by Annie Bryant
The little stab of guilt was getting worse. Maeve bit her lip. Ask her—NOW.
“Um—Mom?” she began.
The phone rang, and her mother glanced at the number on their caller ID box. “Shoot—it’s my boss. I have to take this, Maeve.”
Maeve sighed, turning back to finish packing lunches. So much for that. It wasn’t like she hadn’t tried to ask for permission.
After dinner, Maeve spread her homework out all over the dining room table. She needed to have a draft of interview questions ready for Ms. Rodriguez by tomorrow.
What do I want to know? Maeve thought, opening up her laptop and drumming her fingers on the table.
The thing Maeve MOST wanted to know about was how to grow up. She didn’t really know how to put this into words. So, how did you get from being a kid to being a grown-up? How did her parents figure out what kind of things they wanted to do when they grew up? What kind of life they’d want to lead? She’d seen old home movies of her mom when she was a girl. Birthday parties, family vacations…how did that girl grow up and become her mother?
“Mom!” Maeve called.
Her mother came into the dining room. She looked tired, and she had a pile of work in her arms.
“Mom, I need help. We’re doing this big project in English and social studies and we’re supposed to find out about our personal history and I’m totally lost,” Maeve sighed.
Her mother set her files down on the dining room table. “What sort of things are you writing about?”
“It’s up to us. But I need to interview you and Daddy.” Maeve sighed. “I’m just not sure what to ASK, that’s the problem.”
Her mother sat down, lacing her fingers together the way she did when she was thinking. “Did I ever tell you much about your great-grandmother?”
Maeve shook her head. “Was she the one who worked in the hat factory?”
“For a while.” Her mother smiled. “But she was also a ‘flapper,’ she had a raccoon coat and she danced on Broadway for a few years.”
Maeve’s eyes lit up. “No way!” This might not be as good as being related to Audrey Hepburn, but still. Broadway was Broadway.
“Her name was Sylvie. She was extraordinary.” Maeve’s mother smiled. “She was only five feet tall, but really gorgeous, and they always let her dance right up in front because she was so tiny. Let me find some pictures of her for you, okay?”
Maeve was thrilled. She had talent in her bones and it dated way back. This project was getting more interesting by the moment.
Maeve tried to type up a few questions about great-grandma Sylvie while her mother went off to look for photographs. She was on question number two when the phone rang.
It was Dillon.
Maeve tried her hardest to sound nonchalant. “Hey,” she said, in her most casual I’m-glad-to-hear-from-you-but-this-is-SO-normal voice. “What’s up?”
“Nothing much. Just wanted to check in with you,” Dillon said. How could he sound so cute and so COOL even over the phone line? “I checked with my dad, and he said we’re all set for Friday. We’ll pick you up around seven at your place, okay?”
At her place? Here? Maeve’s heart skipped a beat. She couldn’t think for a second. Great, this was getting more and more confusing by the minute.
“Um…” Maeve thought fast. “Why don’t I just meet you over at your house?” she shot back. True, her parents probably wouldn’t mind her going out with Dillon. But just in case she didn’t get around to asking…they shouldn’t meet here. “I’ve got a class on Friday and I don’t really know when it gets out.”
Great. Now she was REALLY getting boxed in.
“Okay,” Dillon said. “Do you know where I live?”
Maeve wrote down his address and directions. She tried to keep her voice sounding casual. “Dillon—what time do you think we’ll be back? Just wondering,” she added quickly.
“Probably around ten thirty. Is that okay?” he asked.
Now that, Maeve thought, was the million dollar question. Was that okay? How would she know? Her stomach was in complete knots. Maeve had never, ever done anything like this before. She ALWAYS asked her mom and dad before she went somewhere. It was a Kaplan-Taylor Golden Rule. And now she was breaking it. But she didn’t want to seem like a little kid to Dillon. She didn’t want him to think she had to ask her parents’ permission just to cross the room.
“Oh, that’s fine,” Maeve said. If she didn’t know any better, she would think that absolutely nothing was the matter. She sounded so confident and laid-back. She even chattered for a few minutes with Dillon about their homework assignment and how hard it was. He’d never know that her stomach was churning and churning. And before she’d hung up, they had a plan. Maeve would meet him at his house Friday evening around a quarter to seven.
Now she just had to break the news to her mom and dad.
Maeve closed the door to her bedroom with a sigh. One quick I.M. session with her friends and she was going straight to bed.
She flipped open her laptop. To her surprise, a new screen name was blinking out at her.
It was her father!
Maeve felt her stomach lurch. Now what? What was she supposed to tell him? That she’d gone ahead and agreed to go to the game with Dillon even though they had plans? And she hadn’t even asked him first?
Think, Maeve Kaplan-Taylor. THINK. Maeve bit her lip.
Where were her friends going to be? Could she say she was going to be with them? Maeve remembered: they were sleeping over at Charlotte’s house—Katani, Avery, and Isabel. They’d asked her to come and she said she couldn’t. Because she had plans with Sam and her Dad.
Maeve wracked her brains.
Maeve’s eyes filled with tears. “I understand.” She felt like a worm. A giant worm. Well, it would be okay. She’d do this just this once, and next time she’d ask her parents in the first place and this wouldn’t happen again. She promised herself.
And wasn’t it worth it, getting to go out with Dillon? Getting to go downtown to a Celtics game, just the two of them? A dream come true!
CHAPTER 15
Promises Made
Maeve! Avery! Wait up!” Isabel, Katani, and Charlotte were hurrying down the hallway near the seventh-grade lockers, trying to catch Maeve and Avery before English class began.
“Sorry, you people. I was just getting an important lecture on guinea pig food,” Avery said.
“I was telling Avery that they have sensitive little digestive tracts,” Maeve interrupted.
“Maeve,” Charlotte cut in, “we were just talking about the sleepover at my house on Friday night. Are you SURE you can’t come? It’s not going to be as much fun without you.”
Maeve flushed. “I can’t,” she said, trying to block out the memory of her I.M. session with her father the night before. Friday night was getting more tangled by the minute.
She could tell her friends about Dillon. But that would be even worse, because she’d be asking them to cover for her. She knew that wasn’t fair. No, better to keep it all to herself. A secret. She hoped she wouldn’t run into Dillon before their date.
Nobody would find out, she assured herself.
“We’ve got…plans,” she explained. “Anyway, you guys will have fun! And I’ll come next time—I promise.”
The five girls hurried into Ms. Rodriguez’s classroom just before the bell, and Maeve slid into her desk. She was feeling more and more uncomfortable about this whole thing on Friday night. But she couldn’t see any way to get out of the mess she was in now. It was too late to ask her parents’ permission for something she’d already said yes to. And now that she’d told her dad she had plans with her friends…well, forget THAT. No, she was just going to have to go through with her plan. Meet Dillon at his house. Go to the game, and get dropped off at her dad’s. In all the excitement about their first night there, he’d never focus on who brought her home. She hoped.
Ms. Rodriguez’s English class was buzzing. They
were all taking the class period to work in small groups on their Heritage Museum reports. Good, Maeve thought. She could use some extra class time to work on her project.
Within minutes, everyone had rearranged their desks so they could work with people they knew. Isabel was working with Katani. Avery was working with Charlotte. And Maeve, with just a little bit of maneuvering, managed to pull her desk over so that she could work with Dillon.
He leaned over her desk. “Hey,” he said. “I’m really psyched about Friday.”
“Me too,” Maeve said. She hoped her voice sounded enthusiastic. It wasn’t that she wasn’t excited anymore. She was. It was just…well, the whole thing was getting so unbelievably complicated. Maeve could barely remember what she’d told which person about where she was going to be. And she was getting more and more worried that somehow, somebody was going to find out that she was really out with Dillon. She almost didn’t want to go now. But, she couldn’t say no to Dillon. Especially since his father got the tickets. What a mess!
Avery was up in her bedroom with the door closed tight, lying on her carpet on her stomach. She’d spent the last hour turning her room into a guinea pig Olympics. It took a little ingenuity, but it was totally worth it.
The long jump was the first event. Avery had set up a series of markers so she could measure how far Hamm and Beckham could jump. The high jump was fashioned out of a wire hanger, and she had to admit that neither guinea pig seemed very excited about it.
But she had big hopes for them.
“You guys just need a little exercise—and a little freedom,” Avery crooned to them, crawling as fast as she could alongside of Hamm to egg her on as she raced along the side of Avery’s bed.
She was pretty certain that with some work, these two could become show guinea pigs. Before the week was out, Avery was sure she’d be able to get them REALLY off and running.
“You’re going to be little guinea pig Olympic stars,” she told them encouragingly.
A sudden knock on the door made her jump straight up. Oops—it was her mother. She might not be that happy to see these little guys crawling around outside of their cage.
“Avery? Can I come in?”
“Just give me a sec, Mom,” Avery said.
She grabbed Hamm and stuffed her back into her cage. But where was Beckham, that rascal? She really WAS picking up speed. All that training was paying off. Shoot—now she couldn’t seem to find her. Avery stuck her head under her bed skirt, peering around frantically. All she saw was a blue shin guard and a wadded-up pair of sweats. So that’s where her shin guard had gone—she’d been searching for it.
“Avery? I need to talk to you,” her mother said, sounding a little impatient.
Just as her mother started to turn the door handle, the shin guard started to move across the floor, trailing a sock and a dust ball behind. Beckham! Avery grabbed the shin guard, the sock, and Beckham (who now looked like a dust ball herself) and shoved her quickly into the cage, forgetting to close the lid just as her mother came into the room.
“What’s going on in there?” her mother demanded.
“It’s messy, Ma. Super, super, SUPER messy. An Olympic-sized mess,” Avery informed her—and actually, this was all pretty much true. She didn’t want her mother to know that the guinea pigs had been running around. That wasn’t part of the deal.
“It is!” her mother said, looking unsettled. “Avery, I really wish you would try to be a little neater. You’re old enough now…” She paused. “But—that isn’t really what I came in to talk about. I wanted to let you know that we’re all set for Saturday. Mr. Jameson is SO happy that you’re going to be here. And that your friends are coming, too.”
Avery clapped her hand to her forehead. She’d forgotten all about the dinner on Saturday night. She’d better move fast to round up Katani, Maeve, Isabel, and Charlotte and get them to come over. Not to mention telling them that they were supposed to be showing all those Talbot Academy guests what “girls of today” were really like.
“Okay, Mom. I’ll remind everyone,” Avery said, trying not to let her mother back in the room. It was hard, because her mother kept pushing the door open a little, and Avery kept trying valiantly to keep it closed.
“And I’ll clean my room,” Avery said. “I promise I’ll have it all cleaned up by Saturday.”
“That would be lovely,” Avery’s mother said, truly pleased. “I appreciate you making the effort, Avery.”
It was no small thing to clean her room, but Avery found she wanted to do it. Partly because her mom had been so nice about letting the guinea pigs stay. And partly because it was beginning to be a nightmare. She would clean her room and she would clean the guinea pigs’ cage, too. She had until Saturday. It was possible.
After school, Katani knocked lightly on the door to the principal’s office.
“Come in!”
Mrs. Fields, her grandmother, always looked so different to Katani here in her office. Maybe it was the little sign that said “Principal” on the door. Maybe it was the stacks of papers and files on her big desk, or the plaques and certificates lining the wall. She just looked so official. Katani was extremely proud of her grandmother. She had so much dignity and presence—she held herself so tall, and her voice always filled the room with firm authority when she spoke at assemblies. If she’d worried at all about what it would be like starting junior high and having her grandmother as the principal, she didn’t worry anymore.
“Katani! What brings you here this afternoon?” Her grandmother beamed at her, getting up from her desk and clearing some files off a chair so that Katani could sit down.
Katani set her backpack on the ground. “Well, we’re doing a research project in social studies and English, and I wanted to interview you,” she said.
Mrs. Fields welcomed her with a big smile.
Katani started to explain, and her grandmother nodded. “Yes. I’ve heard quite a bit about this project. And I think it’s a wonderful idea. Katani, I’m flattered that you’d like to talk with me. Let me just tell Ms. Sahni that I’ll be busy for a while, and you and I can talk.”
While her grandmother buzzed out to the front office, Katani looked admiringly at the row of quotations above her grandmother’s desk. She loved the quotes from Martin Luther King, Jr., but her favorite was from Maya Angelou: “A bird does not sing because it has an answer. It sings because it has a song.” She got her notebook out and wrote the quotation down. Her grandmother had chosen all the quotes, and Katani thought that they were great examples of what she admired most in her—her sense of purpose and her understanding of human nature.
“Okay,” Mrs. Fields said, turning back to Katani with a smile. “So what can I tell you that you don’t already know about me?’
“Well…” Katani chewed on the end of her pen. “I’m really curious what made you decide to go into education. And also, what it was like being African American here in Brookline in the 1960s?”
Her grandmother nodded. “Those are good questions, Katani. I really did get to see some amazing changes in this city. One of the most rewarding experiences for me was watching the struggle in the African American community to desegregate the schools.”
“Were you a part of that?” Katani asked, getting interested. She knew less than she’d like to about what schools had been like in Boston when her grandmother was growing up, and suddenly Katani realized that this would be a great subject to focus on for her part of the Heritage Museum.
“My mother was a teacher. Did you know that? And your great-grandfather was one of the best barbers and hair stylists in Boston.” Mrs. Fields sighed. “They died before you were born. But they were amazing people—always fighting for what they believed in. They were both a part of a group called Operation Exodus—a group of African American parents who worked very hard in the ’60s to make schools a better place for their children.” She looked misty-eyed. “Katani, I would’ve loved for you to have met them. Both of my parents gave me
such a love of education that I always vowed that one day I would become a teacher. And then I became very interested in how schools ran, and before I knew it…I became a principal!”
“Grandma, you’ve given me a wonderful idea,” Katani said, jumping up to give her a hug. “I know exactly what I want to do my research on now! Thank you so much!”
Mrs. Fields smiled fondly at her, but Katani could tell she was still half-remembering all of the things that were coming back to her. And Katani wanted to learn more about them, too. She was off to the library, ready to put her grandmother’s history in context.
CHAPTER 16
Lost and Found
Wednesday afternoon, there was the usual crush at the seventh-grade lockers. Avery was digging through the mess at the bottom of hers, trying to find her soccer cleats, when Maeve came hurrying up.
“I’ve been looking for you,” she said, panting a little. “I wanted to check and see how my babies are. You didn’t say a word about them today!”
Avery bit her lip. She didn’t think this was the best time to tell Maeve that one of her “babies” was AWOL: “absent without leave.” She had forgotten to secure the lid on the cage when her mother had come in the room. Avery had combed her bedroom last night, but she couldn’t find a single sign of Beckham. Hamm was sleeping peacefully in her cage, apparently enjoying having the whole space to herself. But where was Beckham?
Avery had looked absolutely everywhere. Under the bed, under her desk, behind the bureau…a wave of panic had washed over her when she realized that the door to her bathroom was open, and maybe Beckham had gotten herself into a jam. She’d peered frantically down into the toilet, but thank heavens, she wasn’t in there. And not in the sink or shower, either. So then where could she be?
Finally, she’d had no choice but to go to bed, vowing to get up early and search all over again. Surely Beckham would show up in the morning.
