A Month of Mondays

by Joëlle Anthony

  After I’d dried my hair and changed into sweats, I went downstairs, and AJ informed me that she’d taken two personal days off work because I’d messed up, and we weren’t going to waste them. I couldn’t figure out why she’d stayed home when Dad had Monday and Tuesday off this week, but when I tried to ask she cut me off.

  “Your father has stuff to do.”

  I ended up spending the rest of my suspension doing homework while AJ hovered. The trade-off was that the food was great, and there was no big sister glaring at me for forty-eight hours, which I thought was more than adequate compensation.

  “When you’ve finished labeling the furniture on that worksheet,” AJ said, leaning over me and smothering my shoulder with her huge bosom, “I have another blank one for you that I got off the Internet.”

  Great. “Okay.”

  I wondered what Jessica was doing. I bet she wasn’t labeling parts of houses en français, even though she had to take the same test as me on Wednesday. Boy, was I stupid when I admitted to AJ that we had a midterm in French. In a matter of seconds she had my textbook open, my notes spread out, and my butt in the chair. She even scanned the worksheets I’d already filled out and removed the answers so I could do them all over again for practice.

  What I couldn’t figure out was why she was so interested in homework. She’d always expected me to keep my grades up, but she’d never been so hands on. Was this because I got suspended? Had Tracie told her about Honors English, and now she thought she could smarten me up? Had my father lost his job and she was preparing me to enter the work force? She was acting like somebody’s mother.

  Ohhhhh…slow old Suze. Of course! I wasn’t suddenly Miss Popularity for no reason. It was my mother…good ol’ Caroline. She’d certainly stirred the pot with her creepy long fingernails, hadn’t she? It was almost like AJ was pretending she was my real mother, and there wasn’t any room for anyone else.

  Very interesting.

  My devious mind wondered how I could benefit most from this situation. I’ve heard of kids playing their divorced parents against each other, but, quite honestly, I’ve never really thought of my parents as divorced. I guess they must be if Caroline remarried, but to me there wasn’t any tragic breakup, mudslinging, or one parent waving their purchasing power in the other one’s face. There were four of us for a while, then there were three of us for a long time, and now there were four of us again. Kind of.

  “Suze?” AJ called from the kitchen.

  “Yeah?”

  “How about a break?”

  “Great. My favorite quiz show’s on in a few.”

  “I was thinking you could help me make dinner,” she said, popping her red, doughy face through the little archway over the breakfast counter.

  I stood up and stretched. “Yeah, sure.”

  Another mother-daughter moment? I didn’t think so. AJ’d had plenty of time over the last ten years to step into the role, but although I could count on her as one of the adults I could go to in a crisis, I didn’t think of her as my surrogate mom.

  In no time at all I had a frilly yellow apron tied over my jeans, which was not my idea, and a pile of vegetables to chop for the salad. “So, what’s this I hear about Honors English?” AJ asked.

  I knew it. Tracie the Traitor.

  “Huh? What do you mean?” I asked, playing the innocent. It never actually works, but it’s a reflex. What can I say?

  She lasered me with the no-BS look. I shrugged it off and acted totally casual. “It’s not a big deal. I’m doing a project with Amanda, and so I’m sitting in on the Honors Class with her.”

  AJ flung a pinch of salt at her saucepan and then, without telling me what to do or anything, which she knows I hate, she simply crossed over to me to adjust the carrot on the cutting board and reposition my knife hand. Slicing was easier now, but I hoped I didn’t have to learn seventeen ways to chop carrots. “What’s your topic?” she asked, moving back to her pan.

  “Janitors. I mean, custodians.” Amanda had a heart seizure every time I called them janitors. “The school district wants to get rid of them.”

  “Ohhh…” she said, stirring slower and slower while she tried to remember something. “I’ve heard of that. Oh, I know. Trina, across the street, she works for the Malahat School District, and they did that.”

  “Yeah, I know. We’ve been trying to dig up some info on how it’s going for them, but no one will answer our emails.”

  AJ stirred cream into the fish chowder and added some fresh dill. “Maybe you could interview her.”

  “Really? Cool.”

  “You can do it after supper if she’s free.”

  My heart jumped a beat and I almost cut off the tip of my finger, instead of the green part of the carrot. “I don’t want to interview Trina on my own,” I said. “I need Amanda.”

  “Mrs. Blevins to you, not Trina,” she said. “And you don’t need Amanda.”

  “I could text her,” I said. “Her dad will bring her over.”

  “You can do it on your own,” AJ said. “Besides, I don’t think Trina would want to talk to a bunch of people.”

  “Amanda’s not a bunch of people.”

  AJ nailed me with her laser look again.

  “Okay.”

  “I’ll call her after we eat,” she said.

  ^^^

  Once the table was cleared, I washed the dishes while AJ dialed Mrs. Blevins. “Trina, hi. It’s Jenny. I wanted to ask you a favor.”

  I turned on the faucet to rinse a plate, drowning out most of what AJ said, because I didn’t want to face her wrath if she thought I was eavesdropping. But when I shut the water off to scour the soup pot, the conversation sounded too interesting to ignore, so I took my chances, scrubbing very, very quietly.

  “I see,” AJ said. “Okay. Well, of course, I understand. It could be confidential, though.”

  I stretched my eardrums. It didn’t sound like Mrs. Blevins wanted to be interviewed.

  “Uh-huh. Well, if you feel that strongly then I certainly understand. Of course. Hey, don’t sweat it. I’ll see you at Weight Watchers on Thursday. Okay. Bye.”

  AJ hung up the phone and came out to the kitchen to dry. I kept scrubbing the already clean pot in slow circles, waiting for whatever she had to say. You don’t rush AJ.

  “She’s afraid to talk to you,” she said after a minute.

  “What do you mean?”

  “She’s worried it could get back to the school district.”

  “What could get back?”

  “Let’s just say the whole ‘firing the custodians’ thing isn’t working out too well, and she doesn’t think she should talk about it.”

  Now I was really interested. “Not working out how?”

  “I think we better drop it, Suze.”

  “Really? How come?”

  “She’s not only afraid it could get back to them. She’s afraid of losing her job.”

  “What?” I said. “From talking to some kid for a dumb school project? What happened to freedom of speech?”

  “There’s another thing called confidentiality in the workplace. And your project may have farther-reaching consequences than you imagine.”

  I rinsed the pan and handed it to AJ. “Maybe if we went over there together.”

  She tossed her towel down on the drain board and gave me the look again. “I said we should drop it.”

  I tried to match her stare, but even though I learned it from her, I’m still the student and she’s the master. “Yeah, okay.”

  “Don’t forget that paper on Great Expectations,” she said over her shoulder on her way out.

  Sheesh. AJ must’ve spied in my notebook and seen my homework list. I watched her push through the swinging door into the dining room, her hips barely making clearance, and I thought again of the seventeen kinds of
cookies we’d made over that grade six Christmas break. I don’t even really like cookies anymore, and for the first time I wondered if that might have been her plan. Maybe she was a kind of mother to me, and I’d just never known it. After all, it isn’t like I’ve had much experience with them.

  Chapter 21

  I picked up a baseball jersey and threw it in the hamper. Amanda looked up from her sports magazine. “Not everything on the floor is dirty,” she said.

  “How am I supposed to tell?” I picked up some more clothes and stuffed them in with the jersey.

  “Yeah, I guess you can’t. Mom’ll wash it all, anyway.”

  Must be nice to have someone do your laundry. I tried to imagine Caroline doing mine and laughed.

  “What?” Amanda asked.

  “Nothing.” I pushed her feet out of the way so I could search under the bed. She sprawled out on the mattress and flipped the pages. While it was true I was cleaning her room, I wasn’t doing it out of the goodness of my heart. I was strictly in it for the twenty bucks. And if she was smart, she’d tip me, too.

  “Maybe we should work on our project while you clean,” she said.

  “It depends,” I said. “I don’t want you doing anything messy.”

  “I won’t. I’ll use the computer. Have you seen it?”

  I looked around for her laptop. If it was on her desk, it would be a while before I could unearth it. Then I spotted a corner of it sticking out of her closet and handed it over. She opened it up, but the battery was dead. “Now I suppose you want the cord,” I said.

  “Yep.”

  “Why’s it dead, anyway? Playing computer baseball?”

  “Yeah, and you should see me pitch,” she said, her eyes lighting up. “I’m so good at this game. You wanna play against me?”

  “I think I’m cleaning your room.”

  “Oh, right. Okay…the cord?”

  I found it plugged into the wall.

  “I just want to play one inning,” she said. “To get my brain moving.”

  She must’ve thought I didn’t know anything about baseball, because that one inning lasted so long that by the time she was ready to work, I’d made a ton of progress on her room. “Look,” I said. “You can actually see your desk.”

  “Cool.”

  Then we both heard footsteps, and Amanda jumped up, and I dove for her place on the bed. By the time Heather opened the door, I was kicked back with the laptop and Amanda was fumbling around with the neat piles I’d made on her desk like she’d organized them herself.

  Heather stood framed in the doorway, smiling at us and looking regal. She was so beautiful, sometimes I couldn’t help staring at her. She was what my dad would call a stunner. It was pretty easy to believe she was once a big-time model. In the living room, there was a framed photo of her on the cover of Italian Vogue from when she was sixteen. “It’s good to see your floor, Amanda,” she said.

  “Yeah, well what choice did I have? There is no way you’re getting in here to clean.”

  “And I’m very grateful,” Heather said.

  I muffled my laughter.

  “Mom, are you just checking on me?” Amanda asked.

  “Actually, I came to tell you that your dad and I are going out to dinner, and the two of you aren’t invited because it’s a romantic night out.”

  Amanda and I rolled our eyes at each other. Her parents were so in love, it was sick. And kind of cool. “Suze,” Heather said, “I’m willing to suspend my no-sleepovers on school nights rule if you two need more time to work.”

  “Oh, no thanks. I’ve been at my aunt and uncle’s since Monday, and I went to school from there this morning, so I’m thinking I need to go home tonight. For more clothes and stuff.” Honestly, I was kind of missing my own lumpy bed.

  “Okay,” she said. “We’ll give you a ride when we get back. That’ll still give you a few more hours together. And there’s leftover chicken in the fridge.”

  “Suze doesn’t eat meat,” Amanda reminded her.

  “Oh, right. Of course. Sorry, Suze.” She pulled a couple of twenties out of her wallet. “You can order Chinese food instead. Or raid the freezer for pizza.”

  I really hoped Amanda would choose the Chinese food, because I could do with some spicy Szechuan vegetables.

  “Definitely Chinese,” she said, grinning at me. She knew me so well.

  “Okay. Have a good time. And remember, Mrs. Wadkins is home next door if you need her.” She turned to go and then looked back at me. “It must be nice to have a friend like Suze to keep you company while you clean.”

  She was barely through the door before Amanda started cracking up, so I jumped up and clamped my hand over her mouth. She threw me down on the bed, the two of us giggling uncontrollably. We both knew her mom would not be cool with Amanda paying me to clean her room. That was our secret. And one I was happy to keep, because I would finally be able to buy some minutes for my phone.

  ^^^

  An hour and a half later we weren’t laughing anymore.

  There were two things you had to keep in mind when dealing with Amanda. One, she knew everything, and two, she was always right. Needless to say, our friendship wasn’t always smooth skating on fresh ice.

  “The meeting’s right around the corner, Suze,” she told me for the tenth time.

  “I know.”

  I really knew. It was all I could think about. When I wasn’t thinking about Tracie, Caroline, Baker, AJ, and all the rest of my schoolwork. Grade seven was turning out to be a lot tougher than I’d ever imagined it would be.

  Amanda sat there staring at me. I glared back, but this time she didn’t give in. “Don’t worry so much,” I said. “I’m getting graded on it too, you know.”

  “Yeah, well, my grades are important to me.”

  “And mine aren’t?”

  “Everyone knows you’re a coaster.”

  She’d said it under her breath, but I heard her. I tossed the empty Chinese food container into the trash bag.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “What?” she asked.

  “I heard what you said. What do you mean? You think I just coast through school?”

  “If the shoe fits.”

  “At least I’m not an overachiever.”

  “Whatever.”

  We sat there for five solid minutes, biting our lips to keep from saying what we really thought. I wanted to call my dad and ask him to come get me, but then Heather would want to know why I went home early. I crossed my arms and let my hair fall into my face so she couldn’t see she’d hurt my feelings. Who did she think she was? It was just one little speech in the fabulous life of Amanda Whitmore. It probably wouldn’t even affect her grade that much.

  I, on the other hand, had everything riding on it. If I wanted to make it in Honors English, I had to do a totally awesome job at the school board meeting. And Caroline was coming. And Dad was getting off work early so he could come, and AJ and Uncle Bill would be there, too. Plus Tracie. Amanda’s parents had seen her give a million-and-one speeches. She had nothing to worry about.

  “This is a lot more important to me than you think,” I finally said.

  “Yeah, right.”

  “It is. You think you know everything, but you don’t know the half of it.”

  “Whatever.”

  I stayed hidden behind my curtain of hair and said, “If I do well on this presentation, then Baker says I can stay in Honors English.”

  “Really?”

  I flipped my hair back and glared at her. “Yes, really. Why is that so hard to believe?” Hot tears sprang up. I opened my eyes wide like a cartoon character to keep them from falling. If I blinked I’d be toast.

  Amanda’s face softened a little. “It’s not hard to believe,” she said. “Really. I didn’t mean to so
und that way. I’m sorry, Suze.” She scooched over on the bed next to me and put her arm around my shoulder. “I’m really nervous about this. You know how I get before speeches.”

  “Yeah. Well…”

  It was true. No matter how many overachiever things she did, Amanda always freaked out a little beforehand. Or a lot. I didn’t want to forgive her, but we had a lot of work to do.

  “I swear,” she said, squeezing me closer, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you cry.”

  I shook off her arm. “I have dust in my eyes from this disgusting room,” I said.

  Amanda laughed. “Yeah, that’s it.”

  She gave me a second to pull myself together, and then she was back to business. “We’re actually in good shape,” she said. We have all our photos picked for PowerPoint, we can cite three examples of custodians deterring drug activity, plus the guy who took a bullet for a kid—that was in the US, but I think it counts. And I’ll crunch a bunch of numbers to prove how ineffective it is cost-wise to subcontract those jobs.”

  “And we have the survey you did at the mall, plus I have all the little speeches written out.” I did—in my mind, if not on paper. “All I have to do is type them up at school.”

  “You can use my computer,” she offered.

  I shook my head. “Thanks, but no thanks. Yours has too many fancy features.”

  The school computers were old and easy to use. True, they sometimes crashed and made you lose everything, but I didn’t have to worry about breaking them. You couldn’t pay me to touch Amanda’s brand-new laptop.

  “You should at least know how to hook it up,” she said for about the billionth time.

  “I know how. I’m not a total idiot,” I reminded her for the zillionth time.

  Again, we found ourselves glaring at each other. I don’t know why Amanda has to pressure me so much. Then again, maybe based on my past performance, she should be worried.