by Lisa Yee
“What is that thing?” Millicent asked, making a face.
“You know,” I told her. “My bear. His name is TB. That’s short for Teddy Bear. My dad gave him to me when I was little. It’s TB’s turn to sleep with me tonight.”
“Are you aware that TB also stands for tuberculosis?”
I ignored Millie. Sometimes she says things that are so random, I’m not sure how I’m supposed to respond. “TB is always here for me when I need him,” I continued. “Who do you turn to when you’re lonely? Do you have a favorite stuffed animal? Everyone needs a favorite stuffed animal.”
Before she could answer, there was a knock on the door. “Come in!” I called out.
Mrs. Min started saying good night to us when she spied TB. “Oh, look at this adorable bear!” She picked him up and cradled him like a baby. “You know, I used to sleep with a stuffed animal when I was your age.”
I could tell Mrs. Min would be the sort of person to appreciate stuffed animals. Alice still has Priscilla, that little brown bear you gave her when you were dating. Sometimes Priscilla’s on her bed, sometimes she’s in her office. Mostly she’s in Alice’s pajama drawer.
After Mrs. Min left, I asked again, “So, Millie, who do you turn to when you get lonely?”
A thousand hours later she declared, “I don’t get lonely and I don’t have any stuffed animals.”
I didn’t believe her.
Millie started to zone out. She does that a lot, like she’s on another planet, and when she returns she’s usually a little bit sad. I knew something had to be done — and fast. So I stood up, took a deep breath, and then THUMP! The pillow smacked her hard in the face.
“Earth to Millie, Earth to Millie,” I shouted.
“Hey!” She picked up her pillow and slammed me so hard, I fell over backward.
“Oh no! Emily? Emily, are you okay?” I could tell she was scared, so I pretended to be dead. I waited until she was bent over me and shaking my shoulder. “Emily, please say something!”
Suddenly I sat up and shrieked, “Ooooh, you are in so much trouble,” and started hitting her back with my pillow.
Millie is a lot stronger than I thought she’d be. We were both yelling and screaming and jumping on the bed when one of the pillows popped. Just then the door opened.
Millicent and I froze as feathers filled the air. Mrs. Min’s jaw dropped, and I couldn’t tell if Mr. Min was angry or happy.
“I am so sorry,” I said, trying not to make eye contact with anyone. I was afraid I’d crack up.
“Me too,” Millie giggled as she bowed her head.
“Not as sorry as you’re both going to be in one minute!” Mr. Min stormed out of the room.
Soon he returned and shouted, “Prepare to die!”
Mr. Min broke into a huge grin as he tossed a pillow to Mrs. Min, who caught it with one hand. Unbelievable. They were joining in the pillow fight!
“Millie, here!” I shouted, throwing her a new pillow.
Millicent’s parents were well trained in the art of pillow fighting. We were all laughing so hard that we started swallowing feathers and gagging. In the end, two more pillows popped before all four of us collapsed in hysterics. It was the best sleepover I’ve ever been to in my entire life.
Love,
Emily
JULY 25
Dear Dad,
I’ve got all of your postcards displayed in my room. Some are on my bulletin board and others taped to my walls. I like my latest one from Spree Lodge. The photo of the lobby looks so totally retro. I think it is great that you had two encores. Those fans in Buffalo really know a good band when they hear one!
Tonight Alice had to get right back to work after Stout’s, so dinner was sort of rushed. She had another phone interview.
“Who are you talking to this time?”
“Oh, honey, I’d love to tell you, but it’s confidential.”
Later, as we were walking home, out of nowhere she asked, “Emily, do you want to talk about how you feel about the divorce?”
“No,” I answered. “I’d love to tell you, but it’s confidential.”
Alice doesn’t even know I am writing this letter journal to you. If she did, she’d probably want to read it. She is so nosy. That’s why she’s a journalist, so she can poke into other people’s business. She claims, “There are too many cover-ups in this world. I want my writing to be about the truth.”
The other day I found a box filled with your photos under her bed. I put them up all around the house. The next day they were gone. Neither Alice nor I mentioned it. Because the truth is, we don’t have anything to say to each other.
Love,
Emily
JULY 26
Hi, Daddy,
Even though Millicent told me she has summer school in the mornings, every time I bring it up she gets all weirded out, like it’s a big shame. I’m starting to wonder if there’s more to it than that. It’s like when you’d just disappear. I knew you were with the band. Still, sometimes I’d wonder.
“So, is it just English, or are you taking more than one class?”
“Just one,” she said as she emptied the towels from the dryer in her room.
“You never said…. Why are you going to summer school if your dad homeschools you?”
“English isn’t my dad’s best subject,” she mumbled.
“I think it’s neat that he teaches you, but maybe your parents can talk the principal into letting you back in public school. That way we can both have someone to eat lunch with, and we can do our homework together. Wouldn’t that be fun? We could have our own study hall. Oh, and we can join the Pep Club! Does the middle school have a Pep Club?”
“That would be great, but I asked my parents about it like you suggested, and they’re convinced that I’m actually getting a better education right where I am.”
“Alice says that Rancho Rosetta has one of the best public school districts in the nation. That’s why we moved here. Maybe she can talk to your mom and dad about the middle school. She’s sort of an expert on education. Right now one of the articles she’s working on is about Shakespeare in inner-city schools. And get this — she expects me to read one of his plays, and I’m not even in summer school!”
“You don’t want to read Shakespeare?”
“Uh, no. She says it’ll be good for me to experience the world through literature, just like the kids she’s writing about. I say, no thank you!”
Later, I talked to Millicent’s dad about this as he was taking apart a toaster. “The Bard is not such a bad guy,” Mr. Min assured me. He handed me a burned piece of Pop-Tart. Without thinking, I bit into it, then had to spit it out. “Reading can be a nice way to pass the time.”
“Do you read much?”
“Me?” He started laughing. “Well, I’m not quite the reader that Millie and her mother are. But I have been known to pick up a book or two. I prefer nonfiction, like biographies and cookbooks. Or my favorites, biographies about chefs.”
“You must have to read a lot to teach Millie.”
“That’s funny! Someone trying to teach Millicent something.”
“But you do, when you homeschool her.”
“Ouch!” Mr. Min cut himself on the toaster. I handed him a paper towel. “Oh yes. That homeschooling business. I have to teach her quite a bit. Now, this toaster is making me hungry. Let’s round up Millie and go to The Scoop. There’s a new flavor I want to try — Chocolate Caramel Pecan Parfait!”
The ice cream was great, plus later I had French silk pie at Stout’s for dessert. Libby just automatically brings me a slice when we come in, so I didn’t want to insult her by not eating it. Tomorrow I will eat extra fruit to balance things out. Gamma Girl says, “Eat great, eat healthy, but don’t deprive yourself either.”
“How’s volleyball going, Emily?” Libby asked.
Alice looked up from her roasted chicken.
“It
’s okay.” Why do people always ask questions the minute you put something in your mouth?
“Are the girls getting any nicer?”
“Yeah, I guess they are. They don’t make fun of me or Millie as much anymore. Julie ignores us, which is fine with me. And I’m talking more to Wendy, that nice girl I told you about.”
Wendy is nice. Today at volleyvall she told me, “Emily, I am so glad you’re on our team. You make it so much more fun!” She turned to Millie. “I’m happy you’re here too, Millicent. You’re really improving. That last serve was so close to going over the net.” Millie says Wendy doesn’t have issues, like Julie does.
“Well, you keep it up!” Libby said. “Before long you’ll have so many friends, you won’t know what to do.”
Alice stared at me as Libby walked away.
“Are you having any problems at volleyball?”
“No.”
“Are some girls being mean to you?”
“No.”
“Who’s Julie?”
“No one.”
“What’s the matter? Did I say something wrong? Emily? Emily, talk to me.”
Just as Alice was about to interrogate me some more, Officer Ramsey walked in.
“Alice!” he cried out.
Was she blushing? Alice was blushing.
“Officer Ramsey, you remember my daughter, Emily.”
He had a wide grin as he reached out to shake my hand. “Of course. Hello, Emily! Will you be with your mom on Neighborhood Watch tomorrow night?”
I started to say something when Alice cut me off. “Yes, Emily and I will both be on guard to ensure the safety of our neighborhood!” She sounded like a total dork. “Joel, why don’t you sit down and join us?”
Joel?
“I’d love to,” he said as Alice slid over in the booth.
“No!” I shouted. Alice and Officer Ramsey both looked startled. “Uh, no. I mean, Alice, we need to talk.” She just stared at me. “In private,” I said.
“Oh, hey.” Officer Ramsey stood up. “You know, maybe I’ll join you two some other time. I’ll just sit at the counter and read the newspaper and catch up on current events.”
We watched him walk away.
“Emily? What is it you wanted to talk about?” She looked hopeful.
“Nothing.”
“But you said …”
“Are you and Officer Ramsey good friends?” I asked.
“No.”
“Do you hang out with him?”
“No.”
“Do you want to?”
“Emily, please!” she whispered. “I barely know him. You’re asking me too many questions.”
That’s a switch. I’m asking her too many questions? I can’t believe I used to love talking to Alice. We talked all the time and you used to call us your “gabby girls,” remember?
When you and Alice first separated, I didn’t have much to say to either of you. And now I can’t talk to you and I won’t talk to Alice.
We ate the rest of our meal in silence. I could hear Officer Ramsey and Libby talking and teasing each other as she poured him a cup of coffee.
Don’t worry, Dad. I’ll keep an eye on Officer Ramsey for you.
Love,
Emily
JULY 28
Dear Dad,
The other day at the Beverly Aquatic Center, Mr. Min and I pretended to be synchronized swimmers. It was hysterical. Even the lifeguards were laughing, and a really buff one joined us. Later, I pretended to drown so he could save me. When he found out I was faking, I got a long lecture. It was totally worth it, though, because he had the most amazing hazel eyes. I wish the lecture could have lasted longer.
The only person who wasn’t having a good time at the pool was Millie. She just dangled her feet in the water and refused to take off the huge T-shirt she was wearing over her bathing suit. Just as we were leaving, Julie and some of her friends arrived. They looked even skinnier in their bikinis, like they had lollipop heads. Julie glanced at me and said, “You should stay away from bright patterns.”
Millie’s eyes narrowed and she muttered, “And Julie should stay away from IQ tests.”
I know Alice always tells me not to hate anyone, but I think I might hate Julie. Sometimes she seems okay, then out of nowhere, she’ll say something mean.
On the way home, Mr. Min offered to take Millie and me to the movies. “There’s a Looney Tunes festival at the Rialto.”
“No thanks, Dad,” Millie replied. “You’ve done enough for one day.”
“He was just trying to be nice,” I told Millie later.
“Yes, well, I think he ought to act more his age.”
“I like the way he acts. He’s fun, unlike Alice.”
“Alice is fun,” Millie jumped in. “I love talking to her. Emily, you have no idea how wonderful your mother is. Why do you ignore her?”
“I don’t ignore her.”
“Excuse me, but you pretend not to hear her when she talks to you, and when you do talk to her, you give her one-syllable answers.”
“I do not.”
“Do so. But when you’re around my parents, you act all silly and funny and talk and talk and talk.”
“Do you have a problem with that?”
“Noooo …”
“Because you talk and talk and talk with Alice, but whenever your parents want you to do something fun, you pretend not to hear them!”
Millie and I glared at each other. It was our first fight.
“I gotta go,” I finally said. “I promised Alice I’d have dinner and do Neighborhood Watch with her.”
“Okay, see you.”
“Yeah, see you.”
That night I was having a miserable time on Neighborhood Watch. Nothing ever happens. Plus I was feeling like the rainbow trout from Stout’s didn’t agree with me. Libby had said it was fresh, but I wasn’t so sure. My stomach was acting all weird.
We kept walking up and down, up and down, up and down the street looking for “suspicious activities.” I was wearing my new white Stephen Oliver shorts, my favorite Kirkpatrick Graffi-tee, the one with the monkey on it, and, as always, my friendship necklace. Just as we were about to head toward home, Alice screamed so loud that I started screaming too.
“Emily, oh Emily. Oh Emily!”
“What? What? A burglar???!!!”
She shined her flashlight on my shorts.
At first I didn’t get it. I thought I had been shot. Then I realized. It had started. I had started. I had started my — my — you-know-what. My “time of the month.”
“Oh, sweetheart,” Alice said, wrapping her jacket around my waist and giving me a hug. “My little girl is growing up. This is major.”
“Can we please just get out of here?”
Just then, Officer Ramsey drove up. When he saw us, he flashed the red light on top of his police car. I could have died.
“Didn’t mean to scare you, Emily,” he said as he leaped out. “Hello, Alice, anything new to report?”
“You’ll never guess,” Alice said. Ohmygosh, she’s going to tell him. “Everything appears quiet in Rancho Rosetta!”
“Just the way I like it,” he said. “I had enough commotion when I worked for the Secret Service.”
“I didn’t know you worked for the Secret Service. I’d love to hear more about that.” Not now, not now, not now! “But perhaps some other time. Emily and I were just heading home.”
“Then hop in,” Officer Ramsey said, opening the car door. “I’ll give you a lift.”
Normally, I would have been thrilled to ride in a police car, only this time I was a bit preoccupied.
“You need to wear your seat belt, Emily,” Officer Ramsey said.
“Uh, sure. Okay.”
Luckily, the trip home was only a couple blocks. As Alice and Officer Ramsey said their good-byes, I ran into the house. Just as I finished changing my clothes, Alice appear
ed.
“Emily, we need to talk.”
No, we didn’t need to talk. Why does she always want to talk? Alice started getting all weepy. “You’re not a baby anymore!”
“Alice, I haven’t been a baby for a long time.”
This made her cry even more. I felt good and bad at the same time, but mostly bad. She looked so confused that all of a sudden I started crying too. What was happening to my body? To me?
“It’s okay, Emily. It’s okay,” Alice said. “Come on, dry those tears. We have some shopping to do!”
Shopping?
At the drugstore I was stunned by the number of “products.” I had always hurried past Aisle 14, but tonight I had to slow down and even stop. For once I was glad Alice was with me.
“We’ll need these, and these, and this,” she said, tossing packages into my basket. “Did we miss anything?”
How was I supposed to know? I picked up a couple of boxes that had nice flowers on them and added them to the pile.
“I need a few things for myself,” Alice continued. “Why don’t you treat yourself to a candy bar, and I’ll meet you at the checkout?”
As I was trying to decide between a giant Hershey bar and a box of Milk Duds, he walked into the store. Stanford Wong! The boy who set off the alarm. The boy with the lopsided smile. The boy whose Zappo Zit I sleep with under my pillow. There he was, not more than six feet away from me, and I was holding enough feminine hygiene products to fill twelve medicine cabinets.
Before he could see me, I ditched the basket and ran out the emergency exit, setting off the alarm.
About half an hour later, Alice showed up at home. “Where did you go?” She looked worried. “I searched everywhere for you. I found the basket just sitting in the middle of the aisle. You know you shouldn’t have left without telling me. Emily, sometimes I just don’t know about you.” She slowed down when she saw how upset I was. “Well, I suppose you’re a little confused right now. I don’t blame you. In some countries this is a rite of passage that calls for a big celebration. Shall we have one?”
“Uh, no.”
The more Alice droned on, the more confused I got. Things are changing. I am changing, and I am not sure if I like what’s happening to me.
Love,
