“Of course, you may choose not to take any bread at all. Then just pass it along.”
“If I’m feeling faint, can I take hers?”
“Never take more than one until everyone has been served. If, at some point during the meal, you feel you would like another roll, you must offer it first to everyone else. Like so. ‘Would anyone else like another roll?’ ” Miss Melton-Monarchy held up the basket.
Officer Weston raised his hand.
“There’s no need to raise your hand, Officer Weston.”
“Well, what’s the point of that?” I couldn’t help asking the question. None of this made any sense at all. “If you let everyone go before you, the rolls will all be gone.”
“The point, Miss Corcoran, is to be polite. The point is the reason you are sitting opposite me today. When we learn the rules of polite society, we open the doors of opportunity.”
“Why don’t we just open the doors of the kitchen?” I grumbled. “Are polite people always hungry?”
Miss Melton-Mowry decided to ignore me. It’s a normal developmental stage for every one of my teachers. At some point, I’m just not there.
Of course, before we could get our one measly roll, we had to listen to another lecture about how you don’t put the roll in your mouth and bite down like a normal person. What you do is leave it on your plate and pinch off a piece. Then there’s a whole other slew of rules about how you butter it. And if you press too hard on that icy pat of butter and it lands on the floor, you can’t rinse it off in your water glass like a sensible person. You have to leave it on the ground and eat your stupid old roll without it.
Polite people are sure to starve to death. A couple of bites of fruit and a roll the size of a golf ball took the whole hour!
As Miss M&M and Miss Glennon took the bread basket and the dishes back to the little kitchen, I whispered to Officer Weston, “Let’s play a prank on Delton’s mom.”
“How so?”
“Well, she wanted Delton to take this class with me so he could get some backbone.”
“Okay…” Officer Weston nodded.
“So, we tell her something she wants to hear. Will you play along?”
“As long as I don’t have to break any laws or tell any lies.”
“But you’ll go along with mine?”
He looked up at the ceiling and whistled under his breath, which is sign language for “I know nothing.”
In the parking lot, Mrs. Bean ran up to us like the ducks at Riverside Park do when they see you have a bag of bread.
“Hey there, Mrs. Bean,” I called out to her.
“Cassidy?” Mom was already in the car. She rolled down the window. “We need to get going.” Mom has excellent radar for when I am about to tell a story.
“Be right there.” I didn’t break my stride. “You should have seen old Delton in class today, Mrs. Bean. We were learning how to eat rolls without sprinkling the crumbs all around and he got the whole roll into his mouth without losing a single crumb, didn’t you, Delton?”
Mrs. Bean looked at her son. “That’s wonderful! But…putting a whole roll into your mouth isn’t considered polite, is it?”
It was the strangest thing. I’d never met a mother who seemed pleased when her kid was bad. Instead of staying in her car, my mom got out and joined us.
“Nope, but it is entertaining. We were cracking up, weren’t we, Officer Weston?”
“Putting an entire roll into your mouth would satisfy the letter of the law,” he told Mrs. Bean. “That is, if the goal is to keep the crumbs attached to the bread.”
Mom eyed Officer Weston. He was getting on her radar, too.
“But how…how did you make polite conversation?” Mrs. Bean wondered.
“People who are unable to talk find…other ways to communicate. Silently,” Officer Weston offered.
“Sure. Like sign language,” I said.
Delton’s head swiveled back and forth between me and Officer Weston.
I made a bunch of squiggly shapes with my hands. “Delton taught me this. It means ‘Pass the salt.’ ”
As they walked to their car, Mrs. Bean asked Delton, “Did you learn sign language from YouTube as well?”
Delton glanced back at me and Officer Weston. We were cracking up, twisting our fingers all over the place like a couple of baseball coaches signaling the pitcher.
“Start small, Delton,” Officer Weston called out to him. “You’ll get the hang of it.”
“Well, Mom, I think that’s enough good deeds for one day.” I punched Officer Weston in the arm. “Time for me to get some normal-sized food and go fishing.”
Freedom. Finally. As soon as lunch was over, I stuffed my retractable fishing pole into my backpack along with my binoculars for spying on people and called out to Mom to hang a GONE FISHING sign on my bedroom door.
“When will you be back?” she called after me.
“Tomorrow, latest.” I slammed the screen door so I couldn’t hear any more and pushed my bike over to Jack’s. He was in the front yard, checking the oil in his lawn mower.
“Finish up,” I said. “We’re going fishing.”
“Sorry, Cass. No can do.” He looked sort of rumply, like he’d just got up, which was heartbreaking because it meant he’d stayed up late watching movies last night—without me.
“But you said you’d go with me today.”
“I thought you’d be done sooner. I have to cut the Bensons’ yard and then, after that, I have to cut the Sorensons’ yard. I usually cut theirs on Friday afternoon, but I promised Sabrina I’d take her to Yoga for Teens.”
“On a free summer afternoon, you’re gonna be inside? Stretching?”
“That’s a funny comment coming from someone who spends her days inside, drinking tea and learning to be polite.”
“Funny thing is, I can’t think of one polite word to say to a guy who breaks his promises.”
“There’ll be plenty of light when I get back. We can go after dinner.”
“I got plans after dinner,” I said.
“Like what. Moping?”
“Top-secret. Sorry.”
“Well, who’s gonna dig your worms, then?” Delton was telling the truth when he blabbed that squirmy live worms were on the official list of bugs that gave me the creeps.
“Me, that’s who!” Fortunately, I was riding away, so Jack couldn’t see my face. Like Mom, he always knew when I was lying.
I made a stop at the Westside Pharmacy and bought a bag of gummy worms. When I got to the park, I tried to see how long I could ride with my eyes closed, but I gave up pretty quick because even if I beat Jack’s record of twenty-four seconds, how would I prove it?
As soon as I got to our favorite fishing spot, the one where nobody could see us from the path, I realized I hadn’t done enough good deeds for the day, because a couple of sappy-looking teenagers were sitting there, holding hands and kissing.
Leaning my bike against a tree, I tore open the bag of gummy worms. Some little kids were riding up; their mom was far enough behind that I could stick a red gummy worm in each nostril and one in the corner of my mouth and start sleepwalking toward them like I was a zombie.
The little girl screamed, and the boy hit his brakes so hard he made a tire mark. Then they turned and hightailed it back to Mom. I thought about going to another path and lying in the middle of it with gummy worms all over me, like I was dead. Just thinking about that made me shiver. Gummy worms had never given me the creeps before—a definite sign I was getting worse. I would have pondered that, but I could see the little snitches’ mom marching toward me. Time to disappear.
I headed for our second-best fishing spot, only to find that a couple of old geezers in waders had claimed it. Geez! The park was crawling with people! I ended up on the dock with a bunch of little kids. The fish seemed wise to my fake worms and I didn’t catch a thing. When someone dropped a real worm on the hot wood, it wriggled like it was doing the tango.
I can’t take it!
Grabbing my rod, I ran off.
What a sorry day. There was nothing to do but find our favorite oak tree and swing upside down on the branch we sanded last year for that very purpose. Sometimes all the blood sloshing around in my brain causes temporary amnesia.
I swung so long, I felt like my head was about to explode; instead, I had a brainstorm—if the world had to be full of people everywhere I went, then there must be someone interesting to spy on. I got back on my bike and pedaled home a different way, keeping a sharp lookout for crimes in progress or people doing the kind of embarrassing things you could sell to one of those funniest-home-video shows.
Nothing. Grand River has to be the most boring city ever! All I saw was a dog that had knocked over somebody’s garbage can and was rooting around in it. I wasn’t about to rat out a dog, even if he was making a huge mess.
But…something interesting was going on in that backyard. I screeched my brakes and let my bike fall near the mailbox. Over the back fence I saw a girl, her hair flying up and then falling in front of her face. She disappeared. It happened again. And she disappeared again. I moved closer to investigate. Could it be that someone had moved within a mile of our house and set up a trampoline? Jack would mow this lawn for free!
I crouched down and spied on her through a crack in the fence slats. She looked to be about my age. Boy, could she jump. And flip, too! This was an amazing discovery.
“I can see you, by the way,” she called out as she flew ten feet up in the air. “Your bike, too. It’s on my mom’s nasturtiums.”
“Sorry.” I ran to get my bike and shoved a couple of the smashed flowers into my pocket.
“Well, don’t run away. Come and jump with me. The latch is up high so the little monsters can’t escape.”
Stretching up on my tiptoes to undo the latch, I said, “You have to be new. There’s no way we would have missed this last summer.”
“Newish. We moved here in January. I go to Country Day.”
“The private school? What do you live here for?” Most of the kids who went to Country Day lived on the posh side of town. Come to think of it, half my etiquette class probably went there.
“I’ll live wherever I like, thank you very much. I’m Livvy. Who are you?”
I thought about saying “I’m Miss Corcoran. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” And “Those were the finest nasturtiums I’ve ever smashed with my bike.” And all the other malarkey we learned in etiquette class.
Problem was, I liked her already. “I’m Cassidy.”
“Well, don’t just stand there drooling, Cassidy. Climb on. We’ve only got forty-five minutes.” To emphasize her point, Livvy did a backflip!
Three steps led up to the trampoline; I had to step over the sign that hung across the stairs—NO BOYS ALLOWED!
“What have you got against boys?” I asked, landing with a bounce on my bum.
“I have no use for them whatsoever. Don’t tell me you do.”
“It’s just that my best friend—”
“Much to my chagrin, I am forced to share my home with three younger brothers—eight, six and four…. ” Livvy bounced around me, making it hard for me to stay in one place. “They’re horrible nasty creatures. The only time I get a break is when Mom makes them rest in their rooms between one and two p.m. I put up this sign and bounce alone.”
“You’re good” was all I could think to say. I was getting a little seasick rolling around so much.
“I am. I’m practicing my flips so that when I’m sixteen I can go to the Youth Olympics as a freestyle skier.”
“Are you…close?”
“I’m twelve and a half. It’s my parents’ rule that I have to be sixteen. They want me to be sure the risk is worth it if I crack my head open.” Livvy dropped to her knees to stop bouncing and went to sit on the rim. “Go ahead,” she said. “You bounce now.”
“I’ve hardly ever bounced on a tramp,” I confessed.
“Let’s see where you are. I’m an excellent teacher; I can teach anyone to flip, even uncoordinated people.”
While I bounced, Livvy grilled me. After fifteen minutes, she knew all about my geeky sister, my etiquette lessons, my epic pranks and how bad I wanted to ride the rails. The only thing I didn’t mention was Jack, since she seemed dead set against boys.
Knowing how much Jack would want to practice his death-defying stunts on this trampoline, I tried again. “Little kids are a pain,” I said, “but now that you’re almost a teenager, you must have some use for boys. My mom keeps telling my sister that, anyway.”
“Name one thing a boy can do that a girl can’t do better,” Livvy responded. “Honestly, Cassidy. You’re not one of those kind of girls, are you?”
“No!”
In just twenty minutes, Livvy had me bouncing six feet in the air. “First lesson, you have to get your air sense. That means you learn how it feels to bounce and get height. Next time, I’ll teach you the tuck. But I need to practice now. I don’t have much time left.”
“That’s okay. I better get home. Thanks, Livvy.”
“And come back, Cassidy. I was beginning to think Grand River was the most boring place on the planet, until I met you.”
“Me too,” I said as I pedaled away.
Back at home, I made an Indian sweat lodge out of my covers and buried myself right in the middle. I wanted to think about my most recent discovery—Livvy. That couldn’t be her real name, could it? It had to be short for something. I hoped it wasn’t…Liver. It had been a long time since I had a secret all of my own—one I didn’t share with Jack. Maybe I would never tell him about her. Whenever he hung out with Sabrina, I could disappear over to Livvy’s house. I was just getting started imagining all the things we might do together when Magda came in.
“Have you seen my sports glasses?”
“What do you need them for?” Magda hadn’t used her sports glasses since Mom made her try out for volleyball in the sixth grade.
She didn’t answer. Just sat on my bed and waited. Magda knows I can’t stand an unanswered question. I pawed my way out of my sweat lodge. “What are you doing in that ridiculous outfit?”
“Does it look ridiculous? They’re yoga tights. I borrowed them from Mom.”
“You look like one of those walking-stick bugs.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence. At least I can console myself that everyone else is going to look the same way on Friday at Yoga for Teens, so it won’t matter.”
I threw the covers back over my head. “What can happen to your glasses in yoga? Don’t you just moan and lie around like a corpse?”
“For your information, that’s chanting the om. I’d rather not go at all, but Mom says if I don’t get some exercise this summer, I have to work out with her at the gym.”
When Mom works out, her face gets so beet-red people think she’s having a heart attack. Even her eyebrows sweat! Plus, she sings out loud to the ’80s songs on her MP3 player.
“You should go, too,” Magda said. “Jack’s going. And you are eleven-teen, according to Janae.”
“Bree’s going, too, I suppose.”
“She’s the one who really wants to go.”
“Say, Magda.” I untangled my legs and jumped off the bed. “Do you think my karma will get better if I go?”
“I don’t know. What were you going to do instead?”
I couldn’t think of a thing. Last summer, I usually hung out with Jack. Kicking around an empty house didn’t seem all that appealing. “Watch TV, I guess. Play Angry Birds.”
Magda shrugged. “You could give it a try.”
I was beginning to think the whole world was swinging upside down from the oak tree and I was the only normal person left. Me? In Yoga for Teens?
“All right, all right. Uncle! Mag, you got any more of those tights?”
“Cassidy, you’re here, too! I didn’t know you were coming.” Bree squeezed me tight like I was the surprise guest at
her birthday party. I couldn’t make heads or tails out of the girl. Could anyone be so nice? Did she really like everybody or was that something they taught you in the South? It gave me the idea to bring Delton Bean over to her house and test the theory.
“Come over here, Magda, Cassidy; put your mats by me and Jack.”
“We don’t have mats.”
“They’re in the back. I’ll show you.”
As Bree pulled me into the back room, I tried to catch Jack’s eye, but he was busy unrolling his mat.
“You’ll need a mat, a strap, a set of blocks, a yoga blanket…” Bree kept piling stuff in my arms until I could barely see.
Staggering back into the main room, I almost ran into Jack, who grabbed my yoga blanket. “Here, I’ll help you set up,” he said.
He had on the same silly tights we did, but they looked better on him, like he was a circus acrobat or something. Since I had to borrow a pair from Mom, too, mine looked like Great-Grandma Reed’s support hose.
“Magda, Cassidy, I’m so glad you could come.” Janae gave us each a hug. “I see Bree is helping you get your props. Excellent. When everyone is seated, I will give my dharma talk and then we’ll get started.”
With all the mats lined up just so, I started sneaking looks at the other ten kids who should have been fishing, skateboarding, playing kick the can or any other normal summer activity, but were instead sitting cross-legged with their hands pressed together, breathing like they were about to blow out their birthday candles.
I sat there like everybody else, huffing my breath in and out so Janae could see I took things seriously.
“Stop it!” Magda turned around and poked me. She sat in front of me, Bree was behind me and Jack was behind her, which meant I was stuck in a teen-girl sandwich.
“Good afternoon, everyone. I want to welcome those of you who are new today. My son, Jack, and our friends Bree, Magda and Cassidy.”
The other students welcomed us, pointing their folded hands and ducking their heads, smiling like they were in the best dream ever.
“Before we begin, I’d like to talk a little bit about samskara, so let’s settle into our posture.”
Cassidy's Guide to Everyday Etiquette (and Obfuscation) Page 10
