I can’t believe I can’t even talk to Lula about any of this! I have to pretend everything’s normal. I don’t know how long I can do that! What if I mess up?
And the whole time Lula will still be talking to “SKY HIGH VI.” When did they start using THAT nickname?
“Geranium” is funnier. But still, Violet’s stepsister shouldn’t be using it. She should be nicer to Violet right now. Since they haven’t even met yet, and they’re at the start of being in the same family. It doesn’t seem right.
Also, how does Violet already HAVE a stepsister? Her dad just moved away over the summer. People don’t usually get stepsisters that fast. It seems weird.
I wonder if Lula’s dad will ever marry someone else. I guess Lula might not even tell me if he does. I guess I might not ever see his new apartment, either.
I wish she’d at least give me a secret nickname. Even a ridiculous one, like Sky High Vi. Why couldn’t I be Deep Sea Celie?
Deep Sea Me
It’s not okay that Violet’s parents are divorced. It gives her an unfair friendship advantage.
Later
I don’t have space in my brain and heart to think about Lula and Violet anymore. Because of what just happened.
I was walking down the hall, and I passed Granny’s room. She was sitting in a chair, holding one of her shoes. A shoe she wears all the time. And she looked so confused.
I stopped and said, “Granny? Is something wrong?”
She didn’t reply. She just kept looking at the shoe.
Dad came up behind me then.
“How are you, Granny?” he said.
She looked up and held the shoe out to him and said, “What is this? What do I do with it?”
I wanted to help. And I guess I wanted the situation to not feel serious. So I said to Granny, “It’s your shoe, Silly Rabbit.”
Dad said, “Celie—shhh,” and put his hand on my shoulder. So I realized that I’d said something wrong. It must have seemed like I was calling Granny dumb. Which I never meant to do!
I wished I could grab that Rabbit sentence and put it back in my mouth.
I started trying to make things right. I said, “I just meant—I was just thinking that you love that shoe, Granny. You had it on today.”
Granny looked at the shoe with her forehead scrunched, like she was trying so hard to understand. Then her whole face mushed up, and she started to cry.
“Oh, no!” I said. “No, no, no! Don’t cry!”
That’s when Dad said, “You go put on your pajamas, Celie. I’ll take care of Granny.”
“I don’t want to go!” I said. I couldn’t possibly go! I’d made Granny cry!
But Dad said in a very serious voice, “I need to tend to Granny. It’s important that you go ahead. I’ll be there in a minute.”
So I went ahead, and I put on my pajamas. Then I sat down on my bed. And I started to cry.
I was alone for a while.
I drew this picture.
Then Dad and Mom and Jo came in.
“Please just tell me WHY we’re meeting,” Jo said, as Dad shut the door.
Then she took a look at me and said, “What’s the matter?”
“Give your father a minute to explain,” Mom said.
“I made Granny cry!” I told Jo.
“No, Celie,” Dad said. “She was upset with herself, not with you.”
“There’s no way you made Granny cry,” Jo told me. “No way. Anybody who knows you could tell you that.”
I started crying harder then. Jo sat beside me and put her arm around me and said, “Just let Dad tell us. I know you didn’t do anything bad to Granny.”
Dad told the whole story of what had happened. “Granny cried because she knows she’s not understanding what she should,” he told me. “Not because of anything you did.”
I shrugged. I didn’t want her to cry because of me, and I didn’t want her to cry because she was losing her understanding, either. Plus I wanted her to keep her understanding.
Then Dad said to me and Jo, “I’m so sorry this is happening.”
“Granny is going to have good times and bad times,” Mom said. “There might be more and more bad times. But there will be good times, too.”
“Is that what the doctors are saying?” Jo said.
“Yes,” Mom said.
“We’ll take care of her through all her bad times, right?” I said. “She’ll stay right here with us?”
“I think so,” Mom said. “I hope so.”
“You have to KNOW so,” I said. A tear was dripping off my chin. I wiped it, and my cheeks, with the back of my hand.
“I wish I could,” Mom said. “But so much is uncertain. I don’t want to make false promises.”
“Things would have to get very, very bad for Granny to have to leave,” Dad said. “And then she would go to a place that specializes in caring for people just like her. But we’re not there yet.”
“I wish this weren’t so hard,” Mom said. “I never want things to be hard for you.”
She started sniffing then, and Dad lowered his head. And I hated that we were all sad, and I hated why. So I said, “She’s not DEAD.”
“Right!” Dad said, looking at me. “She is absolutely not. Not even close.”
“She’s mostly GOOD,” Mom said. “Maybe you’ll bake with her tomorrow after school, Celie. She’d love that.”
“I’d love it more,” I said.
Then I went into the kitchen to write up a grocery list. So Mom could shop for ingredients while I was at school.
I decided we should make the most complicated recipe I could find in Granny’s cookbook. So we would have lots of time together. I chose a twelve-layer cake. It should take FOREVER.
Later
Everyone else is asleep but me.
I can’t stop thinking.
Tuesday, December 7
I was so tired this morning. And it felt different, looking at Granny across the table from me at breakfast. I felt sorry for her. Because she doesn’t know how to use shoes anymore.
I HATED feeling sorry for her. I just wanted to love her.
I had to change feelings. So I looked at Jo, and I said, “What are you doing today after school?”
“Going to play rehearsal with Amber,” she said.
“And tomorrow?” I said. “WEDNESDAY. What are you doing after school on Wednesday?”
She looked at me a little funny and said, “Going to rehearsal with Amber. Just like every other weekday for the past three weeks.”
“Really?” I said. “Right after school on Wednesday you’re going to rehearsal with Amber?”
“What are you DOING?” she said.
“What are YOU doing?” I said.
She glared at me, and I glared at her, and Dad said, “Am I missing something?”
Then Granny said, “Would you please pass the salt?”
Which was a very sad thing to ask. Because she was eating cereal, and she was pointing at the sugar.
I passed her the sugar instead of the salt. And I felt angrier at Jo than I’d ever felt in my whole life. Even though I knew Granny’s mind wasn’t Jo’s fault. I didn’t care.
After breakfast Jo followed me out of the kitchen and into our room. She closed the door behind us and opened her eyes very wide and said, “I cannot BELIEVE you read my texts.”
“I cannot believe you’re going on a DATE and you’re not telling Mom and Dad,” I said.
“It’s not a DATE,” she said. “We’re just getting ice cream two blocks from school and walking right back. Then I really am going to rehearsal with Amber.”
“You can’t be late for rehearsal,” I said.
“You don’t know anything about anything,” Jo said. “And I’m changing the password to my phone RIGHT NOW.”
“FINE,” I said. “But you HAVE to tell Mom and Dad about the date. Or I will. We have enough troubles in our family right now. You shouldn’t be lying about going places with boys.”
“Promise me,” I said. “Promise you’ll tell Mom and Dad.”
“Fine,” she said. “I’ll tell them tonight.”
Then she picked up her phone and started jabbing at it. “Password officially changed,” she said.
And that was the end of THAT loving conversation.
Later
I wasn’t so nice to Lula, either, today. Because she’d hurt my feelings. Trusting Sky High and not me.
First I didn’t say hi to either one of them when I saw them before the first bell rang. They were sitting on a bench together outside our classroom. I didn’t stop and talk to them. I just passed them and walked into the classroom and sat at my desk.
Lula said hi to me when they came in. Violet did, too. I nodded. But I didn’t say hi back.
And in science I didn’t check to see whether they wanted to be my lab partners for our study of sponges living in the shallow edges of the ocean. I asked Nora to be my partner instead.
I feel bad that I stopped spending time with Nora, after Lula and I ended our big fight. It was wrong. She’s still nice to me, though. She’s a very nice person.
Anyway. Lula gave me a “What’s going on? Why aren’t you with us?” look, from her lab station. But I shrugged and turned away.
Now she’ll probably never talk to me again. And Jo will probably never talk to me again. And I’ll live in silence, like a sponge.
Even Later
I’ve been waiting and waiting for Granny to wake up from her nap. So we can bake together. But her doctor’s appointments must have really wiped her out today. She’s still sleeping.
Mom’s been quieter than usual, too. I found her on the living room couch, with an old photo album on her lap.
I didn’t have to ask what she was looking at. I knew. I sat down beside her.
She showed me pictures of Granny burping her when she was a little baby, and holding her hand when she was just learning to walk.
“This one’s my favorite,” she said. She pointed to a picture of Granny alone, standing in her Louisiana yard, shading her eyes and looking out.
“She was probably making sure I was staying out of the street,” Mom said. “I can hear her now, calling, ‘Lizzie! Take three steps back from the curb!’”
I like that picture, too. I’m going to try to draw it here:
Maybe I’ll paint it, too. In watercolors, for Granny.
Still The Same Bad Day
Jo interrupted my painting when she got home from rehearsal. She threw her stuff down near her bed and stomped back out of the room. Without saying a single word to me. Even though she obviously saw me at my desk.
So I yelled after her, “NOW is a good time to tell Mom! About you-know-what!”
She stomped back in and said, “FINE, since you’re just going to tell her if I don’t. But do not even think about spying on me while I do it.”
“FINE,” I said back. But then I wished I hadn’t. Because I needed to hear that whole conversation. How else was I supposed to know what they both said?
I didn’t spy, though. Since Jo was already so mad at me. Instead, when I heard Mom and Jo go into Mom’s bedroom, I walked v-e-r-y s-l-o-w-l-y down the hall past Mom’s room, on my way to the kitchen. For a banana. A healthy snack.
Luckily Mom hadn’t closed her door all the way. So I heard this during my slow journey:
JO: “. . . back in time for my part of rehearsal.”
MOM: “Be sure to stay with your friend the whole time, and be careful.”
JO: (after a pause) “You don’t care whether the friend is a girl or a boy, right?”
MOM: (after another pause—a longer one) “I guess that’s right. As long as it’s just ice cream and straight back for rehearsal.”
I almost turned around then and barged in on that conversation. Because Jo wasn’t describing it right! Jake isn’t just a friend who’s a boy! Mom needed to know that.
But I wasn’t supposed to be listening, and I didn’t want to tell Mom that I’d read the Jo–Jake texts without permission, and I also didn’t want Jo even MADDER at me. So I kept walking to my banana.
Wednesday, December 8
Drop-off at school this morning was crazy! Because Sky High and Count Jake-ula were in the lobby with their mom when we got there. We ended up standing in a cluster near the front door, like this:
Violet said hi to me, and I said hi back. Then Jake nodded at Jo and said, “What’s up?” And Jo turned pink and said, “Nothing much.”
Mom took a look at Jo’s face. Then she leaned toward Jo and whispered, too loudly, “Is that the boy—”
Super-fast, Jo hissed, “Shh!”
I knew then that Mom understood the whole Jo–Jake situation. Which was good.
Then I thought, Jake looks like a giraffe. Because he kind of leans over like one, when he’s wearing a backpack.
While I was watching Jake, Violet looked at me with raised eyebrows. And I realized she definitely knew, too. About Jo and Jake.
Then I thought, OF COURSE she knows. Jake probably told her. Because EVERYONE tells Sky High Vi EVERYTHING. And I’D never know ANYTHING if I didn’t spy and steal.
Then I got very distracted. Because Lula came into the lobby with her dad. They walked over to us and stood across from Jo. Like this:
Right away my mom said to Lula’s dad, “I haven’t seen you in a while, Peter. How is everything?”
“Oh . . .” Lula’s dad said. Then, after a long pause, he said. “You know.” And then he paused AGAIN.
He was obviously waiting for my mom to say something. But she said nothing. Because she didn’t know.
Finally, she started to say, “Um,” just as Lula’s dad was saying, “I’m sure Celie told you.”
My mom gave me a confused look.
I shrugged and blushed. Because I shouldn’t have known what Lula’s dad meant, but I did. Then I glanced at Lula. She’d turned blotchy and taken a step away from her dad. And she was looking at the floor.
“No,” my mom said slowly. “Celie and I have had so much going on at home, we haven’t discussed it. I hope everything’s okay.”
“Well,” Lula’s dad said. “Jeannie and I—”
“DAD!” Lula cried. She was still looking at the floor. “Just—stop talking.”
“Oh,” Lula’s dad said. He sounded confused and surprised. He smiled at my mom and said, “My daughter wants me to stop talking.”
My mom was looking from Lula to me. Obviously wondering what Lula hadn’t told me and why.
Jo was doing the exact same thing.
Jake looked like he had no idea what anyone was talking about.
But VIOLET wasn’t confused. VIOLET obviously knew everything. She had her hand over her mouth, and her eyes were wide, and she was looking at Lula, and she was obviously thinking, “Uh-oh.”
I hated that everyone was standing there wondering what was happening between me and Lula. Everyone except for VIOLET.
“I have to go to the bathroom,” I said. Lula looked up then, and I gave her a “How could you not tell me?” look. And I left the lobby.
Lula hurried after me.
“I’m sorry I didn’t say anything before,” she said, when she caught up. “My parents are separating. My dad’s moving out.”
For a second I thought I should pretend to be shocked. But then I realized I didn’t have to. And I said, “I figured something like that was happening, from the way your dad was just acting. I’m sorry they’re separating.”
“I feel bad that I didn’t tell you,” Lula said.
“Why didn’t you?” I said. “I don’t understand.”
“I THOUGHT about telling you,” she said. “I did. But—your family’s too perfect.”
“MY family?” I said. I thought of Granny and eggs and shoes, and Jo locking herself in bathrooms, and me screaming at Jo, and Jo screaming at me. “My family is DEFINITELY NOT perfect.”
> “Yes it IS, compared to mine,” she said. “And right now it’s easier for me to talk to someone who knows what this is like. Like Violet.”
I did something VERY STUPID then. I shook my head and blurted out, “Sky High Vi.” I wasn’t thinking! I was upset! And SO SICK of Violet!
Lula looked at me hard and said, “What did you just say?”
“Nothing,” I said quickly. And I bit my bottom lip.
“How do you know that name?” she said. “It’s secret.” Then she thought for a second and said, “Wait—”
Her eyes grew wide and she put her hands on her hips. And she GLARED at me.
“You stole our notes!” she said. “I can’t BELIEVE it. Violet said she thought you’d taken the paper from her pocket, and I DEFENDED you! I said you wouldn’t do that.”
“Um,” I said. I couldn’t think of anything else to say, but that didn’t actually matter. Because Lula was talking fast and loud.
“Those were my private thoughts you stole!” she said. “And you just told me you figured it out from what my dad said. You already knew, from the notes! You lied. You can’t steal and lie! It’s not right.”
Then she stomped away from me, down the hall.
I still can’t believe it. I’ve lost Lula AGAIN. And this time it’s a hundred percent my fault.
WHOSE FAULT IS THIS FIGHT?
I tried to apologize to Lula later, in math. I sat in my desk behind her and Violet, and I wrote this note:
L—I’m sorry! Do you want me to write down a bunch of private thoughts and fold them up and put them in my back pocket for you to steal? I’m so so so so sorry. —C
I leaned far forward and put that note on Lula’s desk. But she didn’t open it. She just turned and stuck it back on my desk.
Then she started passing notes to VIOLET again.
I don’t know what those notes actually said. I couldn’t have stolen them even if I’d wanted to (which I DIDN’T). Because Lula ripped them into tiny pieces at the end of the class and dropped every single little piece into her backpack.
Secrets Out! Page 3
