I tried to remember the last time Paz felt like my friend — my best friend. Was it at her birthday party in May? Or at our elementary school graduation, when we wore matching daisies in our hair and promised to be best friends forever?
Whenever it was, it seemed like a long time ago.
I gave her one more chance. “You don’t believe me?”
Paz rolled over on her stomach, resting her head on her arms. “Come on, Minty. You have to admit it sounds ridiculous.”
“All right. Fine. I won’t tell you.” I stood up, blocking her sun again. “I’m going to get a snowball. Want to come with me?” Maybe if I got her alone, she’d stop being silly and listen.
“No,” she said, her voice muffled by her towel. “Why don’t you get me a blood orange snowball? Just make sure it’s not poisoned. Or cursed, or whatever.” The girls laughed again.
“Okay.”
The lifeguard blew his whistle for Adult Swim. Kids climbed out of the pool and raced to the snack bar. By the time I got there, the line snaked all the way back to the women’s changing room. I waited, fuming. Why was I even getting Paz a snowball when she was being so horrible to me?
David, Connie, and DeeDee were in line in front of me. “What did you learn in summer school this morning?” DeeDee asked David.
“Nothing,” David said.
“Oh, come on,” Connie said. “You must have worked on something.”
“Grammar and spelling,” David said.
“Spelling?” Connie said. “Here, I’ll test you. How do you spell knapsack?”
David thought for a second. Then he said, “Easy. N-”
“Bzzzzt! Wrong.” Connie and DeeDee laughed. “It’s K-N-A-”
The back of David’s neck turned red, and it wasn’t from the sun. “Who cares anyway?” he said.
“Not you, I guess,” Connie said. “You’re zombie diet food.”
“What’s that mean?” David asked.
“Slim pickings for brains,” Connie replied. “Zombie diet food, zombie diet food,” she and DeeDee chanted.
“Shut up,” David said.
Im so stoopid, I thought. Im affraid something is rong with my brane.
And suddenly, David wasn’t a Mean Boy. He was just a boy.
They reached the front of the line and bought candy. I was starting to feel sorry for David. His sisters made Thea look like a fairy godmother.
When it was my turn, I ordered two snowballs. I carried them back through the breezeway and along the side of the pool to the deep end, where Paz and the other girls had been sitting.
They were gone.
I scanned the pool grounds, but there was no sign of them. I went outside to check for Paz’s bike. It wasn’t there. Far up the hill, four girls rode away on their bikes, chrome fenders flashing in the sun.
Paz had run away from me. From me, her best friend.
Now it was my turn to feel stupid.
I sat down and slurped my spearmint snowball. Then I drank the melty remains of Paz’s.
I wasn’t going to go chasing after her.
I rode my bike home the long way, up Carroll Drive, because that was the way to Isabelle’s house, and I guess I was half hoping I’d catch up to them somehow and they’d say, There you are! We were looking for you! Come hang out with us!
That was one voice whispering to me. Another said, I’m betraying my best friend in a terrible way.
It sounded a lot like Paz, just then.
I was learning this thing about secrets: Even if they’re not about you, once you know them, they feel like they could be about you. Every secret connects to something inside of you, whether you know it at first or not.
As I cruised past Troy’s house, I saw Slayer trotting across the yard, a mouse clenched between his teeth. He ran to a basement window at the side of the house and meowed. He scratched on the window, trying to get in. He meowed again, that wild, spooky mewl cats sometimes do, which makes them sound possessed by demons.
Silly Slayer, I thought. I parked my bike on the grass and went over to see what he was up to. He pressed his head against the glass in frustration. I bent down to pet him, but he ignored me. I tried to peel the window open for him, but of course it was locked.
Then I saw what he was meowing at. Perched on top of the basement couch, waving her poofy white tail like crazy and kneading the scratchy plaid fabric with her paws, was Phoebe.
I ran around to the front of the house and rang the doorbell. No one answered, and nothing stirred in the house. Then I remembered: Mr. Rogers was probably at work, and Troy was doing time at Thea’s day camp.
I heard a speedy pfft pfft pfft and the skid of rubber on asphalt. “Whatcha doing, loser?” Troy yelled. He dropped his bike in the driveway and walked up to where I stood on his front porch. “Selling Girl Scout cookies? Hmmm, I don’t see any boxes….”
“You have Wendy’s cat,” I spat at him. He stiffened.
Aha! I’d caught him.
“What are you talking about?” he said.
“You catnapper!” I cried. “What are you going to do with her?”
“Shh! Shh!” Troy took a key from his pocket and quickly opened the front door. “Get inside before anybody hears you.” Slayer slipped inside just as Troy was closing the door.
“Phoebe!” I ran to the basement stairs and opened the door. “Phoebe, I’m here to save you! You can come out now!”
Phoebe meowed at the foot of the stairs but didn’t come up. Slayer ran down, the mouse still dangling from his jaws.
“Why did you do it, Troy?” I demanded.
Troy raised his arms in surrender. “I didn’t catnap anybody. She sneaked in through the basement window and wouldn’t leave. She and Slayer are in love. They’re living together down there.”
“Really?” At the foot of the stairs, Slayer had dropped the mouse at Phoebe’s feet and was licking her behind the ears. “But why didn’t you tell Wendy? She’s going crazy looking for her.”
Troy dropped his arms. “None of your business, okay? Take the cat to Wendy if you want. She’s only going to run back here, though.”
“I think you should take Phoebe back and tell Wendy you’re sorry for hiding her,” I said. “Come on, Troy. Tell me why you did it.” I sat at the kitchen island to show him I wasn’t going anywhere until I got an answer. He stood by the fridge, picking at a kitchen magnet and not saying anything. Next to the fridge was a jar of diet shake mix.
“Hey —” I began. “You’re dad’s on a diet, isn’t he?”
“Yeah. So?”
I tried to think of a way to bring up this sensitive topic without revealing that I knew Troy’s secrets. “So how come he hasn’t lost any weight?”
Troy shrugged, but he wouldn’t look at me. Guilty, I thought.
“He’s just built chubby, I guess. He says no woman will look at him until he loses thirty pounds.”
Sabotage, I thought. That’s exactly what Troy wants. But back to the more important issue — Wendy’s cat. “Why didn’t your Dad return Phoebe to Wendy?”
“He doesn’t know Phoebe’s here,” Troy confessed. “The basement is my territory. Believe me, when he finds out, he’s going to be mad. He really likes Wendy.” He made a face.
“Don’t you like her? She’s nice!” I said.
“I just … I don’t want my dad to like her. Or her to like my dad,” Troy said. “Slayer had to go and fall in love with her dumb cat, and I was afraid that would give Dad ideas.”
“Ideas?”
“Yeah. Like, he would think if Slayer and Phoebe are a couple, maybe he and Wendy should be a couple too. So we could all be one big happy family.”
“What’s wrong with that? Wendy’s nice, and your dad is lonely —”
“He is not! Anyway, how would you know?”
“I can just tell.” I wasn’t about to say I knew because I spied on him singing love songs with the radio in the kitchen.
“He can’t have a girlfriend,” Troy s
aid. “If he gets a girlfriend, that means … that means …”
“What?”
Troy kicked the bottom of the refrigerator so hard he made a dent.
“That means my mom isn’t coming back.”
“Maybe not,” I said. “But even if your dad never gets a girlfriend, that doesn’t mean your mom will come back.”
Me and my big mouth.
Troy’s face puckered like he’d just sucked on a lemon. It struck me that he’d looked sour all year. I thought it was a Mean Boy face. But now I realized it was a hurt face.
“You don’t know anything.” Troy ran out of the house. He picked up his bike and slammed it down on the driveway. Then he picked it up again and sped away.
“Meow … Purr …” Downstairs, the two cats were happily grooming each other. It was a shame to separate them. But Wendy would find a way to let them be together, I was sure.
I walked down the steps and reached for Phoebe. Slayer hissed at me. I jerked my hand back. He hissed again.
Troy should be the one to return Phoebe, I thought. It was his secret. He was the one who had to clear it up.
I heard his bike skid into the driveway. He’d only gone around the block. He kicked open the screen door. “You still here? This is my house, you know.”
“If you don’t take Phoebe home, I’m going to tell on you,” I said.
“You would, tattletale,” Troy scowled. He went downstairs and scooped Phoebe up. “Sorry, dude.” Slayer didn’t dare hiss at him.
I wasn’t really going to tell on him. I just knew that he’d never do it unless I made him do it. Maybe returning Phoebe would help him get free of his secret. When he saw the look on Wendy’s face, he might feel good about her and glad he could make someone happy.
“Don’t worry, Slayer — you can visit whenever you want,” I said. Slayer’s eyes shrank to angry slits.
Troy started for the kitchen door with Phoebe in his arms. Mr. Rogers’s car pulled into the driveway, nearly running over Troy’s bike.
Troy hesitated. “What do I do now?”
“It’s okay,” I said. “Maybe he’ll go with you.”
Mr. Rogers walked into the kitchen, carrying a bag of groceries. He stopped and stared at the fluffy white cat in Troy’s arms.
“Troy! You found Phoebe!” He hugged Troy and Phoebe, then gave a little jump. “Where was she? Hi, Minty!”
When I saw how happy he was that Phoebe was safe, I knew I was right. He liked Wendy for sure.
“She was hiding down in the basement with Slayer all this time,” Troy admitted.
“They’re in love,” I added.
“You don’t say.” Mr. Rogers fluffed Phoebe’s fur. “Good for you, Slayer! Come on — let’s go tell Wendy! She’ll flip!”
He burst out the door. I thought he was going to dance across his backyard on the way to Wendy’s house. Troy held Phoebe like he was carrying a corpse to a funeral. I trotted along beside him.
“It’s going to be great,” I whispered to Troy. “You’ll see.”
Mr. Rogers whistled as he jogged up the four steps to Wendy’s front door and rang the bell. “Oh, Wendy, I’ve got some news for you….” he sang.
Wendy opened the door. Phoebe leaped out of Troy’s arms and ran to her. She screamed a happy scream. She hugged Phoebe. “Oh, Ken,” she said to Mr. Rogers. “I’m so happy, I could kiss you!”
She kissed Mr. Rogers on the cheek. Then she kissed Troy, who made an extra-sour face. She even kissed me.
The rest is neighborhood history.
I was so happy about Phoebe and Wendy and Mr. Rogers that I almost forgot how sad I was about Paz running away from me.
“Mom!” I ran into the kitchen. “Phoebe’s back!”
Mom wasn’t in the kitchen. I spread a glob of peanut butter on some bread and ate it as I walked down the hall toward Mom and Dad’s room. “Mom? I’ve got some Wendy gossip for you!”
Mom came out of Thea’s room and shut the door. She had an odd look on her face. Kind of a guilty twitch.
“Is Thea home?” I asked.
“She’s still at work.” The twitch deepened.
“So what were you doing in her … Oh.” I understood. Mom was snooping in Thea’s room.
“Don’t you want a plate for your sandwich?” Mom led me back to the kitchen. As if it was so easy to change the subject. She took a plate out of the cupboard and slid it under my half-eaten sandwich.
“Did you find anything?” I asked.
“What do you mean?”
“In Thea’s room.”
“No.” She poured herself a glass of iced tea and sat down at the kitchen table. “I’m sorry, honey. I know it looks bad. It’s just that I’m so worried about Thea, always sneaking out. I never know what she’s up to. I want her to be safe.”
I knew what Thea was up to — at least I thought I did. Kissing Kip Murphy while her best friend seethed. Mom would probably like to know that. But if I told Thea’s secret, wouldn’t that betray her?
“Don’t worry, I get it.” I couldn’t judge Mom for spying on Thea since I’d spent most of the summer so far spying on people. “I won’t tell Thea.”
“Thanks, Minty. I feel terrible. But I don’t know what else to do.”
I knew what she meant. Once you start spying, it’s hard to stop. The more you find out, the more you need to know.
My brain was getting all muddled.
“What’s the gossip?” Mom asked.
“We found Phoebe,” I reported. “She was hiding in the Rogerses’ basement. She and Slayer fell in love, which will work out great because I think Wendy and Mr. Rogers will probably be living together soon.”
“Really?” Mom’s face lit up. “That’s wonderful! I’m so happy for Wendy. She’s been lonely for so long.”
“So has Mr. Rogers,” I said.
“So he has,” Mom said. “See? Everything works out in the end.”
“But it’s not the end yet,” I said. “Some other bad thing could happen to them later.”
“Well — yes. You’re right, Minty. But for now, they’re happy.”
“For now.”
“That’s all we can ask for, right?”
I guessed it was.
I spent the rest of the afternoon lying in the hammock out back, practicing sad songs on my harmonica. That terrible moment of finding Paz gone kept replaying in my head. Its meaning had really sunk in deep.
Thea came home from work just before dinner. I heard her shut herself in her room and turn on some music. I went upstairs and knocked on her door.
“Come in.”
She was lying on her bed. “Hey, Minty.” She smiled at me. She seemed calm for once. “Feels like I haven’t seen you all summer.”
“That’s because you’ve been busy,” I said.
“You’re right. I have been busy, between babysitting and the day camp and … other stuff.”
I didn’t ask what the other stuff was, because I knew.
“Guess what? Mr. and Mrs. Carter are going to have another baby,” Thea said. “But don’t tell Mom. They haven’t told anyone yet.”
“Then how do you know? Did Mrs. Carter tell you?”
“Not exactly …” She looked away. “I found some special pregnancy vitamins in her medicine chest. And a really sweet card from Mr. Carter.”
When I’m babysitting, after the kids are asleep, I snoop through the parents’ drawers and closets, I thought.
“What did it say?” I asked.
“It had a picture of a rose on the front, and it said he loves her and he’s so excited about the new baby. I just happened to see it in Mrs. Carter’s, um …” She couldn’t quite look at me.
“Mrs. Carter’s what?”
“Underwear drawer.”
“Underwear drawer!” I could definitely cross that secret off the Unsolved list.
“Tessie’s forehead felt hot, and I was looking for the thermometer,” Thea said.
“Sure you were. Every
one keeps thermometers in their underwear drawer.”
Thea tossed a pillow at me. “Don’t tell anyone, okay?”
“I won’t.”
I tossed the pillow back on the bed. I picked up a book from her night table and paged through it without really seeing it. Then I put down the book and picked up a seashell. I wanted to ask her advice about something, but I was nervous.
“Minty, would you cut it out?” Thea said. Then she looked at me — really looked at me — and asked, “Hey, are you all right?”
I put down the seashell and sat beside her on the bed.
“Come on, tell me what’s the matter.” She patted her extra pillow. I stretched out beside her. I must have looked sad, because she didn’t even yell at me about touching her stuff.
“I’m afraid that Paz doesn’t like me anymore,” I confessed.
“Why do you think that?”
“Today at the pool, she was with Isabelle and those other girls, and they made fun of me,” I explained. The memory of that moment choked up in my chest. “I went to the snack bar to get us some snowballs and … Paz … and … and the other girls …” I was on the verge of tears, struggling to get the words out. “They left without me. Paz just left me there. They ran away from me. Without saying good-bye or anything.”
“Oh.” Thea wrapped her arm around me. “Poor Minty. That’s a terrible feeling.”
I started to cry, just a little. I pressed my face against Thea’s shoulder. My big sister.
“Sixth grade starts in a month,” I burbled. “And I won’t have any friends. Paz will be off with the seventh graders, and they don’t want me around.”
Thea hugged me. “That’s ridiculous. Paz is still your friend! She’s just going through a phase, like trying on different personalities. A lot of people do that in middle school, you’ll see. You’ll probably do it too. Like one day you’ll be Minty Fresh, tough roller derby girl. And the next day you’ll paint your fingernails purple and see how it feels to be glam and girly. And then maybe you’ll start wearing black turtlenecks and reading poetry.”
“I don’t think I’m going to go through those phases,” I said. “I know who I am. I feel like I’m always going to be just the same.”
The Secret Tree Page 10
