The Kindness Club

by Courtney Sheinmel

  None of it would’ve ever happened if Mom and Dad hadn’t split up.

  I was still at my desk when the doorbell rang. According to the clock in my room, it was 6:14. I wondered how long it would take for Dad to come get me to see if I was ready to make dinner with them, and I watched the numbers change. 6:15. 6:16. 6:17. There was the sound of laughter from down the hall, but no footsteps to my room, no knock on the door. Not until after seven o’clock.

  By the time the knock finally came, I’d given up staring at the clock and watching the minutes tick by.

  Knock, knock.

  “Yeah?” I said.

  It was Sage—not Dad—who pushed open my door. She didn’t step into my room. She just hung in the doorway, picking at her nails. “Your dad said to tell you dinner is ready.”

  “I’ll be there in a minute,” I said.

  “Okay.”

  She headed back out to the hall. I closed the school book in my lap, but I waited a couple extra minutes before I headed out, just to see if Dad himself would come to check on me, which, of course, he didn’t.

  When I got to the dining room, the three of them were sitting around the table. Sage was next to Dad again, in my seat. But worst of all, in the center of the table was a platter of sushi.

  “Chloe!” Gloria exclaimed, spotting me standing by the counter. “Come, check out the fruits of our labor!”

  I wouldn’t have minded some fruit right then.

  I glared pointedly at Dad. “Gloria’s great idea for dinner was sushi?” I asked. I knew I was supposed to be polite, especially when we had guests, but I couldn’t help myself.

  “Homemade sushi!” Dad said. “We rolled the fish up in rice and seaweed using bamboo mats.”

  “But I hate fish,” I said.

  “I’m sorry,” Gloria said. Her eyes slid toward Dad’s. “I heard you liked fish.”

  “She does like fish,” Dad replied. He turned to me. “You do like fish.”

  “I think you have me confused with your other daughter,” I said.

  “Very funny,” Dad said. “I’ve seen you eat fish at least a dozen times.”

  “You’ve seen me eat shellfish—shrimp and lobster and things like that.”

  “And swordfish,” he pressed.

  “But it was cooked. I’d never put raw fish in my mouth.”

  “Never say never,” Dad said.

  “No, thank you.”

  “Chlo—”

  “Jimmy, don’t push her,” Gloria said.

  “Fine,” Dad said. “You can make yourself a grilled cheese if you prefer.”

  I went into the kitchen and pulled out the grilled cheese— making supplies. Usually I made my grilled cheeses with cheddar, but all Dad had on hand were the crumbly kinds of goat and blue cheese that you put on a salad. When it was done, I brought my plate over to the table. Dad and the Tofskys were still talking about the sushi they’d made, trying to decide what was more delicious—the raw salmon or the raw tuna. Dad said salmon, but Gloria and Sage were stuck on tuna. I was stuck on the fact that both choices were raw.

  Dad picked up a piece of tuna, and Gloria leaned over and chomped it off Dad’s chopsticks before he could himself. “Hey!” he said.

  “I think the tuna should go to someone who truly appreciates it.”

  Dad looked over at me. “I wish you’d try this,” he said. “At least it would end in a tie.”

  “Or she could like what we like,” Gloria said.

  “No, no, no,” he said. “I know Chloe’s taste buds. Come on, taste a piece.” He picked up a piece of salmon, stood, and held his chopsticks out across the table toward me.

  I shook my head. “You don’t know me as well as you think you do,” I said.

  “I’ll eat it,” Sage told him.

  “I thought you didn’t like the salmon,” Dad said.

  “I just like the tuna more,” Sage said. “But if you’re giving that piece away, I’ll take it.”

  “Sounds to me like you may be turning Team Salmon,” Dad said. He moved the piece of sushi toward Sage. “That’s my girl.”

  That’s my girl. I couldn’t believe he said that to her. “Give it to me,” I said.

  “Really?” Dad asked.

  I reached out, pinched the salmon roll between my fingers, and popped the thing in my mouth. I chewed and chewed and chewed, but it seemed to be growing bigger. It took me like a year to swallow. They were all staring at me, waiting. “Well?” Dad asked.

  “Disgusting,” I said. I reached for my water and gulped the whole thing down.

  “I guess the tuna victory stands,” Gloria said.

  I took a bite of my grilled cheese, which had turned cold by that point, and tasted like feet. Worse than that. It tasted like feet that’d been sweating in gym socks all day. I’d already put my taste buds through so much, and I couldn’t help but gag into my napkin. Once again all eyes were on me. “You okay, Chloe?” Dad asked. Gloria thumped me on my back, which sent chills down my spine.

  “The grilled cheese is awful,” I said, tears pricking behind my eyelids.

  “You didn’t make it the way you like?” Dad asked.

  “You didn’t have the right cheese!” I told him. “All I wanted for dinner tonight was pizza. I thought that’s what you meant when you said a special dinner, because we didn’t get to have it on our regular night. But instead it’s like I’m being food-punished. We haven’t had anything I’ve wanted because . . . because . . .” My eyes slid toward Sage. “Well, you know.”

  “All right, that’s enough.”

  “I’m sorry she’s allergic or intolerant or whatever, but why do I have to suffer so much?”

  “I don’t expect you to suffer. I expect you to be kind.”

  “I am being kind! I’m being kind all over the place! It never works out!”

  Dad’s voice was low and grave. “This is not kindness, Chloe. I’m disappointed in you.”

  “Do you feel a song coming on?” I asked him sarcastically. I honestly couldn’t remember ever speaking to my dad like that before. He didn’t answer. I stole the quickest glance at Sage, in my seat. Her head lowered toward her plate, like she was the one who had something to be really sad about.

  “Maybe we should go,” Gloria said.

  But Dad put a hand on her arm. “No,” he said.

  “I’m going to my room.”

  “Yes,” Dad said. “I think that would be best. You and I will talk about this privately, later.”

  But Dad and I didn’t talk about it later. We didn’t really talk at all for the rest of the night, except when he came to my room to tell me it was time to drive back to Mom’s house. I sat in the backseat instead of the front, just to put a little more distance between us. He pulled up in front of our white house on Parrott. The house he’d never been inside.

  My hand on the door handle, ready to go. “Chloe,” Dad started.

  I saw a shadow by the window, and I knew it was Mom, waiting for me, waiting for Dad to drive away. “I need a check for your half of my braces,” I said.

  “Oh, right. I have one in my wallet.” He shifted in his seat and reached into his back pocket. When he handed it over, I stuffed it into my backpack and got out of the car without saying good-bye.

  So there was the bright side of my dad being disappointed in me: that check was the one easy thing to ask him for.

  CHAPTER 19

  I got to Ms. Danos’s classroom just as the bell rang, so I didn’t get to talk to Monroe until we were walking down the hall toward the cafeteria. “Hey,” I said, catching up to her and Anjali. “Can we talk for a sec?”

  “I’m on my way to lunch right now,” she said.

  “Could I walk with you, then?”

  “It’s a free country,” Monroe said.

  She was walking quickly. Anjali was, too. I picked up my pace to stay beside them. “Okay, well, I just wanted to say that I’m really sorry about yesterday—really and truly sorry.”

  “It’
s fine,” she said, barely glancing my way.

  “Really?”

  “Really.”

  “Oh, thank goodness,” I said. I’d been saying affirmations in my head all night—one for Monroe, and one for my dad.

  I have the best, most forgiving friends at my new school.

  Dad forgives me and we make cookies together.

  “So, is the meeting at your house today?” I asked.

  Monroe spun around. “You think you’re going?”

  “Well, I thought that . . .”

  “You thought all you had to do was say you’re sorry. Tell me this—are you sorry that you lied and said you’d do something and then you didn’t, or are you just sorry you got caught?”

  “If I had to do it over again, I would’ve done it differently,” I told her.

  “You didn’t answer the question,” Anjali said.

  We’d reached the cafeteria, and other kids were pushing past us. Monroe pulled on Anjali’s arm. “Come on,” she said. “I’m going to try the salad bar today. Shake things up a bit.”

  “It’s just that it’s complicated,” I said.

  “Nothing complicated about it,” Monroe said. “I know what kind of person you are now. We took a vote on it last night and the decision was unanimous: you are not It Girls’ material after all.”

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “Isn’t there a way I can make it up to you?”

  “I’m really hungry,” Anjali said.

  “Me too,” Monroe said. “Let’s go.”

  CHAPTER 20

  I ended up eating with Lucy and Theo, and Lucy tried to distract me so I wouldn’t feel so bad, but it didn’t help. Nothing did. It’s not that I wished I’d been mean to Lucy; except, actually, a part of me did. A part of me wished that I’d given her back the patch instead of lying to Monroe about it, so I could be sitting with the It Girls at lunch, and be welcome at their Thursday after-school meeting.

  Instead, Theo, Lucy, and I went to Lucy’s house, to put together the care package for Mrs. Gallagher. I brought the paper flowers I’d made late the night before, like the ones Lia and I had made for our mothers last Mother’s Day. Except these I’d dipped in blue paint, not pink or yellow. Blue meant something that was impossible, and honestly that’s how being kind felt to me right then. Like no matter how hard I tried, I wouldn’t get it right.

  Lucy exclaimed over them anyway: “These are amazing, Chloe!” She herself had made an infinity scarf, cut from one of Oliver’s old blankets that she’d been repurposing for different fashion things. Theo had done chores for Anabelle in exchange for some of the best items in her candy stash. Lucy’s grandmother gave us a basket to use, and we wrote up a note to Mrs. Gallagher, explaining that we were trying to be kind, and offering to help her in her garden over the weekend.

  “I just have one problem,” I said. “I leave for my dad’s tomorrow, so I can’t do weekend garden work with you. But I can type up our written report, so it’s fair.”

  “I started it already,” Theo said.

  “Of course you did,” Lucy told him.

  “Send me what you have and I’ll add to it,” I offered.

  “How can you add to it if you won’t be here this weekend to see what happens?” Theo asked.

  “I’ll add it for her,” Lucy said.

  “It’s fine,” Theo said. “I can do it.”

  “I feel bad,” I said. “I need to do something. I can . . .” I paused, thinking. “I can be the one to drop the basket on her porch.”

  “I thought we’d do it all together,” Lucy said.

  “Three people’s footsteps are louder than one person’s,” I said.

  “She’s right,” Theo said. He picked up the basket and handed it to me. “It’s go time.”

  Lucy and Theo walked me out to the Tanakas’ front porch. “Good luck,” Lucy said. “We’ll wait right here and be the lookouts. If we see her approaching the window, we’ll give you a signal.”

  “A signal?” I asked, thinking of Monroe, and the patches, and the signal I’d given her.

  “Chloe’s not going to be looking at us,” Theo said. “The only signal we can give is a shout. Besides, if there’s trouble, chances are she’ll see it first.”

  Lucy shuddered. “It’s okay,” I told her. “I’m not scared.” And I wasn’t. I knew Mrs. Gallagher wasn’t a witch. She was just an old woman with a mean streak, and she couldn’t do anything to hurt me. The people with that kind of power were hanging out at Monroe’s house right then. Maybe they were even talking about how glad they were that I wasn’t there, too.

  If possible, Mrs. Gallagher’s house looked even more rundown than the last time I’d seen it. I stepped over branches crisscrossing the walkway, up to her porch. There were old newspapers lying around. I pushed a couple aside and put the basket down.

  That’s when the door creaked open.

  Of course there was no such thing as witches. Of course there wasn’t.

  But if there were—they’d look a lot like Mrs. Gallagher did up close, of that I was sure. She had a face of someone who had lived a hundred years, a hunched back, and gnarled fingers, one of which was pointing right at me.

  “You!” she said. “What are you doing here? Does your mother know where you are?”

  “She’s . . . she’s at work,” I stammered.

  “And your father?”

  “He is, too,” I said.

  Mrs. Gallagher shook her head in disgust.

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “I was just . . . I was just leaving—”

  “That’s right!” she snapped. “Leave! Off my property!”

  She didn’t have to tell me twice. I scrambled down the steps, hopped over the branches on the walkway, and was back on Lucy’s porch before I’d even taken my next breath. Lucy had the door open, and we all ran inside. She closed it behind us, and turned the lock for good measure.

  Mrs. Gallagher wasn’t a witch. She couldn’t hurt me. I knew all that. But my heart was beating like Captain Carrot’s, or maybe even faster, and it took a few seconds to catch my breath. Meanwhile, Theo walked over to the window in the den, which had a view of Mrs. Gallagher’s porch. “You guys have to see this,” he said.

  “Did she pick up the basket?” Lucy asked.

  “She kicked it,” he said.

  “What?” I asked.

  “She kicked it,” he repeated. “Then she went back inside. Look.”

  Lucy and I came up behind him to see the basket we’d carefully prepared was lying on its side, my flowers on the ground beside it.

  “I can’t believe she did that,” Lucy said. “I mean, I guess I can believe it, because she’s the meanest person I’ve ever known—meaner even than some girls who go to school with us, who shall remain nameless.”

  Her eyes shifted to me. My body already felt flushed from my close encounter with Mrs. Gallagher, and my cheeks warmed even more.

  “It’s possible that Mrs. Gallagher’s body simply doesn’t manufacture serotonin, in which case she wouldn’t have experienced any joy from our kindness,” Theo said. “Or maybe, given her age, it takes longer for it to kick in. We should watch the house for a bit, to see if anything happens.”

  “You think she’ll come out again and turn the basket back over?” Lucy asked.

  “Possibly,” Theo said. “Is it all right if I pull a chair up and watch for a little while?”

  “Sure,” Lucy said. “Put three chairs up. I’ll get us some popcorn. It’ll be just like watching a movie.”

  “Cool,” Theo said.

  “Actually, guys,” I said. “I’m not really feeling that great. Is it okay if I just head home?”

  “Oh, poor Chloe,” Lucy said, putting an arm around me. “Mrs. Gallagher scarred you for life.”

  “No, that’s not it,” I said.

  “Is it about what happened with Monroe?” she asked, and I nodded miserably. “Well, you still have us,” Lucy went on. “And I hereby declare this to be an emergency meeting of
the Kindness Club. Theo, quick, we need to do a bunch of kind things for Chloe to cheer her up!”

  “Extra popcorn?” he suggested.

  “No, thanks,” I said. “I’m sorry, you guys. I don’t think I should be in this club anymore. I mean, I’ll be in it until Monday when our project is done. But this isn’t the right club for me, either.”

  “What are you talking about?” Lucy asked. “Of course it is. You’re the kindest person I know.”

  “I’m not as kind as you think I am,” I told her. “The day when I was at the mall with Monroe, and I was supposed to meet you guys, I wasn’t really . . .”

  “What?” Lucy asked.

  “I lie about things,” I said, my eyes flashing hot with tears behind them. “I lied to you when I said I didn’t feel well that day. You weren’t mad at me, but you should’ve been. I didn’t do it to be kind to Monroe. I did it to be kind to me. And in the end, it didn’t work out anyway.”

  “Oh.”

  “I have to go now,” I said.

  On the walk home, I thought about all the people who used to think I was kind, but didn’t anymore. Lucy, Monroe, Sage. Actually, Sage never thought I was kind in the first place, but my dad sure did. He used to be proud of me for being a certain type of person. Everything was different since I’d moved to Braywood. I was different. Tears pricked behind my eyes again as I walked slowly home. Affirmations for Dad and the It Girls swirled in my head:

  I have the best, most forgiving friends at my new school.

  Dad forgives me and we make cookies together.

  And suddenly, I knew what to do.

  I picked up my pace, running the rest of the way and up the stairs to my room. There was thirty-two dollars left in the envelope in my desk drawer. I pocketed it and ran back outside. I was out of breath by the time I made it to the grocery store on Main Street. Mom had been driving each week to the bigger store, a couple towns over. But I didn’t have a car, or much time, and this was my only shot. Luckily everything I needed was there. I had just two dollars and forty-one cents left when I walked out with a paper bag full of ingredients for Dad’s famous chocolate chip cookies.