Laura Ingalls Is Ruining My Life

by Shelley Tougas

  Mr. Crenski’s face revealed nothing. He tapped a pen on his desk and thought for a minute. “Why are you coming forward with this now? It seems convenient that you reveal this information only after you’ve been questioned.”

  “I know it looks that way.” My heart beat like a snare drum. “I didn’t want Julia to go through all that stuff with her dad again, because it was hard for her, and she’s been so nice to me. I figured the whole thing would just blow over, and none of the kids would ever know I’d been accused. I didn’t know people would actually believe I’d sneak out of the house in the middle of the night, when it’s freezing cold and pitch-black, and walk six blocks all by myself and write on the building. I know how to spell Laura, and it’s not L-A-R-A.”

  All true, right?

  He rubbed his chin. “It’s a crime to vandalize a building, but it’s a much worse crime to falsely accuse someone of a crime or to lie to police. Do you understand that?”

  I nodded.

  “I’ll call the sheriff’s office. Will you tell him what you told me?”

  My heart beat even faster. I was sweating. “Yes.”

  “All right.”

  “Does that mean Mrs. Newman will be back tomorrow?”

  “That’s private information, Charlotte. You can go to class now. The secretary can give you a pass.”

  You’d think the weight on my shoulders would float away like a balloon.

  But it didn’t float away. It felt heavier.

  Maybe I was right about Julia’s dad.

  Or maybe I’d just assumed the worst thing.

  Again.

  * * *

  News traveled at the speed of light in Walnut Grove. Right before bedtime, when I was reading in my room, I heard Julia ask Mom if she could talk to me. I’d been expecting her, and I’d planned what I was going to say. I wouldn’t deny it. I’d tell her exactly what I’d told Mr. Crenski—that I didn’t say anything right away because I wanted to protect her. She’d like me for that.

  Julia barged into my room, and before I could say a word, she hissed, “Why did you tell Mr. Crenski stuff about my dad?”

  “I didn’t want to, but I didn’t have a choice. They wouldn’t stop blaming me.”

  “Well, now they won’t stop blaming him, and he swears he didn’t do it. And I believe him.”

  I didn’t expect her to believe him. “I thought you hated your dad.”

  “I don’t hate my dad. Sometimes I don’t like him very much, but I don’t hate him. Everything finally calmed down, and he swore to me he’d never get in trouble again. He doesn’t drink anymore. Now it’s a mess again, and it’s because of you!”

  “I don’t want it to be a mess for either of us.” My voice cracked, and I blinked back tears.

  Julia sat on Rose’s bed and crossed her arms. “Why didn’t you tell me so at least I knew what was coming?”

  “I guess I didn’t have a chance.”

  “Gloria will probably fire me.”

  “They weren’t going to pay you anyway.”

  “I’m mad about that, but I really liked working there. I thought we were part of something really cool, Charlotte. We were making memories for every person who ever visits the museum. Thousands of people.”

  My stomach clenched tight. “I know.”

  “Dad was fine that night. He didn’t even argue with Grandpa. He’s on probation, so if he’s guilty, he’ll go to jail, probably for a long time.”

  My heart was beating hard again. My big idea had backfired. I didn’t know he’d go to jail for vandalism. It was a crime, but not a big-deal crime. But if Julia’s dad didn’t do it, then who did?

  Julia started crying. “Are you sure it was my dad?” she asked. “I mean, you’ve never seen my dad. He’s not Hispanic, you know. His last name is Swenson.”

  I never thought about what Julia’s dad looked like. I figured the fact that he’d been in Walnut Grove that night would be enough evidence. I needed to buy myself some time to think instead of letting the words tumble out. “Hold on. I’ll get you some tissues.” I got a roll of toilet paper from the bathroom, and when I touched the doorknob, I got a shock. A big one. It was so big it sparked an idea. A better idea than accusing Julia’s dad.

  I handed Julia the tissue for her nose and said, “I assumed it was your dad because he’d been visiting. But by any chance, does he look like Bad Chad?”

  Julia leapt from the bed. “No! Not at all! My dad is short and chubby.”

  “Well, this guy was tall and thin like Bad Chad.”

  “Oh my God!” Her face lit up. “It was Bad Chad! He probably got into the garage through the door from the backyard. My grandparents forget to lock it all the time. Charlotte, we have to call the police right now.”

  “It’s late. Let’s figure it out tomorrow, okay?”

  “I have to tell my grandparents. They immediately believed it was my dad. Immediately! I’m so mad at them! So much for innocent until proven guilty.”

  “I know!”

  Who cared about Bad Chad? He was rotten to the core. He smoked. He tormented kids. He hurt Freddy. He stuck my mom with a bill she couldn’t afford to pay. Even if Bad Chad didn’t do it—and obviously he did—everyone knew he’d eventually be a professional criminal. Somewhere there was a jail cell with his name on it.

  It’s karma, right?

  CHAPTER

  TWENTY-FOUR

  There were no notes in my desk the next day.

  I allowed myself to look at Bao. She waved hello.

  Then I took a deep breath and allowed myself to glance at Emma. She smiled.

  Noah even called me Gazelle.

  News definitely traveled fast in Walnut Grove.

  Then Mrs. Lester announced that kids these days rely on computers for spelling, which was a terrible problem in education, so she was going to hold an old-fashioned spelling bee.

  “I’ve read the lesson plan from front to back, and I don’t see any mention of spelling tests.” She shook her head and sighed. “I hope the taxpayers never find out.”

  We stood side by side against the wall of windows. Mrs. Lester pointed to a student and called out a word. They were easy at first. Proven. Declare. Machine. A few kids were knocked out by niece, neighbor, and definite. Katie Turner botched business. B-U-S-N-E-S-S. I could tell she was nervous. Then the words got harder. Carnival. Squirrel. Freddy was a terrible speller. He blew parachute. P-A-R-A-S-H-O-O-T. Julia dropped out because she said E-N-T instead of A-N-T on defiant. Then Noah bombed museum. M-U-S-U-E-M.

  Mrs. Lester shook her head and crossed her arms. “Someday you’ll need to type a memo to your boss, and you won’t know how to spell a simple word like museum. What will you do then?”

  Noah shrugged. “I guess I’ll use spell check.”

  “And who checks the spell checker?”

  The question was so crazy nobody answered. Noah looked relieved when he sat down.

  Normally, I’d blow it at that very moment. Even though I was a great speller—once I saw a word, it stuck in my head—my plan would be to drop out exactly halfway through. Not too smart, not too stupid. But this time, I couldn’t bear to stop in the middle.

  I was thinking about that day in Marshall, after the police officer came to the house, when Mom had said she’d liked to reinvent herself when she moved as a kid. She’d tried out being a smart kid and a Goth kid and a drama kid.

  And me?

  I’d been the same invisible version of myself in every place I’ve ever lived.

  Aside from Freddy, only Julia, Emma, and Bao knew anything about me, because I’d been hiding. My classmates were hearing more from me during a spelling bee than they had during the entire year. I didn’t need to invent anything. I could try just being me.

  Right?

  Mrs. Lester looked at me. “Influence.”

  Those words that could be either ence or ance were tricky. But I knew this one for sure. “I-N-F-L-U-E-N-C-E.”

  Next Mrs. Lester knocked
out Chuck with arrogance.

  Soon it was down to Bao and me. When Bao said “A-N-C-E” instead of “E-N-C-E” for correspondence, I was the last student standing.

  Mrs. Newman would be proud.

  But Mrs. Lester said to me, “You’re the winner, but don’t get cheeky. It’s not like you had much competition.”

  Those words were daggers. I felt hot from head to toe. I cleared my throat and said, “I can do more.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “I know lots of words because of Mrs. Newman.” I sounded ridiculous, but nobody laughed. The room was quieter than a library on Friday night. Twenty-plus pairs of eyes stared at me like I was a stranger. I was going to show them who I was. Smart kid. Innocent kid. Charlotte Lake, great speller and champion of Mrs. Newman, the only person who had championed me.

  Sounds crazy, right?

  I didn’t care. It felt like freedom.

  Mrs. Lester squinted and said, “Is that so? Let’s see, then. Sophomore.”

  “S-O-P-H-O-M-O-R-E.”

  “Questionnaire.”

  Two Ns? Or one? I looked at Freddy. He leaned forward, pressed his lips together, and stared at me, like he was cheering me on. I didn’t feel our Twin Superpowers fire up, not at all, but I didn’t need them. Not for spelling. I imagined the word as though it were in a book. “Q-U-E-S-T-I-O-N-N-A-I-R-E.”

  “Advantageous.”

  “A-D-V-A-N-T-A-G-E-O-U-S.”

  She smiled wickedly, like she was about to nail me. “A final word for you, Cheryl.”

  “It’s Charlotte.”

  “A final word for you, Charlotte. See if you can define it and spell it.” Mrs. Lester paused for effect.

  I closed my eyes and thought of Mom. She’d tell me to open myself up to the universe and ask for help. That’s what I tried to do. I didn’t have crystals or essential oils. I couldn’t drop to the floor and get in a yoga pose. But I had my mind, so I asked Laura for help—Laura because she competed in spelling bees for entertainment and Laura because she once stood up to a teacher who was mean to her sister. Mom said the one advantage to being dead is the ability to understand the living. Laura knew I didn’t wreck her museum.

  Mrs. Lester crossed her arms and spit out a word. “Transcontinental.”

  I whispered, “Thank you, Laura.” With a booming voice, in front of all my classmates, I said, “Transcontinental means extending across a continent. T-R-A-N-S-C-O-N-T-I-N-E-N-T-A-L.”

  Mrs. Lester scowled.

  You know who clapped and stomped and cheered?

  Everyone.

  * * *

  After my triumph during the spelling bee, I figured it was safe to go to the lunchroom. Over the past twenty-four hours, everyone had been hearing I was innocent, and that’s all that mattered. I got a tray of tater tot hot dish and sat next to Bao. “Epic finish, Charlotte.” Bao smiled at me and made eye contact. Emma said, “What a weird week.”

  My mood crashed when Emma said, “If I’d have known Julia’s dad was in town, I would’ve guessed right away that it was him. Poor Julia. It’s not her fault.”

  I knew I’d cleared Julia’s dad. Julia knew I’d cleared her dad. But I hadn’t told Mr. Crenski yet. I looked around the cafeteria and didn’t see Julia anywhere. “Where is Julia?”

  “I don’t know,” Emma said. “She’s probably avoiding everyone because of her dad. When he went to jail for the robbery, it was pretty rough. People were mean to her, especially the boys.”

  Bao rolled her eyes. “Boys are the worst.”

  “Everyone has old information, and it’s wrong,” I said. “It wasn’t Julia’s father. It was Bad Chad.”

  At the same time Emma and Bao said, “Seriously?” Katie Turner and Lanie Erickson leaned toward us and said, “Bad Chad?”

  I had to take a deep breath to get the words out. “I saw him myself.”

  “I’m not surprised,” Emma said. “He’s a loser.”

  “Why didn’t the police talk to him first?” Katie asked. “They should’ve guessed he was the one. Everyone knows he’s trouble.”

  “Did Julia go home?” Emma wondered.

  “No,” I said. “I know where to find her.”

  I put my lunch tray on the counter and walked down the hall to the bathroom. Sure enough, I spotted Julia’s sneakers in the bathroom’s last stall.

  “Julia?”

  She didn’t answer.

  “Julia, I know it’s you.”

  She opened the door. She was wiping tears with a wad of toilet paper. “I just didn’t want to deal with it again.”

  “I told everyone about Bad Chad. You don’t have to hide.”

  “Did you talk to the principal this morning?”

  “No. Not yet.”

  She frowned. “The news needs to come from him. That’s when people will really believe it.” My stomach clenched because she was right, and I couldn’t avoid Mr. Crenski much longer. “Why are you waiting? Go now.”

  “Maybe after school. I don’t want to be late for class. Mrs. Lester is a monster.”

  “Mr. Crenski will give us passes.”

  “Us?”

  Julia blew her nose and flushed the paper. “I’m going with you, but let’s wait in a stall until the bell rings. I don’t want to see people in the hall. Not yet. Not until it’s officially over.”

  We crammed into the stall together.

  “You were wrong, Charlotte,” Julia said.

  “I know. Your dad didn’t do it.”

  “That’s not what I mean. You were wrong about Gloria and Teresa. I saw Gloria yesterday, and I told her that you overheard them saying our work wasn’t good and they couldn’t pay me.”

  You know that feeling right before you realize you made a mistake? The feeling that hits before the words?

  WHAM! I felt punched in the stomach. Then Julia spoke.

  “They got a bill for fixing the roof, and the bill was a lot more than the guy told them it was going to be. They don’t have the money in the budget for it, so they’re hoping he’ll waive the extra charges and consider it a donation. She said it’s his fault because he gave them a bad estimate. And guess what? It’s still leaking. His work is bad quality. Not ours. His.”

  I’d assumed the worst.

  Again.

  A big, fat, epic mistake.

  I slapped my hands over my face. “I screwed up. Big time.”

  Julia grabbed my arm. “You can deal with that later. We’ve got to see Mr. Crenski. Come on.”

  I let Julia lead me all the way to Mr. Crenski’s office. With each step, I lost my confidence about the Bad Chad story. My hands shook. My throat tightened. Words tumbled in my brain.

  When we sat in Mr. Crenski’s office, Julia didn’t wait for him to ask why we’d come. She blurted out the words. “Charlotte has important information about the museum.”

  Mr. Crenski’s eyebrows arched. “Again?”

  I wished Julia could talk for me. My mouth wasn’t cooperating.

  “I’m waiting,” Mr. Crenski said.

  How was I going to get through this?

  Finally I said, “You can tell him, Julia, if you want.”

  “I need to hear from you.”

  I pressed my hands against the chair to keep them from shaking. I told myself I had to do this for Julia. I shouldn’t have blamed her dad. I had to fix it.

  “I made a mistake that resulted in the wrong conclusion. Remember how I told you that I looked out the window and saw a guy with spray paint?”

  “I remember. In fact, I can’t forget.”

  “Well, I assumed it was Julia’s dad, but I’ve never actually seen Julia’s dad. Sometimes I assume the wrong thing, the worst thing, and I want to stop doing that. Turns out Julia’s dad is short and chubby, and the guy I saw was tall … tall and thin … and maybe—”

  “Bad Chad!” Julia said. “She saw Bad Chad.”

  I nodded. “Bad Chad is this teenager who hangs out in the park.”

  “Chad Larson.
I’m aware.” He leaned forward. “What makes you think it was Chad Larson?”

  “Julia told me her dad wasn’t tall.”

  “There are lots of tall teenagers and men in Walnut Grove. Why do you think it was Chad Larson?”

  Did he have to ask me that? Couldn’t he just write down the name and send us to class? I wished Mrs. Lester would burst through the door and call Mr. Crenski a lazy ninnyhammer for the lack of spelling tests in this school.

  “Charlotte?”

  “Once she said that, I sort of remembered more about how he really looked.” I sputtered. “And he really looked like Bad Chad.”

  “Charlotte, your memory of events has had quite the evolution. Are you certain?”

  “One hundred percent.” Julia spoke for me. “She told me she was one hundred percent sure.”

  Mr. Crenski stared at me for a moment. Then he said, “I want Charlotte to tell me herself. Are you certain?”

  He was setting me up. I could tell by looking in his eyes. I was a terrible liar. He knew if I kept talking I’d miss something along the way. But I was in too deep. I gulped. “Yes. Certain. I am certain and sure.”

  “Why wouldn’t she be?” Julia asked.

  “I talked to the police yesterday and told them about Charlotte’s most recent explanation involving your father. They made an interesting point, which still applies. Because Chad Larson is sixteen years old, almost a full-grown man. There were small footprints in the snow around the building. I’m pretty sure Chad Larson doesn’t wear size five boots.”

  The boots!

  I’d completely forgotten about the boots.

  It was too much. Tears were dripping off my chin before I even realized I was crying.

  Julia’s face turned white. “What? Why are you crying?”

  “Because I didn’t see anyone or anything!” The words poured out. “I slept all night. I just want everyone to know it wasn’t me.”

  Mr. Crenski shook his head. He started to speak, but I didn’t hear a word. I ran down the stairs. I didn’t stop at my locker for my boots or coat. I ran out the building, down the street, past the park, through our neighborhood. I ran to that stupid basement, a place that was home only because my mother was there.