by Lin Oliver
Lily’s house was not at all what we were expecting. We had been looking for something low and small and Abe Lincoln-like. But her house, which was behind tall hedges at the end of the cul-de-sac, was a huge two-story modern house that was nestled into the hillside and seemed to rise out of the trees. I guess you could say it was made of logs. Under its A-shaped roof were two stories of floor to ceiling windows, and a chimney made of giant smooth rocks. It was one of the most beautiful houses I’d ever seen.
“That’s quite a log cabin,” my dad said, letting out an admiring whistle. “Maybe one day, if you girls win Wimbledon, you can buy yourselves a place like that.”
I could tell that looking at Lily’s house made my dad sad. Our old house in Culver City was never grand like this one, but it did have four bedrooms, a big family room, and even a swimming pool in the backyard. When he lost his job and my mom left for school, we had to sell it and move to our cramped quarters at the club.
“You got it, Dad,” Sammie said, giving him a pat on the shoulder. “In fact, we’ll buy two of them.”
“Yeah, one for us and one for you and Mom,” I agreed.
“What about Ryan?”
“Nope. He has to live in another city until he becomes way less annoying,” Sammie said with a chuckle.
“Maybe even another continent,” I added. Then we both burst out laughing.
“That’s better,” my dad said. “That’s the way I like to see my girls.”
I climbed out of the car and Sammie crawled over into the front seat.
“I’ll be back here at six thirty,” my dad hollered out the window. “And Charlie, don’t call and ask if you can stay later, because the answer will be no. You’ve got homework to do.”
As they drove away, I walked up the driveway and rang the doorbell. The front door was made of copper, with trees and leaves and birds etched on the front. The bell was also encased in copper, as if it was the center of a blooming copper rose. I was looking at the door so intently that I jumped when it opened and a person I’d never seen before was standing there. She was a young African American woman, maybe twenty years old, wearing a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt that said Stanford University.
“Uh, is this Lily March’s house?” I asked.
“Yes. I’m Neela, her sister.”
“Oh. I didn’t know she had a sister.” That sounded rude, so I quickly added, “No offense or anything, I’m sure she told me and I just forgot.”
Neela laughed.
“I’m her half-sister. Same dad, different mom. Most of the time, I’m away at college so she probably doesn’t talk about me a lot.”
“I’m kind of new to the group,” I told her. “So I’m just getting to know everyone’s family.”
“You must be Charlie,” she said. “The girls told me a little about you.”
“I hope it was all good.”
Okay, I admit it. I was kind of searching for a compliment, hoping she’d say something like, “They all just love you and they can’t stop talking about how cool you are.” But she didn’t say that. In fact, she didn’t say anything, just stepped back and opened the door for me.
“Come on in. Lily and the others are out back in our parent’s studio. I’ll show you where it is.”
The inside of the house was even more beautiful than the outside. There wasn’t what you’d call a regular living room or family room or dining room or anything. It was just one great big room, with giant pillowy furniture all around. The stark white walls were hung with brightly colored woven rugs. There was a huge stone fireplace in the center of the room and a curving stone staircase that led up to the second-floor loft at the back. All along the stairway hung painted masks of varying shapes and sizes. A few had horns and looked like animals, and others looked like human faces. Some were friendly looking; others were freakishly scary.
“Who are those guys?” I asked Neela as we passed by.
“Those are tribal masks,” she said. “I brought them back from Africa for my dad.”
“Do you live there?”
“No, but I did a year of college there. I’m majoring in cultural anthropology, which is a fancy way to say I’m studying groups of people.”
“You have to go to Africa for that? Can’t you just do it in the mall?”
Neela laughed.
“I study people from different cultures and ways of life. The tribes who made these masks use them in their rituals and ceremonies, which is very foreign to us.”
“We learned about Native American rituals in social studies,” I said. “They did some pretty cool stuff, like dances to make it rain and protect them from evil spirits. They were very spiritual.”
Neela stopped and turned to me. “I like you, Charlie. You’re smart,” she said. “Different from the other girls.”
“Lily’s smart, too.”
“Yes, she is. And if I can count correctly, that makes two of you.”
I followed Neela through the stainless steel kitchen and out into the backyard. We crossed a stone bridge that led to another wooden building. It was like a mini version of the house. When Neela opened the door and led me inside, I was so blown away my jaw actually dropped. All along the wall were framed Gold Records, the kind that you win for selling a million albums. There must have been twenty-five or thirty of them.
“Our dad’s had a pretty nice run of luck,” she smiled.
The girls were sitting in a circle on the floor. Lily’s hat supplies were laid out in front of them. It looked like Lily had finished another five or six, including a cowboy hat with peacock and eagle feathers and a red velvet turban with fake gold coins draped across the front.
“Finally, you’re here,” Lauren said to me. “We’ve been waiting for you for half an hour.”
“Sorry I’m late. I had to finish tennis practice before my dad would let me come over.”
“No worries,” Lily said. “It gave me time to finish these hats while we were waiting.”
“I get to decide if it’s fine or not,” Lauren stood up and took control of the conversation. “While we were waiting for you, we officially elected me president.”
“You have my vote, too,” I said. “Or at least, you would’ve if I had been here.”
“That’s what I thought,” Lauren said. “So I voted in your place and we called it unanimous.”
“Democracy in action.” Neela chuckled.
Neela went over to a desk near the window, sat down, and turned on the computer.
“Uh, Neela. No offense, but this is a private meeting,” Lauren said. “So . . . could you do that somewhere else?”
“No offense back at you,” Neela said, “but when I’m home, I sleep in the studio, so technically you guys are in my space.”
Lauren glanced at Lily, but Lily just shrugged. “Neela’s cool,” she said. “Let’s just go on with our meeting.”
“Okay.” Lauren sighed. “I guess we have no choice. Let’s begin with the plans for the T-shirts.”
“My mom already did a preliminary design,” Lily said. “I waited to show everyone until Charlie got here.”
“Which I said was fine,” Lauren added. “So we’re ready to look at it now. But before we do, we all have to take a pledge of secrecy. No one but us can know what the T-shirts look like until we arrive at the game on Friday. Raise your right hand and repeat after me.”
We did as we were told. This was fun. Everyone loves a secret pact. And Jillian said it was just like the pledge contestants make on Teen Survivor.
“As a member of the Junior Waves,” we repeated after Lauren, “I do solemnly swear not to reveal to anyone what we are about to see.”
After the oath, Lily went to her mom’s drafting table and returned with a large sheet of drawing paper that was covered with a sheet of taped-on tracing paper. She sat down, but just before she fli
pped the tracing paper up, Lauren stopped her.
“Wait,” she said. “Don’t show the design yet. There’s someone here who has not taken the oath.” She glanced over at Neela, who was typing something on the computer.
Neela looked up.
“Are you talking to me?”
Lauren nodded. Neela just laughed.
“I’m afraid I’m going to have to insist that you take our sacred oath,” Lauren said.
Neela laughed again.
“Listen, girlfriend, I’ve studied tribal oaths on three continents,” she said. “And I have never seen one that involves a T-shirt. So if you girls want to do it, fine, but don’t involve me.”
Without waiting for Lauren’s approval, Lily just went ahead and lifted the tracing paper to reveal the design. It was set against a turquoise background, just like the Waves shirts and bags were. But the design itself was totally different, done in a fluorescent orange. Taking up the whole front of the shirt was a drawing of a beautiful, Chinese-looking folding fan, half-moon shaped. Flowing across its folds was a long foamy wave that was about to break. Under the drawing, orange letters said, “The Junior Waves—We’re Fans!”
It was perfect. Beautiful, different, clever, and so cool. I could hardly stop myself from popping to my feet and jumping up and down like a two year old.
“I don’t get it,” Jillian said, staring at the design. “What does a fan have to do with waves?”
“Don’t you see, Jilly?” I said. “Fan and fan.”
Jillian looked even more confused.
“Let me explain,” Lauren said. “It’s part of my job as president.”
Turning to Jillian, Lauren got all serious like the real president does when he’s about to give a speech. “The fan on our T-shirt has two meanings,” she explained. “When you first look at it, it seems like it’s just a fan. But when you think about it, it says something else, too—that the Junior Waves are fans. Like we’re fans of the sports teams. Fan and fan.”
“Ooohhh,” Jillian said. “Now I get it.”
“Just so everyone knows, as your president, I’m always here to explain things.” Lauren seemed very pleased with herself.
“So now that we’re all clear on the concept, what do we think?” Lily asked. “Do we like it?”
“It’s perfect,” I said. “Your mom’s a genius. And I, for one, will be proud to wear it to the game Friday night.”
“Oh, I’m so glad you love it, Charlie,” Lily said. “I think it will look great with jeans.”
“I was just about to say that,” Lauren said. “My idea is that we need to all go out and buy orange shoes to match the orange on the shirt.”
That made me worried. I’m not rich like everyone else, and I sure couldn’t just go out and buy shoes whenever I wanted. But then I remembered that I had a pair of never-worn, bright-orange Nike running shoes that Sammie and I were given after we won a Nike Invitational Tournament. They’d look really cute with the shirt.
Phew, that was close.
“And now for the best part,” Lauren said. “Gather around because I have something really special to announce.”
This was it! This was the epic plan she had talked about in the parking lot. Lauren lowered her voice to almost a whisper and waited until she had everyone’s attention.
“Let us never forget that we are the core of this group. We are the heart. We will be true to each other, no matter what. Do we agree on this?”
“Yes,” we all whispered at once.
“Then I, as your president, am asking each girl here to take part in a day of initiation tomorrow. I have written down what each of you is to do during the day. You must do everything on the list, exactly as I have written it. And if you do, then I will allow you to take part in tomorrow night’s initiation ceremony.”
“What ceremony?” Brooke asked.
“The Junior Waves swearing in,” Lauren said. “The ceremony where we all officially bond as Wave sisters, for ever and ever.”
“This is so exciting,” Brooke said. “What’s going to happen at the ceremony?”
Neela got up from the desk and walked over to us.
“I think I can help you with this,” she said. “I have a lot of experience with initiation ceremonies.”
“Way cool,” Jillian said. “Are you in a sorority? My mom was a Tri Delt. She said when she got initiated, she had to sit on a whole bunch of balloons filled with shaving cream.”
“No, I’m not in a sorority,” Neela said. “And that’s certainly not the type of initiation I’m talking about. What I study is how people celebrate important moments in their life cycles. Like the birth of children and weddings and funerals.”
“Funerals?” Brooke said. “Eeuuwww, we’re not going to die, are we?”
“I think Neela was just using it as an example,” I said, “of the kinds of events people create ceremonies and rituals for.”
“Can we hold hands and sing a song?” Brooke asked.
“Actually, those are both very common things that people do in these kinds of ceremonies,” Neela said. “They share food and music to create a sense of community. Sometimes they wear costumes or special clothes, like masks or headdresses or jewelry.”
“Now you’re talking my language,” Jillian said. “Lauren, can we wear lots of jewelry at our ceremony?”
“The most important thing that happens in all initiation ceremonies is the sharing of trust,” Neela said. “When a community forms and takes new members, people have to prove their loyalty to each other.”
“That is exactly what I’ve been planning for tomorrow,” Lauren beamed. “An all-day initiation. You will start by doing everything on the list I’ve made for you. Remember, as a test of your loyalty, you must do everything I ask of you. And you cannot tell anyone that what you are doing is part of our secret initiation. Understood?”
We all nodded. Then Lauren reached into her purse and pulled out four sealed envelopes.
“Inside these envelopes are your initiation assignments,” she said. “Each of you will do different things, but the important thing is that you will only be judged loyal enough to come to the initiation ceremony if you complete the list.”
“How come you don’t have to do any initiation assignments?” Jillian asked.
“I already did mine,” Lauren said. “Bethany initiated me. Charlie saw, didn’t you, Charlie? I had to walk and cluck like a chicken for an entire afternoon.”
“I hope we don’t have to do anything embarrassing like that,” Brooke said.
“You’ll find out when you go home tonight and open your envelopes.” Lauren stood up and handed each of us our sealed envelope. “Everyone onboard?”
We nodded.
“Good. Tomorrow is Initiation Day. If everyone does well, we’ll meet at sundown on the beach for the final ceremony.”
“That’s appropriate,” Neela said. “Many native ceremonies are held at sundown. It’s a very spiritual time of day.”
“I know that,” Lauren said. “And I think I can take it from here, Neela.”
We ended with forming a circle and holding hands. Oddly enough, this reminded me of the Acceptance Circle they do at a Truth Tellers meeting, but without the humming, of course.
“Until tomorrow then, Junior Waves forever,” Lauren said. “And don’t breathe a word to anyone.”
This was feeling very real. And very mysterious. And incredibly exciting.
I couldn’t wait to get home and see what was inside my envelope.
“Charlie!” Ryan yelled, pounding on the bathroom door. “You stay in there any longer and we’re going to charge you rent!”
“I’ll be out in a few minutes,” I hollered back. “I’ve got to finish drying my hair.”
I wasn’t drying my hair at all. I hadn’t even washed it. But when you l
ive with your whole family in three tiny rooms in a caretaker’s cottage, the only place you can go for a little privacy is the bathroom. The other girls in the SF2s were probably opening their envelopes lying on their beds in their own rooms. But me, I had to lock myself in the bathroom and pretend to be drying my hair just to be able to open my envelope and read my initiation assignment list in private.
I read the five items at least twenty times. At the top, in bright pink marker, Lauren had written CHARLIE’S LIST. Under it, she had printed the words: For Your Eyes Only. Memorize this list, and then destroy it. After that, came the list.
INITIATION ASSIGNMENTS
1. Wear one flip-flop and one shoe all day at school.
2. Refuse to turn in your Spanish homework.
3. Bring me something from Principal Pfeiffer’s desk.
4. Steal a cookie from Starbucks after school.
As I poured over the list, I could feel my hands starting to sweat. My armpits, too. This list definitely made me nervous. As bad as clucking like a chicken was, almost everything on this list was a whole lot worse. And wouldn’t not turning in my homework jeopardize my grade? What was Lauren thinking? We needed good grades to keep the club. The only item I felt at all comfortable with was the flip-flop thing.
I pulled my phone out of my jeans pocket and dialed Lauren’s number, making sure the hair dryer was on high so its roar would drown out my voice. Ryan has a bad habit of eavesdropping. The phone rang twice and then Lauren picked up.
“Hey, Lauren. It’s Charlie. I’m in the bathroom so I have to talk fast.”
“Gross. What is wrong with you, Charlie? Call me when you’re finished.”
“No, I’m hiding in the bathroom because . . . well . . . it doesn’t matter. Anyway, I’ve read my initiation list and . . .”
“It’s awesome, isn’t it?” Lauren interrupted.
“Um . . . here’s the thing, Lauren. There are some things on here that I don’t think I should do. Has anyone else called you about that?”
“No, Charlie. You’re the only one. Everyone else is really excited to be part of the Junior Waves.”
