The Tori Trilogy

by Alicia Danielle Voss-Guillén

  I pick up my spoon and work it along the edge of the bowl, trying to keep the smiley untouched as long as possible. “I’ve just been tired lately, I guess. School weeks should be shorter and weekends should be longer. And anyway, Ben was in the bathroom, and he wouldn’t get out, so I wasted a few minutes arguing with him in the hallway.”

  Mom’s eyebrows shoot up under her bangs, and then she takes a sip of coffee, probably so she can hide a smile behind the mug. “You should be out of the bathroom before he even gets in there. Then it wouldn’t be an issue for you.”

  “But he’s gotta get to school, too,” I point out.

  “True. But he’s in high school. And he insists on carpooling with his friends. It’s his responsibility if he’s late. But it’s mine if you or Joey are late.”

  That doesn’t sound like much of an excuse to me. “Still, he doesn’t have to shave in the morning on a school day. Or any other day, either. Mom, he’s got, like, three hairs on his chin. Grandma has more facial hair than he does.”

  “Tori!”

  Joey struts into the kitchen just then. He’s already wearing his jacket, and he’s got his backpack slung over one shoulder. He twists his mouth at me in a nasty little grimace. “Still eating, Slowpoke? I’ve been ready and waiting for ages.”

  I stick my tongue out at him and start shoveling my oatmeal into my mouth at warp-speed. Why is it that my brothers always come out on top? Or at least they get to feel like they do. It isn’t fair. I’m completely and totally outnumbered in this family. And nobody understands how it makes me feel.

  In the school lunchroom later that day, I sit with my friends Shannon and Emily, and my cousin Gina, who is my best friend. Gina and I are exactly the same age (well, she’s two months older) and in the same grade at Forest Grove Elementary School, and this year, we were lucky enough to be placed in the same fifth-grade class.

  “I can’t believe our English assignment,” Shannon moans, as she unwraps her peanut-butter sandwich. Shannon always brings a lunch from home.

  Emily raises her eyebrows. “Oh, really? What do you guys have to do?” She’s the only one out of the four of us who’s not in Mr. London’s class. She has Ms. O’Malley, who’s old and boring, but a whole lot easier.

  “I don’t think it’s so bad,” Gina says quickly. That’s my cousin, always looking on the bright side.

  “Well, I do.” I let my face fall into my hands, and then I lift my eyes to look at Emily. “We have to write a ‘family brag paper,’” I moan.

  Her already-wide blue eyes grow wider. “What’s that?”

  I stare down at the contents of my lunch tray, using the tip of my fork to push the extra-stringy string beans into the grayish lumpy mystery meat. I wish I’d brought a lunch from home today. “It’s basically what it sounds like,” I explain to Emily. “We have to write a paper that...” I stop to think just how Mr. London worded it “...that emphasizes the good points of our family members. You know, all their nice character traits and the things we like about them.”

  “Not the things we like about them,” Shannon corrects me. She drops her voice in a deep phony imitation of our teacher. “Those qualities within them which we treasure.” She rolls her eyes and takes a big bite of her sandwich.

  “He actually said that?” Emily giggles.

  Gina tosses her curly dark hair over her shoulder. “Of course he did. You know how dramatic Mr. London is. But really,” she looks at Shannon and me, “it’s not such a terrible assignment.”

  “Easy for you to say,” I argue. “You have the cutest little sister in the whole wide world, and that’s it. You don’t have any obnoxious big brothers that you’re being forced to brag about.”

  “Or parents who are divorced and fight with each other all the time,” Shannon says sadly. She drops her eyes to study the tabletop, and we all stare at her a moment.

  I begin to feel a little guilty. At least my parents are happily married to each other, and it won’t be hard at all to find nice things to say about them. I love my parents. And Andrew and Stephanie, too, for that matter. But all the rest...Nate, Ben, Joey...what am I going to say about them? Mr. London made it very clear that he wants our papers to be accurate and truthful, to portray our families just the way they are, highlighting the good stuff.

  “I want them to be the kind of papers that make your reader say, ‘Gee, I’d really like to meet that family,’” he told our class just before lunch. “The kind of papers that make you, yourselves, as the writer, take pause and think for a moment about those traits within each family member that you’ve never really stopped to consider before. The things that make them special and unique. The things that make you proud to be related to them.”

  Blah blah blah. Mr. London is big on assignments that he thinks will help us to grow as individuals. But I don’t see at all how this particular one is supposed to help me grow. My teacher just doesn’t know my brothers. How loud and obnoxious and invasive and horrible they are. What am I ever going to find to say that’s good about them?

  I sigh loudly.

  Gina gives me a sympathetic pat on the back. “It’s okay, Tori. You’re really making too big of a deal out of this.”

  “No, she isn’t,” Shannon says. “I know just how she feels.”

  “I don’t think I’d have too much difficulty writing a paper like that,” Emily puts in. She’s an only child, and her parents kind of spoil her, the way all “only children” are spoiled.

  “I wouldn’t either, if I didn’t have to be truthful,” I say. “I could make up this perfect family and brag about how wonderful they are. But it would only be in my imagination.” Frustrated, I scuff my sneaker on the floor. “Why do we have to write this paper, and why now, at the end of October? My biggest problem should be figuring out my Halloween costume.”

  “No luck with that yet?” asks Gina.

  I shake my head no.

  “Me, neither,” she says.

  “Maybe you could come over on Saturday,” I suggest. “You know my parents never mind. And we could come up with some costume ideas then. A little brainstorming together might be all we need to figure something out.”

  “Good idea! I’ll let you know tomorrow.”

  I glance at Emily and Shannon. “You guys are invited, too.”

  “Thanks,” replies Shannon, “but I’m with my dad this weekend. He’s taking me shopping and to a movie on Saturday.”

  “And we’re going to visit my grandpa in Wisconsin,” Emily adds.

  Just then, the lunch bell rings. We all stand up, bumping into one another as we pick up our trays and trash and head for the garbage cans.

  All the while, I can’t stop thinking about my “family brag paper” assignment. Out of all of the assignments that he could have come up with, why did Mr. London have to choose that one?

  Chapter Three

  Saturday is a cold, blustery fall day. The wind whips old dried leaves off the trees and around the corners of the house, which of course is drafty inside.

  We all sleep a bit late in the morning, and then have a big family breakfast together at the kitchen table. Mom makes French toast, and Dad scrambles a dozen or so eggs and fries up bacon on the skillet. The little gas fireplace that looks like an old-fashioned stove helps to warm the big room, which is full of good smells. Ebony’s curled up on the rug in front of it, snoozing happily.

  I am already dressed in jeans and a long-sleeved top, ready for Gina to come over in a while so we can plan our Halloween costumes. Mom’s dressed, too, and so is Dad, but my brothers are all in their p.j.’s still.

  Nate’s hair is a mess and he plows his fingers through it wearily as he yawns one of his infamous “foghorn” yawns. “After breakfast, I’m goin’ back to bed,” he announces to no one in particular.

  He’s always playing the part of the martyred college student with too many classes, too much homework, and a job that demands too much from him. He probably does have a right to be tired; most mornings he�
��s up well before the rest of us to catch an early class before he starts work at the college bookstore (where, of course, he is employee extraordinaire), and at nights he doesn’t go to sleep till after midnight. But still. Part of that’s his own fault. If he didn’t take all those Xbox breaks, he’d actually be able to finish his homework earlier and go to bed at a decent time.

  “Gotta love Saturdays,” adds Ben.

  I glance over at him. “Why? Do you have a date with Jaine tonight?”

  “What do you think?” Joey cuts in before Ben can answer.

  Ben shoots him a look. “Of course. We always go out on weekends.”

  “And whenever else you possibly can,” I add dryly. I’m busy folding paper napkins into the shape of Japanese cranes. But I’m only making three of them this time: one for Dad, one for Mom, one for me, and zero for unappreciative brothers.

  Mom turns around to face us. “You’ll be gone again tonight, Ben? Andrew and Stephanie are coming for dinner. Maybe...maybe you could have Jaine over here? That way, we can all be together.”

  Oh, great. Just what I need. Ben and his girlfriend and all their mushy love stuff all evening. “Mom,” I start to protest.

  “Mom!” Joey chimes, looking equally horrified.

  Ben levels a gaze at both of us. “I’ll ask her, Mom,” he says evenly. “I’m sure she’d like that.”

  Mom looks pleased for a moment--but only a moment, because then, Nate says, “You guys can count me out. I promised Preston I’d give him a hand with the Camaro tonight. He’s driving it out to his girlfriend’s tomorrow, so we’ve gotta get those issues cleared up.” Have I mentioned Nate is also a star mechanic? And a rude one too. I mean, “Count me out?” We’re only his family, after all.

  Dad transfers bacon onto a platter with the help of a metal spatula. “Do you have to do that tonight?” he asks, a little sadly. “Why don’t you meet with Preston this afternoon? Then you can be home for dinner.” Poor Dad.

  “Can’t,” replies Nate. “He works today till six.”

  “Well, couldn’t he get someone else to help him?” Mom suggests. I feel really bad for my parents when my brothers act this way.

  “He wants me, Mom. No one knows their way around a Camaro like I do,” returns Nate. A cocky smile spreads slowly over his lips.

  “I know,” I say disdainfully. “You’ve worked on how many before? One? Two?”

  He conveniently ignores that.

  Mom sets a dish of fresh-fruit salad in the center of the table. “Let’s eat,” she says with a sigh.

  Joey takes one look at the fruit and wrinkles his nose. “Yuck! Bananas! Why do we always have to have bananas? They destroy everything.” He sticks his finger down his throat and gags disgustingly.

  “Ew, Joey!” I cry. “You are so nasty!”

  Mom gives him a withering look. “Joey, please. Not at the table.”

  And I’m supposed to write a “family brag paper” and have it finished a week from Tuesday.

  Auntie Luz drops off Gina around noon. Auntie Luz is Dad’s youngest sibling, and my favorite aunt. She’s small and pretty, and her eyes are full of shine, and when she moves, she sort of seems to twinkle. I guess that makes sense, because, after all, “Luz” means “Light” in Spanish.

  “Have fun, girls,” she tells us, kissing Gina goodbye and me hello. “Hopefully you’ll get inspired and put an end to this whole Halloween-costume dilemma.”

  “We’ll try,” I say.

  “Bye, Mom!” calls Gina.

  As soon as she’s out the door, we race upstairs to my room.

  “Guess what?” asks Gina, the moment we’ve closed the door behind us and collapsed across my bed.

  “What?”

  “I finished my paper.”

  I sit up straight and stare at her. “You mean...?”

  She nods. “My ‘family brag paper.’ It’s all done!”

  “Already?” I gasp. “I’m dreading writing mine. I haven’t even started thinking about it! How did you--”

  “It was easy, really,” Gina cuts in. “Just like I thought. After all, in my family, there’s just Mom, Dad, Sofie, and me.”

  “And they’re all easy to brag about,” I add sourly. I can’t believe she’s done!

  Gina laughs. “My parents, yes. Sofie...well, she has her moments.”

  “But she’s the cutest little thing ever!” I cry, thinking of my chubby toddler cousin with her soft black curls and high-pitched baby voice.

  “She can be a pain, Tori. She’s always getting into my stuff.”

  “But still, I’m sure it wasn’t exactly hard for you to brag about her,” I insist. “She’s cute and sweet and cuddly...that’s a lot more than I can say for my brothers!”

  “Aw, they’re not that bad, Tore.”

  I stare at her. Has she gone mad? “Not that bad?” I repeat. “Well, maybe not Andrew. But, Gina...the rest...they’re awful!”

  Gina shrugs. “I have a lot of good memories of them. Like that Christmas we all drew names for Secret Santa, and Ben got mine, and he bought me that cute stuffed reindeer with the jingle-bell harness. It was so thoughtful. I mean, he could have just given me a gift card, or ten dollars, but he went and picked out something especially for me.”

  “I’m sure it was just lucky,” I say. “He probably got it half-price somewhere on Christmas Eve.”

  Gina ignores me. “Or what about the time Nate organized that surprise birthday party for Abuelito? Or when Joey took you and me ice skating last winter and bought us hot chocolate at the rink?”

  “Everybody loves Abuelito, “ I reply. “And Joey...well, he must have hit his head or something.”

  “Come on, Tori!” protests Gina. “They’re good guys, all of them.”

  I roll my eyes. She isn’t going to get me to agree with that. “I thought you came over so we could talk about Halloween costumes,” I say after a moment.

  Gina sighs and props her head up on one of my pillows. “Okay. So, let’s talk about them. What kind of costume were you thinking? Scary? Funny? Fancy?”

  “I have no idea.” I sort absentmindedly through the basket that holds my large Webkinz collection. “Last year, we dressed up like our pets. Remember that?”

  “That was awesome,” says Gina. “Your mom did a great job with your cat makeup. You looked just like Ebony.”

  I giggle. “And your rubber beak...that was hilarious.”

  “And really hard to breathe through,” adds Gina. She went trick-or-treating as her cockatiel, Flutter.

  “Those, I guess, were funny costumes,” I say. “Maybe we should try something different this Halloween.”

  “Good idea. We should be either scary or fancy.”

  I nod. “And it’s gotta be good.”

  “Of course.” Gina thinks for a moment. “What about...what about cheerleaders?”

  I make a face. “That’s too boring and predictable. A bunch of girls from school were cheerleaders last year, and I’m sure they will be again. We want to be really different.” I love dressing up for Halloween (it’s another opportunity to “become” someone else) and I take it very seriously.

  “Hmmm.” Gina presses her lips together. “Well...how about fifties girls?”

  I frown at her. Talk about predictable.

  “No?” Gina says helplessly. “What do you suggest, then?”

  I close my eyes and think very hard. Something scary or fancy. Or...maybe a little bit of both. Maybe something mysterious. Maybe...! My eyes fly open as a light bulb turns on in my head. “I’ve got it!”

  “You do?” Gina leans forward excitedly.

  I jump up and run to my bookcase, scanning the row of bindings. “Here it is,” I say triumphantly, pulling a book off the shelf.

  “A book?” Gina looks confused.

  “Wait a minute.” I sling myself onto the bed next to her and begin flipping through the pages. I stop about halfway through the book and tap my finger on a picture of a beautiful dark-haired woman in a
peasant-style top and a full twirling skirt of many colors. She wears an equally colorful scarf wrapped around her head, and huge gold hoop earrings, and more necklaces than you can imagine.

  “Wow,” gasps Gina. “What an amazing outfit. It’s so...exotic!”

  “And mysterious,” I add, pleased by her reaction. “She’s a gypsy.”

  Gina nods. “That’s awesome. What book is this?”

  “An old collection of short stories my mom used to read when she was a kid. I discovered this picture a couple of months ago and I couldn’t stop looking at it.”

  “I can see why.” Gina glances from the book to me. “Being gypsies for Halloween is a great idea, Tori, but how are going to make our costumes that...” she searches for a word “...that elaborate?”

  I shrug. “It’ll be easy. We don’t need blouses like that, since we’ll probably be wearing jackets anyway, since Halloween is usually pretty cold. And scarves are easy to find. Our moms have lots of scarves, and you can get them for cheap at resale shops too. We both have hoop earrings, and dress-up jewelry....” I tick the things off on my fingers. “And we’ll wear lots and lots of makeup. So all we really need are the skirts.”

  Gina sighs. “The skirts are a big part of the costume.”

  I bite my lip, thinking a moment. Then I lay the book aside and stand up, grabbing Gina’s hand. “Come with me,” I say.

  Gina and I make our way slowly up the creaky attic steps. I glance behind me at the door at the bottom of the steep, narrow staircase. It’s already swung halfway shut, and I shiver. Even though I know it’s silly, our attic gives me the creeps.

  At the top of the stairs, I flick the switch on the wall, splashing the attic with buttery yellow light. The air up here is musty and chilly. I’m glad I pulled on a hoodie sweatshirt before leaving my room, and I bet Gina is too.

  I work my way over to a corner where the roof slants really low. I push my old Fischer-Price dollhouse out of the way and reach for the boxes wedged behind it.

  “I haven’t been up here in a long time,” Gina says. “I’d forgotten how big your attic is. Our is just, like, a crawlspace.”