“How much stuff did you get? Are we sharing the money even? Can I get more stuff than you?” She pointed to my hands. “Is that what you’re getting?”
I looked down—I was holding a wooden tray. When had I even picked it up? I put it on the table next to me and backed away.
“No, I’m not getting it. I don’t need anything.” I wiped my hands on my pants, but it didn’t help—they still felt grimy.
“Why not?” asked Claire.
I held my finger up to my lips and made the shushing sound. I needed her quiet.
She looked around, took a step toward me, and whispered, “Is it a secret?”
I shook my head.
She frowned, and blurted out, “Why?” She pointed to the tray. “How come you don’t want that anymore? Why were you holding it if you don’t want it?”
Now I knew what was happening—she was going to bug me until I gave her an answer she liked or had something to buy.
I grabbed the tray again. “You’re right. I should get this. Let’s go.”
Maybe now I could get us moving. Get us out the door.
Claire spun around in a circle. “I put it next to a blue pot, but don’t worry, I can find it.”
I followed her around the store hoping this would be fast.
She disappeared ahead of me, but I found her again as soon as she started singing, “FOUND IT! FOUND IT! FOUND IT!” Why did she have to be so loud? I turned the corner, and there she was, smiling and waving a blue pot in the air. Only it wasn’t a pot—it was one of those things kids use for potty training.
I pointed at it. “Don’t touch that! It’s disgusting.”
Claire shook her head. “No it’s not!” She looked inside it, swung it around, and plopped it on her head. “See! It’s a hat.”
I cringed. “Put it down! Let’s go!” I tried to use my grown-up voice, but it didn’t work. She ignored me.
“Wait,” she said. “I want to see it in the mirror.” Before I could stop her, she was gone.
I couldn’t tell if she was trying to bug me on purpose or if she was doing it by accident, but either way, I was suddenly feeling very bugged. Fine! If she was going to be like that, I’d just have to force her out of the store. I turned toward the mirror, but then froze; it was the boy. He was in front of me and smiling.
“Hey!” he said.
I was surprised, too surprised to speak; I nodded. It was awkward, him knowing me but me not knowing him back. Plus, if you added him not knowing that I didn’t know him, it was even more confusing. What do you do with that? I bent down and started to pick up Claire’s stuff. It was something to do, and I couldn’t just stand there.
“I’ll get it!” said a voice.
It was Claire; she was back, and not wearing the potty hat—at least that was good. She pushed by me and knocked the wooden tray out of my hands. I don’t know how, but I caught it before it hit the ground. I held it up in triumph, but only for a second, because suddenly I noticed the picture on the front of it. How had I missed it? I cringed. It was a clown—a large, sad-faced, crying clown—and it was horrible.
The boy was watching me. Suddenly, I felt like I had to explain myself. What if he told people? What if he said, Hey, guess what. I saw Ash this summer and she was buying this weird clown thing. Not that he would, but what if he did? But I don’t even like clowns! Clowns are creepy! I held out the tray and made myself smile.
“Uh, this is a joke,” I said. “For my friend Lucy. I’m sending her weird stuff while she’s at camp.” I surprised myself—it was a good lie.
“Who’s Lucy?” blurted Claire. She had stopped picking up stuff and was looking at me.
“Just a friend, don’t worry about it.” I turned to her and put my finger up to my lip. Maybe now she’d get it and stop talking.
“Like a secret friend?” she whispered.
“Ha!” said the boy. “Not much of a secret; Ash and Lucy are always together. I was wondering why you were here. Why didn’t you go to camp? I saw you at the bus.” He was looking at me, waiting for an answer, but my brain was suddenly busy trying to match his voice to a name. I knew that voice, and suddenly it clicked. I had a name—Sam Leavitt.
It was a relief, but only for a second. Sam Leavitt! I was talking to Sam Leavitt? If Lucy had been here, none of this would have happened. She would have told me that I didn’t know him. She would have said, “Don’t wave back, it’s Sam Leavitt,” and that would have been that. But she wasn’t here, and now on my own, I’d messed things up. I stole a look. He was still watching me.
I was flustered, but I managed to answer. “Uh . . . I am going to camp. I’m going to meet Lucy later, but I have stuff to do here first.” I glanced down at Claire—she was my stuff. It was hard to see her. The pile was over her head.
Now that I knew who he was, I couldn’t look at him—it was Sam Leavitt! At school he hung out with a completely different crowd. I shouldn’t be talking to him. I had a bad feeling about this, but it was too late. I couldn’t undo it.
Claire’s arm shot out from the pile. “Hi, I’m Claire.” Sam looked confused, but he stepped forward and shook her hand. This shaking hands was definitely a thing with her.
Sam introduced himself to the lump that was Claire, then turned and shot me a grin. There was a space in between his front teeth; I’d never noticed that before. Things like that were good to remember; they were helpful in recognizing people. I grabbed the top of Claire’s pile and pulled it off. Now we could see her head. I nodded toward the front of the store and the cash register. It was time to go.
I put the tray down and grabbed another handful of Claire’s stuff. I didn’t know what to say to Sam, so I just nodded—kind of like a good-bye. Hopefully he wouldn’t follow us to the checkout. I started down the aisle toward the exit, and Claire followed clomping behind me. That’s when I noticed the shoes. She was wearing the red shoes again, the ones from before. When we got to the counter, I turned around and spoke to her.
“You can’t get those; they’re too big, and way too high for you.”
It was true. They were pumps, and not at all the kind of thing a seven-year-old is supposed to wear. Claire looked down. For a second I thought she was going to argue, but instead she just nodded and took them off. That was lucky. Plus she was carrying her regular shoes—that was even more lucky. Now we didn’t have to go back into the store and look for them.
We piled everything onto the counter. There was no way we were going to get it all for fifteen dollars. We’d probably have to put some back; I was dreading that. But at least we were moving in the right direction—away from Sam Leavitt. The whole not knowing who he was, and finding out who he was, and then having to stand around and talk to him while knowing I shouldn’t be talking to him, had given me a headache. Well, at least now I had something to write to Lucy about.
The lady at the checkout, Maureen, was a master. Claire had to introduce herself and shake her hand too. In about four minutes Maureen had us all packed and ready to go. The biggest surprise was the price: only ten dollars and eighty-nine cents. I couldn’t believe it. Claire wanted to go back and spend the rest of the money, but I said, “No!” As in There is NO WAY I’m going back in that store—not even for a million dollars!
I put the change into my pocket and forced myself to smile. “Let’s save it for a special treat on the way home.”
Claire wasn’t convinced. I tried again, this time with more flair.
“Aren’t you hungry? We could get something delicious like ice cream, or fancy cupcakes, or decorated cookies.”
“Cupcakes!” shouted Claire. “I love cupcakes!” She turned and ran up the stairs, not a thing in her hands. I guess it was my job to carry everything. We left the store without looking back.
chapter eleven
Gray
Claire and I were walking down the sidewalk. The farther we got from the thrift store, the better I felt.
“Are we getting the cupcakes now?” asked Claire.
She was half skipping and half jogging beside me.
I was probably walking too fast. I slowed down. I was wishing I had asked for two bags at the thrift store—one for her and one for me. But all we had was one giant, heavy bag, so it was all me.
“We’ll get cupcakes, but first I have to go to the post office to mail Lucy’s present.” Thinking about it made me smile. I was glad the Sam thing was over.
A block later I was wishing I had done a better job of planning the trip. We should have gone to the post office first, and the thrift store second, because now I had to carry Claire’s heavy bag of stuff all the way to the post office, and back past the thrift store again to get home. It was an extra eight or nine blocks of carrying. Claire wasn’t happy about the detour either, and she didn’t even have anything to carry.
“How much more is it?” she asked. “Is it far? I’m tired.”
I grumbled under my breath. What did she have to complain about? “Five blocks,” I said. It was a lie; it was really seven.
Claire pointed to some stores up ahead. “Is that it?” she asked.
I didn’t answer, but I shook my head. Claire’s bag was killing me. Even though I switched sides every half block, my hands looked like claws, stuck in the holding shape even when they weren’t holding anything. As we passed one of the stores, VS Depot, I saw a sign in the window: WE SHIP US POST OFFICE AND UPS. It was just what I needed. I made a fast decision.
I opened the door. “We’re here,” I announced.
“You lied,” said Claire. “That wasn’t five blocks.”
I stepped into the store and looked back at her. “I wanted to surprise you.” Now that was two lies.
Claire frowned and followed me in. The store was small, overcrowded, and plain. There were a bunch of photocopiers up front, and boxes and papers everywhere else; beyond that was the counter. I walked toward it. It wasn’t easy to get there carrying Claire’s huge bag, but I made it without knocking anything over. A man behind the counter was watching us.
“Good shuffling!” he said.
Claire pushed past me and said, “Thank you.”
I knew the compliment was for me, but I didn’t say anything. She could have it. I was just happy to put her bag down. I pulled off my backpack and took out Lucy’s present. Suddenly I wasn’t sure. Normally when you mail something, no one can see what you’re mailing, but this was different; my note to Lucy was right there out in the open. Now I was uncomfortable. I didn’t want him reading what I’d written. Quickly I turned it over so only the nails were showing.
The man pointed to it. “Do you want a box for that?”
I paused, not sure what to say. I didn’t want to sound stupid in case Mom was wrong. Maybe a box would be better.
“I’ll show you one and you can decide.” The man smiled, turned, and walked to the back of the store.
Claire noticed it first. I was too busy rereading my note to Lucy. Did it sound weird? Embarrassing? I wasn’t watching the man.
Claire tugged on my arm. “He’s a little person,” she whispered.
“What?” I didn’t know what she was talking about.
“Look!” She pointed.
I followed the end of her finger. The man was at the back of the store looking on the shelves, and she was right; he was a little person. How could that be? I peeked over the counter, and there was the answer. A raised platform behind the counter went from the front to the back of the store.
“Pretty clever, right?” asked a voice.
It was the man, and he was walking back toward us. He caught me looking. I felt my face go red. I didn’t know what to say.
Claire bounced up and down. “Wow!” She pointed to the other side of the counter. “If I went back there, I’d be supertall.”
The man smiled. “You can try it if you want.” He looked to the back of the store. “Just hop on back there.”
I shook my head. “No, that’s okay.” I turned to grab Claire, but she was gone. Ten seconds later she was back, standing across from me on the other side of the counter.
“Hey!” she shouted. “I’m almost as tall as you!”
I hoped she was talking to me, and I was about to answer when the man walked over and stood next to her. She was right; he was only a little taller than she was.
“Look,” said the man. He pointed to Claire. “We’re twins.” He leaned forward and handed me a box. “See if this works.”
Claire shook her head. “We’re not twins! You’re too old, plus I’m a girl.”
I motioned for her to come back around the counter and stand with me, but she ignored me and kept talking.
“I’m Claire, and that’s Ash.” She pointed to me and held out her hand for the man to shake. “We’re almost kind of like sisters.”
My face turned red again. The sister thing was a surprise, plus normally I didn’t give out my name to strangers. I picked up Lucy’s present and tried to fit it into the box. If I looked busy, maybe they would ignore me.
“I’m Peter,” said the man. He shook Claire’s hand and then offered his hand to me. It wasn’t something I wanted to do, but I made myself shake it and say hi. Now I was really wishing we’d walked the extra blocks to the regular post office. The people at the post office were not friendly and chatty; going there was definitely less complicated.
While Claire and Peter talked, I tried to get Lucy’s present into the box. Claire was getting Peter’s whole life story, asking him all sorts of questions. I couldn’t decide if it was interesting or not.
PETER’S STORY
• He was the owner of the store, and he had five other VS Depots.
• The real name of the store was Value Send, but he’d shortened it to make it sound more modern.
• His regular store worker had quit, so he was going to work in the store until he could get someone new.
• Yes, Peter liked working in the store, but he couldn’t work there all the time, because he had other things to do.
Finally I couldn’t take it anymore, plus Lucy’s present wouldn’t fit into the box—it was too small. I put the box on the counter and held up the wood.
“Can I send it like this?” I asked. “Without a box?”
“Sure. Why not?” said Peter. “A lot more fun, and maybe even cheaper, too. Does it have an address on it?”
I turned the piece of wood over and pointed to the address. Peter typed it into the computer and printed out a stamp. I handed him the piece of wood, and he stuck the stamp on.
“Will it stay?” I didn’t want it to fall off.
He motioned for me to wait and then wrapped a big piece of tape around the wood—yes, it was going to stay.
He looked it over. “Someone named Lucy’s going to love it.”
“That’s Ash’s best friend,” whispered Claire. “It’s a secret and—”
“No it’s not!” I interrupted. “Everyone knows we’re best friends; that’s why this whole thing is so weird. She’s gone away, and I’m stuck here in the gray and grayer.”
Peter looked surprised. “What did you say?”
I covered my mouth. I hadn’t meant to say gray and grayer. In fact, I hadn’t meant to say anything. It had all just come out—like a volcano suddenly erupting. “Gray and grayer” wasn’t even my saying; it was from the PJ Walker books. Whenever something was boring or uninteresting, Viola Starr, the detective in the book, called it the gray and grayer.
“That’s from a book, isn’t it?” asked Peter.
Now it was my turn to be surprised. How did he know that?
Peter nodded. “I read that book. The author is—”
“PJ Walker!” I blurted out. “She’s my favorite.”
Suddenly Peter smiled. “That’s right, and I picked it up because I like a good mystery. I’m surprised you’ve read it.”
I nodded and shrugged. Peter waited an extra second to see if I would say anything, and when I didn’t, he continued.
“Anyway, it was called something li
ke Brave Barry. Did you read that one? It wasn’t half bad. I should dig it out and look at it again.”
I smiled; I couldn’t help it—he had the title all wrong. “It’s Boris: Bold Beyond Bravery,” I said.
“Right,” said Peter. “Did you read it?”
“I’ve read them all.” I smiled. “And now I’m reading the new one, but only a chapter a night so it can last for a while.”
I’d given him too much information. He was fiddling with something behind the counter—probably bored.
“Can we get the cupcakes?” asked Claire. She was finally standing next to me. I guess she was bored too. I nodded and walked toward the door.
“Good-bye, girls!” Peter waved. “And don’t worry, I’ll make sure this goes out tonight.” He held up Lucy’s present.
Claire waved back and ran ahead of me, beating me to the door.
Something felt weird. It wasn’t that he was a little person—for sure that was different. It was something else, but I couldn’t figure out what it was.
chapter twelve
Somewhere
After the cupcakes, Claire was a nonstop chatterbox all the way home. It made the time go by faster, which was helpful, because now Claire’s bag seemed even heavier than before. As soon as we got inside, Claire tried to grab it.
“Give it! I want to put on a fashion show!”
“No!” I held tight. “We have to wash it first.”
I didn’t want the thrift store clothes touching all the clean stuff in our house. Mom was mostly on Claire’s side, but I made such a big fuss that she finally gave in and took the bag downstairs to the washing machine. At first Claire was mad, but she got over it pretty fast when Mom brought out the chocolate milk she’d bought special for her.
While we waited for the clothes, Claire told Mom about what we’d done. When she got to the part about the boy in the thrift store, Mom looked over at me and raised her eyebrows. It was her tell-me-more look, but I pretended not to notice and went to the kitchen to get a glass of water. When I came back, Claire had moved on to Peter.
Dreamer, Wisher, Liar Page 4
