She nodded as I talked. “Boyfriend problems,” she said. “It’s almost always boyfriend problems. My sisters always think I’m too young to help, but I’m not. I can fix this—I know it.”
I was about to ask how, when someone started banging on the bathroom door.
Mary Majors opened the door, and we saw a man in a janitor’s suit.
“What is this sign about?” he said.
“Hi, Stu!” Mary Majors cried. “Some kids must be playing a trick. Right, Celie?”
“Right!” I said. Because we were kids, and we were playing a trick.
“Don’t worry,” Mary Majors told Stu. “I’ll take it down right now.” She reached around the door to grab the sign, and Stu told us, “You two get on to class.”
So we left, laughing, for class. After a minute, Mary Majors threw one arm around my shoulders and kept it there as we walked down the hall. “This way, if we bump into Jo, she’ll definitely see that somebody likes you,” Mary Majors told me.
I loved that she did that.
Later, in our classroom, when Ms. Chanda told us to get ready to go to art, Mary Majors stopped by my desk. “Saturday!” she said. “You have to come over Saturday. We’ll make a plan!”
“I think that works!” I said. “I’ll check.”
“It has to!” she said.
She left to go back to her desk. I happened to look at Charlie then. He didn’t look happy.
“What happened?” I said.
“It’s just—Mary Majors,” he said.
“Mary Majors what?” I said.
But he just said, “Later.” Because Ms. Chanda was telling all of us to stop talking and start lining up.
I didn’t forget that subject, though. I asked him about it after school, when I went to his house.
But I can’t write about it now! My hand is tired! And my body is hungry! Too much happened today. I have to go get dinner. Will write more later.
After dinner
Now my body is happy! Because Mom made one of Granny’s famous sour-cream coffee cakes, in celebration of Granny coming home tomorrow. It finished baking while we were eating dinner.
Mom thought she probably wouldn’t have time to bake tomorrow. That’s why she made it today.
Jo and I both said we should wait and eat it when Granny’s with us.
“That was my first thought, too,” Mom said. “But then I heard Granny’s voice in my head, saying, ‘This cake begs to be eaten fresh out of the oven. It’s a crime to wait.’ Can’t you just hear her say that?”
I could definitely hear her say those exact words. But still. It’s GRANNY’S famous cake! It seemed wrong to eat it without her.
“I don’t know,” I said.
“Let’s have a little while it’s warm, because she’d want us to,” Dad said. “We’ll save plenty to eat together.”
So that’s what we did. We each had one, small slice of cake fresh out of the oven, because Granny would want us to.
I’ve had my bath, too, and I’m comfy in bed. So I’m all ready to write about going to Charlie’s this afternoon.
First of all, his family has its own townhouse. It’s HUGE! And so pretty! I couldn’t believe it when we walked in with his mom, after she’d picked us up from school. It was very light and white, with huge windows and flowy curtains. And that was only the first floor! There are THREE FLOORS!
Charlie’s mom gave us popcorn at the kitchen table for snack. We started eating while she made herself tea at the stove. I was trying to think of something to say—I didn’t want it to get too awkward and quiet. Then I remembered that I needed to ask Charlie something.
“What were you going to say about Mary Majors earlier?” I asked him. “Before art?”
Charlie didn’t answer right away. His mom turned from the tea kettle and started watching him carefully. It felt funny—I worried I’d said something wrong.
Finally Charlie looked into his bowl of popcorn and said, “Did she tell you she doesn’t like me?”
“No!” I said quickly. I didn’t want them thinking for one second that I’d had bad conversations about Charlie with Mary Majors!
“Really?” Charlie said. He sounded so hopeful!
“Really,” I told him. And I wasn’t lying. She HADN’T said she didn’t like him. She’d just called him dog names. Then said she was kidding.
“We used to be pretty good friends,” he said. Very sadly.
That was all he would say about Mary Majors then. His mom kept watching him. She looked like she wanted to encourage him to keep talking. She must’ve decided not to, though. Because eventually she just said, “You two have fun. I’ll be upstairs in my office if you need me.” And she left with her mug of tea.
Charlie and I were down to the kernels in our popcorn bowls. I sat there and licked my fingers and wished his mom had told him to keep talking about Mary Majors. Because those two were the only possible friends I had so far! I needed to know whether they hated each other!
I decided to try again.
“Why would Mary Majors say she didn’t like you?” I asked.
Charlie took our empty popcorn bowls to the sink and rinsed them and set them in the dishwasher. His mom hadn’t even asked him to do that! I thought it was his way of ignoring my question. But I guess he was actually deciding to tell me the whole story. Because that’s what he finally did. After he’d finished with the dishes and sat back down beside me.
“She found this break in the fence around the playground at school,” he said. “A couple of weeks ago, behind some bushes. She started sneaking out onto the sidewalk during recess.”
“Oh,” I said, picturing that in my head. It was easy to imagine Mary Majors sneaking off of school property, and not being worried one bit.
“She dared other kids to go out there, too,” Charlie said. “Not me. She probably knew I wouldn’t. But definitely Bella and Josie and Benjamin. I heard her say she’d steal her sister’s stopwatch, so they could time who stayed out the longest. And she wanted to have a contest to see who’d go the farthest.”
I could imagine that, too. I could hear her in my head saying, “Come on, New Girl. It’ll be so fun!”
“I didn’t like it,” Charlie said. “I thought someone could get kidnapped. Or a stranger could sneak through that break in the fence someday with a knife, while the kindergartners were on the playground.”
“Poor kindergartners!” I said.
“I know,” Charlie said. “So I told a teacher about the fence. And it got fixed. I did NOT rat on Mary Majors. I never said she left. But she knows I’m the reason the fence got fixed. And she keeps calling me Teacher’s Pet. And Spot. And Whiskers.”
And Rover, I thought.
“I think you did the right thing,” I told him.
“Thanks,” he said. But he still sounded sad.
“I’ll only ever call you Charlie,” I told him. “Or Mr. Larken, if you want. Or Sir Charles Larken.”
That made him laugh. So I called him things like Professor Larken for the rest of the afternoon. And we did lots of homework. Plus he put his number in my phone, so I can call him whenever I need homework help. That was all very useful.
It was a good afternoon. Except, I feel confused—not about homework, but about Mary Majors. Because I know she shouldn’t call Charlie those names. Or lie to grownups, or sneak off school property, or put the lives of kindergartners in danger.
But still. She’s been so nice to me. Saving seats for me at lunch and inviting me over more than once and helping me with my fight with Jo.
I only have two friends at this school. I don’t want to give either one of them up.
I want to sleep.
Thursday, February 3, right after breakfast
I just had a fight with Jo.
She came into my room while I was finishing getting dressed for school. And she said, “I talked to Jake. He says Violet doesn’t know what she’s talking about, and I should trust him, not his baby sister.”
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“Violet is not a baby!” I said. “And she DOES know what she’s talking about. She’s a smart person.”
“She’s not with him all the time,” Jo said. “And neither are you.”
“Neither are YOU,” I said.
“Just—don’t talk to me about Jake ever again,” she said. Then she stomped out of my room.
So this day has gotten off to a really good start.
Later, after school
It’s hard to deal with both Mary Majors and Charlie! I TRIED today. When Mary Majors stopped by my desk again, while Charlie and I were both sitting there.
She asked what was up with Jo. So I told her about the fight. She said not to worry—she had a perfect plan for us, for when I came over on Saturday.
I couldn’t really focus on that. Because I was distracted by Charlie. Knowing he was sitting right there, hearing everything. I didn’t want him to think I was abandoning him for someone who called him dog and cat names. Or going back on my promise to never call him those things.
Finally I tried to include him. I didn’t know what to say, though. Because Charlie doesn’t know anything about the whole Jo situation.
I ended up saying the only, stupid thing I could think of. Which was, “Charlie lives in this neighborhood. Did you know that, Mary Majors?”
She raised her eyebrows at me and said, “I’ve been to Charlie’s house a million times.” Then she just left.
So that part of my day didn’t exactly go well, either.
Nighttime
Now my day is officially TERRIBLE. But it should’ve gotten better! Because Granny is home!
Cousin Carla dropped her off after dinner, then didn’t stay. Which was fine with me, since Cousin Carla tends to do very embarrassing things. Like talking about her period. But the REASON she didn’t stay was RIDICULOUS. She had a POLE DANCING class. She’s FORTY! Why is she learning how to dance around poles?
Anyway. We all kissed Granny, and she kissed us, and we said things like, “We’re so happy you’re finally here!” Then we gave her a tour of our whole apartment.
She seemed to like it. She said things like “Oh, this is very nice.” And, “You found a very good place.”
But then we got to HER room. That’s when things turned bad.
“This one’s for you,” Dad said, leading her inside.
“For me?” she said. She laughed a little. “You’re being silly.”
“We set it all up for you,” I told her.
The wrinkle between her eyebrows got deeper. Then she smiled at me and said, “You’re a sweet girl.”
“Thanks, Granny,” I said.
She turned to Dad and said, “She’s such a sweet girl.”
“She is,” he said. “And she was a big help, fixing up this room for you.”
Granny’s smile got a little smaller. “I have a room already, thank you,” she said, looking only at Dad’s face.
Mom spoke up then, from just behind me. “We moved from our old apartment, Granny, remember? We all live here now.”
Granny nodded slowly. She was obviously doing some thinking.
Then she said to Mom, “I have a room, at 2304
South Lovelace. It’s pale green, with twin beds and pink bedspreads.”
She turned to Dad and said, “Mama chose the bedspreads. I don’t like them—I told her I don’t like them—but she won’t buy me new ones.”
My heart tumbled to the floor then. Because I could tell Granny was talking about her bedroom from when she was a girl. And I hated seeing her so confused.
Dad and Mom looked at each other, and we were all very quiet. For too long a time.
Finally Jo said, “We have sour-cream coffee cake—does anyone want some?”
It was EXACTLY the right thing to do. Granny clapped her hands together and said, “I love sour-cream coffee cake.”
We all sat together at the kitchen table then, and Mom set out slices of cake. After Granny had tasted hers, she said, “This is delicious. But you know, the perfect time to eat this cake is fresh out of the oven.”
“We knew you’d say that!” Jo told her. “So we ate some then.”
“AND we saved lots for you,” I said.
“How nice,” Granny said. And we all finished eating.
Then Mom persuaded Granny to go look at her room again. “I just want to show you some things,” Mom said.
Dad told me and Jo to go finish our homework and get ready for bed.
“Don’t worry,” he told us. “Mom and I will get Granny settled and happy. I promise.”
So I finished my homework and put on my pajamas and tried not to worry. But on my way to the bathroom to brush my teeth, I heard Granny say, “It’s dark out already. Mama will be worried.”
I hated hearing that.
I listened carefully on my way back, too. I heard Mom reading to Granny. Which was better.
And, a little while later, Mom and Dad both came in my room, to tell me that Granny had fallen asleep.
“She’ll improve as she gets used to the space,” Mom said. “You’ll see. We don’t want you to worry.”
“Exactly,” Dad said. “Your job is NOT to worry. Your job is to sleep. Got it?”
I nodded, and they kissed me goodnight and went off to their room.
But still, I worried. I thought things like, What if Granny tries to leave our apartment and go back to South Lovelace? What if she makes it outside, then somehow makes it onto a bus that she thinks is going to South Lovelace, wherever that is? And then gets off in the middle of nowhere and has no idea how to get back? And we have no idea how to find her? Or what if she can’t get on a bus because she leaves without money, and she tries to hitchhike instead? And ends up kidnapped by the driver of a big truck?
I couldn’t let any of that happen. So I took my pillow and my blanket, and this journal and my flashlight, and I tiptoed to the foyer.
I’m sitting in front of the front door now. I’m staying here all night. That way, if Granny tries to get out, I’ll know. And I can stop her.
Middle of the night
Jo’s here! In the foyer, with her pillow and blanket. She had the same idea I did.
She might be stupid about boys, but she’s still my perfect, brilliant sister.
Friday, February 4, right after school
School was NOT GOOD today! This is how I looked, all day:
Because it is NOT EASY to sleep on the floor in our foyer.
Charlie actually asked, “Are you okay? Do you need me to take you to the nurse?” That’s how bad it was.
This was the other bad thing about school: Ms. Chanda is in love with weekend homework! I have a quiz on rates of change AND medians and modes—which she just taught us today!—plus I have to write a story about being a Dutch settler in New York, plus I have to memorize 20 spelling words.
I MISS MY OLD SCHOOL!
At least I can call Charlie for help.
Later
Eye-Della is here! Mom helped her get all set up in her room, and introduced her to everybody. Even though Jo and I met her already, on the day of her interview.
Then Mom said to Eye-Della and Granny, “Why don’t you two get to know each other while I make dinner?” And they sat down together in the living room.
I had to spy! To make sure Eye-Della treats Granny right when she thinks no one else is around.
Here is my spy report:
From the
Top-Secret Spy Notebook of
Celie Valentine Altman
Spies must be fit, because at any moment they might need to escape a dangerous situation or confront an enemy. How far and fast could you flee, if you were to need to disappear into the night?
NOBODY in this family is disappearing into the night. Eye-Della is going to help with that.
Do you have sufficient training to fight and vanquish your foe, should the need arise?
Is Eye-Della my foe? Because I am definitely not allowed to fight Eye-Della. Or any other old lady. I
’m not even supposed to hit or kick Jo.
Except, I would DEFINITELY hit and kick Eye-Della if she hurt Granny.
What steps will you take to ensure that you reach your optimal level of preparedness and physical fitness?
I just took very quiet steps closer to the living room door. So I could hear Granny and Eye-Della better. They’re finally talking!
Granny: “I remember that time. Do you remember?”
Eye-Della: “Which time is it you’re thinking of?”
Granny: “The time years ago when you cried in the kitchen corner, with the lima beans.”
Eye-Della: “I never did like lima beans.”
Granny. “I know you didn’t!”
Granny is laughing. Now they’re both laughing.
Eye-Della: “To everything there is a purpose, I know—even lima beans. But that doesn’t mean I like them!”
More laughing.
I had to stop spying then, because Mom called me from the kitchen, to help her with the twice-baked potatoes.
I love twice-baked potatoes.
I’m also liking Eye-Della so far. Because:
1) She sits nicely with Granny, and she would notice if Granny got up to go to South Lovelace.
2) She talks nicely to Granny, too, even when Granny is not making sense. For example, Granny couldn’t have seen Eye-Della cry in the kitchen corner with lima beans years ago. She didn’t even know Eye-Della years ago. But Eye-Della didn’t argue one bit with Granny.
3) As far as I can tell so far, Eye-Della is not unusually gassy.
Saturday, February 5
I am in BIG trouble right now. I have never been in so much trouble. And it’s mostly Mary Majors’s fault. I don’t think I’ll ever forgive her.
I can’t believe how much has happened just today—and it’s only a little after three! At least I have plenty of time to write about it here. Since Mom and Dad say I can’t leave my room until one of them comes to get me. No TV. No computer, either. No phone of any kind. I don’t even know what they’ve done with my beautiful cell phone.
Everything's Changed Page 4
