by Anya Bateman
“Well, fine!” said Alex.
“Fine!”
“Fine!”
“FINE!” We were at it again, but this time the tables were turned.
Alex sighed and shook his head and headed for the sink, where he squirted soap onto his hands to wash off the six- layer dip that our latest kitchen helper seemed to really enjoy making. Unfortunately it was the only thing she seemed to enjoy making.
As he dried his hands on the kitchen towel, however, he asked, “Since when is Dolly taking the lessons? I’d heard Emily Fitzmeier and Lola Fisher, and even Courtney Martindale were taking them, and I know Kell and a couple of guys on the basketball team were thinking about taking them after the season’s over. And oh, yeah, Sophie Dalebout’s reading the Book of Mormon in Braille, I heard, but I hadn’t heard that Dolly was taking the lessons.”
“Maybe not right now, but wait and watch. I guarantee she will.”
Sure enough, Dolly was soon taking lessons. Then, not long after she started studying with the missionaries— and this shows how much our school had changed in just a matter of a year— Dolly was elected Top Senior Girl.
“Well, turning ‘religious’ is getting some people places,” I said to Alex the night after we heard the announcement.
“What do you mean?”
“Sticking with James’s Let’s Be Good, Moral, and Kind Bandwagon has done Dolly Devonshire some definite good!”
“You’ve got to respect her,” Alex said, squeezing my expensive whitening toothpaste from the middle of the tube. “I do.” He started brushing his teeth, but then he pulled his toothbrush from his mouth. “Maybe you’re a little jealous.”
“Why would you say something like that?” I asked, pulling my washcloth away from my face.
“Just a guess.” Apparently Alex had also been noticing that Dolly seemed to be popping up wherever James happened to be.
“Do you think she’ll come to our birthday party?” I asked, placing the cloth back on my cheek. Alex and I would be turning eighteen the following Saturday and had let it be known that everyone was invited to come help us celebrate. Dolly’s attendance had been something I’d been concerned about.
“She’s welcome, sure, but I doubt she’ll be back from the national cheer competition. In fact Butch probably won’t be at our party either.”
“That’s right,” I said, tap dancing inside. I’d totally forgotten about the competition.
-B-
That Saturday I took great care to get ready for the chess game with James. I told myself it was because I wouldn’t have much time afterward before the party started. I took extra time with my hair and carefully applied my blush and mascara. I pulled out several outfits, but finally decided on my blue shirt with the blue- and purple- checked collar and my new Levis. Needless to say, I wasn’t angry with James any longer.
I’d recognized almost immediately that there was nothing to be upset about. Though maybe they’d changed inside, Alex and Mom hadn’t changed in ways that affected me, and my fears had never materialized. Mom was her same busy but supportive self and Alex, though definitely more focused, remained, for the most part, good old Alex. If anything, he treated me even better than he had before. And since he wasn’t going into politics, I guessed there wasn’t really a problem with his belonging to the LDS faith. Neither one had nagged me about it since that first Sunday after the baptism.
And as far as James and I were concerned— we were even better friends than before.
Almost right from the moment I arrived at the Wickenbees’, James and I fell into an interesting conversation discussing surnames and how they originated.
“You know, I’d better start paying attention because you’re fairly decent at this game, James,” I joked good- naturedly as he removed still another one of my players from the little chess stage. “Have I told you that?” James was one of the few people I could joke with about losing— my losing.
“Then you must be pretty good yourself because you’ve defeated me a few times,” he said, trying to sweep his wins under the rug and act as if his genius was nothing of consequence.
I smiled and shook my head because James was being classy again. “Only because you weren’t paying enough attention. The first time was just after you’d been elected; you were overwhelmed. Then I had to distract you by asking about your chemistry experiments or your plans for the school, so I actually psyched you out on two of those wins. But that’s it— three times.”
“But you’ve come close to winning about a dozen more times. And hey, if you want me to lose on purpose today as a birthday gift I can do that. I’ll let you have a few of my pieces to celebrate. Do you want them gift wrapped?” He grinned, knowing how I’d react to such a statement.
I decided to throw him off stride. “No, not gift wrapped, but maybe you could put on a good enough act that I’d have no idea you were letting me win.”
He lifted his chin and lowered it, knowing full well I was kidding.
“Oh, never mind, go ahead and gift wrap them,” I joked.
“Okay.” He lifted the bishop and wrapped him in one of the colorful napkins Mom had given Mary Jane as a gift.
“Stop it,” I laughed happily. “Stop it. I’ll tell you what. I’ll just have a few more of these.” I happily reached into the bowl of pistachios Mary Jane had been kind enough to fill for us. Cassie and I had the same weakness when it came to pistachios.
As I watched James unwrap the bishop and set him back down on the board I saw that I did actually have a chance to capture that piece. I narrowed my eyes to let James know that I knew that he was up to his old tricks by trying to help me see my next move.
“You really are trying to help me win,” I said. “You know I don’t like that.”
He grinned and then I grinned, and I think we were both relieved things were completely okay between us again. I reached for another handful of pistachios, feeling safe and happy in the Wickenbees’ living room.
Mary Jane was cutting up vegetables and tending a couple of grandchildren in the kitchen. She’d been screening James’s calls as well and it made me feel important that James cut off his calls until after our chess games on Saturday evenings.
Rudolf had just come home, had taken off his shoes and every once in a while walked through the room in his mismatched socks. “Hi,” I said each time.
He’d grin and raise his hand. “Hi.”
I could tell he was trying to solve some physics problem.
“What are you two giggling about?” Alex asked when he dropped in after working for Phil. He and James took turns helping our uncle, who was venturing forth in his own business— something combining computers and science that they’d explained to me but that I wasn’t sure I understood.
Alex didn’t wait for an answer, but immediately called Michelle. Within minutes she showed up with Ruby, Salina, and Cassie, who’d brought a tray of pineapple hors d’oeuvres with little umbrellas she’d been trying to perfect for the spring luau fund- raiser.
“Happy birthday!” she shouted.
Ruby explained that Sadie had had to work at Barney’s, but Cassie must have called Bud and Derrick because soon they were there. Sonja Paulos dropped by with Emily Fitzmeier to ask James’s opinion on their flyers for the upcoming election and we invited them to stay. Wherever Sonja went, John Carlisle appeared, and soon he and his friends were there as well. Alex suggested we transfer the party to our house, but Mary Jane insisted we stay and offered to make homemade pizzas. While I helped her cut green peppers, a few other guests came over, including Uncle Phil and Aunt Ruthie; they brought balloons and foot- high replicas of a chess queen and king.
“No,” Alex said. “This should rightfully belong to James. He’s the real chess king. I’ve just been observing lately.”
“Oh, no, Alex, you’re king today,” James said. “It’s your birthday.” He turned to me. “And you’re definitely the queen,” he said, a smile in those killer blue eyes.
; And you’re the emperor of good manners and kindness, I thought. It was ironic that the house I’d been embarrassed to be seen going into last year was now the place my brother and I preferred to be for our eighteenth birthday party. In fact, soon Melinda Challister from the newspaper staff was taking pictures of all of us and we posed happily. Sonja had her picture taken with Cassie, Garlia, who had come for a few minutes, and Ruby. Sergei, who’d slipped in unnoticed, was pulled into the picture by all four girls.
We called Mom to bring the cake and suggested she leave a note for those who might come looking for us at our house. When she showed up at the party, she had brought several more people who had stopped by our house: Kate and Caroline and Adriana and Samantha Elbert. Paul, Terrance, Robbie, and Celia Pinnock pulled up in Robbie’s truck not five minutes later. Lynette even came even though Butch wasn’t there. Yolanda sang for us while Cassie taught Paul to hula.
When we ran out of pizzas James and I worked our way to the kitchen to help Mom and Mary Jane cut more veggies. We talked and laughed, ribbing each other and sharing private jokes that nobody there would have understood except maybe Alex. Rudolf kept walking through the family room looking for things in his mismatched socks, trailing his pajama- clad grandchildren behind him, and visiting happily with everyone. When we came back out of the kitchen we saw that Cassie was teaching the hula to everyone.
It turned out to be not only a fantastic day, but the best
birthday party ever.
Beat that, Dolly, I thought as I drove home that night, giddy and happy. I was sure James had had more fun that evening than he’d ever had in his life. I certainly had.
-B-
But the following Monday at his locker, James looked like he was having a really good time with Dolly. She was undoubtedly telling him all about the cheer competition and why they’d only come in third instead of first. Dolly was at James’s locker the following day as well and every day of that first week in March. I knew it shouldn’t bother me to see her talking to James. So why did it?
On Friday I saw Dolly with James again, this time in the front hall talking with Ruby’s sister, Topaz, who had applied to run for president of the school in hopes of taking over as James’s successor the following year. Everyone speculated that with her “more of the same” platform, Topaz would be a shoo-in even without the ruby slippers that had aided her sister the year before. While there would never be another president like James, I had to admit Fairport High could do a lot worse than Topaz Backus. Right then, however, I wasn’t exactly pleased about the fact that not only was Topaz bright and witty, but she had a smile almost as wide as Dolly’s.
“Are we still on for chess tomorrow?” I called to James as I headed for the front doors.
“I’m planning on it!” James lifted his hand at me then returned his attention to the beautiful blondes.
“Don’t forget we’re meeting at my house this time instead of yours.”
“Sounds good.” He grinned and then pointed— pointed at me in exactly the way I’d taught him to point.
“We’ve never missed a chess appointment yet,” I said quietly to myself as I walked away wondering why I couldn’t shake the unsettled feeling in my heart.
Chapter Twenty- Four
•••
Saturday started off wonderfully. The mail came about eleven and I immediately spotted the envelope I’d been waiting weeks for. I ripped it open, read the first few words, then charged into the house to tell Mom and Alex. I’d been accepted to Harvard!
“Wahoo! No kidding?” My brother jumped from his chair by the computer, bent his knees and flipped out his palms, which I slapped happily. “Good job!” He was genuinely and thoroughly excited.
Me? Oh, I was so excited I had to hold my hand across my chest and lower myself to the arm of the leather chair to catch my breath. I’d dreamed of being accepted to Harvard maybe even longer than I’d dreamed of taking the top prize in the state chess tournament.
Mom, of course, was beyond thrilled and began to do one of those Spanish flamenco dances. “I can’t wait to tell the girls at the charity league and my sisters about this!” she said after her third olé. “Oh, my goodness! Come here, my beautiful, intelligent daughter!” She pulled me off the chair to hug me soundly. “My daughter— at Harvard!”
As I listened to Mom and Alex, I wondered how I could ever have believed that they wouldn’t always be there for me and that joining the Mormon Church would change that. Nevertheless, I hurried to the phone to call James. He knew how much I’d wanted to get into Harvard and would be just as excited as Mom and Alex. But I’d only pressed half the digits in his number when I stopped, smiled, and hung up. No, I needed to see his face! He was coming over for chess in just a few hours and I could tell him in person then. Wow, would those baby blues light up!
I called Aunt Ruthie instead and then Adriana, but I made her promise not to spread the word for a little while. I figured she’d last an hour or two at least and by then I would have had a chance to tell James. Alex, I knew, would want to be the one to tell Michelle. I thought about calling Caroline or Kate, but found myself dialing Cassie instead. There are times when you really don’t mind hearing huge outbursts of enthusiasm.
“You can tell Sadie, but that’s all,” I said. In her quiet way, Sadie would be just as thrilled for me as Cassie was. I realized I was being a bit narcissistic, but it felt rather good.
It was early afternoon by the time I clicked off the phone. I had just enough time to spread some leftover avocado on some toast for lunch. Then I carefully and thoroughly helped Mom clean the kitchen. My room was still in good shape, but I ran a dust cloth over my chest of drawers and vanity once more and then jumped into the shower. At 2:55 I made some lemonade, adding extra ice cubes and sugar. I even slipped some Mrs. Flannagan’s Apple Turnovers into the microwave because I was certain James would want to celebrate with me. Then I smiled up at the clock. He’d be over any minute!
Two hours later the lemonade was warm; the apple turnovers were cold; and I was still waiting for James.
“James isn’t coming?” my mother asked as she wiped off the counter where she’d been cutting broccoli.
“I thought he was.”
“That seems odd. He’s always so dependable.”
“And punctual,” I added.
“Do you think he thought you were meeting at his house like you usually do?”
“His mother was having some church people over for a meeting of the board or something, and we agreed it would be better to play here.”
“Did you call and check?”
I had. Three times. “I just got the answering machine,” I said.
Alex, who had gone out to run a few errands, came in the back door and stomped his feet on the mat. “Man, it’s a mess out there!” As he leaned over to pull off his muddy shoes, water poured from his cap.
I stared past him through the doorway at the cloudburst. When had it started raining?
“James didn’t show, huh?” my brother asked as though it were the most ordinary thing in the world.
“No.”
“He hasn’t called?”
“No!” I snapped.
“Sor- ry,” said Alex, pulling the door shut. “We’re a bit testy today, aren’t we?” As Alex wrung out his jacket in the sink, I felt his eyes still on me. “You probably wanted to share your good news about Harvard with old Super- Jim. Well, I wouldn’t worry about it. He’s probably just run into a holdup. I’m sure he’ll come.”
I was glad Alex was so convinced James was still coming because I wasn’t. I suspected my brother was right about the holdup, though I was afraid I knew who the holdup might be. Alex started to say something else, but Mom announced that dinner was ready. “Let’s go ahead and sit down now,” she said.
In the years since her recovery, Mom pushed hard for some family unifying practices— one of them being that all of us eat dinner around the table as often as possible. Now she pulled a casserole
big enough to serve the Roman army out of the oven and placed it proudly before us. I think she was disappointed I didn’t act more impressed.
“Grace . . .” she said, lowering herself across from us. Alex and I quickly shut our eyes as Mom turned to grab a towel to protect the table. “Grace helped me get this ready yesterday because she’s out looking for a place to live,” she continued. “I decided to add a few vegetables. You know, I think Grace is going to work out very well.”
Alex and I opened our eyes as soon as we realized Mom wasn’t referring to saying grace but to our newest helper, the third in the last month. Mom laughed a little when she caught on, “Oh, grace! Yes, let’s say grace.” But then she opened her eyes again. “I wonder if they call it ‘grace’ in the LDS faith?”
I really didn’t care. This time I did not close my eyes as Mom, in a quiet and reverent tone, asked for a blessing not only on the food, but also on all those who did not have food at that moment, mentioning in particular the people in Kenya. During the entire prayer, I leaned my chin on the heel of my hand, looking out the window at the downpour. Following the “amen” I lifted my fork and began to eat listlessly. Alex, on the other hand, downed his food with the usual gusto.
“This isn’t bad, Mom,” he said reaching for a second portion. “It’s not bad at all.”
“The broccoli is a little crunchy,” Mom complained as she neatly tapped her napkin against her lips. “I should have precooked it for a few minutes.”
“Hey, it’s better this way,” said my brother. “I don’t like mushy broccoli.” Then he spotted my cold apple turnovers. “Are those for dessert?” No, in most ways Alex hadn’t changed all that much since his baptism. Becoming a full- fledged member of the Mormon faith certainly hadn’t affected his appetite.
“Sure, why not?” I said with not so much as a parsley sprig of energy in my voice. “I thought maybe we’d have a little celebration when James came over, but since it doesn’t look like James will be coming over, let’s go ahead and celebrate now.” Considering my tone, I might as well have been suggesting we all go poke shish kebab sticks into our eyeballs.
