“But I don’t have to go. I mean, I don’t want to go at all. My mom’s making me.” I wrap the cord around my finger.
“Oh, really?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, do you think you could help me with my science project?” Her voice sounds desperate. “I have no idea where to start, and it’s due tomorrow.”
“Ah …” I think of Peter, but memories of playdates with Taylor crowd out my thoughts of him – recollections of the good old days when we had our dog shows in the backyard on hot, summer days. I want to see Peter, but she’s really stuck, and she’s so popular. I teeter between the two choices.
“What time?” I twist the cord some more.
“One o’clock, at my house?”
I hesitate, then say, “Okay.”
“Thanks, Kira. You’re the best.” She sounds so relieved. “See you later. Bye.”
“Bye.”
I hang up the phone and unwrap the cord from around my finger. I can’t believe it! The most popular girl in the school wants to spend the afternoon with me? I beam.
“Who was that?” asks Mom, spooning cooled rice on flattened green seaweed. She’s gotten up early to make sushi for the concert
“It was Taylor.” I try to sound like it’s no big deal at all. “She wants help with her science project this afternoon.”
“So you’re not coming to the concert?”
I risk a bit of sarcasm. “Mom, it’s not like I’m playing in it or anything.”
She rolls up the seaweed and rice. “Well, okay, but you’ll be missing some delicious food.”
I eye the plate of sushi. “Yeah, but Taylor’s really desperate.”
“Well, maybe I could bring some back for you after the concert, okay?”
“Sure.” I’m amazed at how understanding Mom can be sometimes.
I purposely arrive at Taylor’s house five minutes late. It’s a quaint little home, all neat and tidy inside. Her slim, brunette, beauty contest mom is just as pretty as ever and welcomes me as though Taylor and I never stopped being friends. Even her dog Tippy waddles to me, his tail wagging his chubby little bum.
“Hi, Tippy.” I reach down to stroke his wiry, white fur. “You still remember me, don’t you? The dog shows?”
“He sure does,” says Taylor’s mom. “But he’s gotten kind of old and fat since you last saw him. Taylor doesn’t have as much time to walk him anymore.”
It’s true, his sides bulge so much he looks like a big, round snowball.
“Hi, Kira.” Taylor wanders down the stairs wearing blue jeans and a sweatshirt, her eyes puffy.
“Hi. I brought some books for you to use.”
“Thanks,” she says.
“We really appreciate you doing this,” says Taylor’s mom.
“Yeah. I’ve been seriously stuck.”
Her mom takes my coat and tucks a hanger neatly inside before placing it in the closet. “Taylor was in tears this morning, so I suggested she call you. I remembered you were a really good student.”
My mood falls. Am I only here to tutor Taylor? For a few seconds, I feel disappointed, but then realize, it’s a start – a chance to be friends again.
Taylor leads me to the kitchen table where we begin to work. I show her how to lay her project out and explain the things she needs to know. It’s slow going, but by four o’clock she’s nearly finished. She’s always struggled with science, but I don’t mind. After all, we’ve been friends a long time, and friends help each other out.
When I get home, Dylan meets me at the door. “You missed some really good food,” he says.
“No, Mom saved me some.”
Mom shakes her head. “Sorry, honey. It all went so fast.”
I drop my shoes and let out an exasperated sigh, wondering what leftovers I’ll be stuck eating for supper.
“But you sure missed a good concert. Peter and Charlotte played really well.”
“And me too,” insists Dylan. “And Mr. Bachinsky played a fiddling tune at the end.”
“Did everyone laugh?” I ask.
“Yes, and Dylan and Charlotte joined him in playing another. They were quite the hit!” Mom says.
A twinge of regret runs through me, but I shake it away. Who cares about Mr. Bachinsky’s concert? I spent the afternoon with the most popular girl at school, and Peter nearly kissed me. Things are so looking up.
I hop up the stairs to my room and open up my e-mail on my computer. Typing in Charlotte’s name, I write:
Charlotte,
Sorry I couldn’t go to the concert. I heard it was fun. I had to help Taylor with her science project.
Kira
I imagine the surprise on her face when she reads my message. Won’t she be floored? But by nine o’clock, she still hasn’t answered.
The next day, Charlotte is quiet and distant as we walk to school. I wonder if she’s jealous.
After dropping off Dylan, I ask her, “So, did you get my e-mail?”
“What?” Charlotte says like her brain is in a fog. “E-mail? I didn’t check last night.”
“Oh. I heard you played really well yesterday and that Mr. Bachinsky played a fiddling tune.”
Charlotte barely hears me. She’s in some kind of trance. I tell her all about Taylor and the science project, but halfway through the story, I can tell her mind is elsewhere.
“Charlotte, are you even listening to me?”
She smiles dreamily. “Kira, I have something to tell you.”
“What?” I sense she’s going announce bad news.
Charlotte slows down her pace, and then blurts out, “Peter asked me to go out with him.”
“Out where?” I ask, confused. “You mean like the date we had on Friday? Oh, good. When are we going?”
“No.” her face is lit up. “You know – out, as in steady!”
It’s like a bomb drops on me and explodes my whole being. How can this be? Peter nearly kissed me the other night, and that was only three days ago.
A lump forms in my throat, but I manage to squeak out a few words. “Steady? But I thought he liked me.”
She smiles and begins chattering away like she thinks I’ll be happy for her. “So did I, but it turns out it was me he was after all along, but because he was so shy, he kept talking to you instead. Like remember the dance we went to?”
My head whirls. “But I thought you wanted me to go out with him.”
Charlotte flips her hand like what she did was perfectly okay when it’s not. “I did, but then yesterday, he sat with me at the concert, and then walked me home.”
The lump in my throat grows larger, and I can’t speak.
“He even held my hand.” Charlotte drops her voice low as though it’s some sort of exciting secret.
I force myself to swallow the hard lump and push out a few words. “But … he’s so shy.”
“Not that shy.” Charlotte babbles on. “He kissed me too – on the cheek. Isn’t that cute?” She squeezes her shoulders up to her neck and smiles.
The rest of the walk is pure agony, hearing her tell how my crush had wanted to ask her to dance at Halloween, but had asked me instead. About how he sat in the library with me hoping she would show up. About how he wanted to go to a movie just the two of them. And worst of all, how when I thought he wanted to kiss me, he was trying to get up the nerve to ask me if she liked him. My insides are torn, and I feel like turning around and running home.
But I know I have to face the day, so I do the only thing I can. I paste on a phoniest smile I can muster, and like an Oscar nominee, I put on the greatest performance of my life, pretending I’ve never really been that interested in Peter. The only consolation I have, is knowing I’m nearly in with the IGs.
The day drags on. I feel dead inside and can’t wait to get home to the safety of my room where I can bury my head in my pillow and cry my eyes out, but the hands of the clock barely crawl.
At lunch, Peter joins us, but it’s not the same anymore. All his at
tention is focussed on Charlotte, and they act like I’m not even there. Not only have I lost Peter, but I’m losing my BFF too.
After lunch, Peter walks Charlotte to her class, leaving me behind. They don’t even say good-bye. Miserable, I grab my things from our locker and hurry down another hall.
From a distance, I see Taylor and the IGs standing by the cafeteria. Taking a deep breath, I approach them.
“Hi, Taylor.” I put on my most confident smile even though my stomach’s whirling around.
Taylor shifts uncomfortably. “Oh … hi Kira,” she says, like I’m interrupting some juicy gossip. “Ah … thanks for helping me yesterday. I couldn’t have done it without you. I handed it in this morning.”
“She helped you?” Sydney looks at Taylor like she’s gone nuts.
“Yeah.” Taylor shrugs. “She’s really smart.”
“And you did just great, Taylor,” I say, sounding like a teacher and wishing I could take my words back the minute they were out of my mouth.
Taylor squirms a bit, exchanges awkward glances with the others, and then turns to leave, the IGs close on her heels. “Well anyway, thanks.”
They leave me standing there all by myself even though they know full well we’re all headed to the same class. And that’s when reality strikes me – I’m dead alone!
Chapter 29
The Fight
Never in my whole life have I ever felt as lonely as that first week when Charlotte and Peter start dating. Each day she and I walk to school together, and each day she dumps me for Peter as soon as we get there. I’m a loner, an outcast. No one wants me. Feeling like a freak show, I wolf down my lunch behind the stairs where no one is likely to find me, and then hide out in the library behind a study carrel, doing my homework. Then after school, I walk home by myself until I pick up Dylan.
On Friday, I pack my things to go home and head out the door, letting my hair dangle in my face, hoping nobody will recognize me. But I feel like everyone’s pointing at me anyway, saying, “She hasn’t got a life.” Then, to my surprise, Charlotte comes running up from behind, textbooks in hand.
“Hi.” She bobs up and down like nothing has ever gone down between us.
“Hi,” I say, my voice guarded.
“PE was fun today, wasn’t it?” she bubbles.
“Yeah, I guess,” I mutter, remembering the game of California Kick Ball in the gym.
“Did you see what Sydney did?” she giggles. “She was such a spaz when she slid making that home run.”
I chuckle a little. “Yeah, and she did the splits by accident.”
“And then Samantha got all mad when Sydney bumped into her.” Charlotte squeezes her hands together.
“Yeah, I know.”
My heart begins to thaw. Maybe everything’s okay after all. Maybe all I have to do is get used to sharing her with Peter.
“So where have you been all week at lunch?” Charlotte asks.
“Oh, around.” I say, looking away.
“Why aren’t you eating with us anymore?”
I sigh. “You know the old expression. Two’s company, three’s a crowd.”
Charlotte furrows her brows. “That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard. You can have lunch with us anytime.”
Maybe it has all been my imagination, and I am too sensitive. After all, she’s acting like the old Charlotte again. I smile.
“Okay.” My icy demeanor starts melting, and soon I’m feeling better. “So you wanna come over tonight? We could rent a DVD.”
Charlotte hesitates. “I don’t know. I’m waiting to see if Peter will ask me out,” she says, her face changing to that annoying dreamy one.
“What? You mean your whole life centers around him now?” Anger threatens to rise inside me.
“Well, we are a couple. And that’s what couples do,” she says like she’s a dating expert.
“Yeah, but just because you have a boyfriend, doesn’t mean you have to let go of your BFF.” I say, trying really hard to push down my annoyance.
“Yeah, I know, but I just want to wait and see. He said something about going to the Wack with his folks, and maybe he’ll invite me along.”
I let out an exasperated sigh. “Dummy! You need to play a little hard to get. Otherwise he’ll lose interest.”
Charlotte’s voice rises to a high pitch. “No, I don’t. And besides, what do you know about dating? You’ve never even been out with a guy in your whole life!”
That’s it! I dig my foot into the ground and face her, every muscle in my body tense. My fury explodes. “Go ahead, then. Be his tag-along. I don’t care. You drop me for a stupid guy? Well, I don’t need spineless friends like that!”
Charlotte throws her hands to her hips and gasps. “You’re just jealous! You’re mad because he chose me and not you!”
I huff. “Yeah, right. Like you pretended all along to be getting Peter and me together when you wanted to get your claws into him the whole time. You’re so two-faced. You’re … a harlot … Charlotte the Harlot!”
Her eyes grow wide, and she draws in a sharp breath.
I turn and run, not waiting to see what she’ll say. Who would want to wait for a lousy friend like that? She’s horrid. She’s backhanded. Tears sting my eyes. She’s –
“Kira!” a voice calls out.
It’s Dylan, but I don’t even stop for him. Let him find his own way home, the little brat.
I run up the front stairs and wrestle with the key, and then tear up to my room where I throw myself on my bed, sobbing.
The front door flies open, and I hear Dylan racing upstairs.
“Hey, how come you didn’t walk with me?” he whines. When I don’t answer for a full minute, he turns and runs back down, his voice trembling. “I’m going to get Mom. There’s something really wrong.” The front door slams.
I grab my stuffed animals and fling them on my bedroom floor.
“I hate her!” I scream. Seizing my white bedspread, I twist it up and throw it against my wicker chair. The chair falls with a clunk.
“Nothing’s going right!” I yowl. “My dad’s dead, my brother’s a jerk, my uncle’s in love with a red-headed psycho, Mom’s too busy for me, I didn’t get my violin, and worst of all, I have no friends – NO FRIENDS. ZERO!”
I bury my head in my pillow and shriek as loud as I can. Then I kick my feet against my mattress, and sob so hard my whole body shakes.
A few minutes later, I hear Mom burst into the house. She runs upstairs and rushes through my bedroom door. Her hair is a mess, and she’s breathing hard. It’s obvious she ran the whole way.
“Honey, what’s wrong?” she asks, shutting the door. “Dylan said you stormed into the house crying really hard.”
My nose is plugged and my face wet. I snort, and then reluctantly sit up.
“I have no friends,” I say, my tears flowing. “I have absolutely no friends.”
Mom sits next to me and takes my hands in hers. “What happened to Charlotte? Did you two have a fight?”
“She’s going steady with Peter!” I throw down a wet tissue that I balled up. “And now she doesn’t even have time for me. I don’t even have anyone at school to eat lunch with anymore.”
Mom stares at me like she doesn’t know what to do. “Well, I’m sure you’re welcome to have lunch with them.”
“Sure, if I want everyone to think I’m totally desperate. No thanks!” I cough hard like I have hairballs.
Mom pauses as though thinking. “Unfortunately, girls do tend to do that – drop their friends when they get a boyfriend. It happened to me too when I was a little older than you. Have you tried telling her how you feel?”
“I did, and that’s when we ended up having a really big fight.” I snatch another tissue, knocking the box onto the floor.
“Okay, well fights happen between friends. It’ll blow over.”
“No it won’t.” I nearly choke. “I called her something really bad.”
“What did you cal
l her?” Mom asks, worried lines etching her face.
“I called her Charlotte the Harlot.”
Mom chuckles. “You called her what?”
“Charlotte the Harlot.”
She starts giggling. Soon, she’s laughing hysterically, her head thrown back, and her mascara running. It’s infectious, and I can’t help but join her. We roll backward onto the bed, our stomachs jiggling until we’re all laughed out and breathing hard.
“Mom?” I say.
“Yes?”
“I miss you. You’re always so busy either teaching or playing your stupid fiddle.”
Mom pauses. “I know,” she says. “I guess I’ve been trying to keep myself busy so I don’t think of Dad.”
I lean on one elbow and gaze at her. “Really?”
“Yeah. Celtic music has been what’s kept me going. That, and you two.”
Could it be true? Is she actually hurting as much as me?
“I really miss Dad,” she says.
“You too?”
“Mm-hm.” Her eyes blink fast.
“Mom?” I say.
“Yeah?”
“I love you, you know.”
“I love you too, sweetie.” She reaches out for my hand.
We lay there for a minute more before she says, “Hey, let’s you and Dylan and I go into Chilliwack tonight to see that funny movie about the nerdy kid.”
“Uh, Mom?” I sit up.
“Yeah?”
“That’s the one we saw last week on our pretend date. There’s no way I want to go see it again. It’ll just remind me of Peter.”
“Oh.”
I smile. “It’s really funny, though, but I think I’ll just stay home and watch TV.”
“Well, okay.” She pushes herself off the bed. “But if you change your mind …”
Later that night, after Mom and Dylan leave, I tear open a bag of caramel popcorn and turn on the TV. I watch an old rerun of Seinfeld, then pick up the remote to change the channel. An annoying commercial comes on, and I mute it. That’s when I hear a soft knock at the door. Sneaking on sock feet, I tiptoe to the entrance. If it’s Charlotte, I’ll fake being out. I peek through the hole.
A Town Bewitched Page 15
