by Annie Bryant
Avery swiveled on the stool, catching herself when her mother set down her pen and gave her a look that said, “Please don’t swivel on the kitchen barstool.”
“Mom,” Avery tried again. “I swear, these little guys are totally harmless. They’re in a cage. And they won’t even give you allergies. I looked it up on Google. Allergies to guinea pigs are extremely rare.”
Her mother sighed. “Avery, I know how much you love animals, and I am not allergic to guinea pigs, but I really don’t care for rodents.”
“Please,” Avery begged, her voice shaking a little to keep from crying. She wanted to prove to her mother that she could be responsible for a furry pet.
Her mother looked thoughtfully at her. “Avery,” she said. “Will you PROMISE to take complete care of the guinea pigs? And promise me that they’ll stay in your room the entire time that they’re here? In your room AND in their cage?”
Avery flung her arms around her mother. “You are the best,” she whooped. “I promise, Mom. And I promise—you won’t be sorry!”
Her mother sighed, turning back to her party list. “I hope not, Avery,” she said. “This is a crazy week—I’m having forty people here on Saturday night for dinner. One of the biggest benefactors of Talbot Academy is coming into town, and we’re having a dinner here in his honor.” She took her reading glasses off and peered at Avery, an idea occurring to her. “Avery, do you think you could do me a huge favor on Saturday? Could you ask some of your friends to join us? I’d love for Mr. Jameson to meet you, and some of your friends. He was headmaster of the school when I was there and he left to work in the corporate world. He’s a bit elderly, and it would be great for him to see what girls are like today.” She smiled. “I think he is still a bit on the old-fashioned side, and his idea of what twelve-and thirteen-year-old girls are like might need a bit of updating.”
“Sure, Mom,” Avery said, hopping off the stool. “I’ll ask my friends to come. And we’ll be on our best behavior,” she added, before her mother could even ask. “Updated behavior,” she added. “Updated, best behavior.”
If her mother was letting her bring over Ben and Ken—or whatever their names were this week—Avery could certainly help her out by showing up at her party. And if Mr. Jameson wanted to know what girls today were like, Avery and company could certainly show him an updated version!
Avery ran over to Maeve’s apartment the minute her mom said yes, ready for her training session in guinea pig care. She had told Maeve she was coming later, but she didn’t want to wait to get the guinea pigs. She was too worried that someone—Maeve or her mother—might change her mind. Avery wasn’t going to risk that.
Maeve opened the door. She had her day planner in one hand and her favorite feathery pen in the other. And she looked a little distracted.
“Hey,” Avery said, squeezing inside without waiting to be invited. “Are you okay?”
Maeve sighed. “I just don’t get this calendar stuff. No matter how hard I try, I keep planning too many things for the same day.”
“Try writing notes on your mirror. That’s what I do,” Avery said cheerfully.
Maeve glanced at her. She wanted to pour her heart out about Friday night and Dillon and her dad and Sam, and not having asked her parents and all of that, but it occurred to her that Avery wasn’t exactly the most romantic of her best friends. She could be so practical. She’d probably just shrug and say, “Ask them.” She wouldn’t see how problematic it all was. How her mom might say yes and her dad might say no. Or vice versa. Or how one or both of them might say, “Did you say yes to Dillon before asking us?” Or how likely it was that her mother would insist that she stick to her original plans. Or her father might act all hurt. Then they’d BOTH say no, and then she’d be in major trouble. Avery would never understand the complexity of it all.
Maeve had already pretty much decided it was simply too complicated to discuss this at all.
“So guess what? My mom said yes. I get to keep Ben and Jerry for a whole week!” Avery cried.
“Ben and JEN,” Maeve corrected her. “I am not going to let you have them if you can’t even get their names straight,” she said as Avery began bounding up the stairs.
“Okay,” Avery said cheerfully. She held up two little pieces of braided lanyard. “Look—I even made them leashes, so I can take them on walks.”
Maeve looked horrified. “Avery!”
“Just kidding. I knew that,” Avery said. “So…can I take them home with me now?”
Maeve stared at her. She’d assumed that she’d have a little more warning than this. Besides, it wasn’t at all clear from her expression how much Avery really DID know about taking care of guinea pigs.
“Give me the playbook, coach,” Avery said when they got to the room. She was looking at the list of instructions Maeve had typed up earlier. Avery couldn’t keep still. She was clearly excited at the prospect of her two new room -mates. Lifting up the top, Avery reached into the cage and picked up a large furry ball that was asleep in the corner. “Which one is this?” she asked.
Maeve laughed and put the top back on the cage. “This is Jen. And you can’t just pick them up like they’re Beanie Babies or something. You have to keep the top on their cage. They need their food, and their bedding has to be changed every day. I’m going to have to give you loads of instructions.”
“MAEVE! Just tell me what to do. I’ll be so super-careful. I swear,” Avery pleaded.
Maeve sighed. “Well, okay. I guess it’ll be all right. But remember, it’s only for one week. And you have to take really good care of them. Guinea pigs actually need a lot of tender loving care.”
Avery read over the sheet as Maeve began ticking off instructions on her fingers. “Guinea pigs love staying in their cages but you have to keep them clean.” She showed Avery the bedding material and how to change it. “You can just shred up newspaper—they don’t mind.”
“Yikes! You’ve got some story in there about the Yankees!” Avery cried. “You’re going to give these guys nightmares!”
Then Maeve instructed Avery on how much food the guinea pigs would need, and what kinds of table food she could give them.
“What about Caesar salad?” Avery’s mother made a great salad, and the thought of little Ben and Zen munching on a crouton was too cute for words.
“No way!” Maeve said. “You can give them a little piece of lettuce but no dressing—that would make them sick.” And then as if reading Avery’s mind, Maeve added, “No croutons, either.”
Maeve laughed. “But listen, you really have to know this stuff.” She went on, “And you can take them out to play, but be sure to keep them in a room with the door closed. And remember, you HAVE to put the top on the cage, or they’ll climb out. Okay?”
“Okay. I’ve got it,” Avery said, sticking her fingers through the bars of the cage and tickling Ben under his chin. No wonder Maeve had trouble scheduling stuff. She took too long worrying about all these little details. “Don’t worry, Maeve. I’ll take great care of Ben and Zen, and you’ll have them back safe and sound next week. I swear.”
“BEN AND JEN,” Maeve corrected, feeling a little un-easy.
Avery was grinning at her own joke.
“Okay, very funny,” Maeve said. “But remember, my guinea pigs are very important to me.” She leaned over the cage and blew kisses at her guinea pigs, who looked a little freaked out when Avery started to hoist up the cage.
“Come on, Ben. Let’s go, Jen,” said Avery.
“Be careful,” Maeve screeched, watching Avery as she stumbled over a pile of magazines Maeve had piled by the door. Avery recovered, the wheel in the cage creaked as it spun. “I’ll see you little guys in a week!” Maeve felt like a mother leaving her kids with a new baby-sitter. She knew there was no one more enthusiastic about the job than Avery, but still she worried. Guinea pigs were sensitive.
CHAPTER 14
Guinea Pigs Dreams
Avery’s Blog
Attn: Guinea pig lovers of America: I am babysitting my friend’s guinea pigs. I must confess, guinea pigs rule! Love their little faces and the majorly cute way they hold their food pellets. Do you think guinea pigs like to race?
How to Introduce Your Guinea Pigs to a New Environment
Let them crawl around and sniff their new room so they don’t get freaked out.
Make their habitat cheerful and cozy. If they’ve had too much PINK in their old place don’t worry. They’ll get over it.
Get little pieces of lettuce from the fridge so that they don’t have to eat those gross pellets. Ask Maeve if they can eat baby carrots.
They like loud music best—something with drums.
KEEP YOUR DOOR CLOSED!!
Avery was up in her bedroom sitting at her desk and writing her blog. Avery’s desk was cluttered with her favorite stuff, including the latest copy of Skateboard Magazine, the sports page from yesterday’s newspaper, baseball cards, a yo-yo, and bubble gum wrappers. On the wall by her desk, Avery’s bulletin board was covered with pictures of her family and friends and ticket stubs from Red Sox, Bruins, and Boston College women’s basketball games. There were pictures of Avery and her dad snowboarding in Colorado, of Avery and her brothers surfing in Hawaii, and the Beacon Street Girls having a sleepover in the Tower. The rest of the walls were plastered with an enormous world map, pictures of Mia Hamm and other soccer stars, posters of her favorite dogs, and pennants of the teams she rooted for. Avery looked around her with utmost satisfaction. Her room was the one part of her house that really felt like home to her. Avery’s mother loved interior decorating, which meant that almost every inch of their large colonial house was covered with beautiful upholstery, elegant drapes, and tasteful artwork.
Years ago, before Avery was old enough to stick up for herself, Avery’s mom had decorated Avery’s room to the max as well. Avery still had signs of all of that—she had a big mahogany four-poster bed and a dresser to match. But long ago Avery had shoved the mirror on top of the dresser over to make way for her sports trophies.
Avery had two walk-in closets, each one intended to be filled with clothes…closets that made both Maeve and Katani positively green with envy. Avery appreciated the space, too. Just not for clothes. Closet Number One was bursting with sports gear. Shin guards, soccer balls, rollerblades, softball gloves, cleats, old uniforms, basketball sneakers, jump ropes, a boarding helmet, lacrosse sticks, a Hula Hoop, baseball caps, climbing gear, skateboards…STUFF. Just where she needed it.
The second closet was mostly a sanctuary for Walter, Avery’s snake. Now that the guinea pigs were visiting, Walter would have to stay in his tank. She liked to use this closet as a reading nook, too—she kept her old copies of comics in there, and some of her overflow trophies. And the inside wall was covered with news clippings. Avery loved the newspaper. She collected all kinds of stories, but her secret obsession was politics. Stickers from the last presidential election covered part of one wall, and a banner that said ROCK THE VOTE! Avery couldn’t wait until she was old enough to vote. Only five years and ten months to go. Then she’d really make her voice matter.
Every now and then, Avery’s mother would stick her head inside her room and look around with an expression of amused bewilderment. The big NO HUNTING sign that Avery had scavenged from a store up in Vermont was a particular favorite of her mom’s—Not! Avery had glued the sign to the front of her door as a warning to stray visitors.
“It’s probably best that I don’t look,” her mother would say with a sigh, closing the door as quickly as possible.
It didn’t help matters that her older brother Scott’s bedroom looked like a feature in Architectural Digest. He was a neat freak. His room always looked like nobody had been in it for a year. Bed neatly made, everything lined up on his desk in perfect rows, his black-and-white sports photographs matted and framed on the walls, and all in matching black frames.
Next to Scott, Avery felt like an accident waiting to happen. She knew that part of this was because neatness wasn’t the biggest priority in her life. What was the point of making her bed when she was only going to get right back into it at night?
Her mother didn’t bother Avery too much about keeping her room clean. From time to time, their housekeeper Carla would venture into Avery’s room to do some basic straightening up. But Carla wouldn’t go into Walter’s closet. She was afraid of snakes.
The family also had a gardener who came and tidied up the garden. Her mother had a greenhouse and one of her hobbies was growing rare orchids (“cultivating” was the word she used). Now, what on earth was the point of THAT? Flowers were okay. But growing flowers in pots in a glass room for no good reason…Avery just didn’t get that.
Still, her mom had a heart of gold, even if she cared about things that seemed bizarre to Avery. Her mom loved parties, being involved, and giving back. This meant that she was always inviting people over.
Avery’s mother loved to have parties. She had a different group over almost every week. One week it was the gardening club. Another week it was her book club. She was also very involved in fund-raising, which meant hosting big parties (usually catered) that Avery found a little boring. Still, she knew her mom was involved in some really good causes. Avery was very much a “live and let live” kind of girl. Her mom let her run around in her soccer gear, so why shouldn’t she let her mom enjoy her fund-raising gigs? Plus her mom had a really good sense of humor and loved cartoons as much as Avery did.
Her father, Jake Madden, was as different from her mother as night from day. Maybe that was the reason that they’d split up. Avery’s dad was a laid-back country boy while Elizabeth was a sophisticated city girl. It was a classic case of opposites attract. After college, he’d gone backpacking in Nepal for a year. Then worked for the Peace Corps where he and Elizabeth met. Back in Boston, he’d discovered that a desk job wasn’t for him. He decided to move west and start a snowboarding shop. Avery adored her dad. She wished that he lived closer; Colorado felt like a million miles away sometimes. But she and her dad were amazing e-mail companions, and sometimes they chatted as much as six times a day.
No time to e-mail Dad now, though. Avery had to get going. One last check on the guinea pigs first…she had renamed them already, after her two favorite soccer stars. “Hey, Beckham! Hey, Hamm!” she called to them, sticking her fingers through the wire grid of their cage.
They didn’t look so well to her. A little sluggish, actually. Maybe she’d given them a bit too much lettuce. Hamm wasn’t that interested, but Beckham ate three leaves. She decided she’d better call Maeve and check in with her.
“No more lettuce,” Maeve said. “And no more carrots. Better just stick to the pellets.”
Maeve gave Avery another lecture about how finicky guinea pigs can be about what they eat, and Avery swore up and down that she’d stick to the list—only a little shredded lettuce: one piece, not three, and nothing but dried guinea pig food until they were both looking perky again. “I’m going to e-mail you the list of what they can eat and what they can’t eat,” she said sternly. “And also, I’m sending you the instructions about letting them out of their cage. Promise you’ll read it, okay?”
“I promise,” Avery said.
Sigh. Avery put Hamm and Beckham back into the cage, giving them each a little wave of encouragement. She hoped they looked perkier soon so she could sneak them some of her mother’s fancy Bibb lettuce. Only one piece this time.
On Monday night, Maeve and her mother were making lunches together for the next day. Her mom had the big wall calendar lying on the counter and was sneaking glances at it as she made sandwiches.
Maeve looked at it, too. The box for FRIDAY had a note on it in blue. “Maeve and Sam—to Ross’s.” She bit her lip. This was probably a good time to talk to her mom about Dillon. All she had to do was explain what had happened. Her mom would know what she should say to her dad so she could go out with Dillon without hurting his feelings.
> But she kept having this nagging feeling of guilt. She shouldn’t have said yes, not without asking first. Not when it involved going all the way downtown. And not when it involved breaking plans she already had.
Not that she exactly needed permission, of course. She was almost thirteen! That night she went out with Nick…well, that was different. She’d met him at Montoya’s, which was his parents’ bakery. And then she’d dragged him over to the Movie House. Her dad and Jimmy, the projectionist, were there the whole time, even if they were in the back of the cinema.
They won’t mind, Maeve assured herself. But I should ask them…just in case…
This wasn’t a good time, though. Her mother was really distracted. She was doing what she called “multitasking.” That meant that she was paying as much attention to the calendar as she was to the lunch preparations. Maeve had to dive in and rescue her lunch before she ended up with Sam’s vile robot soup instead of her favorite carrots and dip.
“Shoot. I have two late nights this week,” her mother muttered, crossing something out on the calendar and frowning. “I’m going to need to ask Dad to get you at Hebrew School on Tuesday and Thursday.”
Maeve brightened. “I could just skip Hebrew School this week,” she offered generously.
Her mother frowned at her. “Maeve, just because Dad and I are living in two different places doesn’t mean that our standards are changing. We still care about the same things that we always did. Like being on time, and getting assignments done.”
And not going to a Celtics game with a guy unless you’ve asked for permission, Maeve thought uneasily. But she pushed the thought away. They probably wouldn’t mind, she assured herself. And they knew Dillon—at least a little. Didn’t her dad tell her to take care of herself?
“Okay, Mom,” Maeve said cheerfully. “Don’t worry, Dad can get me from Hebrew School.”
Her mother turned to give her an impulsive hug. “Maeve, you’ve been such a big help. You have no idea how much it means to me,” she said warmly.
