by Dalya Moon
Some white-haired ladies behind them go, “Aww.” One says to the other, “Family thing.”
“There's only one high school,” Aunt Trudy says. “My daughter is not getting home-schooled. Not by me!”
“She's not expelled from school, though. I am. Well, I'm not expelled either, just suspended. It was my first infraction.”
Aunt Trudy looks back and forth between me and her daughter. “Are you freaking kidding me? What's going on? What am I missing?”
As quickly as I can, mindful that everyone on the bus is listening, I explain the situation. Some of the other passengers stand to watch me, and when I finish, one of the women says to my aunt and cousin, “Sounds like you two have a good life here in Snowy Cove.”
Aunt Trudy throws her hands in the air. “We're moving in. We're moving out. Heck if I know what's going on anymore. Someone hand me my crutches.”
I find her crutches in a nearby empty seat and bring them over. I let her grab my arm so she can get up.
She grumbles at me, “You're going to have to tell that little story all over again so I can get a refund on our tickets. They were not cheap, let me tell you.”
* * *
Tick and I get to ride home in the back of the police car. “Just like a couple of criminals,” she says.
“Don't get too comfortable here,” I say. “You have to stay out of trouble from now on.”
“You too, Ms. Graffiti Artist,” she says.
We're quiet for a moment and the smells in the back of the car start to sink into my nose.
“Mrs. Rose read your family essay out loud in English.”
“It was that bad?” She reaches forward and tries sticking her fingers through the metal cage separating her from her mother.
“The opposite. It was good.”
She laughs. “Sure it was.”
“You know, I do love you.”
She smiles and blinks at me. “I love you too, cuz.”
“But not just that. I don't just love you because you're family. I also like you.”
She leans back and runs her hands over the flat door panel.
“You're fun,” I say. “You make me laugh, and when I think about it, my life was dull before you came. It would have been too boring if you'd left. I think Snowy Cove is good for you, but mostly I'm being selfish, and I want you to stay for my benefit.”
After a moment, she says, “I like you too.”
“Your friend Dana sure doesn't like me.”
She grimaces. “Dana can be a real buttmunch sometimes. I'm only friends with her because I like the guys so much.”
“Do you, um, do you like-like Josh?”
She makes an ick face. “Ty's the cool one. Josh is okay, but Ty's way better than Josh. He's the funniest guy ever.”
I put my hand over in front of her, like I'm offering to shake on a deal. “Friends?”
She leans over and grabs me for a big hug. “Forever.”
Chapter 12
My new roommate goes by the name Patricia. She is a strawberry blonde, like me.
Aunt Trudy's room is in the den. She said she can't stand looking at the black-and-white-patterned wallpaper, so she's been working on painstakingly scraping it off the old plaster walls. It gives her something to complain about.
My parents are trying a new thing: ballroom dancing. They started this week, and my mother's mood has been getting better and better. There are still times when she looks like she wants to muzzle Aunt Trudy, but things have been going well enough at home for the last few weeks, since my cousin and aunt returned.
The play went on, without me, and Cameron, who was my understudy, played the role of Tatiana. Her parents were very proud, and I hear she did well. Josh said I was better, and that he looks forward to being in another play with me.
I've been imagining us in Romeo and Juliet, mostly because it would be a good excuse to kiss. Or not. I'm really enjoying being friends with Josh, and Ty too, and Tick. Dana's been a little better lately. I'll give it some time, I guess.
I finished my one week of suspension, but my cafeteria service didn't start right away, because they had some paid help working for a bit. Today's my first day in the cafeteria, and I've been opening bags of frozen french fries for the last ten minutes.
The lunch lady's name is Giselle, which makes me think of a gazelle, which is probably the type of animal she looks the least like. Her last name is Polish and difficult to pronounce, so I'm to call her Giselle, even though she's an adult.
“Giselle, I'm reading the ingredients on this stuff and it's packed with saturated fat.”
She adjusts the knot of hair at the back of her hair net. “Fat's good. Growing kids need fat.”
I dump some frozen french fries into the basket next to the fryer.
“We could still make something like fries, but better.”
She gives me a look that says she's skeptical, but listening.
“We could make potato wedges in the big oven. With some nice pepper, or herbs, and olive oil.”
“We'll talk about it more tomorrow,” she says. “Can you stay after and help me with the grocery list?”
“Sure.”
I hear someone calling my name, so I head over to the cafeteria window and raise the pleated metal panel enough to lean down and look through the crack.
Genna's standing on the other side, with Briana and my cousin. “Do you get to take a break to eat?” Genna asks. “Should we save you a seat?”
Patricia says, “Save her a seat next to Jo-o-o-osh!”
“Tick! I mean, Patricia! Shush. Show a little discretion.”
“Or what. Will you disown me again?”
“I haven't disowned you yet this week, so ... maybe.”
Everyone laughs. Life with Patricia has not been without the occasional bump. She got hold of Genna's cell phone yesterday and texted the whole school a photo of what looked like someone's cleavage, but was actually the fold inside her own elbow. Principal Woo said that elbow-fold-exposure wasn't on his list, so she got off with a warning. He also gave her a printout of the various infractions, for future reference.
“How's the working life?” Briana asks. “Nice hairnet, by the way.”
To make them laugh, I pull the net down, all the way past my eyebrows. “I'm going to revolutionize this school's lunches. I'm going to go all Jamie-Oliver-Food-Network on this place.”
“That might be a good thing,” Genna says.
Briana says, “If you do, it'll probably get you the Woodchuck Award for service to the school.”
“One battle at a time,” I say, rubbing my hands together.
The girls walk away to get their table, so I close the window down again and help Giselle get the chili dogs ready. “These could be vegetarian,” I say.
She gives me a wink. “They already are. That brown stuff's all soy protein.”
“Wow.”
After we get everything lined up, I open the window up. The first customer in line is Josh.
“Hey,” he says.
“You here to make fun of my hair net?”
He glances up. “Oh, that. I didn't see it. I was looking at your eyes. Your hair looks nice pulled back like that.”
I can feel my cheeks turning pink from the compliment. “Um. Chili dog?”
“Yeah. I'll take two. Say, do you and Tick—I mean, Patricia, want to try singing some backup vocals for me? Or, not even backup, but we could sing as a trio.”
Some people behind Josh yell for me to hurry up with my “boyfriend.”
I put his food on a tray quickly, but neatly.
“Sure,” I say. “I love music, but I've never tried singing outside of the shower. I suppose it's good to try new things, isn't it?”
And I'm not just saying it. I've decided trying new things is absolutely essential to having fun.
Some people think having good self esteem comes from your parents, telling you how special you are, but I don't think that's enough. Your parents,
or your friends, can believe in you and tell you you're capable of great things, but you still have to go out and do them.
You're always watching yourself, too. If you don't do much, you're a neutral person, and that's okay. But if you do things that are good, you'll be able to see the good in yourself, that potential your friends and family see.
I smile at Josh.
He says, “I'll save you a spot at our table.”
As he walks away, I feel like my heart has sprouted wings.
Thank you for reading!
If you loved this book, I hope you'll check out my other titles. For a current list of books and series, visit my website: www.dalyamoon.com
love, dalya
