Chapter 11
I stared in the mirror, horrified. “Oh, Sammy, I look so bad.”
My cat purred and rubbed against my leg, assuring me I was totally gorgeous. God, I loved her. Too bad she was a big, fat, hairy liar.
I tweaked my bangs one way and then the other. I was going for the messy-casual look, but what I got was the you-let-Leigh-screw-with-your-hair-and-now-you’re-going-to-pay look (to quote Tracie). There were about two inches of grow-out, so my roots were all black, and even wrapped in a bun, I couldn’t hide the orange. Who wants to wear a bun anyway? I ripped out the elastic band and let my hair fall down around my shoulders. Screw it.
I tucked my bra strap under my favorite black sweater and pulled on the front of it where it’d shrunk in the wash. A button popped off and rolled behind the toilet.
Great. I didn’t have time to fix it, so I’d have to change. “I can’t go to dinner with my mothe—with Caroline looking like this,” I told Sammy.
She purred louder. At least she wasn’t judging me for seeing Caroline. She was the only one, though. I’d managed to keep it from Tracie, but I’d had to tell Dad. I couldn’t go out with Caroline without him knowing. He wasn’t exactly ecstatic, but he’d told me I should do what I had to do. And what I had to do was find out more about Caroline before making a snap decision. Who knows? Maybe she’d turn out to be a great mother.
The little nagging voice that kept saying A great mother wouldn’t have abandoned you, refused to be silenced, but I was getting good at drowning it out by thinking about how I’d rub it in Tracie’s face when Caroline came through for me. In my room the clock blinked seven forty-five. I subtracted an hour for Standard Time, since I hadn’t bothered to change it yet. Fifteen more minutes. Please, God, let Tracie and her friends do their usual Friday night pizza thing after hockey practice. My heart was beating at capacity already because of Caroline. It would fail for sure if I had to deal with Tracie.
I pulled things randomly out of my wardrobe and tossed them on the bed. Black sweaters, black T-shirts, black skirts, dresses, and pants. Everything black. Last summer, I’d decided it would be way easier to do laundry if all my clothes were the same color, so I’d hit the thrift stores and bought every cute black thing I could afford.
Since my choices were limited, and I wouldn’t be caught dead in any of Tracie’s clothes (mostly because she’d kill me), I pulled on my second favorite sweater. A lambswool number I’d gotten for three bucks at the Salvation Army, with only one tiny moth hole on the sleeve. A total score. To kill time, I folded the things I’d pulled out and placed them back in the wardrobe.
When I came out to the kitchen, the clock on the microwave read 7:01. Caroline was late. I poured myself a pop, flicked on the TV, and collapsed on the couch. My brain was mental mush already. Making plans so far in advance was a big mistake. Just keeping my big mouth shut around Tracie had been hard enough, but now I had to face Caroline and take bites of food and swallow them and not gag in front of her after a whole week of anticipation and anxiety.
On the TV, a balding plumber named Mick said, “I’ll take Shakespeare for one hundred.”
“This fairy queen spurned her lover for a changeling child in the woods of—”
“TITANIA!” I shouted before the host even finished reading.
“Who is Ariel?” Mick guessed.
“No, I’m sorry.”
“Titania, you idiot,” I told Mick.
“Who is Titania?” Janet from Calgary asked.
“Correct.”
Usually I’m really lousy at quiz shows, but Titania was the fairy that Jessica had dressed up as for Halloween. Sammy jumped off my lap and ran away, unimpressed. I plucked her orange-and-white hairs off my sweater. Jess would probably have to tutor me when we got to our Shakespeare unit, because all that fancy language might as well be Swahili as far as I was concerned.
English class had been really weird all week. Baker had told me he’d transferred me to seventh period to work on my project with Amanda, but we had done regular class stuff every day. We hadn’t had any time to work on our project at all. And he’d been treating me as if I were just like everyone else in the class. He’d even asked me a few questions.
I had to admit, Honors English was a lot more interesting than the regular class. For one thing, it moved right along. There was no time for reading under my desk. It was cool, too, because everyone said smart things instead of smart-alecky things. For once I wasn’t the only one reading the assignments either. It was like a discussion period in there instead of the Spanish Inquisition. I was kind of getting into it. Too bad I’d have to go back to Lame-o English after Christmas.
By the time round two of the quiz show came on, I’d forgotten all about Caroline. Well, maybe not forgotten, but I was really having fun with the show because I’d actually gotten a science question right too. Maybe school wasn’t such a waste of time after all. It looked like it might lead to big money. The phone rang, and I stretched across the couch to get the extension, not taking my eyes off the screen.
“ ’lo?”
“Suze? How come you’re home?” Amanda asked.
“I live here. Why are you calling if you don’t expect me to be here?”
“I was going to leave a message for you to call me after you got back from dinner. I wanted to find out how it went with your mom.”
Great idea. Tracie could’ve heard that message, and my life wouldn’t be worth the paper my birth certificate was printed on. “Why didn’t you text me instead?” I asked.
“I can’t find my cell phone.”
It was probably lost in her disaster area of a room. “Well, nothing’s happened yet.” Dang! I missed hearing the final question. “I’ll call you later.”
Amanda ignored the fact I wanted to hang up. “I thought you were going at seven.”
Yeah, so did I, but I wasn’t about to give her the satisfaction.
“Seven, seven-thirty. Something like that. In fact, I think I hear someone coming up the stairs now. Don’t wait up.”
I clicked off the phone before she could say anything else. I’d invented the part about someone on the stairs, but it turned out to be true. I crept up to the door to peek through the peephole, but before I could, there was a thump, a rattle, and a jangle of keys. My brain did a quick calculation. Friday night. Dad works till ten. That meant one thing. Crud.
I vaulted the back of the couch like an Olympic gymnast and grabbed the remote. Tracie followed two steps behind me, lugging her school stuff and carrying a pizza box. My stomach growled as the aroma of grease and cheese wafted through the air. But I would die of starvation and leave my bones to wolves before I’d ask her for a piece after the torturous week she’d put me through.
“Hey, Suze,” she said.
Well. That was a first. She actually spoke to me like I was her sister again, and not some evil traitor. I hid my surprise in hopes of pizza.
“Hi.”
“You eat?” she asked.
Double surprise. I bit back a what-do-you-care auto answer. That wouldn’t get me anywhere, and I was hungry enough to eat the box. “Not yet,” I said.
“Here.” She handed it to me. “It’s macaroni and cheese pizza.”
“My fave.” I smiled, and she grinned back. When I was really little, Dad had asked me what kind of pizza I wanted and I’d answered macaroni and cheese. It was a family joke. I hadn’t heard Tracie make a family joke since before Halloween. “Thanks.”
I opened the box and slid out a lukewarm slice. As Jessica would say in her flowery faux-Shakespeare, the stench of pepperoni flooded my nostrils. I was so hungry I was weak, but not enough to eat meat. I plucked the pieces off and tossed them to Sammy, who’d returned when she smelled food and she scarfed them down, licking her tiny lips.
It was almost eight o’clock. I never waited this long for din
ner. Plus I’d been so nervous all day I hadn’t even eaten my lunch. The first slice was gone in about ten seconds, and as I inhaled a second piece, I hoped Caroline didn’t take me to too fancy a restaurant. If she ever showed up. It was really weird that she hadn’t called. Maybe I should’ve tried her, but I couldn’t do that now…not with Tracie here.
“Do you remember that kid, Whitey Fresno?” Tracie asked, plopping down beside me. “He’s in grade nine now.”
“Sure, everyone knows Whitey. Class clown.”
Tracie guzzled my pop and I was about to yell at her until I remembered the pizza and stopped myself. “Yeah, well now he’s the class streaker,” she said.
“What?”
“No joke. Today, during gym, we were playing basketball. The guys were using half the court and we had the other, and out of God-knows-where, here comes Whitey running through the gym screaming like a maniac, totally naked.”
“No way!”
“I’m not kidding. Everyone stood there totally frozen. Finally, as he was about to escape, Coach tackled him. The custodian, Mr. Fredrickson, helped drag him into the guy’s locker room.”
“The custodian?”
“Yeah. I knew you’d like that part.”
“Excellent.” Caroline and her dinner faded from memory as my brain mulled over how we could make this part of our presentation. “Anyone get any photos?”
“Everyone’s phones were in their lockers.”
“Too bad. That would’ve added a lot to our speech.”
Tracie and I cracked up.
By eight-thirty I’d given up on Caroline. Besides, I wasn’t sure I wanted her to show up now anyway. Aside from the fact I was seriously annoyed that she hadn’t even bothered to call, this was the first night Tracie and I’d had a civil conversation in so long I couldn’t even remember the last time. I knew Caroline would totally spoil it. When the phone rang, I shoved Tracie out of the way to get to it first.
“Hello?”
“Susan? It’s Caroline.”
“Where are you?” I demanded.
“I’m still in the office, but I’m leaving now. Are you ready?”
I glanced over at Tracie trying to see if she was paying attention. “You still want to?”
“I can be there in twenty minutes, if I hit the green lights.”
A surge of anger pulsed through me. It’s not like I thought she was dead in a ditch or anything, but she could’ve called before now. How could I tell Caroline what I thought of her and her stupid plans with Tracie listening in? Not only was my sister sitting right there, but there was no way I was ditching her for Caroline now. I wondered if it’d look suspicious if I took the phone into my room. Probably.
“How come you didn’t call sooner?” I asked.
“Hmmm?” Click. Click. Click. She was obviously typing.
“I’ve been waiting since seven,” I told her, trying to be cryptic, and also let her know I was annoyed.
The clicking stopped. “Didn’t Sarah call you?”
“Who?”
“Sarah? My assistant.” Caroline sounded genuinely confused.
“No one called.”
“Oh, Susan, I’m so sorry,” she said. “My meeting ran late, and then I was stuck in traffic, and I had something I had to finish here at the office once I got back. I really apologize. I tried your cell, but you didn’t answer, so I asked Sarah to call you at home. That was around…six-thirty?”
I glanced over at the phone’s base and saw the light flashing. “I must’ve been in the shower.” I was going to have to get rid of that message before Tracie heard it, or else I’d be dead.
“Oh, I’m so sorry,” Caroline said again. “I feel awful. Let me make it up to you…we missed our reservation, but you can choose anywhere you want to—”
“I think it’s too late.”
Tracie mouthed something at me that looked like “Say no.” She probably thought I was talking to Amanda.
Caroline sighed. “I know I messed up, but I find it hard to believe it’s too late for a fourteen-year-old to go out on a Friday night.”
“Thirteen,” I said.
“Pardon?”
“Thirteen. Not fourteen. I gotta go.”
I hung up without waiting for her answer. After all, if it weren’t for Tracie, I would’ve passed out from hunger by now. As soon as Tracie was in the kitchen, I erased the message and switched the ringer off on the phone. I was beginning to have an inkling of why Caroline was getting such an icy reception from the rest of my family.
Chapter 12
Tracie went off to shower. I sat there flipping channels, not really seeing what was on the TV, trying to figure out how I felt about Caroline ditching me like that. I knew I should be more understanding, that it was just a series of missed calls and grown-up work stuff, but the anger kept building until I had to pound a few raggedy throw pillows against the wall to keep from calling her back and telling her off.
And then something that really freaked me out happened. A fast-food commercial came on, showing a family eating out together, and I realized that the second Dad got home, he’d want to know about dinner with Caroline. I’d begged him not to tell Tracie before, and he’d agreed, but he hadn’t been happy keeping my secret. What if he asked me how it went right in front of her?
I heard the hair dryer click off and I shoved Sammy out of my lap and jumped up. Bed. Now! And not to read, either. I’d have to pretend to be asleep. I took one step, tripped over Sammy, and fell flat on my face. I’d barely gotten to my feet when Tracie came out of the washroom.
“You look really tense,” she said before I could make my escape. Her long, straight hair hung almost to her waist, shiny and healthy, exactly the opposite of my rat’s nest. A pang of envy raced through me. If I could leave mine alone, it would look that awesome, too.
“No. I’m not tense,” I said way too loudly. “I’m fine. Just tired.” I moved toward the hallway. “Going to bed.”
“At nine o’clock?”
“Yeah. Yep. It’s been a long week.”
Tracie narrowed her eyes. Apparently I was acting a little too…I don’t know…weird?
Nervous.
“Really?” she asked, examining me to the point where I squirmed. “What do you mean a long week? How come? What happened?”
“Ummm…” Let’s see. There were so many things to choose from. Without even mentioning Caroline, there was the fight with Amanda, Monday’s detention, the project, and Baker being a pain in my butt, all stressful topics. I latched onto the one thing that would distract Tracie. “Uh, well, I got moved up to Honors English.”
Her face broke into a smile. “Awesome news, Suze! Congratulations! Come here. Sit. Tell.” Tracie motioned me over to the couch.
I’d chosen well. Of course she’d want to hear all about that. Tracie loved anything to do with school. She’s like Amanda that way. I really should have gone to bed, but Dad didn’t get off until ten on Fridays, so I still had some time. I sat. I told. She hugged me and offered to help any way she could.
“Baker’s so hot,” she said.
“Ew. Not you too. Leigh has a major crush on him.”
“He was a first-year teacher when I was there and we all loved him.”
“Gross.”
Tracie laughed. “Just wait. You’ll fall for him before the year’s over.”
“Doubtful.”
She studied me. “You still look stressed. Get up.”
“Why?”
“Just do it.”
I stood up because when she gets that determined look in her eye it’s easier than arguing. She shoved a bunch of junk mail off our dining room table, yanked the cushions off the couch, and spread them out.
“Lie down,” she said. “On your stomach.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m going to give you a massage.”
The last thing I wanted was Tracie’s hands on my neck. What if Caroline dropped by after all? “I’m good.”
“Get up there. And take your sweater off.”
“Can’t we do this on the bed? It’d be softer.”
“This is higher. It’ll be easier for me.”
I peeled off my sweater. “It’s freezing in here.” I climbed up onto the rickety table.
She threw Dad’s stadium blanket at me. “Lie down.”
“I hope when you have your own spa you’re nicer to your customers.”
“When you pay me, I’ll be nicer.”
Owning a day spa and salon was my sister’s dream. She planned to get her hairdresser’s license and then go to university and earn a degree in business, so she could open one by the time she was twenty-five. Before Leigh ruined my hair, Tracie always did it for me; now she wouldn’t touch it. But sometimes she practiced manis and pedis on me and my friends. The massage thing was new and I wasn’t sure how much I was going to like it. I lay down on the cushions anyway. They slid apart, and I hit my hip bone. “Ouch.”
“Don’t be a baby.”
I had to kneel on the table while Tracie tried to straighten them underneath me.
“This is stupid,” I said.
“You’ll see. It’ll be awesome.”
She put some sort of smelly lotion on her hands…vanilla and maybe cinnamon? And then she started by rubbing my shoulders and I have to admit, it wasn’t bad. Her hands were nice and warm against my skin too. I sighed. I began to feel a little melty under her strong fingers.
“See? Told you,” she said. “Why’re you so tense? It can’t only be English.”
I couldn’t tell her I was worried about Dad coming home and asking about dinner. That wouldn’t fly. “I’m not tense,” I said instead.
A Month of Mondays Page 7
