The Kindness Club: Designed by Lucy

by Courtney Sheinmel

“The cookies absorb the moisture from the bread and stay soft. The bread gets hard, but that’s fine because it’s not the bread that we want to eat, is it?”

  I shook my head. “No offense, bread,” I said, addressing the bread as if it were a living thing that had feelings. “It’s not your fault that cookies taste so much better.”

  “They do indeed,” Mrs. G said. “Aha! Got it!” She untangled the ribbon and tipped the box toward me. “These are the treats Thomas would buy when he was courting me. Take one.”

  I reached for a peanut butter cookie, but then I hesitated. “I don’t want to pick your favorite.”

  “Don’t worry, dear,” Mrs. G said. “I like them all.”

  So I took my peanut butter cookie, and Mrs. G took a double chocolate one. “What’s ‘courting’ mean?” I asked.

  “It’s an old-fashioned way of saying you’re trying to get someone to like you. Thomas and I were lawyers at the same firm. For months he found excuses to stop by my desk and ask me questions that he already clearly knew the answer to, until he finally asked the question he really wanted to ask—would I go out with him.”

  “And you said yes?”

  “Apparently I did.”

  “That’s funny you were lawyers, because ‘courting’ sounds like a lawyer thing to do. Get it? Because lawyers have to go to court?”

  “I do,” Mrs. G said. “But I never thought about that until just now. You know, back then there were a lot of male lawyers in the firm that felt I should quit or be fired, so my position could be given to a deserving man.”

  “But that’s crazy!” I said. “The position should go to the most deserving person.”

  “I agree,” Mrs. G said. “I worked hard to get that job. But Thomas was always kind to me. He was my friend. When we decided to get married, he left the firm because it was frowned upon to have both spouses working there. I stayed on for a while, and more women were hired. It was slow at first. But if you look at the list of lawyers working at my old firm now, there are just as many women as men.”

  “So things changed,” I said. “That’s cool.”

  “It is,” she said. “Change is an interesting thing, don’t you think?”

  “I don’t really like change,” I admitted. “I mean, I’m glad things changed with us and we’re friends now, and I’m glad things changed at your law firm. But other than that, I like when things stay the way you expect them to. That’s why I kept my old room and let Ollie keep his.”

  “I understand,” Mrs. G said. “But eventually everything changes. It’s just what happens. We need to accept it in all forms. One day, years from now, you’ll be walking down Main Street and you’ll remember the way it all looked when you were—how old are you now? Ten?”

  “Yes.”

  “Fifth grade,” she said, and I nodded. “You’ll remember exactly what it looked like when you were ten and in fifth grade, and it will seem like yesterday to you, and all the young ones around you will think you’re ancient for feeling that way. They’ll take everything new for granted, and they’ll think it’ll always stay that way. But you’ll be older and wiser and you’ll know that things change. It makes everything you’re doing more important and less important, both at the same time. Thomas and I used to walk down to Main Street on weekend mornings and wave to the seamstress in the window of J’s Cleaners.”

  “I don’t know J’s Cleaners,” I said.

  “It’s gone now,” Mrs. G said. “Long gone. The owners moved down to Florida and it became a video store, which Thomas loved, by the way. He’d pick up a new movie for us to watch every Saturday night. But now the video store is gone, too. People stopped renting them.”

  “I watch movies on my computer,” I told her.

  “Ah,” Mrs. G said. “I don’t even have one of those.”

  “You don’t?”

  “I never felt the need. When I was young, computers hadn’t even been invented yet. Every time I think everything has already been invented, there is something new on the market. Can you imagine all the things that will exist when you grow up that don’t exist now?”

  I shrugged. “I’ll have to ask Theo. I bet he’ll invent at least a hundred things himself.”

  “Do you want another cookie?”

  “Yes, please.”

  I picked a chocolate chip one this time, and Mrs. G had an oatmeal raisin. She took a bite and closed her eyes as she chewed and swallowed. “All this talk of change,” she said, her eyelids popping open again. “And yet this cookie tastes exactly the way I remember it tasting when Thomas first bought one for me, fifty-seven years ago.”

  “Fifty-seven years is a long time,” I said. “You must have a lot of memories of him.”

  “I do.”

  “Do you remember things about your birthdays?”

  “Yes. Birthdays and ordinary days. There’s a lot to remember.”

  “Isn’t it weird that once a day is done, it’s done?” I asked. “I’ll never have the exact same day ever again. This is the only day of this week of this year that I’ll ever have.”

  “Lucy,” Mrs. G said, “you are what my husband would’ve called an old soul.”

  “Is that a good thing?” I asked.

  “It certainly is. It means you’re wise beyond your years. And I’ll tell you another thing—if this is the only day of this week of this year that I’ll ever have, then I’m glad I’m spending part of it with you.”

  “Me too,” I said.

  We were each quiet for a few seconds, finished up our second cookies. I could hear the click-click of my own chewing. I swallowed and said, “There’s another weird thing I think about sometimes.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Well, here we are having a good day. We even have cookies. But all around the world, other people are having their own days—some of them might be having good days, too, but some of them are having bad ones. It feels wrong to enjoy things when you know lots of people are having bad luck things happen.”

  “Parallel lives, Thomas used to call it,” Mrs. G said. “We’re all here on the same planet, living lives next to one another, but not the same lives. You can never tell what is going on in someone else’s life.”

  “There’s a girl in my grade who I know is having a bad day. Her name is Serena Kappas, and her mom just died.”

  “It must make you feel sad about your own mother to think of Serena losing hers,” Mrs. G said.

  “Yeah, it does,” I said. “But I think it’s more like you and your husband, and the way you remember him and talk about him. Serena is ten now, like me, so obviously she knows lots of words, way more than I did when my mom died, and that means she can keep her memories. If she remembers her mom a lot, she must miss her so much.”

  “Yes, I’m sure she does.”

  “I overheard her talking about her mom’s clothes, and she even misses those. Her aunt gave them all to a thrift store. I bet it was Second Chance, since that’s the only one in town. Now all her mom’s stuff is gone, but Serena wanted to keep everything.”

  “I’m sure her aunt felt she was doing the right thing,” Mrs. G said. “It’s hard to know what that is sometimes. People grieve in different ways. They have different needs to get them through it.”

  “I didn’t even tell you the worst part yet—Serena’s birthday is next weekend.”

  “I’m sure that will be very hard for her.”

  “I know,” I said. “Theo said that Serena’s mom was really into birthdays. Serena’s best friend said no one else is planning anything this year. They’ve all been too distracted. But that’s okay, because I’m going to plan a surprise party for her. The three of us will—Chloe, Theo, and me. After all, this will be the only eleventh birthday that Serena will ever have. I asked my dad and he said we can do it at Tanaka Lanes.”

  “That’s sweet of you, Lucy,” Mrs. G said. “And generous of your dad. But before you get too deep into the plans, I think you should call Serena’s dad and make sure it’s
all right. He may be planning something private.”

  “But her best friend would know about it—even if it was private.”

  “Very well,” Mrs. G said. “Then he may not be planning anything because Serena herself decided that she didn’t want to commemorate the day.”

  “I thought about that,” I said. “But what if she told her dad she doesn’t want a party?”

  “Then you shouldn’t have one.”

  “But she would want this one,” I told Mrs. G. “I just know she would—even if she doesn’t know it yet herself. Once it happens it’ll be great.”

  “Asking her father is still the right thing to do,” Mrs. G said. “And he may say yes. You don’t know.”

  “I don’t have Serena’s number.”

  “We can look it up.”

  “You don’t have a computer,” I reminded her.

  “That’s right,” she said. “I’m probably the last person on the planet without one.”

  “Not on the planet. In social studies Ms. Danos said fifteen percent of people in the United States don’t have one. There are probably people in other countries, too.”

  “I suppose I’m not the last person on the planet. Perhaps just the last in Braywood.”

  “So how will I get the number to call?”

  “My dear,” Mrs. G said. “It’s called a phone book. Come on, I’ll show you.”

  CHAPTER 12

  I had the phone in my hand, and the phone book opened in front of me. I traced a finger down the names listed alphabetically in teeny-tiny black letters, and I found them at the bottom of the page. KAPPAS, Alec & Daphne.

  Daphne. Serena’s mom’s name. I’d heard Vanessa say it, and there it was. Printed in the phone book like she was still alive.

  “You all set?” Mrs. G asked.

  I nodded and began to dial. But then I pressed the button to hang up. “What if Serena herself answers. Then what do I say?”

  “You would say, ‘Can I please speak to Mr. Kappas?’ ”

  “Okay.”

  “Or if you think Serena may recognize your voice, you can say hello and tell her you were just calling to check in.”

  “I don’t think she will,” I said. “We’re not really friends.”

  “Oh?”

  “We’re not enemies or anything,” I said quickly. “She was always nice to me. She let me sit with her at lunch, even when other people didn’t want me to.”

  “You’re acquaintances, then,” Mrs. G said.

  “Yeah, I guess so. Some people might not want Chloe, Theo, and me at their birthday party, but I don’t think Serena will mind. She’s pretty kind herself. Plus, we’ll invite all her friends.”

  “This party is a very kind thing for you to do,” Mrs. G said. “Especially for someone you don’t know well.”

  “Thanks.” I looked back down at the phone book and dialed the Kappases’ number. The phone rang once, twice. I started to think maybe no one was home.

  But then: “Hello?”

  It was a woman’s voice. My eyes flashed to Mrs. G. We hadn’t discussed what I’d say if neither Serena nor her father answered. I wished we’d scripted the whole thing out before I’d dialed. It was like when I get excited about a new design, and I start cutting and sewing before I sketch things out. It’s almost always a mistake.

  “Hello?” the woman on the other end repeated. “Hello?”

  “Um, hello,” I said finally. “I’m calling for Mr. Kappas.”

  “He’s not in,” the woman said. “This is his sister. May I help you with anything?”

  “You’re Mr. Kappas’s sister,” I said. “Serena’s aunt?”

  “Yes.”

  “Aunt Odessa?”

  “The one and only. Are you one of Serena’s friends?”

  “I go to school with her. We’re not in the same class, but I know what happened to her mother, and I’m very sorry.”

  “We are all very sorry,” Serena’s aunt agreed. “It’s sweet of you to call, uh … What did you say your name was?”

  “I didn’t. It’s Lucy Tanaka.”

  “Well, Lucy Tanaka, I don’t know if Serena is available right now, but I can check.”

  “No!” I said quickly. “I mean, no, thank you. You see, I have a surprise for Serena. A maybe surprise—I wanted to cheer her up, but I wanted to ask her dad if it was okay first.”

  “You can ask me. I’m handling a bunch of things around here.”

  “Okay, well, I talked to Vanessa Medina. Do you know her?”

  “She’s another friend of Serena’s.”

  “Right,” I said. “They’re best friends, and I asked Vanessa if Serena was doing anything for her birthday, and Vanessa said she didn’t think anything had been planned.”

  “There isn’t anything planned,” Aunt Odessa said. “I haven’t been able to get Serena to talk about it.”

  “I thought maybe I could plan something,” I said. “My friends and I want to. My dad owns Tanaka Lanes.”

  “The bowling alley?”

  “Yup.”

  “No wonder your name sounded familiar to me. It’s on Sheridan Road, right?”

  “Yeah, and they do really cool things for birthday parties. I asked my dad, and he said we could do the same for Serena. I thought we could make it a surprise, to distract her from everything else that’s happened.”

  “Well, aren’t you a sweetheart,” Aunt Odessa said.

  “So does that mean yes?” I asked. “You wouldn’t have to help with anything, except maybe getting Serena to Tanaka Lanes next Sunday.”

  “Of course I can do that. It would be my pleasure.”

  I grinned at Mrs. G and gave her a thumbs-up sign. “Great,” I said into the phone. “Don’t tell Serena. I want to surprise her.”

  “I won’t, I promise. And Lucy?”

  “Yes?”

  “Thank you. Thanks a lot.”

  CHAPTER 13

  As soon as I hung up with Serena’s aunt, I called Theo to tell him the news. He sounded excited. Well, excited for Theo. He doesn’t exactly jump up and down and shriek the way I do sometimes. But in his Theo-way, I could tell he was pleased. “How many people are we expecting?” he asked.

  “I haven’t figured it out yet,” I said. “There are the three of us, plus Serena and Vanessa.” I looked over at Mrs. G. “Do you want to come, too?” I asked her.

  “I’m not really a bowler, dear,” Mrs. G said. “But I appreciate the invitation.”

  “Okay, not Mrs. G,” I said to Theo. “But I’m thinking Serena’s aunt will want to be included, maybe her dad, too, and her other friends besides just Vanessa. Do you know who they are?”

  “Social groups are not really my area of expertise,” Theo said. “I would say that Serena seems to be one of those people whom everyone likes.”

  Whom: only Theo would use the word “whom” in a sentence, when it wasn’t for one of Ms. Danos’s grammar work sheets.

  But there were an extra couple of words he wasn’t using: Serena seems to be one of those people whom everyone likes—unlike us.

  I shook it off. It didn’t matter to me. I had my friends, and Serena had hers, and we’d all be together for her birthday.

  “We’ll do a little research this week and find out who her friends are,” I said.

  “How many people on a bowling lane?” Theo asked.

  “My dad likes to have six, which is the maximum,” I told him. “But the truth is it’s better if you have no more than four, because then you don’t have to wait too long to take a turn.”

  “So we should try to invite a multiple of four,” Theo said.

  Leave it to Theo to be really scientific about it.

  “I guess it depends on how many friends she has,” I said. “But we can try. Want to come over and start planning?”

  “No, thank you,” Theo said. “My parents went out, and Anabelle is doing something with her track team. So this is my alone time. You understand, right?”

  “
Why do you want alone time? I had so much of it before we started the club, and so did you. You don’t want to go back to that, do you?”

  “No, of course not,” Theo said. “But I like having a balance. Club time, and alone time. They’re both important to me.”

  “I think alone time is more important to you than it is to me,” I said.

  “It’s because I’m an introvert,” Theo explained. “I need to have time to myself, to get reenergized. You’re more of an extrovert. You get energized around people.”

  “Yeah, I totally do,” I agreed. “Call me if you decide you’ve had enough alone time.”

  “I will,” Theo promised.

  When I hung up with Theo, I wanted to call Chloe and fill her in on everything, too. She was at her dad’s house for the weekend, and I didn’t know his number by heart. I couldn’t look it up in the phone book because he doesn’t live in Braywood, so his number wouldn’t be listed. (Well, I’m sure it was listed in some phone book, but not in the one at Mrs. G’s house.)

  But as soon as I got home, I grabbed the phone from the kitchen and ran up to my room. The phone number was on a Post-it Chloe had given me, back when we first became friends.

  Now, Chloe is the type of person who can be jumpy and shrieky like me. Maybe not quite as much as me, but pretty close. Probably because she’s an extrovert, too. We cheered together over the phone, and then we started to talk plans, but in the background her dad called to her that it was time to get going. “Sorry,” she told me. “We’re headed out to go apple picking with Gloria and Sage. Don’t do too much planning without me, okay?”

  I said okay, even though all I wanted to do was party plan right then. But luckily I remembered I was in the middle of another project. It wasn’t quite as exciting as making a birthday party for Serena, but it was still pretty great: the Community House quilt. I’d nearly forgotten about it, but I bet the patches the kids had made were all completely dried. I just had to pick them up and sew them together, and voilà! A quilt!

  I changed out of my gardening clothes into pedal-pusher jeans (regular-length jeans that I’d hemmed myself) with a bandanna belt (three bandannas I’d sewn together) and called Grandma to tell her where I was headed. She didn’t answer her cell phone, so then I tried Tanaka Lanes. But the woman who answered said both Grandma and Dad were in a meeting and unavailable. “Do you know how long the meeting will be?” I asked.