by Lin Oliver
“Your sister’s a nutcase,” she said, only half joking. I don’t think there’s a lot of wheelchair spinning at the Wadsworth house.
“Sammie’s a wonderfully spontaneous girl,” GoGo said, catching her breath. “It’s a quality we all should aspire to have.”
GoGo was looking very cute today in her big tortoiseshell sunglasses and straw sun hat with a leopard scarf tied around the brim. She was in a great mood because the doctor had told her she could get her cast off on Monday, and even though she’d have to do a lot of physical therapy, she’d be able to move around. Leave it to GoGo to already be planning how to decorate her crutches so they’d be a fashion accessory.
“I hate to break up your party,” Sammie said to me, “but it’s your turn to take GoGo for her walk.”
“Oh, we can skip the walk today,” GoGo said. “Charlie and Lauren are having such a nice time. I love how close you girls have become.”
The screen door slammed again, and Ryan came sauntering out, his volleyball knee pads around his ankles. He was gobbling a banana in one hand and holding an apple in the other.
“Only animals eat with two hands,” Sammie commented.
“Animals and guys returning from volleyball practice,” he said. “I worked up a major appetite. You try spiking the ball for an hour straight.”
“You’re so athletic, Ry,” Lauren said. I noticed that she had taken her feet out of the Jacuzzi and was drying them off. Her toenails were painted flaming–hot pink, which looked great with her tan skin.
“You know what, Charlie,” she said as she slipped on her matching hot-pink flip-flops. “I think you should take your grandma for her walk. I’d feel terrible if she had to miss it because of me. Maybe Ryan can keep me company while you’re gone.”
“How convenient,” Sammie said. I shot her a stop-it look, but she chose to ignore it. Actually, for once I didn’t mind leaving Lauren and Ryan together. I was eager to go for a walk with GoGo. My brain was in turmoil, and I needed to talk things through. GoGo is always the person Sammie and I turn to, especially with our mom away in Boston. GoGo never lectures me, but I always feel better after I talk to her.
I pushed her out onto the boardwalk and headed south toward the Santa Monica Pier. It was late in the afternoon, the time when the brown pelicans always come out to fish. A flock of them circled low over the water, their eyes darting back and forth. Then suddenly one of them got straight as an arrow, broke off from the others, and dived headfirst into the ocean. GoGo and I stopped to watch the show. At first, it disappeared into the water, but when it came up, we knew it’d caught something. You could tell because you could see a big bulge in the pouch under its bill.
“A wonderful bird is the pelican, its bill will hold more than its belican,” GoGo said with her usual laugh. She’s been saying that poem since we were little, and yet Sammie and I never get tired of it. I think it’s because her blue eyes sparkle so much when she recites it. GoGo gets a big kick out of everything, including herself.
“No laugh today?” she asked me. “Not even a smile? Things must be serious, Charlie.”
“I have a big decision to make, GoGo. A hard one.”
“And let me guess. You can’t tell me what it is.”
See what I mean? GoGo just knows stuff without even asking.
“I promised my friends I’d keep it a secret.”
“A promise between friends is sacred,” she said. “Friendship is based on trust, and you can’t violate that.”
“GoGo, did you ever do anything that you felt was wrong?”
“Of course I did, honey. It’s called being alive.”
“And did you regret it afterward?”
GoGo sighed. “Regret isn’t a very useful emotion, my darling child. It doesn’t get you anywhere. But I’ve tried to learn from my mistakes. That’s the best we humans can do.”
GoGo turned her wheelchair around to look at me. She reached out and took my hands in hers.
“You’re really struggling with this, whatever it is,” she said. “I can see that.”
“I just don’t want to let my friends down, GoGo. But I don’t want to let myself down, either.”
“It’s very rare that a decision is clear, one way or the other. But I know you and trust you’ll make the one that feels best.”
There was nothing more to say, so we just watched the sky turn that purplish tint it gets before the sun sets. I looked out at the ocean, tracking another flock of pelicans. They were flying in a line with a lead bird out in front. Somehow, they made me think of my friends in the SF2s. We’re like a flock, too, with Lauren out in front. Like those birds, we protect one another from harm, help one another out when we’re in trouble, stick together no matter what. If I was truly one of them, didn’t I owe it to them to be loyal to the flock?
“Charlie, Charlie!” My thoughts were interrupted by Lauren calling me. She was running down the boardwalk toward us, holding her flip-flops in one hand and her cell phone in the other. She was out of breath when she got to us, but she shoved the phone into my hand.
“It’s Spencer,” she said. “He wants to talk to you. I think you’re going to like this conversation. No, make that love it!”
“Hello,” I said, covering my free ear with my hand to try to block out the sound of the crashing waves.
“Hey, Charlie. It’s Spence. I was just talking to Lauren, and she said she was with you. Lucky her.”
I just stood there, grinning like an idiot, until I realized that GoGo was observing me closely.
“Nice to talk to you, too, Spencer,” I stammered self-consciously.
“So, my dad is going to the game tomorrow night,” he went on. “He’s on the city council and all, so he loves to be there to shake anyone’s hand he can.”
“That’s nice of him.”
“Yeah, well it helps him get reelected, too. Anyhow, he’s driving me and Lauren, so she thought it’d be cool if we could pick you up and drive together. How about if we come by the club at six thirty tomorrow? We could take Ryan, too.”
I looked over at Lauren. Her grin was as big as mine.
“Say yes,” she whispered. “It’s like a real double date.”
I nodded my head to Lauren, then got back to Spencer. “That sounds fine,” I told him. “I’ll have to check with my dad, but I think he’ll let me go.”
“I hate to leave your sister out . . .”
“That’s okay. She isn’t into football games. Besides, I’m sure she’s got other plans.”
That was only half true. The true part was that Sammie isn’t into football games. The not-true part was that I wasn’t sure if she had other plans. But she would have to understand. I mean, this was Spencer. And she knew how I felt about him.
“Cool, Charlie. So we’re all set,” he said. “Listen, I’ve got to go study. Big history midterm next week, you know.”
Did he have to remind me of that test? Just when everything was so perfect?
The minute I hung up, Lauren threw her arms around me.
“This is just like I dreamed it would be,” she said, hugging me so hard I actually exhaled involuntarily. “Isn’t it great to be best friends?”
“Sounds like you girls have brewed up an exciting weekend,” GoGo said.
“Oh, GoGo, you have no idea!” I answered.
“I think I do, Noodle. I’m not so old that I can’t remember what a Friday night football game with a special boy feels like.”
“Your grandma’s the coolest,” Lauren said, reaching out and planting a kiss on GoGo’s cheek.
“You’re a sweet girl, Lauren.”
Yes, she was. I loved the way she treated GoGo. And Lauren was so happy for me, just like a best friend is supposed to be. GoGo was so happy for me. I was so happy for me.
&n
bsp; I know you’ll make the decision that feels best, GoGo had said.
And right then and there as I watched that flock of pelicans flying in a perfect, unified formation in the sky above us—each one a part of a group that depended on the others for survival—I knew my decision was made.
Chapter 6
“Charlie, I can’t find my Beachside tennis shorts and sweatshirt,” Sammie hollered into the bathroom.
I was in the shower letting the hot water pound on my back and trying to wake up. I hadn’t slept well all night. I kept having this dream, a nightmare really. In it, I had two faces. One of them was happy and smiling and blowing kisses to a crowd of people I couldn’t see, like the way Miss America or a prom queen does after she’s crowned. But when that face turned around, there was another one on the back side. This one was stern and angry like Ms. Daily, the sour biddy who was vice principal at our old school and was always shaking her head at me like I’d done something really wrong. Every hour, I’d wake myself up trying to get those two faces out of my head, and each time I fell back to sleep, there they were again.
“Did you hear me?” Sammie yelled, pushing open the bathroom door. “I’ve searched our closet and every drawer.”
“They’re in your tennis bag,” I called out. “I packed them for you. And close the door, you’re letting all the steam out.”
We were playing with the girls’ tennis team in the exhibition match at Lincoln after school, but Sammie is so scattered, I knew she’d forget to bring her tennis outfit. It’s always up to me to remember everything. Maybe that’s why I’m tense. Half the time, I feel like my shoulders are up around my ears. The only thing that helps is to stand in the shower and let the steamy water relax my tight muscles.
That morning, I wished I could stay in the shower forever. I had a big day in front of me, and all of it was making me nervous. The tennis match. The football game with Spencer. And, oh yeah, the thing in the teachers’ lounge. That’s how I had come to think of it. The “thing in the teachers’ lounge.”
After a few more minutes in the shower, when the tips of my fingers were good and wrinkly, I got out and dried my hair. Lots of days, I don’t actually blow it dry, but today was special, and I wanted my hair to be straight and shiny like Lauren’s hair always looks.
Both Sammie and I were running late, so my dad agreed to drive us to school. We pulled up in the carpool lane just in time, right behind a black Lexus that belonged to the General’s dad. As soon as he pulled away and the General was out on the sidewalk, I opened my door, grabbed my tennis gear, and piled out.
“See you, Dad,” Sammie said.
“Come see us play,” I added.
“I’ll try,” he called out. “Go easy today. Save your good stuff for the tournament on Sunday.”
Sammie’s homeroom is in the bungalows, which meant she had to dash off so she wouldn’t be late. I ran up the steps to the main building. Inside, the General was waiting for me by the door. Ms. Carew, our English teacher, was posting a notice about a poetry contest on the bulletin board nearby.
“Big day today,” the General said to me with a wink.
“Sshhhhh,” I whispered, pointing at Ms. Carew.
Okay, that was a crazy reaction. Why would she be suspicious of an innocent remark like that? Don’t be so paranoid, I told myself. As we walked past Ms. Carew, I made myself smile and say hello.
“Nice to see you, Charlie,” she said.
She was one of the few teachers who could always tell Sammie and me apart. Even though Sammie is chunkier than I am, we still look a lot alike. Most of the other teachers don’t remember which one is which so they just say hi without a name. We’re used to that, though.
The General dropped me off at Ms. Hamel’s homeroom, where I didn’t hear a word she said. I was in the same state of jittery nerves the whole morning. First-period math dragged on forever, as did second-period Spanish. Señora Molina taught us to sing “La Bamba,” which ordinarily might have been fun, but I was too nervous to enjoy it. I was worried my voice would shake when I sang.
I was not even a little bit hungry at lunch. To be honest, I was actually kind of nauseous, not the sick kind, but the kind you get when you’re really nervous. Instead of eating, I arranged with Sammie to go into the girls’ bathroom and change into our tennis outfits. The bus was taking us to Lincoln right after school, and we wouldn’t have time to change. As I pulled my hair back into a ponytail and smoothed all the loose ends behind my red headband, I noticed Sammie staring at me in the mirror.
“What?” I said.
“Your hands are shaking.”
“So what? I’m a little nervous about this match.”
“It’s just an exhibition match, Charlie. For fun.”
“That sweatshirt looks good on you,” I said, changing the subject.
“Yeah, it’s nice and big so it covers the stomach flab.”
“Don’t put yourself down, Sammie. You look cute.”
“Then so do you, bubble brain. We’re wearing exactly the same thing.”
I had just enough time to help Sammie with her hair before the bell rang. We always wear ponytails and headbands for a match. Keeps the hair out of the face, Dad says. Sammie is notoriously sloppy about getting all her hair pulled back, so I put a little water on my hands and smoothed her hair back before I slipped the red headband onto her head.
“Meet you at the flagpole after school,” I said as we left the bathroom.
“Charlie, we’re going to English together. It’s not like you won’t see me. What’s wrong with you, anyway?”
“Nothing,” I answered, trying to cover up my nervousness. “Just remember to bring your tennis bag for the match.”
“Anyone ever tell you you’re a nag?” she said.
“Yeah, you.”
I practically jumped out of my skin during fifth-period English. I wanted this teachers’ lounge thing over with already. I had decided I would just do it and then never have to think about it again. A flood of relief swept over me when sixth period came and I headed to Mr. Newhart’s history class. Soon it would all be over. Both Brooke and the General were waiting for me outside the door. So was Ben Feldman, who isn’t even in our class.
“Stopping by for support,” he whispered to me. “Brooke told me about it. And just to say thanks, I’m going to put your picture up on the big screen at Dodger Stadium that night. Your face is going to be thirty feet high in full-color Diamond vision.”
“Thanks, Ben. That’s so nice of you.”
“Well, to be honest, we’re doing it for everyone.” He grinned. “But I just wanted to give you something cool to look forward to.”
Lily March is in our history class, too, and when she saw me in the hall, she just smiled and said she liked my headband. I was a little self-conscious wearing all my tennis gear in class, but to tell the truth, I was glad to be wearing that big sweatshirt. It’s really loose on me and would cover . . . well . . . cover anything that might be under it, if you know what I mean. I searched Lily’s face for a sign that she knew what was about to happen, but she just took off her vintage tie-dyed scarf and slid into her seat.
Lauren came dashing in just as I was taking my seat. I sit right in front of the General. That’s because Mr. Newhart seats everyone alphabetically. Diamond . . . Dickerson . . . you get the picture. Lauren sits in the next-to-the-last seat in the last row because she’s a W. Only Melissa Zachary is behind her. I glanced in their direction as the bell rang. Melissa had her notebook open and was already marking her class notes with a yellow highlighter. Lauren had her notebook open, too, but I could see that hardly anything was written down. I’ve seen her notes before. All they have are her doodles of sunglasses. She wants to be a sunglasses designer when she grows up, which is why she believes she shouldn’t be required to know Egyptian history
. Those Egyptians didn’t even wear sunglasses, she claims.
Mr. Newhart is nice, but a really hard grader. He loves history, and when he teaches, he gets so excited about the subject that sometimes he even acts it out. He’s famous at Beachside for wearing a toga and sandals when he teaches Roman history. We haven’t seen that because we’re still on Egypt and probably won’t get to Rome until January.
He didn’t waste any time getting started after the bell rang. Clearly, he was in a serious mood. It was review day for our midterm, and he announced that he would spend a half hour going over the notes in detail. After that, he’d devote the rest of the period to answering all our last-minute questions.
During the review session, I had a little trouble breathing. I wasn’t choking or anything, I just felt like I couldn’t take a deep breath. I tried to do a little of the yoga breathing my dad had taught us to settle our nerves before a big match. It helped somewhat.
When the half hour was up and Mr. Newhart called for questions, Brooke looked over at me and mouthed the word now. I put my hand up, but lost courage before it was all the way in the air. Mr. Newhart called on Josh Otto instead, who asked about where the boundary was between the Upper Kingdom and the Lower Kingdom. While Mr. Newhart drew a map of Egypt on the board, the General passed me a note written in green ink that said, You’re next. It had a green arrow pointing to the front of the class. I crumpled it up and stuck it in my sweatshirt pocket.
“Who else has a question?” Mr. Newhart asked.
The General poked me in the back, and my hand shot up into the air.
“Yes, Ms. Diamond.”
“This isn’t exactly about Egypt,” I began. My voice sounded weird to me as if it was bouncing off the walls and coming back into my ears. No one else seemed to notice. “Um . . . could I have a bathroom pass, please?”
A few boys in the back of the room snickered. Mr. Newhart didn’t lose a beat giving them a menacing stare at the same time as he handed me the wooden hall pass. His attention immediately turned to both Brooke and the General, who were raising their hands urgently and calling his name.
