I’m curious about Mom now. I want to go spy. But I am not telling Jo that.
She’s been knocking and knocking ever since she slid that note under the door. Like I’m an idiot. So I’m writing her back. I’m going to tell her:
Stop knocking! I see your notes. I’m ignoring you.
Still The Same Day
Here’s the ripped letter from Mrs. McElhaney. Mom’s already read it. And I can’t think of anywhere else to keep it private.
I don’t like what she said about my learning. There is nothing wrong with my learning. And I definitely don’t want to go to Friendship Forward. Last year when Billy and Sasha went, everybody knew and everybody talked about it.
I don’t want everybody talking about me. Trying to figure out what’s the matter with me. Plus Billy and Sasha went because Billy spat on Sasha and Sasha punched Billy’s ear one day during recess. I didn’t punch or spit on anybody. I’m not even being mean. Lula should have to go by herself.
I told Mom I’m not going. But she said I have to. And she started talking again about calling Lula’s mom.
“You and Lula have been so close for so long,” she said. “It’s a special relationship. Don’t you want me to help you protect it?”
I was so mad then. I told her, “Stop!” Then I shoved the note back in my backpack and stomped down the hall.
Only, that turned out to be stupid. Because Jo found the note scrunched up in there. And now I’m stuck in the LONGEST TIMEOUT IN THE HISTORY OF THE WORLD.
Same Day. Of Course.
I’m bored bored bored bored bored. Boy am I bored.
And also, starving!
Isn’t it time for dinner? Is Mom not going to feed me? Plus, doesn’t she know I have homework in my backpack out there? I’m going to FAIL OUT OF SCHOOL and DIE OF STARVATION, and it will be all her fault.
Wait—more noises.
And, yes, another note from Jo:
If you want to ignore me so badly, then fine, go ahead. But remember last week, when you were trying to make an old T-shirt into a walrus? Remember—you dropped your needle on the rug and I stepped on it? I didn’t ignore you when you apologized! After the terrible pain had gone away and Mom had vacuumed so I wouldn’t have to be afraid walking barefoot in my own home, and then Delores had vacuumed some more, I forgave you.
Anyway. I just peeked into the office, and Mom is lying on her back, on the wooden floor by her desk, with her hands over her eyes. Isn’t that so weird? I said, “Mom? Are you okay?” And without even taking her hands off her eyes she said, “I’m fine, thanks.” And I said, “Why are you lying on the floor?” And she said—still with her hands over her eyes!—“I’m not entirely sure. It feels good though.” And I said, “Do you need help?” And she said, “Just a little peace and quiet, please. That would be a big help.”
So I’m giving her peace and quiet. But I’ve got nothing to do out here. And you’re still mad at me, and Mom has gone bonkers. Today sucks.
Jo
Now I’m a little worried about Mom. And also, it sounds like she’s forgotten all about dinner.
Same Day, Still No Dinner.
I just tried lying on the floor with my hands over my eyes. It did not feel good. It felt uncomfortable. But I did have a genius idea while I was lying there. I got up and wrote to Jo. I drew on that note, too. It looked just like this:
Jo—
You know your art supply set? I will forgive you if you give me the sketching pencils that smell like the forest. And if you promise to never read anything that belongs to me ever again.
Celie
Because I love those yummy-smelling pencils. And also, being mad is tiring.
FINALLY!
I am eating a banana. Because Mom finally opened the door, and I am free!
Still no dinner, though. Mom says she’s working on it.
I kind of want to smudge some of my banana here, so I’ll have it forever. Because it is my Fruit of Freedom! Only, that would be disgusting.
November 9 again, but late at night
I’m deep under my covers now, with a flashlight. Mom and Dad turned off our lights a while ago. Jo fell asleep right away, but not me. I couldn’t sleep at all. And I could hear Mom and Dad’s voices in the living room. So I decided to do some spying.
I tiptoed down the hall very quietly. And I sat close to the bathroom door. So I could pretend I had to pee, if I heard Mom or Dad coming.
Here’s my spy report:
From the
Top-Secret Spy Notebook of
Celie Valentine Altman
Remember: Spies must be alert at all times! Practice using each of your senses. Answer each of these questions in the space below:
What do you smell?
the forest
What do you taste?
Spit? Air? I don’t know! I’m not eating anything!
What do you see?
white wall
crack in wall paint, coming down from ceiling
wood floor
hairband with Jo’s hair on floor
What do you feel?
Annoyed. Jo’s hairbands and hairs are everywhere!
What do you hear?
Mom and Dad’s voices
(voices too quiet—I’m scooching closer)
Mom’s saying: Now it’s just sitting over Baton Rouge. I hate thinking of her all alone in that big house with a storm raging outside. I’ve only watched a little of the coverage. I didn’t want the girls to see it and worry. It upsets me, too. There’s so little I can do from here.
Dad: Have you tried calling?
Mom: I keep getting a busy signal. The phone lines must be down. I begged her to go stay with Meepsie, but she flat-out refused.
Dad: Who can blame her? I would refuse to stay with Meepsie. Wouldn’t you?
Mom: I know, but this is an emergency.
Dad: It’s not an emergency yet.
Mom: I wish the Weavers hadn’t moved.
Dad: Your mom’s survived these storms plenty of times before.
Mom: But remember when we saw her in September? How much slower she was moving? She is seventy-five. And that email from Meepsie today! That was so disturbing! Do you think Mom’s mind is slipping?
Dad: I don’t think so. But let me take another look at the email.
Mom: Hold on a second.
(both of them are quiet)
(still quiet)
Mom: It’s not connecting.
(quiet again)
Mom: Ugh. What a day! Nothing is going right. Do you think it’s the router?
Dad: I’ll check.
I heard footsteps then, so I had to stop writing. I ran into the bathroom and shut the door. One second later Dad knocked and said, “Who’s that in there?”
“Celie!” I said. “I’m peeing!” Which was sort of a lie. I was still on my way to the toilet.
He said, through the door, “Pee away! Then straight back to bed with you.”
I tried to pee, but I couldn’t get anything out. Now I’m back in bed. And I want to know if something’s wrong with Granny! I’m worried! What if the storm knocks a tree on top of her? What if she’s too slow to get away? And what did Mom mean about a slipping mind? WHAT IS IN MEEPSIE’S EMAIL?
Granny’s not that slow, though. There are lots of slower old ladies. Like the one I got stuck behind on the subway steps yesterday. Granny’s much faster than that woman.
I have to talk to Jo about all this. Going to wake her up now.
Even Later
Jo made me feel better. I closed our door very quietly and shook her awake. She opened her eyes wide. When she saw me, she sat up fast. “What time is it?” she said. “What happened? What’s wrong?”
I sat beside her and told her the whole story in a whisper.
She put her arm around me then. And she said, “I think everything’s going to be fine, I really do. Mom and Dad are just worriers. They won’t even let me go by myself to the drugstore around the corner, right?
Every other sixth grader I know gets to do that. Every single one. So you have to remember, our parents worry.”
I nodded. That made sense.
“Want to crawl in bed with me?” Jo asked.
I kind of wanted to. But I shook my head. Because there is not a lot of room in Jo’s bed with Jo in it. And I knew I wouldn’t sleep.
“You could turn on a book light and write in your journal instead, if you want,” Jo said. “I won’t mind.”
So that’s what I’ve been doing. And it has helped me.
But now I’m very tired. It’s time to turn off the light.
Good night.
Wednesday, November 10, just after school
I hate this whole day.
Before school Mom tried to call Granny. But her phone was still busy.
At least Mom reached Meepsie. And Meepsie said Granny’s house didn’t look too damaged, just some tree branches down. She promised to check on Granny this morning. So that wasn’t too terrible.
But then, in math, Nora sent me this note:
Celie,
Want to go with me and Gracie to Lula’s movie party on Friday? If you want to, I’ll tell my mom to ask your mom.
Your friend,
Nora
I felt so bad, reading that note. I didn’t even know Lula was having a party. So she obviously didn’t invite me.
I told Nora I wasn’t going. Then I did something very stupid. I asked her who else was invited. She said Violet and Hannah and Isabel and Gracie and Blythe and Chloe and Elle. Practically the whole universe! Except for me.
Plus, Nora said Lula is renting two movies for that party. JUST LIKE my birthday celebration that got cancelled because of LULA’S MEANNESS! That is evil.
Maybe I could sneak into Lula’s house in the middle of thenight and cut off all her hair.
Bald Lula
At least my day got better in science. Because Mrs. McElhaney told us our assignments for our animal reports. And I got sloths! I really wanted sloths. They are SO SLOW. And furry. And they sleep ALL THE TIME. Hanging upside down in trees!
When Mrs. McElhaney was about to tell Lula her animal, I sent strong brain waves to Mrs. McElhaney, saying, “COCKROACHES! GIVE LULA COCKROACHES! She has dead cockroaches sometimes in her building’s basement! So that is the perfect subject for her!”
But Mrs. McElhaney did not receive my waves. She gave Lula otters. Which are obviously better than cockroaches. But still, not nearly as good as sloths.
Then the day got bad again. Because after lunch I saw Jo in the hallway with her friend Trina. And Jo said Trina’s coming over this afternoon, after they finish track. Which means they’ll be home any minute. But I hate Trina! Jo knows I hate Trina! She should STOP inviting her over! She should stop being Trina’s friend at all. They never used to be friends, until Jo joined the track team. I hate that stupid team.
I want to go fall asleep upside down in a tree now. Like a sloth. Hidden in the branches.
Later, Same Day
Now I hate today even more! Jo and Trina came home from track. They ate popcorn for snack and left kernels and salty white crumbs all over the sofa. I told them we’re supposed to eat in the kitchen. But Trina said, in a really annoying voice, “Relax. God. You’re so uptight.” And Jo laughed! Then they walked away from me, down the hall. AND THEN THEY LOCKED ME OUT OF MY OWN ROOM!
I banged and banged on that door. I shouted at Jo, too. I shouted things like: “OPEN THIS DOOR RIGHT NOW! It’s my room too. You’re NEVER allowed to lock the door. You and Trina HAVE to let me in!”
And Jo shouted back stupid things like: “We just want a little privacy. Can’t we have a little privacy? YOU HAVE THE WHOLE LIVING ROOM AND WHOLE KITCHEN AND BOTH BATHROOMS TO YOURSELF!”
I couldn’t BELIEVE that. I said: “YOU WANT ME TO PLAY IN THE BATHROOMS? I am telling Mom NOW!”
Right away I went to tell Mom. But she was in her bedroom with HER DOOR LOCKED. She NEVER locks the door! So I banged on her door, too, and shouted at her, too.
She cracked open her door and said, “I am on a very important call. I will be with you in a few minutes. For now, though, I need you to leave me be, unless you are having a true medical emergency. Do you need to go to the hospital?”
I had to say no. Because I didn’t actually need the hospital.
“Fine,” she said. “I’ll be out in a bit.”
And then she locked me out AGAIN!
That was the first time in my life I ever wished I was having a true medical emergency.
I shouted at her, “DO YOU WANT ME TO PLAY IN THE BATHROOMS? WITH ALL THE GERMS?” But she ignored me.
Then I thought about what she’d said. About a very important call. What could that be, except for a call about Granny?
Then I got even madder. Because everybody excluded me from everything! It wasn’t fair.
So I went right into Mom’s office and right over to her computer and right into her email. And I found Meepsie’s email about Granny.
I’m not supposed to go on Mom’s computer, because her author work is on it. But Mom didn’t stop Jo from getting kernels all over the sofa or from locking me out. So why shouldn’t I break rules, too? What a scary email Meepsie sent! I printed it out. The printer was ridiculously loud! Line after line of beeps and rattling. I worried the whole time that Mom would hear and come see what was happening. But she didn’t.
Here’s the email. I had to tape it in sideways so it would fit:
from
Meepsie Dixon [email protected]
to
Elizabeth Altman
date
Tuesday, November 9, 3:59 PM
subject
your mama’s freezer
Lizzie, I just got back from your mama’s house. I stopped by to remind her that I’m right next door, happy to have her if she doesn’t want to be all by her lonesome during the storm. She declined—you know how stubborn your mama is. Anyhoo, I stayed to chat. I was just getting myself some ice for my Diet Coke, thinking about how you and I used to ride our bikes together to the 7-11 for Big Gulps—weren’t those drinks humungous!—when I couldn’t help but notice that your mama is storing a bag of trash in her freezer. A clear kitchen trash bag, tied in a knot at the top. I saw rubber gloves in there and old roach motels, even a couple of pink sponge curlers. I would hope that not a living soul is using those uncomfortable curlers any more. At any rate I came back out of the kitchen and I said to your mama, “Miss Arlene, do you need help getting rid of your trash?” And she said, “I don’t need help with anything, thank you very much, Meepsie.” And I said, “Are you sure?” And she said, “Actually, I’ve just realized I have to send you on your way now. I have an urgent need for a bath.” “A bath?” I said. “Before you’ve even had supper?” And she said, “Yes, dear.” Then she showed me to the door, without even giving me a chance to finish my Diet Coke. Which is, of course, beside the point. The point is, Lizzie: Why is your mama freezing her trash?
I hate to add to your burden—you with your work and your busy husband, and your two gorgeous children. I just thought you ought to know.
Yours truly,
Meepsie
This is what I thought when I read that email: I thought, I don’t like Meepsie. Her hands are sweaty and she laughs too loud. But she is not a liar. So, WHY IS GRANNY FREEZING HER TRASH?
And then I thought, I need to talk to Jo right now.
And then I thought, I hate Stupid Trina! Because Trina was still locked in my room with Jo. And there was NO WAY I was risking Mean-a Trina seeing that email about Granny.
So I sat on the hallway floor outside the room, and I waited.
I drew a big picture of Mean-a Trina.
Then I scooched close to our bedroom door and tried to listen through it, to what Jo and Trina were saying. I couldn’t hear everything. But I definitely heard the word “bra.” And the word “period.” And the word “kiss.” Which all made me feel VERY uncomfortabl
e.
I moved back away from the door and thought instead about the problems I’d like Trina to have. Like diarrhea. And lice.
Only, I shouldn’t have thought about lice. Because my whole head started to itch. Then my neck. Then my back.
I couldn’t just sit there, itching. So I got up and started knocking on our bedroom door.
Jo hollered at me to go away.
I kept knocking.
“You’re giving me a headache!” Trina shouted.
Jo opened the door a little and said to me, “Please, please, please stop being so embarrassing.”
“I have to show you something!” I told her. “It’s important!”
She looked very serious.
“If I let you come in and show me,” she said, “will you stop bothering us?”
“Yes, I will,” I said. So she let me in.
Right away I saw Trina, sitting on our rug and smacking her gum. Way too close to my bed.
“You have to get in the closet,” I told her. “And close the door.”
“Celie!” Jo cried.
“She can’t see what I have to show you!” I said.
“She’s not going in the closet!” Jo said. “If she can’t see whatever it is, then just leave the room and show me after she’s gone home.”
I didn’t want to leave the room, or wait that long. I did some fast thinking.
“Fine,” I said. “Then she has to swear an oath in writing that she won’t tell anyone. Ever. And she has to swear on something that really matters. Like her life.”
Trina rolled her eyes. Then she ripped a piece of paper out of the notebook on the floor beside her and wrote this:
i, Trina Walker, swear on my collection of skinny jeans that I will not tell anyone whatever it is Celie is talking about
I could not believe that pathetic oath!
Friendship Over (The Top-Secret Diary of Celie Valentine) Page 2
