There was something sad and embarrassing about watching Mom chant over and over again to her pained reflection, and I knew she’d be angry if she realized I’d seen.
I placed the pot of sunflowers on the hallway table and left, feeling about as low as an earthworm.
13
LEFTOVERS
A middle school cafeteria can be the loneliest place in the world if you care to eat there, which I definitely do not. But since I didn’t eat breakfast, and I’d forgotten my lunch at home, I took my place in the cafeteria line and hoped that whatever was being served today would vaguely resemble actual food.
I’d looked all over school for Violet so I could tell her about our new careers as campaign-sabotaging vandals, but so far I hadn’t seen her.
The line slowly inched forward. Lauren Wilcox and some of the other Paddlers were a few places in front of me. I couldn’t hear what they were talking about, so I moved in a little closer.
“Excuse me,” said the girl in front of me. “Would you mind not standing so close?” I muttered a “sorry” and stepped back.
I paid for my lunch and my stomach wound itself into knots as I held my tray and looked around, trying to decide where to sit and feeling like a leftover piece of pizza that no one wants. Maybe I was waiting for someone to come up and say, Hi, Izzy. Want to sit with me? But of course no one did.
Austin was sitting with Tyler Jones and Trent Walker at a nearby table. “Ribbit, ribbit!” Tyler said when he saw me staring. Austin elbowed him, and Tyler shut right up, but Austin wouldn’t look at me. We hadn’t played basketball since our fight, and I wondered if that was just how it was going to be from now on. Mom had tried to give me a speech over the summer about how boys and girls don’t always stay friends after elementary school ends, but the minute she said the word “puberty,” I stuck my fingers in my ears and started singing.
Sophia Ramos, a girl from my history class, was sitting by herself at a table, and I could swear she half waved at me as I passed by. I considered turning around and joining her, but I decided not to because:
a. I wasn’t completely sure she’d actually been waving at me, and not someone behind me.
b. Even if she was waving at me, Sophia had just moved to Dandelion Hollow right before school started, and she probably didn’t know that sitting with me could mean three solid years of being a potential middle school outcast, and I didn’t think that was fair to her. And most important . . .
c. Right then I spied an empty table behind the Paddlers, which would give me an excellent opportunity to listen to them.
“Everyone needs to be there at four this afternoon,” Lauren was saying as I sat down.
Where at four? I leaned back, closer to the Paddlers.
“Hey, Toad Girl,” Stella called. “Eavesdrop much?”
The Paddlers laughed, and Stella made the ribbit, ribbit sound that had chased me around the last couple years.
The bell rang, and the Paddlers began clearing their trays, and Lauren called out, “Don’t forget: four o’clock, Caulfield Farm. Be there.”
Instantly, I felt better, for the first time all day. I knew where the Paddlers were going after school, and when they were gonna be there. Life was suddenly looking up.
14
CAULFIELD FARM
“You know,” Mom said, as she started the car, “when you go to a meeting like this, it’s important to put your best foot forward.”
I had no idea what she was talking about, but I looked down at my combat-booted feet and wondered which one was better. “Well,” I said slowly, “I’m right-handed, so maybe—”
“No, it’s just an expression,” Mom said, irritation creeping into her voice. “It means to try and make a good impression. To show people your best side.”
“Oh, okay.” I paused. “What’s the best side of me?”
Mom’s hands tightened up on the steering wheel. “Oh well, there’s lots of great things about you. You’re a nice girl, for one thing, and you’re really very . . . spirited. And, well . . .” She fumbled about some more before lapsing into silence, but I knew the truth: Most parents like to brag about their kid’s grades or other accomplishments. But I never got on the honor roll, and I wasn’t a musical prodigy like Carolyn. The only thing I seemed to be good at was getting into trouble.
Mom turned the car down the long gravel road leading to Caulfield Farm, and I stared silently out the window. As soon as I heard Lauren mention the farm I knew she’d been talking about the volunteer meeting for Pumpkin Palooza this afternoon, because Mom was going to it too. It wasn’t too difficult to convince Mom to let me tag along, but now I was having second thoughts. Mom was obviously annoyed, and she was gripping the steering wheel so tightly her knuckles were white.
“Is everything okay?” I asked, then immediately wished I hadn’t, because I was sure she was still upset about her campaign materials getting damaged.
Which is all your fault, I reminded myself.
“I’m fine,” Mom answered. “I’m just dreading the meeting, I guess. Everyone knows what happened last night—I already received a bunch of phone calls this morning.”
Figures. In Dandelion Hollow, everyone knows everyone else’s business. Grandma Bertie says it’s one of the great things about living in a small town. Aunt Mildred says it’s the reason she packed her bags and left the minute she turned eighteen.
“I just can’t believe somebody would deliberately sabotage my campaign,” Mom said in a soft voice. “I’ve never heard of such a thing in Dandelion Hollow.”
I didn’t know what to say; it wasn’t often that Mom talked to me about things that really mattered, and I felt worse than ever. I considered coming clean again, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. We were already on shaky ground—things would totally explode if she knew I was responsible for messing up her campaign stuff.
We drove the rest of the way in silence, and soon Caulfield Farm came into view. It was the biggest farm in Dandelion Hollow, and one of my favorite places in town. I loved everything about it: the big pumpkin patch, the Caulfields’ big farmhouse, the red barn, the fir lot where everyone in town buys their Christmas trees, and Caulfield Pond, which is either a huge pond or a small lake, depending on who you ask. Now that it was October, all the maple leaves were aflame with color, and I could already taste the apple cider the Caulfields brewed in the fall.
Mom parked the car and shut the engine off, but we didn’t get out right away. First, she had to brush her hair and fix her makeup. After all, Candidate Malone could not be seen in public looking anything less than perfect.
While I waited, I rolled down the window and made faces at myself in the side mirror.
“Knock it off,” Mom said. “What will people think?”
“I don’t care what people think,” I said, making another face. I was trying to mimic the way Ms. Harmer looks when a kid doesn’t turn in their homework assignment: sort of constipated, and sort of like she has fire ants crawling on her insides, all at the same time. I was pretty sure Austin would think my impression was dead-on, and I was looking forward to showing him if we started speaking again.
“You really don’t care, do you?” When I looked back at Mom she was staring at me, an unreadable expression on her face.
“No,” I said. “I don’t.”
We stared at each other, until Mom sighed and stuck her lipstick back in her purse. “Let’s go,” she said.
The farm was owned by an elderly couple—everyone called them Grandpa and Grandma Caulfield—and when we stepped inside the farmhouse they both greeted us warmly.
“Janine Malone, we are certainly glad to see you today,” Grandpa Caulfield said, pulling Mom into a hug.
“That’s right,” Grandma Caulfield said in her no-nonsense voice. “We heard about what happened last night. Hold your head high, girl, and smile. Don’t let the nitwits in town get you down.”
“Thanks, Grandma Caulfield,” Mom said, and she actually did smile then.
“Everyone’s gathering in the kitchen,” Grandpa Caulfield said. “We’ll start the meeting in a few minutes.”
Mom and I followed the spicy scent of hot cider down the hall. The kitchen was large and decorated with plaid wallpaper. Several volunteers crowded around a big wooden island where Stella the Terrible was opening up Tupperware containers full of homemade cookies. They were frosted with a big “MF.” For “Mayor Franklin.” You know, just to make sure everyone knew exactly who we had to thank for the afternoon’s culinary confections. The rest of the Paddlers were passing them around to everyone.
“Thanks,” I said brightly to Lauren when she handed me a plate. “The cookies look . . . ,” I began, but she barely glanced at me before walking away.
“We should have thought of this,” Mom hissed, staring at her plate furiously. “People like free food.”
Personally, I didn’t think a few cookies were going to cost Mom the election, but I figured putting my best foot forward meant keeping my big mouth shut, so I kept quiet.
Monogrammed or not, the cookies looked good. They smelled good too. I picked one up and bit into it. Snickerdoodles—my favorite. I was finishing my third one when Mayor Franklin came over to give Mom her signature greeting: a side hug followed by a couple air kisses, which I happen to know Mom thinks is over-the-top and pretentious, but you’d never know it by the smile she pasted on her face.
“Janine, it’s so nice to see you,” Mayor Franklin said. She stepped closer to me, and I got a whiff of her perfume, which was so sickly sweet it rammed itself up your nose and down your throat and made you want to puke your ever-lovin’ guts out.
“I’m happy to be here,” Mom said.
“Under the circumstances, no one would’ve faulted you for skipping the meeting.” She shook her head. “Sabotage just cannot be tolerated.”
“I’m not entirely sure it was sabotage,” Mom said, her smile stretching tight. “It could have just been an accident.”
Mayor Franklin threw back her head and laughed. “Oh Janine, be serious! Of course it was sabotage. But I want you to know, just because someone out there really, really doesn’t want you to be mayor doesn’t mean I don’t think you can give my campaign a good run for its money!”
“Thank you,” Mom said archly. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
Mayor Franklin laughed again and turned to me. “Izzy, it’s nice to see you, too,” she said, which was a big fat lie, judging by the way her smile wilted. “I was sorry to hear you didn’t make the Paddlers, like Stella.”
“Actually, I beat Stella at tryouts by three-tenths of a second.”
“You did not!” Stella said, coming up behind me.
“Isabella,” Mom warned. “Stop.”
“Izzy. And stop what? Mrs. Franklin was at tryouts; she already knows.” Mayor Franklin, unlike my own mom, who was too busy to come to the aquatic center, had spent both days of tryouts chatting with Lauren Wilcox’s mom. Big wonder why they picked Stella over me.
“Isabella,” Mom said again, her face turning red, “you’re being impolite.”
I crammed a cookie into my mouth before it could decide to say anything else. I could never figure out why adults said you were being impolite, when all you were doing was telling the truth. Maybe “being polite” in this situation meant pretending none of us could read a stopwatch.
Mom wrapped an arm around me and gave me a squeeze. A hard one. “Isabella’s going to be volunteering in my booth during Pumpkin Palooza.”
“I am?” Both Mom and Mrs. Franklin had been given a booth where they could set up their campaign materials, but I had planned on spending all morning getting ready for the regatta.
“Yes. Don’t you remember?” Mom shot me her be-quiet-or-you-will-die-young look.
“Right, I forgot.”
Mrs. Franklin’s smile was nowhere to be found. “Are you sure that’s a good idea, Janine? I mean, she’s your daughter, and I’m sure you know what’s best, it’s just, I’ve heard some troubling things about Izzy lately. For instance, I heard how she started a food fight in the cafeteria on the first day of school.”
“Attempted to start a food fight,” Stella said, smirking. “No one would join her.”
I didn’t attempt to do anything, except sit with Paddlers. I figured maybe if they got to know me then the next time a spot opened up on the team they’d pick me. But a few minutes after I sat down, a girl with glittery eye shadow said, “Aren’t you Carolyn Malone’s little sister? I heard her sing once—she’s really talented.” She cocked her head. “It’s too bad you’re not more like her.” Of course, nobody cares about that. All anyone cares about is that Glitter Girl concluded lunchtime plastered in my portion of mashed potatoes.
And I made my first trip to Coco Martin’s office, a mere four hours after starting the school year.
I’m told it was a new school record. Applaud if you must.
“We’ll both be fine, Kendra,” Mom said. “But thank you for your concern. Now, about Pumpkin Palooza . . .”
I didn’t want to hear any more, so I walked over to the kitchen table. Daisy Caulfield, Grandpa and Grandma Caulfield’s actual granddaughter, was ladling cider into mugs, a sour look on her face. Her hair was cut short in a blond bob, and she was wearing the same brown leather jacket she always wore.
I didn’t know too much about Daisy. She moved back to Dandelion Hollow a couple years ago with her mom, and she was homeschooled up until last month. We had the same math class, but she pretty much kept to herself.
“I don’t have time to be doing this,” Daisy grumbled as I took a mug of cider. “I have an assignment I need to be working on.”
I didn’t know what to say to that. I’d ladle a thousand mugs before I’d willingly do homework. A million, probably. But at least she wasn’t calling me Toad Girl.
“Yeah, Mr. Snyder assigned a lot of algebra problems today, didn’t he?” I said, although I couldn’t be too sure, because I’d sort of accidentally-on-purpose left my textbook in my locker.
“Are you kidding? I wasn’t talking about homework.” She paused, and added, “Actually, it’s something you could help me with. I really need to talk to you—”
“All right, everyone, gather around.” At the back of the kitchen, a girl wearing bell bottoms and pink tinted glasses waved her hands.
“Who is that?” Mom said, coming up next to me. “Why are the Caulfields letting a teenager run the meeting?”
I shook my head, wondering what Daisy had been about to say. No one at school ever really needed to talk to me about anything.
“That’s not a teenager; that’s Delia,” Daisy said. “My mother,” she added.
Mom turned bright red. “Oh. Well, I didn’t recognize her.”
Daisy looked furious, but I don’t think it was Mom she was mad at. “That’s because Delia’s going through a phase right now. It’s her newest thing.”
“I think she looks awesome,” I said. “I wonder where she gets her clothes.”
“Thank you so much for coming tonight,” Delia said, once everyone quieted down. “I know my parents and I are so grateful. As you know, in order to make Pumpkin Palooza successful, we need people to man the games and vendors to serve food.” She produced a clipboard. “Please sign up where you’d like to volunteer.”
When the clipboard finally came around to Mom and me—after I’d eaten three more cookies—no one had written down their name to help out with Candidate Malone’s booth. Stella and the Paddlers had volunteered to help out with Mayor Franklin’s booth, though, so all her slots were filled. It made me wish I had a lot of friends, so I could write their names down. I wrote my name in really big letters to try and make up for it.
After the clipboard finished making the rounds, Delia gave some more announcements, then dismissed everyone. Stella, Lauren, and the rest of the Paddlers stood up and left. I knew Mom would spend the next hour or so shaking hands and chatting with everyone, so I decided to follow them. They headed out of
the farmhouse and over to the pond.
By the time I caught up with them, Lauren was pacing back and forth by the Caulfields’ canoe. The other girls were lined up in front of her. I crept forward and crouched down behind a nearby bush.
“You all need to be working harder,” Lauren was saying. “My mom said everyone at practice was so slow last week that we might as well have stayed home.” She turned on Stella. “And you were the slowest. You need to pick up your pace if you expect to compete with us. Do you think you can do that?”
“I can do that!” I popped up from behind the bush and joined them. “I can row even faster than I did at tryouts. Just watch!”
Everyone jumped. Stella shot daggers at me with her eyes, and Glitter Girl looked like I was a bug she wanted to squash. But I didn’t care. Grandma Bertie says life sometimes hands you unexpected opportunities, and you’ve just got to take them.
I jumped into the canoe and starting paddling. Icy drops hit my face as I plunged the oars into the water over and over, and I reminded myself to be careful and precise. “Your strokes must be quick and elegant,” Lauren’s mom had said at tryouts.
“Elegant” wasn’t a word that would ever describe me, but I could be as quick as a jackrabbit when I wanted. In no time at all, I was heading toward the center of the pond. Crisp air filled my lungs, and I felt my chest lighten. Right then, nothing in the world mattered except the sky above me, the water beneath me, and the fierce beating of my own heart.
I kept going, paddling faster and faster . . . only it seemed like I was slowing down, not speeding up. What the heck?
There was a sharp yank, and the canoe pulled backward.
“Hey, Toad Girl! Next time you want to go for a ride, try untying the boat first!” Stella held up the rope line and gave it another yank, dragging me back a couple inches. Everyone laughed; the Paddlers’ ponytails all bobbed in unison.
By the time I rowed myself back to shore, they were long gone.
15
THE STAR BANDIT
The Charming Life of Izzy Malone Page 6
