The Kindness Club: Designed by Lucy

by Courtney Sheinmel

  CHAPTER 10

  They say variety is the spice of life, but that doesn’t seem to be true when it comes to where people sit in the Braywood Intermediate School cafeteria. Every day, kids sit in the exact same seats as they did the day before, and the day before that, and so on and so on, as if cafeteria seats were assigned just like classroom ones. The difference is you get to sit with the people you want to sit next to.

  I sit with Theo and Chloe, at a table smack in the middle of the room. Maybe it’s a bit strange that we don’t shake things up and switch seats each day, but the truth is, I like it the way that it is. It feels safe and cozy. A seat to go to, and friends who I know will sit beside me, day in and day out.

  Before Chloe moved to town, it wasn’t like that for me. I would pick up my lunch and look out over the sea of faces: who was friendly enough to sit with? Kids like Vanessa Medina and Serena Kappas were always nice about letting me sit with them. But it’s not like they saved a seat for me, which made it feel like it wasn’t really my seat after all.

  I’ve heard lots of kids say that lunch is their favorite subject, but it was never mine. I like eating, and I like getting a break from classwork. But when you don’t have your right place and your right friends, it’s actually the worst time of day. It was like showing up to a fancy wedding in jeans. Everyone is looking at you. Everyone knows you don’t belong. Now that I have my right spot, lunch is my favorite subject, too.

  I put my tray down on the Kindness Club’s regular table. Chloe sat on my side, like she always does, and Theo sat across. It was pizza day, and I tore off a piece of crust and popped it into my mouth. I always eat the crust first because it’s my least favorite part, and I believe in saving the best for last.

  “I don’t think Serena is here yet,” I said after I’d chewed and swallowed.

  “Well, we just got here,” Theo said. “Maybe Mr. Goldfarb’s class isn’t downstairs yet.”

  “No, they are,” Chloe said. “I saw Rachael Padilla making a sandwich.”

  There was something about her tone—it sounded almost wistful. I worry sometimes that a part of Chloe still wants to be in the It Girls and sit at their table at the back of the room. Even though when she picked our club over theirs, Monroe told her in no uncertain terms that she would never make the mistake of being Chloe’s friend again.

  That was the exact word Monroe used—“mistake.” It was such an awful thing to say, especially since being friends with Chloe is the total opposite of a mistake. But the point is, if a part of Chloe still wants to be friends with Monroe, then maybe a part of Monroe wants to be friends with Chloe, too.

  “Hey, Chloe,” I said. “Do you ever … well, I’m sure you don’t … but do you ever miss Monroe and all them?”

  “Yeah,” Chloe said. “Sometimes I do.”

  “Really?” Theo asked.

  “Well, yeah,” she said. “It’s not an everyday kind of missing them. Most of the time I don’t. But every so often something will happen, and it’ll make me remember something we did together. Like right now, eating pizza.”

  “That’s not exactly a unique activity,” Theo said. “Pizza is on forty percent of the menus in restaurants across the United States.”

  “Yeah, you’re right,” Chloe said. “It’s just … I had some good times with them. Not like the times the three of us have, but still. I sometimes wish it had worked out differently and we could all be friends. I think it could’ve been fun.”

  “I think my gender prevents me from being a so-called It Girl,” Theo said.

  This conversation about Monroe and her friends had gone on too long. “Oh, enough about them,” I broke in. “You know what will be even more fun? A birthday party for Serena.” I stood up at my seat to have a better view of all the tables stretched out in front of me, but I didn’t see her. So I turned around to look at the ones behind me—careful to avoid looking where I knew the It Girls would be. “If I were Serena, where would I be sitting?” I said.

  “My guess is that she’ll be sitting wherever Vanessa Medina is,” Theo said. “Which is at the It Girls table, I’m afraid.”

  I didn’t want to look, but I had to. And when I did, sure enough, there was Vanessa, right next to Monroe, in the exact seat where Chloe used to sit.

  “I’ve never noticed Vanessa sitting with them before,” I said. “What do you think she’s doing there?”

  Chloe shrugged. “They’re looking for a new member,” she said. “Because Monroe’s best friend Haley moved away, and they wanted to have four people. It’s better for when you pair off into things. That’s why they were considering me.”

  “But Vanessa wouldn’t leave Serena behind, would she?” I asked. “Especially not right after her mom died.”

  “I don’t know,” Chloe said. “I’ve never even met Vanessa.”

  “It’d be an awful thing for a best friend to do,” I said. “I wonder if Serena would even want Vanessa at her birthday party.”

  “Maybe Serena wanted to sit somewhere else today,” Chloe said. “Do you see her?”

  “Nope,” Theo said.

  “Well, that explains it,” Chloe said. “Vanessa sat there just because she didn’t have Serena to sit with today.”

  You don’t just sit with the It Girls because your usual friends aren’t around. But I didn’t say that out loud. Chloe knew that as well as I did.

  I was still watching the table, and I saw Vanessa stand up and walk her tray over to the conveyer belt, where everyone drops their trays when they’re done eating. Now was my chance. I picked up my own tray, walked as quickly as I could without spilling anything, and almost bumped into Vanessa as she turned around from the conveyer belt. “Oh, sorry,” she said. “I didn’t see you there.”

  “It’s okay,” I said. “I was actually coming to talk to you. Can I ask you something?”

  “Is it about Serena’s mom?”

  “Sort of,” I said. “Theo told me what happened. His mom was good friends with Serena’s mom.”

  If I hadn’t made friends of my own—real friends—and found a permanent table to sit at during lunch, I probably would’ve known before Theo told me. I would’ve been sitting with Serena and Vanessa, and maybe Serena would’ve told me what was happening, or Vanessa would’ve, right after. I felt bad that I hadn’t known before. Not that there was anything I could do.

  I was doing something now, though. I was planning a party.

  “Is Serena in school today?” I asked.

  “She was supposed to be,” Vanessa said. “Daphne—that was Serena’s mom’s name—she died the week before last, and Serena said she’d be back this week. But then she decided to wait and start on Monday. I’m going over there after school to drop off her homework. If you have a message for her, I could tell her. Lots of people gave me messages to give her. Even a few teachers—even Principal Dibble.”

  “Anything about her birthday?” I asked.

  “Her birthday?” Vanessa repeated. “No. That’s not till next weekend, and I don’t think she’s thinking about it at all. Her family is pretty busy with other things.”

  “Of course,” I said. “Good.” Vanessa looked at me funny. “I mean, not good. Just … I just thought of something.”

  “What?”

  I shook my head. “It’s nothing much,” I said. Even though of course it was something, and it was getting even better in my head. Serena was going to love it, I was sure. “When you see Serena, tell her I said hi,” I told Vanessa. “Tell her I’ll see her on Monday.”

  “Excuse me,” a kid named Leon said. “You’re blocking the line here.”

  Oops. I hadn’t noticed, but there was a bit of a crowd gathering behind me, waiting to drop their own trays. “Sorry,” I said. I scooted over. “Anyhoo,” I said to Vanessa. “Will you tell her?”

  “Sure,” she said.

  “Thanks.”

  I put my own tray on the conveyer belt. Then I headed back to Chloe and Theo, to report what had happened, and
fill them in on my new-and-improved party idea.

  CHAPTER 11

  “Lucy! Watch it!”

  It was Saturday morning. I’d gone to sleep thinking about Serena’s party, and I’d woken up thinking about Serena’s party.

  “Sorry, Dad,” I said. “I didn’t see you there. But I’m glad I bumped into you. Guess what!”

  “It’s too early in the morning for guessing games,” Dad said. “And you’re going to hurt someone if you don’t look where you’re going.”

  “I said I was sorry,” I told him. “Besides, it was just a coincidence that I opened my door at the exact same time you were walking by. Theo says the probability of coincidences is much higher than you’d think.”

  “Yes, well,” Dad said, his voice coming out more grunt-like than word-like. “Okay, then.”

  He headed down the hall again, and so did I, since that’s what I’d been planning to do all along. But even though we were going in the same direction, we weren’t walking together. Dad stopped in the foyer long enough to grab his warm-up jacket, then opened the front door.

  “’Bye,” I called behind him, but he was already gone and didn’t hear me.

  Grandma was in the kitchen when I walked in, sitting at the table with her coffee, in the seat closest to the back window. She held the coffee mug between both hands and stared out at something in the backyard. “Hey, Grandma,” I said.

  She jumped in her seat, and the coffee sloshed a little bit. I grabbed a napkin from the counter to wipe it up. “Thanks. I didn’t notice you came in.”

  “Dad didn’t notice me before, either, and he nearly mowed me down. What were you looking at?”

  “I was just thinking.”

  “About what?”

  “Nothing,” she said.

  My grandmother never just sat and thought about nothing. She was always doing something. But people in my house were acting strange, not like themselves. It was as if something was in the water, changing their personalities.

  But if it was the water, then my personality would be changed, too. And I was perfectly fine. Something else was wrong. Something they weren’t telling me.

  “Are you okay?” I asked Grandma.

  “Oh, sure, mago.”

  “Dad left,” I told her.

  “I know,” she said. “He said he was going to head to the alley early today.”

  The words were barely out of her mouth when the front door opened again. “Who’s that?” I asked.

  “My best guess is your dad came back from something,” she said. “Ken? Is that you?”

  “Forgot my keys,” Dad called back. We heard him thunder up the stairs, and a moment later, he thundered back down. I thought maybe he’d stick his head in the kitchen and say hi and good-bye, but he didn’t. The front door opened and slammed shut again. He was gone.

  Grandma had risen from her seat and took the used napkin from me. She wiped at some invisible spots on the counter, then folded it neatly.

  “That’s dirty,” I said. “Shouldn’t you throw it away?”

  “I think it’s got at least one more clean-up job in it,” she said. “Breakfast?”

  “I can make it.”

  I hunted around for the ingredients for a cheese omelet, but unfortunately we were out of the most essential ingredient—eggs. Instead, I poured Cheerios into two bowls, added milk, and set them on the table for Grandma and me.

  “Thanks, mago.”

  “You’re welcome,” I said. “Hey, Grandma, Dad is too young to have Alzheimer’s, right?”

  “Oh, yes,” she said. “Much too young. What has you thinking about Alzheimer’s?”

  “He forgot his keys.”

  “People forget keys all the time. It’s perfectly normal.”

  “Yeah, that’s what Theo said,” I told her. “But his keys aren’t the only thing Dad’s forgetting.”

  “What else?”

  “He’s completely and totally forgotten how to be happy.”

  “Oh, mago, don’t be hard on him.”

  “I’m not being hard. I’m being honest. He’s been in a rotten mood all week. It’s like he accidentally kicked his happiness under the bed, or stuck it in the bottom drawer or somewhere he can’t even remember, like how Ollie lost his lucky marble last year, and it was in his winter coat pocket the whole time. All I know is Dad’s usually a happy guy, and he’s not anymore.”

  “Unfortunately, forgetting your happiness is also perfectly normal sometimes—especially when you have a lot on your mind, which your father does.” She lifted a spoonful of cereal to her mouth, but held it for a moment, still talking. “It would be interesting if emotions were physical objects, though, wouldn’t it? You could put down your heartache and pick up your courage.”

  I nodded and swallowed my own spoonful of Cheerios. “Is Dad still upset because Felix left?” I asked.

  “Mmm hmm,” she said.

  “Well, speaking of emotions,” I said, “I’m mad at Felix, too. He worked for Dad for years. I thought they were friends. Why would he want to leave? How could he do that to Dad?”

  “There are all sorts of reasons people have to leave their jobs. It’s not personal.”

  “Sure it is,” I said. “If you’re friends with someone and you care about them, you should act like you do.”

  “It doesn’t always work out that way,” Grandma said. “Sometimes we act gruffly around those we care about the most.”

  “That doesn’t make sense.”

  “I know, mago.” Grandma reached toward me and flipped the “Designed by Lucy” tag under the collar. I was wearing what I always wore gardening. A green vest I’d made myself by taking the sleeves off an old jacket from Second Chance. “I love what you did with the patches on this.”

  “They’re not just patches,” I told her. “They’re pockets for gardening tools, or candy for energy, or whatever you might need when you’re working in someone’s yard. I’m going over to Mrs. G’s as soon as I finish breakfast.”

  “Oh, no,” she said. “It’s too early to go over to anyone’s house. You need to wait till a respectable hour.”

  “When’s that?”

  “I’d say ten.”

  “Ten? That’s practically three hours away!”

  “Okay, nine thirty. But not a minute sooner. Do you want me to cut a banana into your cereal?”

  “No, thanks.”

  “All right, then.” She stood and brought her bowl to the sink. “If you’re all set here, I’ll get going.”

  “Wait a second,” I said. “You’re going out now, but I’m not allowed to?”

  “I’m doing inventory at Quinnifer’s, and then I’m meeting your dad at the alley. Promise me you won’t bother Mrs. Gallagher until nine thirty.”

  “Mrs. G wouldn’t think it was a bother, because I’m helping her, which she asked me to do, by the way. She even said I should do it this weekend—and the weekend starts right now.”

  “Lucy—” Grandma started.

  “It’s fine,” I cut her off. “I’ll wait, I promise.”

  “Good girl. I’ll see you later, mago.” She gave me a little peck on the top of my head.

  “’Bye, Grandma,” I said.

  I didn’t know what to do with myself to fill the time, but since our yard had gotten messed up from the storm, I decided to start there. It’d been a bit chilly when I walked outside, but soon I was all warmed up. By the time I was finished loading leaves into garbage bags, I figured it was nine thirty, or close enough. And even if it wasn’t, I could get started on Mrs. G’s yard without her actually helping me. I pulled Grandma’s wheelbarrow out of the shed and headed over to Mrs. G’s to get to work.

  “Well, hello there, Lucy!” Mrs. G called a while later. I looked up to see her at the kitchen window. She used to throw the window open and yell at me to get off her property—back when I’d never even stepped foot on her property and I was on the sidewalk, which belonged to everyone, but she acted like she owned it. Now I was
in the middle of her yard, and she was smiling. “You’re up bright and early today,” she said.

  I leaned against the rake and wiped my brow. “I’m almost done out here,” I said. “But I still need to do the backyard. Lots of leaves must’ve fallen off that big oak you have.”

  “They sure did,” she said. “But why don’t you come inside and take a break first? Did you eat yet? I have some fresh cookies inside.”

  “Cookies for breakfast?”

  “Can you think of a better meal?”

  I shook my head. Adults can really surprise you sometimes. “No, I can’t,” I said. “I’m coming!”

  Mrs. G’s kitchen was painted a dull yellow, the color of a shirt that’s been washed a few hundred times. A small wooden table was pushed up against the wall, under a window framed by faded floral drapes. The two chairs had matching floral cushions, and a bowl of apples sat in the center of the table. There was something about the apples—they looked almost too perfect. I reached out to one.

  “They’re plastic,” Mrs. G said. “Just for decoration. I have some figs in the fridge if you’re craving fruit.”

  “No, thank you,” I said in my most polite voice. I’d never had a fig before, and I was pretty sure I never wanted to, but I didn’t want to be rude about it. “I’d much rather have a cookie, if you don’t mind.”

  “I don’t mind at all,” she said.

  Before we started the Kindness Club, I may have just sat at the table waiting to be served. Now I wanted to help Mrs. G get things ready. But it was hard because I didn’t know my way around her kitchen. I opened a drawer that was filled with about fifty napkin rings. “Uh, do we need these?” I asked.

  “No,” she said. “Just take a seat.” I did, and watched as she pulled a couple mismatched plates from a shelf. She brought them over to the table, along with a bakery box. “The clerk at the bake shop put a little piece of bread in to keep them fresh,” she told me as she fiddled with the white ribbon. “Do you know that trick?”

  “Nope.”