by Clare Hutton
“That might be true, but maybe the friend really is just trying to help her,” Emma said. “But it doesn’t matter, because what the friend wants isn’t the same thing as what the letter writer wants. I think she needs to talk to her again and tell her that she’s happy with her life the way it is, that it makes her feel bad when her friend is super-critical, and that she needs to stop.”
“If she’s her best friend, she should listen to her and want her not to feel bad,” Zoe agreed. “But the person who wrote the letter says she’s tried to talk to the friend and she just gets upset.”
Emma shrugged. “If the friend gets mad and hurt whenever the writer doesn’t agree with her, then the friend is using that to make the writer do what she wants. You can’t just use your emotions against people whenever they cross you. It’s not fair. It’s like emotional blackmail.”
Zoe looked at Emma with interest. She could definitely think of situations where other kids she knew had done that—gotten mad or sad and thrown some kind of fit just to get their own way in a game or in a disagreement with friends. “That’s a really good point,” she said. “Read me another one.”
“Okay.” Emma looked over the advice column. “Here’s another good one: I’m supposed to be getting married in three weeks. We’ve been dating for two years, and it seemed like the natural next step. But now that our wedding day is approaching, I’m realizing the last thing I want to do right now is be married. There are a lot of things I wanted to do on my own—travel, maybe live in a different city, try out a different career. I love my fiancé, who’s very settled right in our hometown and plans to stay there, but I’m not sure I want to spend the rest of my life with him. The invitations have gone out and everything’s ready for the wedding. Is this just a case of cold feet? How do I figure out what to do?”
Zoe snorted. “It definitely isn’t just cold feet,” she said. “She says the last thing she wants to do is be married. This is somebody who needs to get out of that wedding.”
“What a total disaster,” Emma said, shuddering. “I can’t imagine having to tell everyone that you’re not getting married, after inviting them all to the wedding. But it would be worse to go through with it and then get divorced right away, or try to live with someone when you know marrying them was a mistake.”
“What does Dear Marian say?” Zoe asked curiously.
“Um.” Emma bent over the paper. “Basically, the same thing we did.” She looked up, smiling. “We’re clearly naturals at this.”
“Yeah,” Zoe said slowly. She stared at Emma, feeling like she was seeing her in a brand-new light, just as her horoscope had predicted. Emma was sensitive to people’s feelings. She gave good advice. And Emma was easy to talk to.
Excitement bubbled inside Zoe. Was this her show?
As they began to help set up the breakfast buffet, Natalia came back from walking the spaniel and helped Zoe and Emma get the buffet table arranged in the dining room. On the crisp white tablecloth, the girls laid out chafing dishes full of bacon, sausage, thick chunks of frittata, and hash browns. Plates full of homemade pastries, breads, and freshly cut fruits sat among the warming dishes. Zoe took a long sniff: Everything smelled great.
The guests were beginning to trickle in, and Zoe went from table to table, taking orders for coffee, tea, and juice.
Both of her grandmothers, Abuelita and Grandma Stephenson, were sitting with her dad and their little brothers at a round table near the middle of the room.
“I want apple juice, Zoe, hurry up,” Zoe’s youngest brother, five-year-old Mateo, told her.
Zoe’s dad frowned at him. “Let’s see some manners, Mateo,” he reprimanded him.
“Sorry.” Mateo sat up straighter. “Apple juice, please, Zoe.”
“Sure.” Zoe took the adults’ orders as well and moved on to the next table, feeling efficient and grown-up. The next table was occupied by an older couple who were weekend guests.
“Two lattes coming up!” Zoe said. “Go ahead and help yourself to the buffet.” As she wrote down their drinks, she saw Caitlin’s family come in and take the last open table.
Caitlin; her older brother, Rob; and their mom and dad were all a little dressed up. Caitlin and her mom wore dresses and her dad and brother wore blazers. Her dad even wore a tie! Zoe liked how Caitlin’s family made things like going out to brunch special.
Caitlin arched an eyebrow at Zoe when she saw her looking at them and held up a bag for her to see. “I brought gold foil for the tomb,” she called.
Zoe waved back, nodding at Caitlin to let her know that she’d heard her.
Zoe brushed past Emma as she headed back into the kitchen with the list of drinks the guests wanted. Emma was talking to Mr. and Mrs. Lau from down the street as their baby, Charlie, grinned up at her from his high chair, waving his plump hands. “I think Charlie would like one of my dad’s cheese scones,” Emma told the Laus. “They’re not too sugary and they’re kind of hard, which might feel good since he’s teething.”
Emma’s a natural at giving advice, Zoe realized. Now I just have to convince her of that.
“I am so full I may never be able to eat again,” Caitlin said, stretching luxuriously across Emma’s bed.
“Me, too,” Natalia said. “A very good morning for everybody!”
“The afternoon is also going to be great,” Caitlin said decisively, sitting up and reaching for her bag. “I brought the gold foil, and I found a site about Hatshepsut that had a lot of pictures.”
Emma opened her laptop, and Zoe and Natalia looked over her shoulder as she pulled up the page Caitlin was talking about. The statues of Hatshepsut caught Zoe’s attention. The smooth face of the pharaoh wore a calm, secretive smile. “She looks like she knows something we don’t,” she said.
“That’s not necessarily how she really looked, though,” Emma reminded her. “The Egyptian statues all had a really specific stylized look.”
“Hmm.” Zoe leaned forward, looking at the image of a sarcophagus covered in hieroglyphics and the blue-and-gold mummy case inside it, which wore the same calm, secretive face. Whether the face was really Hatshepsut’s or not, she liked it. “I could try to copy this.”
“I could help make the model,” Natalia spoke up eagerly. “Like, not the painting, but I could make the sarcophagus out of cardboard or something and put together the mummy case shape. And build the tomb.”
“Emma and I can do most of the work on the oral report and you guys can do most of the art and model-building,” Caitlin said decisively. Zoe cocked an eyebrow at her. “Uh. If that’s okay with you, Emma,” she added.
“Sounds good,” Emma agreed. “We have a lot of boxes downstairs if we want to make, like, a mummy room. We could work on that right now.”
She started to get to her feet, and Zoe held up a hand to stop her. “Wait, you guys,” she said. If we want to do an advice show, Emma and I need to do our proposal this weekend, too. Everyone was looking at her, and Zoe’s heart beat a little faster. What if nobody else thought this was a good idea? “Remember how I said I wanted to try to do a morning show for school?”
“Do you have an idea?” Natalia asked. “Hey, maybe you could do a painting show.”
“No, I want …” Zoe turned toward Emma and started again. “You know how we were reading the advice column in the paper this morning and coming up with answers to the questions?”
“Yeah?” Emma said cautiously.
“I thought maybe we could do that,” Zoe said. “Have people write in with their problems and give them advice. The two of us, together.”
“Oh!” Emma’s cheeks turned pink. She looked both intrigued and worried. “But why would people write to us?”
Zoe shrugged. “Why do they write to anybody? People want to be able to ask for help with their problems without anyone knowing who they are.” She looked up at Emma appealingly. “I think a lot of people have things in their life they want advice on. Don’t you think it would be fun?”
&n
bsp; “I think it’s a great idea!” Natalia announced. She spun around in Emma’s desk chair. “I’d write to you!”
Caitlin was looking at them thoughtfully. “It could work,” she said. “Zoe’s very straightforward about what she thinks. And Emma’s got a lot of empathy for people. You’d make a good team.”
Natalia clapped her hands. “We’ll help you film the video audition,” she said eagerly. “Okay, Caitlin?”
Caitlin nodded. “Sure. It’ll be fun.”
Emma bit her lip. “I don’t know …” she said. “I’ve got practices and—”
“Only swim team in March,” Zoe said swiftly. “Spring soccer won’t have started. The shows are during school, and we can plan them during lunch or after school. It’s only four shows, one per week for the month of March.” She could see that Emma was wavering.
“Well, the truth is I’m not sure I want to perform in front of the whole school,” Emma admitted.
“I think you’d actually be great,” Caitlin said. “You’ve got a very trustworthy quality.”
“Absolutely,” Natalia agreed.
“Really?” Emma ducked her head, shyly pleased. “You guys think we’d be good?”
“You’re the person I want most to do this with,” Zoe pleaded. “You understand people and empathize with their problems, so you give amazing advice. Please?”
Emma hesitated. “I don’t know,” she said slowly. “Maybe.”
“What if we just do the audition video and see how it goes?” Zoe suggested. Emma was shy, but Zoe was sure that, once she got in front of the camera, she’d realize how much fun this could be.
Emma still looked hesitant, but she smiled a tiny bit. “Okay,” she agreed. “Why not?”
“I’m not sure why you wanted to do this at school,” Natalia said, rolling her eyes. “Don’t we spend enough time here during the week?”
“The school entrance makes a nice background,” Zoe told her, looking up approvingly at the tall brick building. “Besides, you love school.”
“I like school okay on weekdays,” Natalia grumbled. “Being here on a Sunday is just unnatural.”
“Enough chatter, guys,” Caitlin said playfully, handing Zoe a wireless microphone. “Let’s get recording.”
“Okay,” Zoe said, tentatively taking the microphone. She glanced over at Emma, who was sitting on the school steps, twisting her fingers together. She looked pale and worried. “Hang on.”
She went over and sat next to Emma. “Are you ready?” she asked.
“I don’t know,” Emma said. “I feel weird about, like, performing in front of people.”
“Well, you swim and play soccer in front of people,” Zoe reminded her. “You’re not scared then.”
Emma scrunched up her nose. “That’s different. I’m not thinking about the people watching then.”
“Don’t think about them now,” Zoe said encouragingly. “It’s just us.” She gestured to Caitlin and Natalia, who were fiddling with the video settings on Caitlin’s cell phone.
“Okay,” said Emma slowly. She didn’t sound convinced.
Zoe felt a guilty pang. Was she pushing Emma into this? She took a deep breath. “Listen, Emma,” she made herself say. “I’d love for us to do this together. And I think we’d be great. But you don’t have to if you don’t want to. I will completely understand.”
“No, that’s not it.” Emma swallowed, looking down into her lap. “I do want to. I really do. I’m just scared.”
Zoe took her cousin’s cold hand. “You can totally do this,” she said. “You’re brave and tough, and you can give advice just as bravely as you dive into a pool in front of a whole gym of people. Game face, right?”
Taking a deep breath, Emma squeezed Zoe’s hand, then let it go, a tiny smile creeping over her face. “Right. I can do this. Game face,” she repeated, and got to her feet.
“High five,” Zoe said, and they slapped hands, then turned to face Caitlin’s camera.
“It’s because of the Nile that ancient Egypt was able to become so advanced,” Mr. Thomas said during history class on Tuesday, using his laser pointer to illuminate the fertile banks of the Upper Nile River. He started talking about floods and crops and irrigation, while Zoe doodled an Egyptian eye on her notebook. The Hatshepsut project was going pretty well, she thought. She really liked the stylized, stiff way ancient Egyptian art looked, elegant and formal. Her fingers itched to pick up a brush and try it.
“Hey, did you hear back about your show yet?” her friend Louise whispered from the next table.
Zoe blinked. “No,” she whispered back. “I turned in the proposal yesterday to the student council, but I haven’t heard anything. I think they were supposed to meet to decide right after school.”
Another friend, Ava, leaned forward from her seat beside Louise. “I’m going to volunteer to work on the crew of the new show. It would be awesome if it was yours.”
“Girls. Eyes up here,” Mr. Thomas said warningly, and Zoe turned her attention back to the front of the room without replying to Ava. She tried to listen to the discussion on ancient agriculture—they had irrigation, apparently, in Egypt—but her mind kept turning back to the show. What if the student council rejected her proposal? An advice show was such a good idea!
The bell rang, and there was a flurry of movement as everyone gathered up their books and backpacks to head to lunch. Zoe fell into step next to her sister as they left the classroom. Lowering her voice, she said quietly, “You’ll tell me if you hear someone else got the show, right? I don’t want to go around talking about it if it’s not going to happen.” Natalia always heard all the gossip. If someone else got the show, she would probably know before Zoe did.
“Of course,” Natalia said. “But you can always try again next time if you guys don’t get picked this month.”
“Yeah,” Zoe said glumly, knowing she’d feel too discouraged to try again if they got turned down the first time.
The hall was crowded and noisy with locker doors banging and a hundred conversations echoing around them. Zoe followed Natalia toward the cafeteria. Her sister had just pushed her way through the swinging cafeteria doors when a hand touched Zoe’s arm.
“You’re Zoe, right?” a cheerful voice asked. Zoe turned and saw Charlotte Avery, the eighth-grade student council president, who, along with her vice president, Oliver Marks, did the morning announcements. Zoe didn’t think she had ever spoken to Charlotte before—sixth graders and eighth graders didn’t mix much—but she knew who Charlotte Avery was. In addition to leading student council, she was also the editor of the yearbook. She was super-friendly and seemed to bounce easily among the athletes and the bookworms and the popular kids. Everybody knew Charlotte, and as far as Zoe could tell, everybody liked her.
“Right. Hi,” Zoe answered, her heart starting to beat a little harder. Had the student council made their decision about the show? Charlotte was smiling, but then Charlotte was usually smiling. It didn’t necessarily mean that she had good news for Zoe.
“I’m so glad I ran into you!” Charlotte said, tugging on Zoe’s sleeve to pull her to the side of the hall, out of the way. “We were sending a note to you through your homeroom teacher, but this is nicer.”
“Yeah?” Zoe’s mouth was dry.
“We picked your show!” Charlotte cheered. “Your and Emma’s advice show is going to be our March program!”
“It is? Really?” Zoe said. She couldn’t stop smiling. “Wow. Thank you!”
“Thank you!” Charlotte said. “An advice show is such a good idea.” Her tone suddenly shifting from celebratory to businesslike, she added, “We do the morning announcements from the student council office. You and Emma need to be there at seven forty-five on the dot next Wednesday morning, totally prepared to do your show. If you’re not prepared or not on time, we’ll replace your show with another one. We had a couple good runners-up.”
Zoe nodded. “Okay, no problem.”
“Great!” Cha
rlotte brightened again, her smile returning. “You’ll tell Emma?”
“Of course I will!” Zoe hurried on to the cafeteria, excitement bubbling inside her.
Emma was sitting beside Natalia, dividing the special lunch Uncle Brian had packed for the three of them. Caitlin sat across from them, other friends crowding both sides of the table.
“Where’d you go?” Natalia asked as Zoe slipped into a seat across from her. “I thought you were right behind me. Anyway, look—” she went on, not stopping for an answer. “Uncle Brian made us those Vietnamese sandwiches with the pickled vegetables you like.”
“The banh mi,” Emma explained, handing a baguette across the table to Zoe. “So good.”
“You guys have such elaborate lunches,” Caitlin commented, eyeing with suspicion the vegetables peeking out of the sides of the baguette.
Usually, Zoe loved Uncle Brian’s banh mi, which were full of the rich taste of roasted pork and the crisp snap of fresh-pickled vegetables. But she didn’t have time to think about food now.
“We got it,” she announced breathlessly. “We’re doing an advice show!”
“Oh my gosh!” Natalia was so excited, she shot straight up out of her seat, her hands clutching each other. “Congratulations, you guys!” She wrapped her arms around Emma, who was sitting quite still, her cheeks pink and her eyes wide.
“We have to have a whole show ready for next week?” she said in a tight, worried voice.
“It’ll be totally fine,” Zoe said. “The show is only ten minutes long.”
“Ten minutes is longer than you think. We need to get questions,” Emma said, frowning in thought. “What if no one writes us with a problem?”
“People love getting advice,” Caitlin said. “Don’t worry about it, they’ll write in.” She looked for agreement along the cafeteria table, and the other girls nodded.
“All you need to do is get the word out about your show,” Ava said.
