“I was cornered,” Wen told me in the café. “And then as we were heaving this ten-ton stone-topped coffee table up the stairs he asked me to be part of the wedding. He wants me to be his best man.”
I waited for the problem, but it didn’t come. That was it. “But that’s great news!”
“No, it’s terrible,” he said, fiddling with a napkin. “I’m not doing it.”
“Why not?”
He raised his eyebrow at me. “You just don’t get it, Olivia. You never do.”
It’s true, I was having a hard time understanding him. “Being your dad’s best man is an honor. What’s the problem? This isn’t about Sydney again, is it?”
“What do you think? Of course it’s about Sydney. Just because she’s leeching onto our family doesn’t mean I have to be happy about it. And it doesn’t mean I have to help.”
I guess even then I really didn’t fully understand how strongly he felt. I laughed. “That’s ridiculous, Wen! You’re overreacting.”
But he didn’t think it was funny. He looked hurt. A couple of seconds later he threw down the napkin, grabbed his coat and headed for the door.
“Wen? Where are you going?”
He didn’t answer.
I snatched my own coat and followed him out the door. “Don’t be like that.” He didn’t slow down at all. He kept walking through the snowy parking lot, his hands shoved deep in his pockets. “Come on,” I called, trying to catch up. “We haven’t even talked about Catch A RI-Zing Star. We need to figure out what to do.”
“Nothing to figure,” he said over his shoulder. “We can’t play, so we’re out.”
Soon I was right behind him. “Maybe. But still, let’s talk.”
“Maybe?” he said bitterly, not looking at me. “You’re the one who believes in omens. Did you ever consider that the fight last night might have been a sign? Don’t you think maybe it’s time for Lemonade Mouth to call it quits?”
“No,” I said, shocked to hear him talk that way. All this time, he’d always been the one convincing me not to drop out. It felt strange to suddenly be the one doing the convincing. “I don’t know. I’d just hate for us to give up so easily. We’ve worked too hard. This can’t be how it’s supposed to end.”
That was when he spun around. “No? Then what’s supposed to happen? And why did Mo get sick? Why did Charlie burn his hand? Face it, Olivia. It’s a lost cause.”
The snow continued falling around us. I felt it on my face, and I watched it gather in Wen’s hair and on his jacket. Eventually he turned away. I watched him traipse across the first two lanes of Wampanoag Road. A plow passed between us, a loud scraping against the asphalt. By then, Wen was on the narrow island halfway to the other side.
“So what are you saying?” I called over the noise. “You’re giving up?”
“Yes!”
“And you won’t even take a second to talk?”
“No!”
I couldn’t believe it. He was being so unreasonable. At the same time, though, I felt like it was all my fault. I should have kept my mouth shut about Sydney. Another big vehicle rolled by, a noisy city bus, the hourly shuttle to Providence. After it passed, he was still on the median strip watching me. Then he turned and continued across the other two lanes.
“But you can’t!” I called out finally. “What if this is our last chance?”
He was on the far side now. And that’s when he shouted back. The wind picked up his voice, lifting and lowering it so it was hard to catch everything he said.
“I’m surprised to hear you say that, Olivia! You of all people I would have expected to be happy about this! It means you’re off the hook! You don’t have to go onstage. That’s what you wanted all along, isn’t it?”
That hit me like a punch, but I refused to let it show. “What if Mo and Charlie decide they can still play tonight? It’s only one song!”
“Even if they do, I’m done!”
We stood staring at each other for a few seconds. Another car went by. That’s when I suddenly felt a hot rush of anger. I screamed into the wind and snow.
“This isn’t about Lemonade Mouth and you know it, Wen! This is about your dad and Sydney!”
I could see in his face that I’d surprised him. He’d never heard me yell like that before. After a moment he called back, “Yeah? What do you know?” know?” That’s when I lost it. Everything came bursting out of me. All the frustration and sadness I’d been bottling up, all the words I hadn’t said, it all came bubbling up from somewhere deep inside. And once it started pouring out, I couldn’t stop it.
“More than you!” I shrieked at him. “You don’t know anything! You don’t even know what you have!” The wind blew my words back into my face, but that only made me shout louder. You should have heard me, Dad. Even you would have been surprised. “At least you have a father who’s around! You even have Sydney, and she’s terrific and really wants to be your friend even though you don’t see it! My mom’s gone and I don’t even know where she is! My father’s in prison! And you have the nerve to feel sorry for yourself? You big baby! You jerk!”
I’m not telling you this to hurt you, Dad, but you already know how I feel. And of course I know you would change the situation if you could. But everything was rising up inside me. I couldn’t help letting it out.
“And now you’re backing out on all of us? Well, think about this: I’ve been showing up and standing in front of that stupid microphone even though every nerve in my body tells me to run away! I’ve been doing it anyway! So go ahead! Give up! See if I care! You’re right, I wasn’t the one who wanted to be in a band in the first place!”
“Then why did you do it?”
I could hardly believe he needed to ask. Was he blind?
“For you! I did it for you! You jerk!”
I started to turn away but I realized I wasn’t done. There was one more thing I had to get off my chest before I could go. I’d promised myself I’d never mention it, but that wasn’t going to stop me now. I stepped back to the curb and yelled it at the top of my lungs.
“She’s too old for you, Wen!” I shouted into the wind. “And she’s in love with your dad! Get over her!”
And then I finally spun around and stomped away.
I knew I’d strained my voice with all that yelling. I guess I figured if he was really calling it quits, then it didn’t matter. And anyway, he’d made me so mad, how could I help but scream? Wen could be so stubborn sometimes! Why couldn’t he see how good he had it? Didn’t he see that I would have given anything to have what he had?
I staggered home in an angry fog, barely feeling the cold as it filled my lungs. When I got to the house, Brenda was on the sofa reading one of her printing and graphics magazines. At the sound of the door she looked up.
“You’re back early,” she said. “You only left an hour ago.”
Then she saw my face. She asked what happened. I wanted to tell her that it felt like I’d been gone for ages, that Wen and I weren’t talking anymore, that Lemonade Mouth was over. But when I opened my mouth, what came out was only a little more than a whisper.
My voice was gone.
MOHINI:
The Curse of Ray Beech #3.
The Shivers
I’ve made up my mind. I’m not getting out of bed. Ever.
I won’t take my exams. I’m going to drop debate, tournament or no tournament. Pre-calc too. It doesn’t matter.
I sneeze again. I ended up having to call my dad to pick me up at the clinic and for the past hour and a half I’ve been shivering in my bed and feeling the room spin.
My Social Studies paper? I’ll take the zero.
Biology? Who cares if I let that go? I certainly don’t.
It’s an immense relief, like I’ve finally figured out a way to wiggle out from under a sleeping elephant.
But no matter how I try, I can’t stop my thoughts from drifting back to Lemonade Mouth. Not that I need to feel bad. Naomi called a little whil
e ago and she was positive that everyone would understand. Even Wen agreed—it isn’t my fault that I’m too sick to play. Still, the thought of letting everybody down makes me want to shove my face deep into my pillow.
And then there’s Charlie. How can I ever face him again? How could I have been so heartless when he’s never been anything but sweet to me? Why did I have to go and toss him away like an unwanted pair of jeans? The bizarre part is, I’m crazy about him. There’s no pressure with Charlie. He listens. He makes me feel special. I’m happiest when we’re together.
But that’s gone now. Blown to smithereens.
I’m going to spend the rest of my life hiding in my room.
My dad appears at the door. “How are you feeling, Monu? Any better?”
I shrug as if to say, “Maybe a little.” And then I realize it’s actually kind of true. At least the room isn’t rocking back and forth anymore.
He comes over, takes the thermometer out of my mouth, and holds it up to the light, squinting. Finally he kneels down close and runs his fingers through my hair. “One hundred point two. Much better. I believe the acetaminophen is working.”
“Baba,” I say. “I’m thinking of maybe dropping Pre-calc.”
He stops stroking my hair.
“I know it’s late in the semester, but I’m pretty sure they’ll let me take an incomplete. It’d probably show on my record, but at least I can try it again next year.”
“But I thought you enjoyed Pre-calculus. And your grades are good.”
“I do sometimes,” I say, already feeling yet another pang of guilt. “And my grades are fine. It’s just . . . I don’t think I can handle everything on my plate right now.”
His bushy eyebrows pull together. I know this is a disappointment to him. I see his face redden but finally he says, “If that’s what you want to do.”
“It’s not that I want to, exactly. I think I have to.”
“Fine,” he says again, not looking at me. “If you can’t, you can’t.”
“I’m sorry to let you and Maa down.”
Finally the lines around his eyes soften and he looks at me again. “Monu, I’ve been thinking about what you said last night, about how you’re capable of making good choices. Really, I have. And, it’s true. You are an intelligent girl. I know you’ll do whatever you think is right.”
“Really?” I can hardly trust what I’m hearing. What’s going on? Is this my dad talking?
He nods. “I suppose it doesn’t really matter to medical schools whether you take calculus next year or the year after.” He looks at me apologetically. “You know all I want is for you to be happy. It’s just that I’m always thinking about your future.”
I feel my eyes heat up with grateful tears. “Thank you, Baba.”
He leans down and kisses my forehead. Even long after he’s gone I still feel the touch of his lips on my skin. For what seems like forever I lie in my bed, alone in my room, staring at the windowsill. It feels like my sleeping elephant just woke up and walked away on its own.
But the feeling doesn’t last long.
Eventually the phone rings. It’s Stella. I listen quietly as she tells me what’s going on. After I hang up, I take a deep breath. There’s no question about what I have to do. And there’s no time to waste. I climb out of bed and start pulling my clothes back on.
“Why are you out of bed, Monu?” my dad asks, following me anxiously as I rush to the front door.
“I have to go.”
“But where? You’re sick.”
“I’m fine,” I lie. “I’m okay.”
And just when I’m about to stop and explain everything to him, the concern on his face suddenly fades and is replaced with a furious scowl. “It’s that Charlie boy again, isn’t it? That was him on the phone! You’re running off somewhere to see him! Admit it!”
Now I feel like I could scream. I can’t believe him! I’m so tired of being treated like a child.
“Stop it, Baba! Lay off me!”
I run outside and he follows, but I’m way ahead of him. The snow’s coming down fast now. As I run down the driveway I hear him shout, “Get back inside, foolish girl!”
All at once I decide I’m not playing along with any of his weird insecurities anymore. I might not be in control of my life right now, but neither is he. I spin around. “What if I am going to see Charlie? Would that really be the end of the world? Didn’t you mean it when you said I make good decisions? Don’t you trust me?”
A few yards away, he slows down and then stops. Suddenly I’m seeing that fear in his eyes again, that tightrope look. “Of course I trust you. You know that. But—”
“Then stop running my life! And stop trying to make me into something I’m not!”
“But Monu,” he says. “Like I told you, you must understand—I’m just thinking about your happiness . . . your future.”
“You keep saying that, but I’m not sure what you mean anymore because right here in the present you’re making me very unhappy! At this moment I’m just about the unhappiest person I know! Because you’re right, I do like Charlie!” I almost gasp at my own words. But they’re out now, so I may as well keep going. “I like him a lot, Baba! He’s sweet and kind and I want to be with him but I can’t—and it’s only because I know that just the idea of it makes you so miserable! And I don’t want that either!”
My dad looks stunned. “Monu . . . I—”
But I cut him off. “Let me go, Baba! Stop pushing me! And stop trying to make me your perfect little Bengali girl! That’s not what I am! It’s not what I’ll ever be!”
I can see that I’ve startled him, maybe even hurt him, but right now I don’t care. I glare at him. I’ve had enough. And I think he sees that it’s no use arguing because he doesn’t answer. Even though it’s snowing and cold and my dad doesn’t have his jacket and my head and throat are killing me, we stand there in the freezing air for a while, facing each other but not saying anything.
WEN:
The Curse of Ray Beech #4.
Sentimental Slam
I lumbered home, a dark cloud over my head as I hurried through the falling snow. I took the side streets, saving time by cutting through backyards and the wooded areas between neighborhoods. The snow, about an inch deep by now, hid the icy patches, and in my rush I slipped and fell backwards, landing hard on my butt.
Sure I was mad. Okay, so I’d never seen Olivia so pissed off, but she didn’t know everything even if she thought she did. Sydney was a leech. She didn’t belong in my house. Or in my family. And she was definitely wrong for my dad.
What did Olivia know about that?
I couldn’t stop my father from marrying her, but that didn’t mean I had to like it. Or to agree to be the best man. Even Olivia should have seen that this was just too much to ask. Way too much! And it wasn’t like I didn’t appreciate what I had. I did. I just didn’t think about it that often.
Still, the fact that I’d needed her to point it out to me made me feel lower than a sea slug.
And what about Sydney? It made me squirm to think that Olivia had somehow guessed the truth. Of all people, how did Olivia see so clearly how I felt? I hated that it was so obvious to her.
The worst part, of course, the part I could barely get myself to think about, was what Olivia had said about why she agreed to go ahead with Lemonade Mouth. She did it for me? What was that supposed to mean? Was she saying what I thought she was saying?
Replaying her words in my head, I could feel my face redden again.
I wanted to flush my head down the toilet.
By the time I reached my street, the wind had died down. My lungs took in the cold air and blew it out again. There was an eerie, quiet feeling. During my entire walk back, I don’t believe I saw a single person. I might as well have been on some far away planet, an empty world of ice-covered roofs, parked cars and trees. All this in a spooky universe of silent, falling snow as far as my squinting eyes could see.
Glancing
up at the sky, I couldn’t help thinking about Olivia’s clouds—how they can take whatever shape you want, but they can also block the view. I had plenty I wanted to block out. I was still fuming and embarrassed, and I just wanted to go home. It wasn’t fair that my dad was marrying a woman so beautiful it drove me crazy. It wasn’t fair that Lemonade Mouth couldn’t play tonight. I wanted to yell, shout at the top of my lungs just like Olivia, but what would be the point? Nobody would hear me.
Finally I came to my house. The truck was gone. I ran the last few yards up the driveway and to the front door. Inside, I bounded up the stairs.
Some people say this is where fate played a role again. I don’t usually buy into that kind of stuff, but looking back at that morning I can’t say I’m so sure either way. It certainly was weird how one thing led to another. Anyway, the truth was, the whole time I was walking home I had to pee. And now that I was in my house, I honestly thought I was alone. So when I came to the bathroom, I didn’t think about knocking. I just turned the knob and pushed.
And that was why I happened to open the door on Sydney just as she stepped out from a shower.
Dripping wet and completely naked.
For a second I froze. The bathroom was a cloud of steam but even so, there wasn’t much I couldn’t see. Her body was like the sketches she’d drawn. Only real, and right in front of me. I was so mortified that I think it took a moment for my brain to fully register what was happening.
But then she screamed. In all the steam and surprise, I wondered if she even recognized me in the doorway.
“Aaaaaaa!”
The scream was so loud and sudden that it scared me, too. And then we were both screaming. “Aaaaaaaaa!”
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