourselves. A we’re-not-invited-but-we-don’t-care party.”
