Fiona wondered how people got together at all. She had never given it much thought before. She knew her mom and dad had been partnered up at Ordinary’s Annual Square Dancing Jamboree a long time ago, so she figured everybody ended up together that way. Or something like it. A couple of swing your partner and dos-i-dos! and that would be it.
But if it didn’t work that way for everybody, then how did people get matched up? As Fiona looked over the shelves of peanut butter jars and jellies, an idea began to grow in her brain. “How did peanut butter and jelly get together?”
“What?” said Mrs. Miltenberger.
“Did peanut butter always go with jelly?” said Fiona. “I mean, how did they meet?”
“Why on earth do you want to know that?”
Fiona shrugged.
“Well, let’s see. This one I think I know. I’m pretty sure it happened in the 1940s, during World War Two,” said Mrs. Miltenberger. “The soldiers thought they’d be good together.”
“Huh,” said Fiona. “So a soldier took a look at peanut butter and then took a look at jelly, and then he matched them up.”
Mrs. Miltenberger raised her eyebrows at Fiona. “I guess you could put it that way. A match made in sandwich heaven.”
“What do you get when you match these two?” asked Max, holding up a bottle of soy sauce and a tub of ice cream.
“Indigestion,” answered Mrs. Miltenberger.
Up and down the grocery aisles, Fiona thought about things that went together. Then she knew what her new club was going to be.
• • •
“Yes, Fiona?” said Mr. Bland, rubbing his forehead.
“Can I make an announcement?”
“Another one?”
“It has to do with my club,” said Fiona.
“Quickly,” he said. “We’ve got a lot to cover today.”
Fiona stood at her desk. “I wanted to tell you that I’m starting a new club.” She saw Cleo’s mouth fall open, and Fiona could tell that she had everyone’s attention. Including Milo’s. “It’s a club that meets when winter is over, or is about to be over. Basically, when everybody’s tired of snow. Sort of like now. Anyway, the name of the club is the After-Winter Society of Ordinary Matchmakers. Otherwise known as A.W.S.O.M.M.”
• Chapter 9 •
Fiona unwrapped her sandwich at lunch and pulled apart the bread. “Peanut butter and jelly!” she said. “Extraordinary!”
“Have you been snatched by little green people from outer space and had your brain switched over?” said Cleo.
“I don’t think so,” said Fiona. “But my brain has been a little itchy.”
“First you tell Milo Bridgewater, in front of everybody, that you think he like-likes you. Then you start a S.N.O.W. club without telling anybody, not even me. And now you’ve changed it into a club about matchmaking? It sounds a little outer spacey to me.”
Ever since Milo got here, Fiona thought things did seem a little outer spacey.
“I think I’m going to try to eat with Milo at his table,” said Harold, holding his tray of food.
“How come?” said Fiona. “I’ll give you my carrot sticks.”
“I’ve got a pork chop,” said Cleo.
“No, thanks.”
Fiona and Cleo watched Harold walk over to Milo’s table. He walked around the table once and then turned around and came back.
“What happened?” asked Fiona.
Harold sat his tray down beside Fiona. “Nothing. I’ll try another time. Can I still have that pork chop?”
Cleo gave it to him.
“I’ve been thinking,” said Fiona, putting her bag of carrot sticks on Harold’s tray.
“Here we go,” said Cleo, shaking her head.
“To get people to join my matchmaking club,” she said, “we need to show that I’m a good matchmaker.”
“How do we do that?” asked Harold with a mouthful of chewed chop.
“Yeah,” said Cleo. “Don’t even think about matching me up.”
“We aren’t going to match just people,” said Fiona.
Harold picked at his nose. “I don’t get it.”
“Think of something you want,” said Fiona. “Something to be matched up with.”
Harold reached into his pants pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper.
“What’s that?” asked Fiona.
“My toy list.”
Cleo and Fiona looked at each other.
“Every time I see a toy I want, I write it on the list,” said Harold. “That way I won’t forget. Don’t you keep one?”
Fiona and Cleo shook their heads. Fiona had to admit, it wasn’t such a bad idea. “Toys aren’t matches,” she said. “I mean, think of something you want that isn’t a toy.”
“I want a little brother or sister,” said Cleo.
“You do? Why?” More than once, Fiona wanted to give Max away. Or sell him.
“I want to be popular like Milo,” said Harold, finger in his nose.
Fiona tapped her finger to her chin. “Okay, fine,” she said. “As president of A.W.S.O.M.M., I declare you Cleo Button, and you, Harold Chutney, are about to be matched.”
• • •
“Up here!” called Fiona from her room. When Cleo and Harold appeared at her door, she pointed to her beanbag chair. She grabbed a handful of confetti from her party drawer and shoved it in her pocket. “Harold, sit. I will be right back.” She found Max in his room and dragged him down the hall.
“Hey, let go,” Max said. “Fiona!”
Fiona brought him to her room and said, “Do you want to play Squidman?”
“Is this a trick?”
“No trick,” said Fiona, smiling.
Max looked at Fiona and then at Harold and Cleo behind her. “Okay.”
“Okay, good,” said Fiona. She took Cleo’s hand and then put it into Max’s.
“Huh?” said Cleo.
“You said you wanted a little brother or sister,” said Fiona. She reached into her pocket and threw the confetti into the air. “Congratulations. It’s a boy!”
“Fiona!” yelled Cleo.
“What’s going on?” said Max.
“Number one match made,” she said smiling. “Max, Cleo is your big sister for today. I thought you wanted to play Squidman.”
“All right, let’s go,” said Max, pulling Cleo down the hall.
Cleo’s face turned red but she didn’t say a word. It felt good to make other people so happy.
“Now, on to number two match,” said Fiona.
“I’m scared,” Harold said.
“Don’t be silly.” Fiona grabbed a towel from the bathroom. She draped it over his shoulders.
“What’s that?”
“What?” said Fiona.
“That!” Harold pointed to the bottle in Fiona’s hand.
“Hair goop.”
“Oh, Boise Idaho.”
“You want to be like Milo, right?” Fiona poured the goop in her hands. She rubbed them together and wiped them on Harold’s head.
“Burrito supreme,” said Harold, “it feels cold.”
Fiona’s hands gathered and twisted Harold’s hair into spiky points. But the points didn’t stay spiky. Or pointy. “Hmmm.”
“What’s the matter?” asked Harold. “Can I see?”
“Not yet.” Fiona squeezed. “How do you think he gets it to stand up like that?”
“Oh, Boise Idaho.”
“Some big sister,” said Max, appearing in the doorway. “Hey, why are you doing that to his hair?”
“Never mind,” said Fiona. “Where’s Cleo?”
“She went home,” said Max. “Will you play with me now?” Max jumped up and down and pulled his cape over his head like a hood.
“I’m busy,” said Fiona.
“I’ll play,” said Harold.
Max looked Harold over. “Um, that’s okay,” he said. And he was gone.
Fiona tapped her foot and patted Harold’s goopy head whil
e she thought. “Just a second.” She opened her desk drawer and rooted around. “Don’t move.”
“What are you doing?” asked Harold.
“It’s in here somewhere,” said Fiona. She tossed out her box of broken crayons, dried-up markers, glitter pens, and bag of felt scraps. “Found it!” She emptied the bottle onto Harold’s head. Then she pinched and pulled at his hair.
“Fiona?”
“What?”
“I smell glue.”
• Chapter 10 •
Fiona’s dad looked like he had just eaten ten corned beef sandwiches. It wasn’t pretty. “What were you thinking?” he asked. Fiona had heard this question lots of times before. And there was no good answer.
Fiona swiveled on Turner and thought about what she was thinking. Which was a not-so-easy thing to do. Especially when all of the green blobs on Dad’s computer screen looked just like a bunny rabbit with giant fangs.
Dad leaned on his desk at WORD news station and waited.
“Harold wanted to be popular. That was his match,” said Fiona. “Do you have a headache?”
“A big one,” said Dad. “What do you mean that it was his match?”
“I’m a matchmaker,” said Fiona. “I started a club at school and Harold wanted to be like Milo Bridgewater.”
“And you thought glue in his hair was the way to go?”
Fiona said, “How else do you get hair to stand up?”
Dad’s eyes got a little bulgy. But he didn’t say anything, which made Fiona think he didn’t know so much about hair. “Harold’s grandmother said she doesn’t want you playing with him anymore.”
“It’s not all my fault that his grandma cut it out,” said Fiona. “I told Harold not to let his grandma see it.”
Dad pulled at his eyebrow and sighed.
Fiona watched the bunny rabbit with fangs turn into a T. rex. Then she spun around on Turner, hugging her knees to her chest.
“Milo Bridgewater?” said Dad, clicking his mouse and looking at his computer screen.
“Milo Bridgewater,” she repeated as if his name tasted like cauliflower.
“I think he’s the boy who sent an e-mail to the station about starting a meteorology club at your school,” he said. “He wants to learn more about the equipment we use here to produce some kind of news program.”
Fiona stopped spinning. “What did you tell him?”
“I told him that I think it’s a great idea.”
She buried her face between her knees and squeezed her eyes shut. She remembered a movie on TV where Superman spun the earth in the opposite direction to turn back time so he could save Lois Lane. And so as fast as she could, she spun Turner in the opposite direction. To save herself from Milo Bridgewater.
It was too bad she didn’t have any superpowers.
• • •
Loretta Gormley and Max were playing a game of Fish on the living room floor when Fiona got home. “Give me all your kings,” said Loretta.
“Where’s Mrs. Miltenberger?” asked Fiona.
Loretta said, “Bingo.”
“Go fish,” said Max. “And I’m not talking to her.” He jabbed his finger in Fiona’s direction.
“He’s not talking to you,” Loretta told her.
“What did I do?”
Max turned away and Loretta shrugged.
Fiona huffed. Some matchmaker she had turned out to be. She perched herself on the arm of the couch and watched the game.
Loretta pulled her cell phone out of her jacket pocket and dialed. After a few moments with the phone to her ear, she sighed and then snapped it shut. “Do you guys want to go somewhere?”
• • •
The seats inside Loretta Gormley’s car had gray tape on them, and a cardboard tree hanging from the mirror made it smell like cinnamon spice. Fiona and Max rode in the backseat, and Loretta told them to be on the lookout for a cute boy with beautiful eyes. It was getting dark outside, which made it hard for Fiona’s eyeballs to see anything.
Loretta pulled in front of Ordinary Java and parked. “Want some java?” she asked, as she turned off the car and opened the door.
Java was coffee, Loretta explained. Which was very disappointing to Fiona because “java” sounded like “lava” but had nothing at all to do with a volcano. “I had a sip of coffee once,” Fiona told her, “but I spit it out because it tasted like earwax.”
They went inside. “Why is it so dark in here?” Fiona asked. Ordinary Java had red walls with paintings on them, couches and coffee tables, rugs with fringes, and lamps with shades sort of like the ones in the Finkelstein’s living room. Teenagers were everywhere, and Fiona hoped that one day she would learn to like the taste of earwax so she could hang out at this place.
“Wait here,” said Loretta.
Fiona watched as Loretta walked around and talked to other cool teenagers. Max pressed his face against the glass at the dessert counter.
Loretta returned. “He’s not here,” she said. “Ready to go?”
“Who’s not here?” asked Fiona.
“Jeremy,” said Loretta.
Max bent the tentacles on his Squidman action figure. “Who is Jeremy?”
“That’s what I’m trying to figure out,” said Loretta. “Who is the real Jeremy?”
Max and Fiona looked at each other. Fiona shrugged. Teenagers were so mysterious.
When they were back in the car, Loretta sighed. “He could learn a few things from Noah Wycroft. Why is it that boys on TV are so much more mature?”
“I know Noah Wycroft,” said Fiona. “I mean, I’ve never met him or anything. But I know who he is.” He was a character on her mom’s TV show, Heartaches and Diamonds.
“Yeah. I’ve written him, like, a ton of times. I mean, I’ve written Oliver Piff, the actor who plays Noah. But he’s never written me back. Do you watch that show?”
“Sometimes,” said Fiona. “My mom plays Scarlet von Tussle.”
“No way!” said Loretta. “You’re so lucky!”
Most people said the same thing about Fiona’s mom being an actress on TV. But Fiona couldn’t always share their excitement.
“I thought Jeremy and I would be such a good match,” said Loretta. “We’re in all the same clubs. And he was even talking about giving up eating meat. I thought he liked me.”
Max leaned his head against the car window and began to snore. “Too bad Noah’s a made-up person,” said Fiona.
“Yeah, too bad.”
“I wish I could help,” said Fiona. “But my matchmaking days are over.” It was another declaration.
“How come?”
Fiona yawned. “I’m no good at it.” What if she wasn’t extraordinary at anything? What if she was going to be ordinary for the rest of her life?
Then Loretta suddenly said, “There he is!” She pulled the car up to a basketball court across from Baker’s Square. “I’ll be right back.”
Fiona watched from the window as Loretta marched right into the middle of the basketball game. Loretta waved her arms in the air at this Jeremy boy while the other basketballers watched. And that’s when Fiona saw Milo. He had his hands stuffed in his jeans pockets, and he was staring at Loretta and this boy.
Fiona had something she wanted to say to Milo. And she didn’t want to wait until school to do it. She closed the car door gently so she wouldn’t wake up Max, and she headed straight for Milo. His eyes were on Loretta and the boy, so he didn’t see her until she was right in front of him. “Milo Bridgewater,” she said. He jumped back a little. “I think you should give up your meteorology club,” said Fiona.
Milo must have been shocked by her declaration because he didn’t say anything.
“Don’t you have anything to say?” asked Fiona.
“You know her?” he asked, pointing to Loretta.
He sure was good at changing the subject. “Loretta’s my watcher. Anyway,” she said, “like I was saying, if you do give up your meteorology club, then I’ll give up my S.N.O
.W.-slash-A.W.S.O.M.M. club. Deal?”
For a gazillion years he didn’t say anything. And the only thing Fiona could think of to do next was shake his hand. But Fiona wasn’t an experienced hand shaker, and at the last minute, she couldn’t remember which hand you were supposed to shake with. So, she reached out with both of her hands toward Milo, grabbing his shoulders. Then she gave them a shake.
Milo stepped backward. “No way,” he said as he knocked into his bike.
By the look on his face, Fiona figured she must have looked real scary. Like a brain-eating zombie from one of those movies she was not allowed to watch but sometimes did anyway.
Or worse, like she was trying to give him a hug. Boy, oh, boy, she hoped Milo didn’t think she was trying to hug him.
As Milo got on his bike and pedaled down Augusta Street, Fiona didn’t know if he was saying “no way” to giving up his club or to a hug that she wasn’t trying to give him anyway. She didn’t want him to get the wrong idea, so she yelled after him, “It’s okay, Milo, I don’t like-like you!”
• Chapter 11 •
Fiona pressed her forehead into the frosted window of the school bus. OUTER SPACEY she wrote with her finger. Then she leaned forward and wrote SORRY CLEO and drew an unhappy face on the window of the seat in front of her.
Cleo peered over the seat.
“I’m sorry I matched you up with Max,” said Fiona.
Cleo shrugged. “Are all little brothers like that?”
“I’m pretty sure.”
Cleo made a sour face. “I don’t think I’m ready for a little brother or sister.”
“They aren’t the worst thing,” said Fiona. “You get used to them. Sort of.”
• • •
When Fiona got to her classroom, she started on a new Thinking Pencil, an orange one. She kept her eye on the door for Harold.
Just when she began to think he wasn’t coming to school today, there he was. Whatever Fiona imagined his hair to look like, this was gobs worse. Harold was wearing a hat, an old lady’s straw hat with a ribbon around it. Fiona and Cleo looked at each other and then back at Harold.
Miss Matched Page 4
