by Nancy N. Rue
I’m starting to REALLY not like that word, Sophie thought.
She tried not to get into Miss Odetta Clide’s rhythm as the old nanny floated the tortillas into the dish and poured the sauce, velvet-like, on them. The girls at first only followed her to mock her swirling hand movements and foot glides. But when she put on a collection of waltz music and refused to let them get by with any more slapping and splattering and slamming, lest there be demerits, they eased into the “dance” in spite of themselves.
In the end, they had twenty enchiladas that would have made Senora LaQuita herself proud.
“I bet Maggie would eat one of THESE,” Fiona said.
“I wish she was going to be there,” Kitty said.
Miss Odetta Clide made that clicking sound with her tongue. “A lady does not wish for things — at least not a lady of faith. She prays for them.”
“Dr. Peter SAID we were supposed to get closer to God,” Darbie said.
But Sophie was staring at Miss Odetta Clide. Fiona skipped staring and went straight to, “You pray?”
Miss Odetta’s eyes seemed to slide right down her nose at Fiona. “Is that such a surprise?”
Nobody said anything.
“I pray every night that your brother and sister will not destroy each other before morning.”
She’s better than most of their nannies then, Sophie thought. I bet the last four prayed that they WOULD.
“I guess it’s working,” Fiona said. “Rory and Izzy are both still alive. Unfortunately.”
“I also pray that you, Fiona, will develop a sweeter nature when it comes to your siblings.”
“I’m going to start praying for that for my sister,” Sophie said.
Miss Odetta Clide nodded. “There is nothing so small that we can’t go to the Lord with it. And this situation with Margarita is actually quite large. An eating disorder can be difficult to control once it gets started.”
“We’d better get praying then,” Darbie said.
She put out her hands and the others latched onto her and one another — except Sophie. Her arms felt too heavy to lift.
“What’s up, Soph?” Fiona said.
“I don’t know,” Sophie said. But she did. She felt so far away from Jesus, she couldn’t even get him into her mind.
“If you don’t pray, we’re really doomed,” Fiona said. “God ALWAYS listens to you.”
Sophie felt herself caving in like a wet sandcastle. She wasn’t sure what she would have said if they hadn’t heard the front door open. The Corn Flakes all tore out of the kitchen, and even Miss Odetta Clide moved more briskly than usual.
Mama and Daddy, Boppa, and Fiona’s tall, polished parents were all in the entrance hall, smelling like pepperoni and looking as if they’d just been pinched.
“So — what happened?” Fiona said, instead of “Hello.”
Everybody looked at Daddy. “Some of us are going to the principal,” he said. He pulled his mouth into a tight line. “And some of us aren’t. It’s still up in the air whether the dance will happen.”
“Whether it will HAPPEN?” Kitty was giving new meaning to the word whine. “I thought you were just gonna talk about whether we could go with boys!”
“You mean it could get CANCELLED?” Darbie said.
“We’re doomed,” Fiona said for the third time that night. She looked at Sophie. “We should have prayed sooner.”
Nobody had to tell Sophie that. And now I bet it’s too late, she thought. With every passing second, she felt Jesus slipping farther away.
The next morning, the Corn Flakes, minus Maggie, met under the tissue-flower arch backstage.
“Who spied on parents when you got home last night?” Fiona said.
She, Darbie, and Kitty all raised their hands. Sophie shook her head. She hadn’t WANTED to hear any more.
“Some of the parents still think the dance is okay,” Kitty said. “Not MINE, though. I hate this!”
“I heard Aunt Emily say that Julia’s mom threatened to call the superintendent if the dance was called off,” Darbie said.
Fiona grunted. “Figures.”
“I hope she does!” Kitty said. “I want to GO!”
Sophie forced herself not to put her hands over her ears. “We’re not supposed to talk at school about this whole thing. That’s what Mama and Daddy told me ALL the parents agreed on last night.”
“Mine too,” Darbie said.
Fiona looked as if she tasted something sour. “Most of the time mine barely know I GO to school, and now all of a sudden they’re marching to the principal’s office.”
“But what if B.J. and the Pops know something we don’t?” Kitty said.
“We’re secret agents, aren’t we?” Fiona said. “Nobody said we couldn’t listen.”
It became obvious the minute first period started that the Corn Pops’ and Fruit Loops’ parents hadn’t told their kids to keep THEIR mouths shut about the dance.
Sophie got a note signed by all the Corn Pops before Mr. Denton had even taken the roll, saying, Thanks for ruining everything, Soapy.
The Fruit Loops knocked the Corn Flakes’ books off their desks every time they went to the pencil sharpener or the bookshelf, which was every other minute.
After class, Eddie and Colton blocked the doorway to Ms. Quelling’s room until the bell rang and made the Corn Flakes late for their own presentation. When they passed out the enchiladas, Julia, B.J., and Anne-Stuart went one by one to the trash can when Ms. Quelling wasn’t looking and threw them away, paper plates and all. They made sure the Corn Flakes, however, couldn’t miss it.
But it was Kitty who got to Sophie the most. At lunchtime, she didn’t show up until long after the other Corn Flakes had already started eating their sandwiches, and when she did, she was quiet and stiff. After taking two bites of tuna salad, she said she didn’t feel like rehearsing for their film and left the table to go to the library instead.
“What’s up with HER now?” Fiona said.
“Maybe she’s just worried about Maggie,” Sophie said. “I don’t feel that much like practicing either.”
“Let’s just sit here,” Darbie said. “I don’t have the heart for it without our Maggie.”
“I know what’s going on with Kitty.” Of course it was Willoughby, sliding into the spot Kitty had just vacated. Her hazel eyes were shiny.
“Don’t you think you’ve spread enough bad information?” Fiona said.
“Excuse me?”
“Nobody can tell whose side you’re on anymore.” Fiona’s nostrils flared. “No thanks — we’ll figure Kitty out for ourselves.”
“That’s fine with me,” Willoughby said.
But Sophie could tell by the sting in Willoughby’s eyes that it really wasn’t fine.
“You were kind of rude to her, weren’t you?” Sophie said to Fiona when Willoughby was gone.
“We just can’t trust ANYBODY right now,” Fiona said. “Just us — that’s all. You know what?” She shot up from the table. “I can’t sit here. Let’s go outside.”
They were gathered in a glum knot by their fence with nothing to say when they heard a husky voice clearing its throat. Sophie squinted through her glasses to see Jimmy, with Vincent, Nathan, Ian, and Ross.
“Everybody’s dissing you,” Jimmy said. His hands were shoved in his pockets, and his eyes dipped at the corners.
“So what else is new?” Fiona said.
Sophie looked at her quickly. Her face was as sharp as her voice.
“Yeah, but I heard they’re planning something really bad now,” Vincent said.
“We’re here to offer our protection,” Jimmy said. The guys behind him all nodded.
“Yeah, well, thanks,” Fiona said. “But we — ”
“Would really appreciate that!” Sophie said.
Fiona gave her a what-are-you-thinking glare.
“There are only three of us right now,” Sophie said. “We need all the help we can get.”
Fio
na sighed. “So what are you going to do, come out here every lunch period and watch us rehearse for our film? That could get pretty boring.”
Jimmy shrugged. “You got any roles for guys?”
“We usually play those,” Fiona said.
“You COULD be, like, the federal agents we turn the mob over to when we get them. Or you could be counterspies when we write the script,” Sophie said. “We’re the secret agents.”
“Sweet,” Vincent said. “I have some walkie-talkies. I’ll bring them.”
“Before school,” Sophie said. “We’re gonna get here early to practice.”
“We’ll be here at zero-dark-thirty,” Jimmy said.
Fiona gritted her teeth and said nothing. When the bell rang, she waited for the boys and Darbie to get ahead of them, and then strapped her fingers around Sophie’s arm.
“What are you doing?” she said.
“We might need the protection,” Sophie said. “You heard Vincent — if the dance gets called off, something really bad could happen to us.”
Fiona sniffed through her flared-out nostrils. “We’ve always been able to handle the Corn Pops before — AND the Fruit Loops — all by ourselves.”
“They never had this big of a reason to hate us before,” Sophie said.
Eleven
In science class, Sophie watched, a lump swelling in her throat, as Kitty hunkered without a word over the chapter on bacteria. It was as if she was looking for the cure for some rare disease, and it didn’t fit Canary’s profile. Agent Shadow would have pointed that out if Sophie hadn’t been too stuck to go into spy world.
“Kitty,” Mrs. Utley said, a tease playing around her lips, “you feeling all right?”
Darbie and Fiona both gave hopeful laughs. Sophie just held her breath.
“I’m fine,” Kitty said in a quivery voice. “Can I go to the restroom, please?”
Sophie could see her squeezing back tears until Mrs. Utley wrote out a pass and Kitty bolted out with it balled up in her fist.
“I’d hate to see her when she isn’t fine,” Fiona said.
Darbie flicked her eyes toward the Corn Pop table. “I bet it’s one of them.”
“Why wouldn’t she tell us then?” Fiona said.
“Because we can’t be trusted.”
Fiona and Darbie stared at Sophie. “What are you saying?” Darbie said.
Sophie looked at Maggie’s empty chair, the lump now potato-sized in her throat.
Fiona gave a long, ragged sigh. “I wish you’d get off that, Soph. We didn’t mean to leave Maggie out. I want to tell her I’m sorry — but you’re flagellating yourself.”
Sophie felt her face going hot. “For once, would you talk like a sixth grader?”
Fiona’s neck rose up out of her hunched shoulders. “Excuse me?” she said.
“She doesn’t know what ‘flagellating’ means.” Darbie’s eyes shifted from one of them to the other. “It’s like you’re beating yourself with a stick, Sophie.”
“She didn’t have to be so rude about it,” Fiona said.
“I’m not being rude!” Sophie knew her voice was squeaking. “Everything’s confusing enough as it is, and you’re just making it harder.”
“Actually, now that I think about it — you’re the one who’s made it all harder.”
“ME?”
“Well, no, not you — your parents. The dance would still definitely be happening it if weren’t for them. Maybe Kitty IS mad at you — about THAT.”
Sophie’s mouth dropped open. “Boppa and your parents feel the same way!”
“So do mine,” Darbie said. “Only — ”
“Only what?” Sophie watched Darbie sweep the tabletop with her hand.
“Only, your mum and dad DID start it. I don’t like Maggie being hurt either, but does that mean I have to give up something that’s special to me? I wasn’t the one who did it to her.”
“Me either,” Fiona said. “This is the first time I ever got excited about a DRESS. And I already started giving Vincent bop lessons!”
Sophie stared at them, mouth still open. What had just happened?
“Ladies.” Mrs. Utley’s chins were wobbling above them. “I thought you weren’t in the crazy half.”
“I think the whole class has gone mental,” Darbie said to her.
“If you’re going to go down with them,” Mrs. Utley said, “just discuss it AFTER you’ve finished your assignment, all right?”
Who am I going to discuss it with? Sophie thought. Who’s left that understands?
Darbie and Fiona went back to their work, stiff as sticks. Kitty returned from the restroom, with her eyes puffy and her face blotchy, just before the bell rang, and when it did, she didn’t give the Flakes a chance to corner her. She fled as if she had a pack of wild dogs after her.
I might know how she feels, Sophie thought. She mumbled something to Darbie and Fiona about having to catch the bus and hurried for the front door, but when she got outside, Mama was there, standing in a patch of sunlight talking to the principal.
Sophie froze. Even when somebody poked her in the spine, she barely flinched.
“Why does your mother have to stick her nose into our business?” said a hot-breathed voice into her ear.
I don’t know, Sophie wanted to say to B.J. I don’t know anything.
B.J. suddenly jerked her hand up and called out, “Hi, Mrs. Olinghouse!”
The principal gave an automatic smile, said something in a low tone to Mama, and strode off toward the buses. Mama held out her hand to Sophie.
I hope she doesn’t start in, Sophie thought. I already yelled at Fiona, which is bad enough. She wasn’t sure she could hold back with her mother — and Mama had grounding power.
Maybe I should just be grounded for life, she thought to herself. Then I wouldn’t be messing things up all the time. She could barely drag one foot after the other as she went to her.
“Did you forget that this was your day with Dr. Peter?” Mama said.
Sophie had, and now that Mama was leading her toward the old Suburban, she wasn’t sure how to feel. Dr. Peter was the perfect person to talk this out with, but if he was disappointed in her, she wasn’t sure she could stand it.
She was still trying to decide when she followed him into his room. But after one look at his eyes searching hers from behind his glasses when they sat down on the window seat, she blurted out everything as if she were avoiding torture. The whole time, she was searching his eyes for glints of disappointment.
There weren’t any. Instead, he ran his hand across the top of his spiky curls. “This is a tough one, Loodle,” he said. “What is Jesus saying about it?”
Sophie wanted to plaster one of the pillows on her face. “Nothing.”
“Because — ”
“Because I haven’t been talking to him.”
“Because — ”
There were suddenly tears to be blinked away. “Because I don’t think I can go to him now!” she said. “I’ve been away from him so long, he won’t want to hear me anymore!”
Dr. Peter handed her a tissue and waited while she blew her nose. She was feeling as drippy as Anne-Stuart. Dr. Peter leaned toward her with firm eyes.
“Listen to me carefully,” he said. “God is ALWAYS there for you, no matter how long it’s been since you even thought about him. Jesus is the way to him, and that way is always available. Are we clear?”
“No,” Sophie said.
“Why not?”
“Because I can’t make myself go back to him. I’m too ashamed.”
She needed another tissue then.
“Did you and the Corn Flakes do your assignment?” Dr. Peter said.
Sophie nodded.
“And did you figure out what stands between you and God? Because that’s what this whole thing is about, you know. Something is getting in the way.”
“It isn’t money, like that guy in the story,” Sophie said. “And it isn’t Agent Shadow — even being h
er doesn’t make me feel any better.”
“New film character?” Dr. Peter said.
“Yes.”
“Secret Agent?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Let’s investigate a little further then.” Dr. Peter scrunched his neck down and looked over his shoulders as if at that very moment someone might be spying on them. After humming a few bars of the Mission Impossible theme, he said, “My sources tell me that a number of things can get between a girl and God — ”
He started ticking off his fingers. “Popularity?”
“No.”
“Grades?”
“Nope.”
“Parents?”
“Not anymore.”
“Fashion?”
Sophie looked down at her nearest-thing-to-Colonial-style skirt that no Corn Pop would be caught DEAD in. “I don’t THINK so!” she said.
“Boys?”
Sophie hesitated, but then she shook her head. Boys might have gotten between her and Maggie, but they didn’t separate her from God.
Dr. Peter pulled all his fingers back in. “Then I think there’s only one answer, Agent Loodle. The thing that’s keeping you from going to Jesus — is you.”
“ME?!”
“I think Jesus wants to say to you, ‘Sophie, leave behind all your mistakes and your shame and just hang out with me.’ ” He shrugged. “He’s probably tried to tell you that himself, only you weren’t listening.”
“I’m standing in my own way?” Sophie said.
Dr. Peter lowered his voice. “Let me tell you a little agent secret: most of the people who come to see me are doing that.”
Sophie looked down at the tissue and tore a hunk out of it. “I don’t know how to stop doing it.”
“You’ve come to the right place,” Dr. Peter said. “It’s really pretty easy. You just need to stop believing that you have to be close to perfect before you can talk to Jesus.”
“You don’t think he’s disappointed in me?” Sophie said.
