He frowned but didn’t argue. When he touched the doorknob, I literally heard the zap. He rubbed his hand, sat on the bed, and glared at me. “What?”
The phone chirped, and I grabbed it from his hand before he could read the message. I wanted to throw it, but Mom couldn’t afford a new hearing aid, a car repair, and a new phone. I pushed aside the stack of folded T-shirts on his dresser to make room for the phone. The shirts fell to the floor, which was already covered with dirty clothes, books, folders, and granola-bar wrappers. His room smelled like sweaty socks and sour milk. I didn’t miss this part of sharing a room with Freddy. Rose made her bed every morning and mine, too, if I forgot. She organized her socks by color, and her books were always stacked alphabetically by the author’s last name. Rose was the anti-Freddy.
“Those shirts are clean. Thanks for nothing.” He put the shirts back on the dresser in a heap, took the phone, and flopped onto his bed. “You’ve been acting like this for months. I’m sick of it.”
“You’re sick of it? That’s hilarious. Because I am completely and totally sick of Red Fred. And you know what else, Red Fred? Part of what happened here is your fault.”
“Rose and the museum? That’s not my fault.”
“I’ll just say what everybody is thinking.” I tried to hold my voice steady. “You abandoned Rose.”
“Did not!”
“Yes, Freddy, you did.”
He rolled his eyes. “Rose and I are the same as we’ve always been. Nothing’s changed.”
“You abandoned Rose. You made her feel alone.”
“Oh yeah?” He stood up and put his hands on his hips. “Evidence?”
“You stopped eating lunch with her! You stopped talking to her!” I got nearly nose-to-nose with him. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. Be brave.
I opened my eyes and blurted out the words. “Observation: this isn’t about Rose. Clearly I’m talking about me. It’s always been you and me against the world. Until now. You abandoned me!”
Freddy backed up until he hit the bed. Then he sat down and slumped his shoulders.
“You keep acting like I pushed you out of everything. And that’s not true. I tried to pull you in, but you wouldn’t come.”
“What happened? How’d you turn into this social guy in the one week I was sick?”
Freddy shrugged. “I’ve never been on my own before. Ever! I was forced to actually think for myself and talk for myself. You know, that first day, when I left for school, I’d never been so scared. I thought about skipping school and hiding somewhere all day. But then—”
“I know, I know. You told a joke, and everyone laughed. So good-bye, Charlotte.”
“I handled it by myself, and it went fine. It went great. And those guys turned out to be cool, and now I have actual friends.”
“Actual friends? I’m your sister and an actual friend all rolled into one. Twin Superpowers!”
“A guy can only take so much lavender oil and Laura Ingalls and positive affirmations and girl stuff…” He threw his hands in the air. “Now I have some actual guy friends. Why is that so hard to understand?”
I never thought about Freddy struggling with being the only boy in our family. Even if he had a point, he was setting himself up for huge disappointment. “Well, we’re leaving. Maybe not this week or this month, but we will leave.”
He nodded. “But now I know I can do it. I can make friends.”
“You think you’re going to be a rock star in a big-city school?”
“I don’t care about being Mr. Popular. I care about having two or three friends. Or just one friend. Admit it: you like Bao and Emma and Julia.”
“That doesn’t change the fact that you abandoned me.”
He picked up the phone. “I want to show you something.” He scanned through some text messages and handed the phone to me.
Noah: WTH? Is gazelle in trouble?
Freddy: No way. She would never ever ever do that. I swear.
Between him and Katie:
Katie: If your sister did it, that’s awful.
Freddy: She didn’t. Innocent until proven guilty.
Katie: Well it was awful. Can’t blame people for being mad.
Freddy: If I’m wrong, and she did it, be mad at both of us. But SHE DIDN’T.
Between him and Ethan:
Freddy: Someone said you left a mean note in Charlotte’s desk.
Ethan: So?
Freddy: Apologize or else!
Ethan: Jeez. Chill. Just a joke.
Freddy: She didn’t do it. Tell her you’re sorry!!
Between him and Julia:
Julia: She totally lied about my dad.
Freddy: She was super scared.
Julia: Not cool, Freddy!!!!!
Freddy: I know. I’m sorry. She owes you big-time. But she didn’t do it and she’s freaking out.
Between him and Chuck:
Chuck: Your sister was in Crenski’s office forever!
Freddy: The truth will come out. Give her a chance.
Chuck: My parents heard she had spray paint on her hands. Doesn’t look good.
Freddy: Twins know stuff about each other. I know she didn’t do it.
Freddy turned the phone off.
“Why didn’t you show me this stuff right away?” I asked.
“That night I woke you up? Right after it happened? I was a jerk.”
“Understatement of the century.”
“Anyway, you were so mad. When you’re that mad, Charlotte, you’re impossible. I thought I’d let it cool down a bit. Then I heard it was Julia’s dad, so I figured the whole mess was over. Then I heard it was Bad Chad. I didn’t hear it wasn’t Bad Chad until Mom, Shorty, and me were on the road.”
“I guess it all happened pretty fast, but trust me, it didn’t feel fast at the time. Every second felt like a year.”
“That’s how it felt during my first morning alone in school. Two hours took a century. Now I wish it wouldn’t go so fast. Before we left Lexington, remember how Mom gave us her standard speech about adventure and making memories and discovering the world?”
“The beautiful journey speech. I could recite it from memory. So is this your beautiful journey?”
“I wouldn’t call it a beautiful journey, because I’m not a weirdo,” he said. “I want to make some memories that don’t stink. That’s all.”
I thought about the people and places I liked. Julia and Bao. Mia and Miguel. Even Mrs. Newman. I thought about the diner and the gas station and the museum. I thought about the moments that would be my memories. Playing Truth or Dare. Reading By the Shores of Silver Lake in the back seat of our car. Defeating the evil Mrs. Lester in the spelling bee. Tasting gizzard soup.
Freddy said, “Shorty’s friend’s cousin has a tiny house in town, and he’s looking for someone to rent it. I heard him tell Mom about it, and I heard her say she’d like to look at the house. And she applied for a waitressing job.”
“Really?”
“Really. So maybe you could figure out a way to like it here, and we could all like it together.”
“Maybe,” I said. “Maybe I could.”
But in my mind I was thinking, Maybe I already have.
CHAPTER
TWENTY-NINE
Mrs. Newman was back at school the next day, acting as though nothing had happened. The only indication she’d been gone was when she said we were behind on our team science projects, and we’d get extra time. Obviously she knew Mrs. Lester didn’t approve of group work or even science.
Then came the moment I’d dreaded: we broke into our science-project teams. I had no idea how people would treat me. Bao and I moved our desks next to the other member of our team, Mihn.
Bao smiled and said hi. Instead of goofing around before we got started, which is what normally happens, Mihn immediately made a list of tasks so we could divide the responsibilities. Freddy’s group was all business, too. My Twin Superpowers sputtered to life and told me Freddy was
wondering if his popularity could take another hit—one sister accused of vandalism, the other guilty of vandalism. The higher you sit on the social ladder, the more it hurts when you land on your butt.
When Mrs. Newman sent the class to lunch, I stayed behind. She looked up from her desk and said, “Charlotte, you need to have lunch with your classmates.”
“I know. I just wanted to tell you that I was sad when you weren’t here. And I’m glad that you’re here now.”
She smiled. “Thank you.”
“I’m sorry for what happened to you.”
“I did the right thing, so there’s no need to apologize. Students shouldn’t be cornered without a parent. Let’s talk business. Did you read the article about Native Americans?”
“The Trail of Tears article?” My eyes went wide, and I stumbled through an answer, trying to remember what Rose had said about it. “Yes. It was interesting and fascinating. And very sad, too, which is why the word tears is in it. Because it’s so sad.”
She sighed. “Charlotte, you’re a terrible liar. I think you should either get better at it or stop entirely. I’d prefer the latter.”
“Okay.”
“Why? Why haven’t you read it?”
I shrugged.
Mrs. Newman sat at her desk. “I will call down to the lunchroom and ask them to send two trays if you attempt to explain it to me.”
I nodded and pulled my chair to her desk while she made the call. She hung up and said, “It’s chow mein. They probably think it’s an authentic Hmong dish.” She sighed and stacked the papers on her desk. “All right, I’m listening.”
“I don’t need to read it to know it’s really, really bad. I’ve read enough about westward expansion.”
“Reading and understanding are two different things.”
“I know terrible things happened to Native Americans. And terrible things happened to the Chinese with the railroad and poor white farmers in the Depression and all the people fighting over who owned Texas. I’m twelve. I can only take so much sad stuff and guilt before I get Prairie Madness.” Mrs. Newman didn’t respond, so I said, “I will read it. I promise. But not for a while.”
Mrs. Newman thought for a moment. “You have the intellectual capacity to think critically about history. I didn’t consider how overwhelming it might be.”
“I don’t want to hate Laura Ingalls or pioneers or America.”
“That’s absolutely not my intention. It’s just that our country’s story is more complicated than most people realize. Laura’s story is more complicated.”
“I get it,” I said. “My story is pretty complicated, too.”
“Indeed.” She studied me with her serious eyes. “What happens next in your story, Charlotte?”
“I could hardly sleep last night because I was thinking.” I sighed. “I’m going to tell Gloria and Teresa I’m sorry. I should’ve asked them about what I overheard instead of assuming the worst. I want to go back and finish the online scrapbook.”
“That’s a good chapter. And after that?”
“I’ll try to make it up to Julia and be a better friend, like I won’t ever assume bad things about her or her family.”
“I like that chapter, too.”
“You know, I suppose if I’m trying to correct the negative energy in the universe I would apologize to her dad and to Bad Chad, if he even knows I accused him.”
Mrs. Newman nodded. “Your apology will be more effective if you refer to him simply as Chad.”
She was full of good ideas, right?
Suddenly I felt tired. “And then there’s Mr. Crenski. I should tell him I’m sorry for lying.”
“Apologizing to Mr. Crenski? Hmm. Tough one.” She wrinkled her nose. “Some apologies are harder than others.”
I giggled. Mrs. Newman had a sense of humor.
Who knew?
* * *
That night, Mom picked through the refrigerator and reported grim findings. “Three eggs, two cheese sticks, grapes, and sour cream. What’s in the cabinet?”
I pulled out a box of macaroni and cheese, but Rose shook her head. “We don’t have milk or butter.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Freddy said. “Shorty is bringing frozen pizzas.”
Mom glared at him. “Freddy? Did you text Shorty and ask him to bring pizzas?”
“Maybe.” He shrugged, but his face broke into a wide grin.
Mom laughed. “I just sent him a text, and he didn’t mention a thing about bringing pizzas.”
“I asked him to make it a surprise,” Freddy said.
“I guess Shorty knows how to keep a secret,” I said. “Did you tell him about the Mars book? Because if you did, then we know one hundred percent he can keep a secret. Shorty knows every person in town, and everyone still thinks you’re writing the prairie book.”
“I told him I’m writing the prairie book, because I am writing the prairie book.” She looked down at her shirt. “This shirt is stained. I need to change.”
“What do you mean?” Rose asked. “You’re not writing about Mars?”
She picked up the toaster and studied her face like it was a mirror. “I need to freshen up.”
“Mom!” Freddy took the toaster away. “You’re not writing the Mars book?”
“Whenever I open the Mars file, my mind goes blank. My energy drains, and I feel cold and empty and lost. I tried to work on the Mars book every day for six months. Nothing happened. Two weeks ago I opened the prairie file, and the words poured out. I haven’t told you, because it feels like a private connection between Laura and me.” The door at the top of the stairs opened. Mom whispered, “I’ll be in the bathroom cleaning up.”
Shorty came down the stairs with two bags of pizzas. Freddy turned on the oven while Rose put glasses and plates on the table. Finally Mom emerged from the bathroom. She’d put on lipstick and tucked her hair into a messy bun.
“Look who’s here with pizzas!” Rose beamed.
“And gas station donuts for dessert!” Shorty said.
“What a nice surprise,” Mom said.
He pulled packets of hot chocolate out of the bag. “In a few months, we can exchange hot chocolate for lemonade.”
Mom’s face glowed. “The energy in this town is changing. Spring is coming!”
“Four years ago we had a blizzard in May,” Shorty said.
Mom wouldn’t let facts get in the way of a good mood. “A spring blizzard will make us appreciate the summer even more.”
“We’ll definitely appreciate June if it snows in May,” Rose said. “June will seem perfect.”
You saw that coming, right?
EPILOGUE
ALL’S WELL THAT ENDS WELL
The snowmelt and spring rains caused Plum Creek to swell and spill over its banks. Even though it was May, winter hadn’t released its grip on the prairie. Some kids in our class were already wearing shorts, but we shivered in our light jackets.
It was Freddy’s first trip to the dugout. We’d come to get a short video for the online scrapbook, but we also had a personal mission.
“Check out the creek,” Freddy said. “It even sounds flooded. I’m sure I could hear it with my hearing aids off. The video idea is genius. People can imagine the Ingallses living right next to this rushing river.”
“The video was Julia’s idea,” I said.
Julia had decided to give me another chance, mostly because she needed advice about Freddy, who’d started walking home with Lanie Erickson. I kept my promise to Julia. I didn’t share her secrets with anybody, especially Freddy.
Freddy walked to the sign near the Ingallses’ former dugout and read it. “THE CHARLES INGALLS FAMILY’S DUGOUT HOME WAS LOCATED HERE IN THE 1870S. THIS DEPRESSION IS ALL THAT REMAINS SINCE THE ROOF CAVED IN YEARS AGO. THE PRAIRIE GRASSES AND FLOWERS HERE GROW MUCH AS THEY DID IN LAURA’S TIME AND THE SPRING STILL FLOWS NEARBY.” He shook his head. “I still can’t believe people lived in a dirt hole. That’s bananas.”
&nb
sp; “Mom thought about putting a dugout in her book, but she decided that was too much like Laura’s story,” I said.
“I like the Mars idea better.”
“Rose told me the prairie book is good. Mom read the first couple of chapters to her when we were at Noah’s party. Wouldn’t it be awesome if she sold it and could write full-time? Because her waitressing career isn’t promising.”
Freddy raised his eyebrow. “Evidence?”
“Yesterday she spilled a glass of milk on a customer.”
He laughed. “She’s getting better.”
“Evidence?”
“Shorty says Mom gets decent tips because of her sunny personality,” he said. “I know it could all change in a few weeks. We might end up in Utah. But it’s good for now, right?”
“Utah? Do you have evidence?” I couldn’t hide the worry in my voice.
“No new evidence,” he said. “Just history.”
We approached the walking bridge where Rose was standing. She peered over the rail, watching the creek as it cut through the same swath of land it had followed for centuries. Mom and Shorty crossed from the other bank holding hands. I worried that Mom would discover Shorty wasn’t the man she thought he was, that he’d end up on the bad-husband list along with our dad and Rey. But Mia assured me he was a good guy. She said Shorty’s brother’s mother-in-law had told her Shorty was crazy about Mom.
We gathered around Rose as she opened the Jack bag and took out the box of ashes. “This creek is thirty-five miles long. I did my research,” she said. “It flows into the Cottonwood River, which flows into the Minnesota River, which flows into the Mississippi River, which empties into the Gulf of Mexico.”
“That’s quite a journey for our Jack,” Mom said. “I think it’s beautiful.”
“I can’t do it. You do it.” Rose handed the box to me.
“You can, and you should,” I said. “He’d want it to be you.”
Rose thought for a minute and then nodded. She gave the box one final squeeze. “Good-bye, Jack,” she said. “We miss you.” Then Rose removed the top and poured Jack’s remains into Laura’s creek.
The ashes settled on the surface and, in a second, they were gone.
Laura Ingalls Is Ruining My Life Page 19
