“What’s his name?” she asked.
“Kelvin,” Dad said. “Kelvin Banks.”
She thought about that for a moment. So she could have been Cleopatra Banks? Wow. It had a nice ring.
She nodded, squinting. Still thinking. “I like Cleopatra Edison Oliver better.”
Mom’s eyes brightened but neither of her parents spoke. They watched her, waiting.
“Do you think I should meet him?”
“We think it’s up to you,” Dad said. “And you can take as much time as you want to decide.”
Caylee’s dad had left; his pictures were gone. Cleo’s dad had suddenly shown up, on picture day. How strange. The weight of it pressed down on her, making it difficult to take in.
A birth dad could tell her about birth grandparents and birth aunts and uncles and cousins. Most important, he could tell her about her birth mom. She could have a birth-relatives list—like Caylee. It was what she had been wanting.
Why then was she feeling so unsure?
That night, Cleo insisted on going shopping with Mom for the Passion Clips party. She wanted to make sure Mom didn’t come home with only healthy stuff to put on the sundaes. As for meeting her birth dad, she had told her parents she couldn’t make a decision about that. Not until after the party, at least.
Cleo and Mom got in the minivan and headed to WinCo, the huge chain store that had moved in and put Grandpa Williams’s little corner grocery out of business. Cleo normally refused to step foot in the mega-store, out of loyalty to him. Her own large corporation, once she had one, would be a socially conscious company that paid attention to its impact on the local community.
Mom had her principles too, but when it came to groceries—especially buying a bunch of food for a party she hadn’t planned—it had to be as economical as possible. Cleo was in no position to persuade otherwise.
At WinCo, they did get healthy berries, but they also got whipped cream and hot fudge. They skipped peanuts, in case anyone was allergic, but got maraschino cherries because, as Cleo argued, they could also be put in Shirley Temples. Cleo picked out three half gallons of ice cream and six take-n-bake pizzas. When she couldn’t decide between a second two-liter of root beer (her favorite) or a first two-liter of Coke, Mom told her to go ahead and get both, in addition to the Strawberry Crush and Sprite already in the cart.
Cleo threw her arms around Mom’s neck and kissed her cheek. “Thanks for letting me do this party, Mom!” She knew her mom could have so easily squashed the whole un-preapproved plan.
A white woman farther down the soda-snack aisle watched them.
“I’m glad that you want your friends to come over to our house,” Mom said, pushing the cart forward.
“Hopefully you’ll still feel that way Saturday afternoon!” They laughed loudly.
The woman stared on. Did she think they were being too noisy? Or was it something else? On one hand, Cleo was used to the gazes. On the other, most people at least tried to look as if they weren’t looking.
When Cleo was younger, Mom (or Dad) would sometimes say to a stranger at a restaurant or a playground something like, “My daughter is beautiful, isn’t she?” and Cleo would feel proud and special. As she got older, she realized they were saying it to staring strangers, and she stopped liking it so much. She told her parents she didn’t want them saying anything anymore.
The lady went back to her shopping as Cleo and her mom pushed past her and around the corner.
“I wanted so badly to say something,” Mom said, “but I knew you wouldn’t appreciate it.”
“You were right.”
Mom squeezed her hand.
At the checkout, Cleo’s eyes bugged at the grand total: $112! For one sleepover. That her parents hadn’t planned to have.
“We can put the extra root beer back.” Cleo reached for the bag with the sodas. “And the cherries.”
Mom stopped her. “We didn’t go over budget by too much. Plus, Dad said he’s getting his extra check soon for coaching.” She looked Cleo straight on. “Just enjoy the party, okay?”
Cleo nodded. She could do that.
*
At school the next day, Cleo couldn’t stop watching the clock, which meant the day went even slower than usual. A couple of times she started to say something to Caylee about her birth dad showing up, but it just felt too private, even for her best friend. She also wasn’t sure it was actually happening, and she didn’t want to say it was happening if it wasn’t. That would just hurt too badly.
The Passion Clips party going perfectly—that could be her only focus. She would tell Caylee about the other stuff after the sleepover.
When Mr. Boring finally let them pack their things at the end of the day, Cleo was first to the door. “Mr. B, can the girls be at the front of the line today? We’re having a sleepover at my house!” She wanted to gather her guests one last time to make sure everyone had all the details.
“All of you?”
“Yep.”
“Wow. What’s the special occasion? Birthday?”
“Not until January. And the special occasion is Passion Clips, of course! Speaking of which, I hope your daughters love theirs.”
“They sure do.” Mr. Boring stood at the head of the line. “Men, ladies first today.” The boys grumbled in protest as the girls surged forward.
“How come I wasn’t invited?” Cole said in a smart-alecky voice.
Cleo crossed her arms. “Three words: Be. Oh. Why.”
The bell rang and Mr. Boring opened the door. “Have a great weekend, everyone!”
Cleo talked to the girls as they exited the room in a small herd. “Six o’clock. Bring your hair things and a cute outfit for the shoot tomorrow … and money for clips! And don’t forget my address: 818 Camphor Street! See you then!”
Ms. Sanchez’s class streamed from the neighboring door. Cleo hoped Mia would be alone, or at least not with Lexie Lewis. As soon as Mia appeared, Cleo ran over. “See you tonight at six?”
“I might be a little late, depending on when my parents pick me up.” Mia went to Ms. Marti’s Martial Arts every day after school, since her parents worked. Caylee joined them as they walked toward the front, where Ms. Marti’s van picked up kids and Josh would be standing outside his classroom, waiting.
“Will you be my other makeover stylist?” Cleo asked. “And can you bring your flat iron?”
“Sure.” Mia looked as if she had something else to say, but wasn’t sure she should say it.
“Your parents said it was okay for you to be in the video?”
“Yeah, it’s fine.” She glanced at Cleo, still walking. “I think Lexie’s upset that she wasn’t invited.”
Cleo scoffed. “Lexie Lewis? She doesn’t even like me!”
“I’m just telling you what it seems like to me. I probably shouldn’t have said anything.” Mia started talking even faster than usual. “I gotta run. Ms. Marti won’t wait around forever, and if I miss the van my parents won’t let me come. I’ll be grounded. See you later!”
“That’s crazy,” Cleo said to Caylee. “Why would Lexie even care?”
Caylee shrugged. “Maybe she just feels left out.”
Cleo huffed. “Or maybe she just can’t stand not being at the center of the universe.”
Josh stood against the wall, alone. His hair stuck out from under his Dodgers cap. He stalked toward Cleo. “What took you so long? I’m growing old here.” He hitched up his backpack. They headed for home.
They split up at Cleo’s house. Caylee said she’d come back as soon as she had her overnight things.
“Don’t forget the Passion Clips!” Cleo called after her.
“How could I?” Caylee said, grinning.
This was going to be so much fun! Cleo thought. And then she saw her front yard, which suddenly seemed not very well-kept, with weeds here and there and patches of dirt where Barkley had dug up the grass or the boys had worn i
t away with their running around. Caylee’s grass was lush and green, with perfectly kept edges. Caylee’s flower beds were full of flowers, not weeds—blooms of fuchsia, yellow, and white. Roses that grew on lattices (a word she only knew because of Caylee’s mom).
Why weren’t they having their Passion Clips party at Caylee’s glorious, gigantic pink villa? If only she’d thought first and planned ahead better, they could have. Instead, all the girls in her class (plus Mia) would come here and see her torn-up yard and the baby-poop-brown stucco hacienda standing before her, which was small, cramped, cluttered, and came with two little brothers!
Maybe it wasn’t too late. She rushed inside and grabbed the phone off its cradle. Caylee answered. “Jelly! Change of plans! Can we have the party at your place?”
“Uh … I don’t think my mom is going to be here.”
Mom came into the living room with her hands raised in a questioning position and a What are you talking about? look on her face.
Cleo sighed. “Never mind. It’s okay. See you in a few.” She quietly put the phone back. She sat on the couch circling her wrist, listening for the click in the joint. Seven in a row was good luck.
Mom sat next to her. “What’s going on?”
“Our yard! It looks so junky! And our house—it’s too small, and messy, and … and what was I thinking inviting all these girls over?” she wailed. She put her hands over her face.
“Cleo, it’s going to be fine. You’re just having a case of last-minute jitters. We’ve still got a little over two hours. So, what can we do to get ready?”
Cleo put her hands on her legs and looked around. Mom was right. She needed to take action, not freak out. She’d been giving in to wishful thinking, something Fortune preached never to do. As Fortune always said, “You can whine or you can win. You can complain or you can commit. You can moan or you can move. What are you going to do?” What could she do to impress her guests from the moment they stepped out of their parents’ cars?
A sign. In the window. WELCOME, GUESTS, it would read. Honored Guests? Esteemed Guests? No. Passion Clip Partiers!
Yes!
She took a deep breath. “Okay. You’re right. I got this, Mom.”
Mom slapped Cleo’s leg. “That’s my girl. Go get ’em.”
Cleo got out her sign-making materials and was making her first sign when Caylee arrived. Together they finished it and hung it in the window. This was great! The sign would not only welcome her guests, it would give their product more exposure among her neighbors. In fact, this weekend she would go door-to-door. Ms. Chu might have a niece or granddaughter out there somewhere. And Cleo could easily persuade Fred and Pedro to buy one for Bowmore. The terrier’s hair was always getting in his eyes.
She and Caylee got out crepe paper and balloons leftover from JayJay’s birthday in June and hung the stuff everywhere—around the sign, from the porch light, around the pillars on the front porch. She didn’t have time to grow new grass or weed the flower beds, but she could divert people’s attention to something else. Something fun and party-like!
Her brothers came out and begged for balloons. Jay, wearing a too-big pair of Josh’s hand-me-downs, had to keep hitching up his pants as he bounced around.
She blew up two balloons and told them to play keep-away from Barkley in the driveway. They sped off toward the back of the house. Hopefully Mom had a plan for keeping the boys out of her and her guests’ hair later. After all, their hair would be busy getting styled!
They decorated the chain-metal fence by weaving crepe paper through the links all the way around and tying balloons in every color of the rainbow every few feet. The balloons bobbed and danced in the late-September breeze.
Cleo stood back and took it all in. Voilà! Her house looked well-loved instead of worn-down, festive instead of falling apart.
Back inside, she and Caylee set up the family room for power makeovers. They hung another sign they’d made—SALON PERFECTO—on the wall outside the entrance. They brought in two dining chairs to be the salon chairs. Cleo raided her and Mom’s bathroom drawers for the tools that would transform them from regular fifth-graders into fabulous fashionistas, each one sporting her unique, personalized Passion Clips.
“I just had a splendarvelous idea!” she said as they lined up combs, brushes, and hair accessories on the coffee table in front of the chairs. “I’ll ask my dad to do ‘before’ and ‘after’ shots that we can email to everyone.”
“That’s great!” Caylee said, setting up a Passion Clips display on the end table next to the love seat.
It was great. Everything was great. Persuasion Power had worked again. This time on herself!
“I know I said no to makeup, but how about this glitter powder I found in the back of my closet?” Mom handed Cleo a gold-lidded container and a makeup brush. “For a little extra bling.”
Cleo snatched the powder, grinning. “Thanks, Mom! We can definitely use that.” The doorbell rang, revving up Cleo’s motor. “It’s go time, people!” She zoomed from the room, praying her brothers hadn’t embarrassed her already. Knowing them, they’d be rolling around on top of each other all over the patchy “yard.”
She opened the door to Tessa and her dad. He had the same big front teeth and overbite as his daughter. “Hi, Tess —” Cleo looked past Tessa to see all the balloons except one lone red one flopping against the fence like tattered rags. Popped!
Cleo came onto the front porch. “Josh! Julian! You are so in trouble!”
“Everything okay?” Tessa’s dad asked. “Is your mom here?” He put his hands on Tessa’s shoulders.
“I’m here!” Mom called, coming through the living room. She and Mr. Hutchfield shook hands and started their adult chitchat. Cleo fumed, considering whether to hunt her brothers down immediately or exact vengeance later. The little vandals.
“I like the sign in your window,” Tessa said, then pointed to her horse clips. “I’m ready to party!”
Cleo looked at her friend. “What? Oh! Us too. I mean, Caylee and me. She helped with the sign. And the” — she looked around the yard. The last word came out flat — “decorations.”
Tessa looked at her sympathetically. Her dad gave her a kiss on the forehead, said he’d see her the next day, and left.
“Cleo, why don’t you show Tessa where to put her things?” Mom said.
Cleo pointed to the fence instead. “Mom, look! The balloons!”
Mom invited Tessa to go through to the back, then spoke to Cleo alone. “I’ll watch the boys, you take care of your guests.”
“But they vandalized my decorations!”
“Did you see them do it?”
Cleo crossed her arms.
Mom raised her eyebrows. “Cleo?”
Cleo huffed. “No. But who else would have done it?”
“Around here, it’s innocent until proven guilty. I’ll get out the snacks. You welcome your friends.”
Cleo wanted to find her brothers and extract a confession but girls started showing up with their parents. She stayed by the door and Caylee took them to the family room to stow their things and show them her latest Passion Clip creations. Mom had put out snacks—and not just a veggie tray!—to tide them over until dinner. Everything was back on track.
When there was a lull in the arrivals, Cleo realized she should take down the raggedy balloons while she had a chance. Just then, Barkley came bounding around the corner of the house. He shot like an arrow (a fat and not-too-quick arrow) headed for the bull’s-eye of the red balloon. The boys chased after him, shouting.
Amelie, the girl whose family spent every summer in France, was walking up with her mom as Jay tackled Barkley. The dog dragged him across the yard, taking more grass out with him. Josh grabbed Barkley’s collar. “No, Barkley!” Barkley hacked and wheezed but kept lunging forward.
Mia and her mom came up behind Amelie. They all stood frozen on the walkway, probably wondering if it was safe to come
any closer.
Jay was still being dragged across the ground, his pants getting dangerously low. Cleo watched, horrified. All the girls had come onto the front porch. They stood gawking.
“Couldn’t you keep them inside?” Cleo whispered to Caylee.
“No one was talking. It was getting awkward.”
This was getting awkward.
“Let go, Josh!” Mom yelled. Josh did, but Jay held on.
Barkley made one last straining effort, snatching the red balloon in his mouth. The balloon popped, and Jay lost his pants. All the way down to his ankles. At least his underwear hadn’t gone with them.
Cleo smacked her forehead with her palm. Her guests giggled. “This party’s starting off with a bang,” Mia joked. Mia’s mom laughed—the same high-pitched tinkling as Mia.
Barkley lay on the ground chewing what was left of the balloon.
“Sorry, Cleo,” Josh said. “We tried to keep him away from them, but he popped them all.”
Mom raised an eyebrow at Cleo.
“It’s okay,” Cleo conceded. “Thanks for trying.”
“Barkley eats everything,” Jay said to the crowd. “Just like me.” More laughs. He tugged on his pants, trying to get them up.
Cleo turned to her friends, ready to get the spotlight back where it belonged. “If you thought that was exciting, wait until you see what we’ve actually planned!”
She opened the door and her guests filed in: Caylee and Tessa first; then Anusha, with her mom’s thick eyebrows; Lily, with her dad’s long face and big-boned stature; Steffy, with her mom’s wide smile and almond-shaped eyes; Rosa, with her dad’s light brown complexion; Jasmine, with her mom’s blocky figure and long black hair; Amelie, with her mom’s auburn hair and willowy body; and Mia, with her mom’s identical tinkling laugh.
Cleo couldn’t help wondering: How did she and her birth dad look alike? Would they look alike? Or sound alike? Maybe even act alike?
She could think about that later. Everyone had made it into the family room. It was time for power makeovers! Just like on Fortune.
Cleo flung her arms wide. “Welcome to Salon Perfecto! Where everything we do is as close to perfection as possible.” Some of the girls giggled. It felt good to be in charge again. “Your sleepover stylists this evening will be Mia and”—she gave a flamboyant flick of her hands and then rested them on her chest, feeling very Fortune-like—“moi. Who would like to be our first two clients?” All the girls raised their hands. Cleo didn’t want anyone to feel hurt. “We’ll go alphabetical. Amelie and Anusha—you first. And feel free to give suggestions. We’re open to ideas, right, Mia?”
Cleo Edison Oliver in Persuasion Power Page 9
