#7 A Twist of Fate

by Laurie Friedman

  I believed him. He looked lottery-winner happy to see us as he led all seventeen of us to the back of the store, and I soon found out why.

  “Here they are!” he said to Gaga. He opened a large box and started pulling out pair after pair of bright green ski pants. When he was done, he opened another box that held matching jackets.

  “Larry is having a special on these,” Gaga said as she slipped on a jacket. “He was waiting for us to arrive before he put them out.”

  “It wouldn’t have mattered,” Harry mumbled. “No one would have touched them.” I clamped my lips together. I didn’t want to say anything rude and hurt Gaga’s feelings, but I couldn’t have agreed more.

  “What if someone wants a different color?” asked Amanda.

  Everyone looked at Gaga. Aunt Lilly shot Amanda a look. “The color is fabulous,” said Aunt Lilly. Then she looked around at all of the kids. “No one would want a different color.” It was clearly more of an order than a statement.

  Gaga seemed unfazed. “Larry has these in every size so we should all be able to find the right fit,” she said. As he passed out ski pants and jackets for everyone to try on, she was the only person smiling bigger than he was.

  When I looked in the mirror at my jacket and pants, I tried to focus on the positives. The pants and jacket weren’t oversized and puffy, like the ones I’d ordered online. On the flip side, they were just so glaringly green. And I know I wasn’t the only one who thought so. As Uncle Drew and Uncle Dusty emerged from their dressing rooms, the looks on their faces said it all. But no one said anything.

  Except for May. “Do these come in red?” she asked Larry.

  Everyone turned to look at her. I couldn’t believe she’d asked the question. She’s the least fashion conscious person I know. Plus, it was pretty clear that Aunt Lilly wasn’t just talking to Amanda when she gave the warning that no one should say anything about the color.

  “Seafoam green is the only color that looks universally good on any skin type,” said Mom, like she was giving a fashion designer’s point of view on things. I knew what she was really doing was diverting the attention away from May. The outfits were clearly more neon than seafoam, but no one contradicted Mom.

  “They’ll coordinate perfectly with the hats I’m knitting,” Gaga said happily.

  I couldn’t help but think that the only place those two colors coordinate is side by side in a box of Day-Glo markers.

  “My second favorite color is all shades of green,” said Izzy. “I love my ski suit.”

  “Me too,” said Charlotte.

  “I knew you’d all be pleased!” Gaga said. I wasn’t sure if she was oblivious to what was going on or just happy that we all had what we needed to go skiing. “Larry, ring us up.” She clapped her hands together like it was time to complete the purchase.

  “I’m speechless,” Amanda whispered to Harry and me when none of the grown-ups were in earshot.

  “Let’s look on the bright side,” said Harry. “Scratch that—let’s hope no one looks on the bright side, because we’re it.”

  It was pretty hard to watch as Larry bagged up our purchases. I don’t want to sound ungrateful, particularly given the reason we’re going on the trip. But seventeen people ranging in age from six to eighty hitting the slopes in neon-green ski suits, not to mention the traffic-stopping orange hats Gaga is knitting, is just weird.

  I’m sure weirder things have happened. But I can’t imagine what.

  Tuesday, March 17, 7:45 p.m.

  Training camp vs. skiing

  No-brainer

  Something’s going on with May. It’s like all of a sudden, she’s become the most thoughtless version of herself. I hope it’s just a phase. If not, it’s a problem.

  Tonight, Dad was working late at the diner, so Mom, May, June, and I were eating chicken and rice that Mom made when May brought up the spring-break training camp her softball coach planned for the team.

  “Coach Greer said it’s important for the team to have that time to train together. I need to be here for it,” said May.

  I was shocked she brought it up to Mom, especially so close to the trip. May plays for the Faraway Middle School softball team. It’s not exactly Major League Baseball. I get that she wants to be part of an important team activity, but she knows the reason we’re going on the trip.

  Plus, it wasn’t the first rude remark she’d made lately. When she asked at the store if the ski suits came in red, Mom came to her rescue. Usually she’s surprisingly sensitive. I wanted to shake May and say, “Who are you, and what have you done with my sister?” I also wanted to defend Mom, which isn’t typical.

  I looked at my middle sister. “Don’t you think you’re being pretty insensitive? What are you going to do while the rest of us go skiing?”

  “I could stay home and dog-sit Gilligan,” she said.

  I had to laugh. May has never so much as toasted a piece of bread. I think Gilligan is more qualified to be in charge than she is. Plus, she knows Gilligan is staying with our next-door neighbors, the Coopers, while we’re gone.

  “What would you eat? How would you get around?” asked Mom.

  May scratched her head like she was actually composing her answers.

  “I don’t think you’re supposed to answer those questions,” said June. “They were rhetorical.”

  I smiled. At least one of my sisters got it.

  “I’m sorry you have to miss training camp,” said Mom. “But you know you can’t stay home.”

  “Then I have to write Coach Greer a note about why I can’t attend. What should I say?” asked May.

  Before Mom had a chance to answer, June jumped in again. “Why don’t you say you have to go skiing with our grandmother because she’s going to die?” She paused for a minute like she was thinking. “Or you could just write that we’re going skiing and leave out the part about Gaga dying.”

  June is so smart. I love that she knows what a rhetorical question is and that she always has her own thoughts about things, no matter the topic. But I felt a little heartsick when she answered May’s question about the note to Coach Greer. I wish there were a way we could leave out the part about Gaga dying.

  And not just in the note.

  Wednesday, March 18, 6:45 p.m.

  Talked to Sophie

  Sophie has been quiet and withdrawn all week. I’ve tried several times to talk to her, but every time we’ve been alone, she’s scampered off like she had somewhere else to be. It’s clear she’s trying to avoid me, but I have no idea why.

  It makes me wonder if I did something to upset her. Today I was determined to find out. When I saw her go into the bathroom after lunch, I followed her in. I positioned myself right in front of her stall, which made me pretty hard to avoid. “What’s going on with you?” I asked as she came out.

  “Huh?” she said as she ducked around me.

  I followed her to the sink. “I know something’s wrong. I’m your best friend.” I waited when she dried her hands on a paper towel.

  “I’m fine,” she said as she started to walk out of the bathroom.

  I could have let it go, but I didn’t. I followed after her. Even though I was frustrated that she wouldn’t tell me what’s going on, I didn’t want it to seem that way. “Sophie, you can tell me anything,” I said. I made a conscious effort to make my voice sound as sweet and soft as possible. I wanted her to know I would always be there for her. She didn’t respond, so I tried again. “Lately, it just seems like you’ve been upset.”

  She shrugged like she didn’t care how it seemed.

  She wasn’t making it easy. I took a deep breath. “I talked to Billy last night. He said he tried to talk to you, and you wouldn’t tell him what’s wrong either. Did I do something to upset you? Did Billy?”

  Sophie stopped walking and looked at me. “I’m going through some stuff. It’ll work out. I know you’re trying to be a good friend, but I don’t want to talk about it. OK?”

  “OK,�
�� I said. What else was there to say? I just hope whatever it is, it works out before we go on the ski trip.

  Friday, March 20, 9:45 p.m.

  Last day of school

  Today was the last day of school before spring break, which is always a great day. Teachers know students aren’t in work mode, and I don’t think they are either, actually. Ms. Monteleone brought doughnuts to homeroom. Mr. Baumgartner gave us a study period in algebra, and we watched a movie in English.

  My day was easy and almost completely great, with the exception of the two minutes I spent stuck in the bathroom, waiting in line behind Brynn for a stall.

  It’s hard to believe we were best friends since kindergarten, and now we don’t even speak to each other, but that’s the way it is. We’ve barely spoken since we fought on New Year’s Day. Even though we have dance-team practice together every afternoon, we’ve worked out an elaborate system to avoid each other. But today when I ended up in line in the bathroom behind her, it would have been too weird not to say something.

  “Do you have plans for spring break?” I asked.

  “I’m going to Greece with my parents,” she said.

  It was my turn. “Wow. That’s cool. I’m sure you’ll have fun.”

  “Yeah,” said Brynn.

  I waited for her to ask what I’m doing for spring break, but she didn’t. I thought about telling her about Gaga. Brynn always loved her. When we were little, we used to go to Gaga’s house and make collages out of her sewing scraps. Part of me thought she might want to know that Gaga is sick. But most of me thought she wouldn’t. For all I know, she already knows. I’m sure my mom told her mom. But who knows if her mom told her.

  When a stall became available, she went in without saying another word to me.

  As I waited, I couldn’t help but think it was ironic. We used to talk all the time. Once in sixth grade, we spent over two hours discussing what kind of jeans we were going to wear to Kelly Blake’s birthday party. When we finally decided that she was going with black skinny jeans and I was going to wear white ripped jeans, as opposed to me wearing black skinny jeans and her wearing white ripped ones, we couldn’t believe how long we’d talked about one subject, and such a trivial one. We actually made a joke about setting a world record for it.

  Things have definitely changed.

  We don’t talk to each other anymore—not about friends or boys or camp or clothes. We don’t talk about anything.

  Including sick grandmothers.

  9:34 p.m.

  Packed

  Going to sleep

  At this time tomorrow, I will be going to sleep seven thousand feet above sea level. That’s the altitude of Park City, Utah. It’s quite possible that when I get there, I will experience altitude sickness.

  I didn’t even know there was such a thing, but tonight at dinner, Dad told us that when you’re not used to higher altitudes, you can experience symptoms that include headache, fatigue, stomach illness, dizziness, and trouble sleeping.

  I’ve got a sick grandmother, a best friend who is clearly consumed with some personal issue she doesn’t want to share with me, a younger sister who is going through a selfish phase or possibly is just becoming selfish, and now altitude sickness to worry about.

  Ready or not, mountain ski trip, here I come.

  I can’t promise I’ll try,

  but I’ll try to try.

  —Bart Simpson

  Saturday, March 21, 5:30 a.m.

  DAY 1

  On the plane

  It’s only 5:30 in the morning, and I’m already seated on a plane. I’m dressed and fed. I’ve driven the hour it takes to get from Faraway to the airport in Mobile, then checked my bag, gone through security, and boarded the plane, where I’m now sitting in a middle seat between my two younger sisters. In my opinion, one might wonder why the oldest of three siblings didn’t get the aisle or a window seat.

  Here’s the unfortunate answer: The grown-ups who booked these first-thing-in-the-morning flights didn’t think through the consequences of waking up young humans at 3:45 a.m. to make these flights. May and June have been cranky and fighting since we got up this morning. So now, I’m stuck in a middle seat because Mom put me here to separate them.

  Wheels up in thirty. Not quite the start I’d hoped for.

  10:00 a.m.

  Atlanta airport, food court

  We’re almost two hours into our three-hour layover in the Atlanta airport, and I’m amazed at what I’ve learned since we’ve been here.

  One: In addition to coffee, bagels, biscuits, eggs, and pretty much any other food that has ever been classified as a breakfast offering, at the Atlanta airport, you can also purchase a sandwich, pizza, barbecue, Chinese food, frozen yogurt, and fried chicken all before ten in the morning. Also, the calorie content of many of these foods is not only high but also readily available. I know this because June looked at every food vendor we’ve passed to see if they post how many calories are in their menu options, and then she’d make an announcement about the most calorie-rich food on the menu.

  Two: Charlotte and Izzy had the stomach flu all week, and they almost didn’t come on the trip. No one was supposed to know they’d been sick. But everyone found out when we got to the food court, because Charlotte asked Aunt Lila if she and Izzy could have fried chicken for breakfast or if it would hurt their stomachs.

  Then she announced to the group that she wanted to know because she and Izzy had been sick, and the only things they’d been allowed to eat were rice, apples, crackers, and bananas.

  When she started to describe their symptoms, which were pretty disgusting to listen to, Izzy reminded Charlotte that they weren’t supposed to tell anyone they’d been sick. Everyone looked at Aunt Lila, who clearly had been the one to instruct them to keep that information secret. She said the girls have been well since Thursday and aren’t contagious. Honestly, I’m not so sure. They both look a little pale and sickly to me.

  Three: Amanda’s boyfriend of three weeks broke up with her. I learned this when we got to the food court, and Aunt Lilly asked Amanda what she was going to eat, and Amanda said nothing. When Aunt Lilly said she had to eat something, Amanda reminded her that she’s on a partial hunger strike. It is apparently making her very irritable, because when she found out Charlotte and Izzy had been sick, she told them both that if she spends the week puking, she’d going to take them to the top of the tallest, snowiest mountain and leave them on it.

  When she said that, Gaga hugged Charlotte and Izzy and said, “Over my dead body!” Pretty much everyone except for Gaga looked horrified when she said it. Gaga actually laughed like she appreciated the irony of her statement.

  Aunt Lilly clearly didn’t. She took Amanda by the arm and led her away from the group. She gave her what Gaga calls “a good old-fashioned talking to.” And she didn’t do it quietly. I heard every word Aunt Lilly said (as did many other people in the Atlanta airport, including Gaga). She told Amanda that she shouldn’t have to remind her that we should all be on our best behavior around Gaga and only say positive things to her so we don’t upset her. I know she wants the trip to be as easy and pleasant as possible for Gaga. I respect that, but I personally don’t think talks like the one Aunt Lilly gave Amanda make the trip all that pleasant. Not that anyone asked Gaga, but if they did, I’m sure she would have agreed.

  Four: Harry thinks Gaga should be allowed to say whatever she wants to say. Even things like, “Over my dead body!” When Aunt Lilly finished her talk with Amanda, Harry told his mother that over my dead body is just an expression and that she shouldn’t get bent out of shape about the fact that Gaga said it.

  That prompted Gaga to weigh in. “Just because I have cancer doesn’t mean you can’t be honest with me,” Gaga said. She said it to the whole group but looked at Aunt Lilly as she spoke.

  “Mom, you’re the one who started the Happiness Movement. You’re the one who always talks about how important it is to be positive,” said Aunt Lilly.

/>   “That’s true,” said Gaga. “I do believe in happiness and positivity, but it’s important to be realistic and accept what you can’t change.”

  I’m not sure if that counts as one of the things I’ve learned in the airport. I think I probably already knew it. But Aunt Lilly and Gaga continued talking about it for the rest of the layover, so at the very least, I can say that it was clearly reinforced.

  Five: Emma and Sophie aren’t getting along as well as they usually do, and I’m beginning to wonder if it has something to do with why Sophie has been in a funk.

  They had what seemed like a really stupid argument over Starbucks. Emma, who had gotten in line, got Sophie a vanilla Frappuccino. When she gave it to her, Sophie said it wasn’t what she ordered.

  “I asked for an Americano with steamed soy,” Sophie said to Emma. Honestly, Sophie sounded uncharacteristically bratty when she said it. Then, when Emma apologized for getting the wrong drink and said that Sophie always gets a vanilla Frappuccino, Sophie said, “Oh my God. You don’t ever listen to what I want.”

  It was pretty clear they weren’t just discussing coffee.

  Six: My horoscope for the week is bad. June, who has been into reading horoscopes lately, told me that mine said the upcoming week is a bad time for me to travel. It kind of freaked me out, since traveling is exactly what I’m doing this week. Plus, I couldn’t help but think about the fortune cookies we got. Dad’s fortune about traveling came true. Mine said rain was coming my way, and the next day I found out my grandmother is dying of cancer. I said a quick prayer for horoscopes to be a lot less accurate than fortune-cookie fortunes.

  Seven: Last but not least, I learned that the ski conditions in Park City are excellent. The mountains are covered in fresh snow. While we’re there, it’s going to be clear and sunny, with temperatures in the low thirties during the days, dropping into the twenties at night. Uncle Drew was the one who gave us that weather forecast. He isn’t a big talker, but he loves following the weather and always makes it his mission to make sure anyone who goes anywhere with him is fully aware of atmospheric conditions.