by Annie Bryant
MARTY INCOGNITO
“He keeps WRIGGLING,” Katani complained. “You guys, you have to be organized about this stuff!” She was trying valiantly to fit Marty’s leash and toys in a neat coil inside his water bowl, and Isabel started to giggle.
“You really are a neat freak,” Isabel said with amusement.
“I can’t help it,” Katani retorted. “I just like keeping things together. If you shared a bedroom as small as mine, you’d be super-organized, too.”
“I DO share a small bedroom, remember? Only mine’s a mess. My sister’s half probably looks like yours—neat as a pin.” Isabel smiled. “My side looks like a tornado hit it.”
The four girls were over at Charlotte’s, up in the Tower, trying to pack Marty up for his secret weekend in Avery’s carriage house.
“Okay, I think that’s everything,” Charlotte said at last. “He’s got dog food, treats, toys, his bowls…everything I can think of. Oops! Can’t forget Happy Lucky Thingy—Marty can’t be without his favorite chew toy.” She bent down and picked up the pink chewy and stuffed it in the bag.
“You think he’ll be okay in the carriage house all weekend?” Katani asked, worried. “What if it gets cold?”
It was autumn, and recently the temperature had dipped into the forties at night.
“Avery says the carriage house is pretty warm,” Isabel pointed out. “Come on, guys. Let’s walk Marty over on his leash, and when we get to the Maddens’ we can squish him into the soccer bag. We don’t want to get Avery’s mom upset.”
The girls followed Marty over to Avery’s, which—as Charlotte pointed out—meant stopping at just about every bush and fire hydrant for a long sniff. As they got closer to Avery’s, the houses got bigger and bigger, and the fences around them taller and taller. Avery lived in one of the most exclusive neighborhoods in town, and her house—a tall, stately colonial with pale gray shutters—looked even more imposing than usual as the girls walked up to the gate.
“Wow,” exclaimed Isabel as she pointed to a maple tree. “Those leaves look like they are on fire.” That was Isabel—always noting the color of things.
“Okay, little guy. In you go,” Katani said cheerfully, stooping down and opening up Avery’s soccer bag.
Marty sniffed it suspiciously and backed off, whimpering. He didn’t look excited to jump inside.
“Put a treat inside the bag,” Charlotte recommended.
In the end, that was the only way to coax Marty in. Once inside the bag, he started thrashing around wildly and barking. The girls looked at each other. They began laughing nervously.
“We kind of forgot about his sound effects,” Maeve said.
“Why don’t you ring the doorbell, Maeve? Ask Avery to come out here. We can’t chance it, with him barking,” Katani said.
Maeve looked at her. “What am I supposed to say? Why are we all showing up at Avery’s on a Friday evening?”
“Improvise. You’re good at that,” Katani told her.
Maeve rang the doorbell, trying to think up a good story for Avery’s mother. To her surprise, a guy answered the door—a CUTE guy, in fact. He looked like he was about sixteen or seventeen, with sandy-brown hair and freckles.
“Hey,” Maeve said, staring. “Uh—is Avery here?”
He nodded. “AVERY,” he yelled into the empty space of the room behind him.
Avery came thudding down the stairs, two at a time. “Hey,” she said to Maeve, pushing her way past the cute guy. She looked closely at Maeve. “Why do you look like that? What are you staring at?”
“Who’s he?” Maeve whispered.
“Scott, my brother,” Avery said, disgusted. She paused, shaking her head at Maeve. “Don’t even START, Maeve. He’s OLD, for one thing. And he’s got a girlfriend. And he’s totally off-limits.”
“I know. He’s way too old for me,” Maeve muttered. “I just didn’t realize that was Scott, okay? He’s a million times cuter than I remembered.”
“Yeah, he got his braces off,” Avery said with a shrug. “Come on, let’s go get Marty settled before my mom comes back.”
Avery—Maeve thought with a sigh—wouldn’t know a cute guy if she tripped over one. Not even if she had one living under the same roof.
Well, Maeve might just have to make up a few excuses to come over and help look in on Marty. After all, a weekend was an awfully long time to leave a poor helpless little dog like Marty out there in the Maddens’ carriage house!
It took almost half an hour to get Marty’s bed set up in the corner. All the girls thought Avery had done an amazing job of getting the place ready for Marty. The place looked like a cool doggie apartment. She had piled up a ton of old blankets and had made a giant nest for him. She’d even laid out a row of new toys for him that she had bought with her allowance. The girls put his water bowl nearby, and his food dish, and hung his leash up on a hook.
“This looks great, Avery, but don’t you think it’s a little cold in here? Do you guys have a space heater?” Maeve asked. “I could go get it,” she volunteered, picturing Scott helping her trek through the big house to find it.
“It’s not safe to use a space heater. Those things cause fires. Besides, he’s a dog. He’ll be okay,” Katani said. “We’ll just tuck some extra blankets around him.”
“Uh-oh! My mom’s pulling into the driveway,” Avery said quickly. “We better get going before she finds us.”
“And you’re sure she never uses the carriage house?” Katani asked for the dozenth time.
“I’m positive! Look at the place. It’s just a giant-sized storage bin,” Avery exclaimed. “Marty is going to be FINE. I promise. I love him. I will take the absolute best care of him. I even bought a dog book. Look!” She held up a new paperback on the care and feeding of small dogs. “Now, go have a great time in New York, Charlotte. And the rest of you: DON’T WORRY.” She dropped down to give Marty one more hug. “I promise to shower him with so much attention that he’ll be spoiled rotten by the time Charlotte comes back for him on Sunday night!”
Reluctantly, the girls gave Marty a last hug good-night. Maeve thought he looked awfully tiny sitting all alone in that big old carriage house.
But Avery was firm. It was time for everyone to clear out. And time for Avery to indulge in her biggest dream—a weekend alone with her beloved borrowed, furry friend.
CHAPTER 5
The Perfect Family
OK, kids. We need to talk,” Maeve’s mom said, taking a deep breath.
Here it was, dinnertime, early Saturday evening. The four of them were alone together in the kitchen. Maeve had to admit that the subdued atmosphere didn’t suggest that it was going to be great news.
Maeve’s mother was nervous. She wasn’t looking any of them in the eye. She kept piling pieces of chicken up on Sam’s plate, even when he said that he had plenty. And she poured chocolate milk in Maeve’s dad’s wineglass! She had this faraway expression on her face, and she wasn’t even listening to Sam. That wasn’t like her—Maeve’s mom always paid attention when they talked.
“Ross,” she said, looking at Maeve’s father.
Maeve followed her gaze. What was wrong with her father? He looked pale, and he hadn’t eaten a single bite of his dinner.
“Go ahead,” he said quietly. It sounded like they’d rehearsed this.
Maeve’s mom put her fork down. “Listen, you two,” she said. Both Maeve and Sam looked at her intently. “Your dad and I need to talk to you about something. We know this is going to be hard for you two to hear, but…” Her voice trailed off.
Maeve’s mouth felt dry. What was it?
Sam gazed at his mother, his eyes fixed on hers. “Are you sick or something?” he demanded. “You look kinda funny, Mom.”
Maeve’s mother shook her head. “No. I’m fine, Sam.” She took a deep breath. “You know, parents can have problems, too. Just like kids. And Dad and I—” She looked across the table at Maeve’s father. “You’ve probably noticed that there�
�s been a lot of tension between Dad and me lately. We’re not entirely sure why. But lately, all we seem to do is argue. We still love each other,” she added quickly. “But things have changed—we love each other in a different way now. So even though we’re always going to be very close friends, we think we need some time apart. That’s why…”
Her voice trailed off and she didn’t say anything. Maeve felt like her ears were burning. This was the last thing in the world she’d expected to hear. Everyone said she had the perfect family. Okay, her parents had arguments. They’d always had—for as long as she could remember. So maybe they’d been worse lately. Maeve’s stomach churned. They’d been arguing a lot about HER, to be honest. About her bad grades. About her organizational problems. Even about the blanket project. She knew they’d been getting upset with each other…but arguing—that wasn’t the end of the world, was it? Didn’t all parents do that? Couldn’t they just make up, the way they always had?
Maeve wasn’t sure she wanted to hear any more. “I’m not very hungry,” she said, pushing her plate away. She half-hoped that this would put an end to the discussion right away.
But her mother kept going. “Maeve, Sam. Your father and I think that it makes sense for us to separate,” she said finally.
“For a while,” Maeve’s father added. His voice was calm and steady, the way it always was. He explained that this wasn’t necessarily permanent. They needed some time apart, and in a month or two they would reevaluate. Sometimes parents needed time to be alone, just the way kids did when they weren’t getting along. The most important thing, he added, was that they still loved Maeve and Sam—more than anything in the world. “Mom and I are going to work together as a team. We’re going to try hard to make this okay for you guys.”
Maeve was stunned. Her parents might just as well have just announced that they’d decided to move to Mars. She had no idea what to say.
But Sam did. “This is stupid!” he screamed, at nobody in particular. And as if for good measure, he threw his plate across the room. It bounced off the counter and crashed to the ground, shattering on the tile floor. Chicken and ketchup splattered everywhere.
Maeve started. Sam never yelled, and he never threw stuff. Certainly not plates. But surprisingly, her mother didn’t even look mad.
“Oh, Sammy,” she said, taking him in her arms. She had tears in her eyes. Nobody even got up to sweep the broken bits of plate.
Maeve wished she were eight, like Sam, and could throw something, too. But she wasn’t. She was almost thirteen and had to act rational, even though it felt like her whole world was collapsing. Why did everything have to be so confusing?
Her mother was smoothing Sam’s hair and talking in that voice she used when she was in planning mode. She sounded upset, but calmer. Maeve heard only bits and pieces. “Too much tension in the house lately”…“need some time apart”…“going to be better for you guys not to have so much arguing in the house.”
“I don’t see how it’s going to be better for us,” Maeve managed to gasp.
“Well, it may not be for anyone at first,” her father admitted. “There’s going to be a lot to get used to. But we’re hoping that in the long run it’ll be better. Your mom and I think we need to do this now. Remember, we’re still your mom and dad, and we still love you. Even though we think we need to separate.”
“What do you mean, separate?” Maeve demanded, suddenly realizing that this was going to have a huge impact on her and Sam. “What happens to US?”
“We talked about that,” her mother said quickly, still stroking Sam’s hair. She glanced across the table at Maeve’s father. “Your dad’s found a place in Washington Square…it’s only a little more than a mile away, and you can take the trolley…”
Maeve felt bewildered. “You can’t move out,” she said, turning toward her father. She was so confused. Her dad lived here—with Sam and her. And Mom! This was home. None of this made any sense. “When?” she asked dully. “When’s all of this supposed to happen?”
Her dad looked awkward. “Next weekend,” he said at last. “We wanted to give you a little while to get used to the idea. But we didn’t want it hanging over your heads for weeks, either. It’s a big change, but making it happen sooner…well, we thought that might be easier.”
“Next—” Maeve was aghast. She hadn’t dreamed this could all happen so fast. “But what about my awards ceremony?” she demanded. “THAT’S next weekend! You can’t split up now! Not when I’ve actually been nominated for something!”
Her parents looked at each other. “We’ll still come,” her mother said. “We’ll both be there for you, Maeve. Just like we promised.”
She barely heard what her parents were saying. It appeared that she and Sam would have “schedules.” They’d stay at home with Mom during the week, and every other weekend they’d spend at Dad’s. But because Dad would still be running the cinema, he’d be downstairs every day after school. They’d spend every afternoon together. And that would be a big help, because their mom had decided to go back to work part-time.
“Work?” Maeve repeated blankly. Okay, she thought, just keep throwing this stuff out at us. What was coming next?
Her mother actually looked happy when she talked about this part. She’d wanted to do this for a long time. She’d always been interested in business—she loved helping to run the cinema. And there was a company in Brookline that needed a part-time office manager/bookkeeper. She’d had her second interview this afternoon, and they’d offered her the job.
“You know how much I love organizing things,” she said with a sheepish smile. “I think I may actually be kind of good at this.” She glanced from Maeve to Sam. “I know it’s another thing for you to get used to. But it’s only part-time, just twenty hours a week. And quite honestly, we need the money.”
“But what about US?” Maeve wailed. She had always relied on her mom to help her keep her schedule straight. Now, she was going to need that more than ever. How was she going to remember what was where? What if she left her homework over at her dad’s place? Or her day planner? It was hard enough keeping her life straight right now, let alone with two separate houses to live in! Who was going to keep track of that kind of thing for her now? What about all her stuff—her homework and her clothes and her music and her guinea pigs?
“Maeve,” her father said softly, leaning across the table and putting his hand over hers. “We need you to be strong. I know this isn’t easy. But, we really need you to help us out. We really do think it’s for the best.”
“Okay,” Maeve whispered. She couldn’t say no when her dad asked her for something this important. But being mature had never been harder.
“Let’s just leave all of this,” her mom said, looking around her at the kitchen, which was now decorated with ketchup from Sam’s war with his dinner plate. “Sammy, let’s go read a story.”
Maeve stared at her in amazement. Since when did her mother walk away from the table without clearing it and washing every last dish?
Wow, she thought. Things really ARE changing around here.
“Maeve,” her dad said quietly, “should we surprise your mom and clean up the kitchen?”
Maeve paused. Well, at least it would give them something to do. “Okay,” she said.
She got out the dustpan and helped her father sweep up the broken dish. If only the rest of life could be fixed this easily, she thought.
It was strangely comforting, doing something concrete with her father. But Maeve could feel a lump forming in her throat. Why did everything have to change? Why couldn’t her mother and father work out whatever was wrong between them? She didn’t understand. She just knew that she wanted her father to stay. And for life to go on the way it always had.
TO TELL OR NOT TO TELL?
Maeve closed the door to her bedroom and looked around, trying to blink back tears. It was so weird—everything looked just the same as it always had. Her beloved bed with its ruffled canopy. He
r bulletin board crowded with pictures of her friends—a snapshot of her friend Charlotte and her father in snorkeling gear near the Great Barrier Reef in Australia; Katani in a fabulous one-shoulder dress that she’d designed and sewn herself; Avery, arms in the air in exaltation, having just scored the winning goal against Cambridge in last year’s soccer play-offs; Isabel, hard at work on a box she was mod-podging with wonderful materials taken from magazines and newspapers.
Across the room, Romeo and Juliet were swooping around in their cage, looking like nothing whatsoever was the matter. Over their cage hung Maeve’s favorite poster—Orlando Bloom, shot on location in New Zealand, his hair half-falling over one eye. He was one of Maeve’s heroes, ever since she’d found out that he had dyslexia, too.
Maeve opened up her laptop on her desk and connected to the Internet. Her mind was swimming. She wanted to I.M. Charlotte. Charlotte would be an amazing friend to pour her heart out to. After all, Charlotte had gone through some pretty big stuff herself.
Her mother dying when she was little…moving around so much with her dad…never feeling as if she fit in…
But something made Maeve hesitate before she clicked on Charlotte’s screen name in her buddy list. She didn’t feel ready to face Charlotte’s loving concern.
Anyway, Charlotte was in New York with her dad. She wouldn’t be online.
What about Avery? Her parents were divorced. Avery didn’t talk about it all that much—it had happened when she was pretty little. But she was such an upbeat, commonsense kind of person. She’d have great advice—Maeve was sure of that.
She scrolled down to Avery’s screen name: 4kicks. But she didn’t click on it.
She just wasn’t ready for Avery’s blunt, deal-with-it kind of approach. Not tonight.
What about Katani? Kgirl. Suddenly she felt her friend’s calm, reasonable, wise approach to life flooding through her. Katani always seemed to have the right perspective on difficult issues. She was intelligent and level-headed. She’d be sure to have some wise words to comfort Maeve.
