That was true. I wasn’t sure how to answer. I really didn’t feel like going to Jenna’s house. But she was showing genuine interest in a school project for once…and she was actually asking for my help.
“Okay,” I said. “I just have to ask my mom. But will you listen to my ideas and not boss me around?”
“Will you listen to my ideas and not boss me around?” she echoed back.
“I’ll do my best.”
“Then so will I. Now come on, get over here!”
Before I could finish saying “Let me ask my mom,” Jenna had hung up. Sigh.
I put the math packet in my backpack and went downstairs.
“Mom? I need to ask you something.”
Mom looked up from her laptop. “That’s funny; I need to ask you something too. I just got a text from Sierra’s mom. Sierra wants to know if you’d like to go to her house and see her new microscope.”
“Now?”
“Yes, now. She just got it, and her mom says you were the first friend she asked to show it to. Isn’t that nice?”
It was nice. It was really nice. It was possibly the nicest invitation I’d ever had.
“Did Sierra’s mom actually use the word friend about me?”
Mom smiled. “Yes, she actually did.”
“Is it okay if I go?”
“Of course! Let me just finish this email to a client and I’ll take you over.”
I started to put on my sneakers.
“Oh, Elf? What did you want to ask me?”
“Oh, right…um, I was wondering if you’d seen my water bottle.”
Mom pointed to where the bottle sat on the kitchen counter, about two feet from me, and shook her head.
* * *
• • •
Several thoughts were swimming in my head on the way to Sierra’s house:
Jenna didn’t really need my help with Linda McMuffin, did she?
Sierra’s mom said I was Sierra’s friend. That must mean that Sierra had called me that too.
I had a friend.
I was actually invited over to my friend’s house to hang out with her and do something fun. My friend’s house.
Jenna would be fine, right? I mean, what was so hard about taking a few pictures of an egg?
I had lied to Mom. If I wasn’t doing something wrong, why did I lie? It was just because Mom wouldn’t understand; that was all it was.
I wished I had a phone so I could just text Jenna that I couldn’t come after all, without risking Mom overhearing me.
I wished Jenna wasn’t my cousin so I wouldn’t have to worry about Mom knowing every little thing that happened between us.
* * *
• • •
As we pulled into Sierra’s long gravel driveway, Mom said, “Okay, Ms. Nichols says she’ll bring you home around five-thirty. Oh, and I almost forgot…what was Jenna calling about before?”
Uh-oh.
“Oh, I almost forgot too. She wanted to know when we could work on our egg project together.”
“Oh, okay. That’s nice. Good to see you two getting along.”
I felt a pang in my belly.
“Yeah. Actually, could you call Jenna for me? And let her know I can’t help her with the egg today? But maybe we’ll do it another day?”
“Of course,” Mom said, beaming. “You have a very busy social calendar this week!”
She watched me walk up the steps and waited to drive away until Sierra opened the door to let me in. As Mom gave Sierra a huge wave and a big goofy smile, I wondered which one of us was happier that I’d made a friend.
If only I could shake the nagging, Jenna-shaped ache in my stomach.
When I got home, Dad was in the kitchen, listening to his favorite jazz station and whisking something in a bowl. Mom was leaning into the front closet, tossing out shoes.
“Didn’t I ask you to put your summer sandals in your bedroom closet? You never wear them now that the weather is getting colder. In fact, they probably won’t even fit you next year. Just put them in the donation bag in the laundry room. And I don’t want to hear anything about the cave crickets. Be brave!”
Urft. Mom was in some kind of mood. All I’d done was walk through the door, and I already felt like I was in trouble for something.
“Okay,” I said. “Is everything all right?”
“Everything is fine.” Mom’s tight voice sounded anything but fine.
Dad gave me a small smile and a wave from the kitchen. “Hi, honey. Did you have fun at Sierra’s?”
“Yes.” I’d been excited to tell Mom and Dad everything about my time at Sierra’s house…how her microscope was amazing, and we looked at chicken feathers and goat fur through it and made her brothers guess which was which. And that Sierra likes baking too, so we made brownies from a mix, but she said next time she’d ask her mom to get more ingredients and maybe we could make doughnuts or cake pops. And that her favorite show is also Superstars of Science.
But Mom’s mood was catching (just like her laugh, Mom’s bad moods could be contagious), and suddenly I didn’t feel like talking about any of that.
“How are you guys?”
“Well, I had an interesting afternoon,” Mom said, still in her tight voice. “I met my egg grandchild, Linda McMuffin. She’s very cute. I’m just sorry you weren’t there for the occasion.”
“You met Linda McMuffin? Did Jenna come here?”
“No, she did not. I went to their house.”
“Oh. I didn’t know you were planning to go over there.”
“I wasn’t. But when I called Jenna to tell her you went to Sierra’s house and that you’d work on your project another day, she started crying.”
“Crying? Are you sure? Jenna doesn’t cry. At least not about school stuff.”
“Yes, she does cry, Elfie. Everyone cries. And she wasn’t crying about school; she was crying because you let her down. And because she was home by herself and feeling miserable. Why didn’t you tell me that you’d promised to go there today?”
“I didn’t promise! I mean…I said I would, but I wasn’t sure; I hadn’t even asked you yet.”
“And what do you think I would have said?”
I didn’t answer. Of course she would have said yes.
“Elfie, I know you and Jenna have never really hit it off. But…”
“I know, I know,” I said. “But she’s family, and I have to try harder.”
“That’s not what I was going to say,” Mom said. “Although that is true. But what I was going to say is that Jenna’s going through a really tough time. I don’t think she needed help with the school project today as much as she just needed someone to be with her. And she wanted that someone to be you, Elf.”
“I’m sure I wasn’t her first choice. Esme and five other people were probably busy.”
“That’s not the point. She thought you were coming over and you basically stood her up. I wound up going there to help with her pictures.”
“Okay, but did she really even need help with the pictures? Jenna takes pictures with her phone all the time. She seems to be pretty skilled at it.”
“Also not the point, Elfie. I told you, I think she just didn’t want to be alone.”
How was this happening? How was it possible that Mom was mad at me for not dropping everything and going to Jenna’s house when Jenna had been shirking group projects and hanging out with her other friends and doing her own thing for years?
“I’m sorry if I wanted to hang out with my friend instead!” I yelled, in a way that said I wasn’t actually sorry at all. “I’m sorry if I wanted to let Jenna work on a project by herself for a change so I could go to a friend’s house! I finally get to do something fun, and now Jenna’s getting m
e in trouble for it!”
I grabbed my backpack, ran upstairs, and slammed my bedroom door. I didn’t even feel like working on the math extra credit anymore; that’s how mad I was. I needed Rhoda. She would have understood. I wanted to email her, but the computer was downstairs, and I didn’t want to be anywhere near Mom just then. So I did what I used to do when I needed to tell Rhoda something.
I took the Important Jar off its shelf and wiped a thin layer of dust off the lid. It had never gotten dusty before, because it had never gone this long without someone using it. I tore up a piece of paper and put three notes inside the jar:
• I miss you.
• I made a new friend.
• Mom likes Jenna more than she likes me.
I didn’t know when I would see Rhoda again, but somehow writing the notes to her still made me feel a little bit better.
* * *
• • •
Mom knocked on my door about half an hour later.
“Dinner’s almost ready.”
“I’m not hungry.”
“It’s French toast.” Mom knew how much I loved breakfast foods for dinner. But I stayed quiet. I heard Mom sigh on the other side of the door.
“Can I come in, Elf? I feel like we should talk.”
I opened my door and let her in. But I still didn’t say anything.
“I thought about what you said,” Mom said, sitting beside me on my bed, “and I think you’re right.”
“You do?” I hadn’t expected her to say that.
“Yes, about some of it. It makes sense that you wanted to go to Sierra’s house; I know you’re excited about your new friendship with her.”
I waited for Mom to continue. I knew there was a but coming.
“But”—there it was—“do you think that was the best way for you to handle it? To tell Jenna you’d come over, and then just not show up? You should have told me. I could have helped you sort it out.”
“I thought if I told you, then you’d make me go to Jenna’s.”
Mom shook her head. “I don’t think so. It’s important for you to have a friend like Sierra. We could have figured out another time to go to Jenna’s. But it would have been nice to at least tell her first.”
I looked down at my bedspread and nodded.
Mom sighed again. “I’m sorry I got so worked up about this. But I worry about Jenna sometimes. I know you think she has it all figured out, but divorce can really be horrendous. When Grandma and Grandpa got divorced when I was a kid, at least Uncle Rex and I had each other to lean on. Jenna’s having to weather this as an only child.”
“I know,” I said. “Poor only children. They are so super lonely and weird. Why would their terrible parents ever do that to them?”
Mom caught my small smile. “Oh, are we joking instead of yelling now?” she said, reaching out and messing up my hair. As she brought her hand back, she glanced to the side and saw the Important Jar sitting on my bedside table.
“Oh, your Important Jar,” she said.
I remembered the note I’d just written about her liking Jenna more than she liked me. It didn’t seem fair now.
“Don’t open it!” I said.
“I won’t, hon; I know these notes are between you and Rhoda. But…”
“I know, I know; we don’t even know when we’re going to see Rhoda again. It just makes me feel better to write to her, that’s all.”
“I hear you,” Mom said. “Actually, I wanted to ask you about that….How would you like to see Rhoda tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow? Really?”
“Yep. I talked to Betty today, and she’s not able to stay with Rhoda during her chemo treatment tomorrow, so she wanted to know if we could go instead. Do you think you’re up for that?”
“Yes! I told you I could handle it.”
“Okay, then we’re on. I’m going down to see if Dad needs help with dinner; can you join us in five minutes for some French toast?”
“Yes, definitely.” I watched Mom go, then opened the Important Jar, took out the note about her liking Jenna more, and threw it away.
“That’s all Linda did at your house? Read books with your aunt?” Will was clearly disappointed in Jenna’s pictures of Linda’s activities from the night before. He took a bite of his sandwich as he flipped through the pages of the egg baby journal. We were in the cafeteria, eating lunch. The ant population had dwindled, which Will had warned us would probably happen as the weather got cooler. But he, Maxine, and I still sat together. Will and Maxine talked a lot about what they planned to sing for the school musical auditions, and whether Will should dye all of his hair purple or just the front. I didn’t talk much about myself, but that was okay. I didn’t really feel like talking to Will and Maxine about the things that were on my mind anyway—namely Hampshire Academy and Rhoda.
Today Jenna was with us too, since there was new egg baby information to discuss. She sounded hurt by Will’s tone as he looked at her pictures of Linda. “What’s wrong with reading books? It was a school night. I also made her some little hats.”
Will squinted at the brightly colored bits of cloth on Linda’s head in each picture. “Those are hats?” he said. “I thought it was just weird fuzz coming off Elfie’s mom’s sweater. You should see Maxine’s egg; she has all these different springy antenna headbands.”
“I know,” Jenna said quietly. “Esme showed me.”
I felt like I had to defend Jenna, especially after all that Mom had told me about how she was feeling yesterday. “Those are obviously hats,” I said. “And reading with Linda is a good thing. Literacy is very important, even for babies. And they should hear thirty thousand words per day for optimal speech development.”
“She probably heard that many words in ten minutes when she was with Will,” Jenna muttered.
Will didn’t take Jenna’s bait. “Yes, easily!” he agreed. “Okay, well, I was just concerned that her evening wasn’t very interesting. But if Elfie thinks this was a good idea, then I guess I’ll allow it.”
Jenna leaned forward; I noticed her hands were clenched into fists at her sides. “You’ll allow it?” she said. “You’re not her only parent, you know! And why is it okay if Elfie says it is, but not me?”
“It’s nothing personal,” Will said. “Elfie’s just always been really good in school, so I value her opinion on these things.”
“I see.” Jenna’s fists looked even tighter. “How could I possibly take that personally.” She picked up her lunch tray and carried it over to Esme’s table.
“You hurt her feelings,” I said.
“How?” Will seemed genuinely surprised. “It’s true; you’re really smart.”
I felt my cheeks get warm. This was an odd sensation: feeling bad for Jenna at the same time I felt flattered by a compliment from a classmate. Both were new experiences for me.
“Well. Thank you. But Jenna should know we care about what she thinks too.”
“Do we?” Will said. I couldn’t tell if he was joking or not.
“Yes, we do. Or at least we should. She’s in our group too.” Wow, Mom would be ridiculously proud of me right now.
Will thought for a second. “Okay. Should we let her have an extra night? I mean, I got to have Linda over the weekend, and Jenna just had her one night. The journal isn’t due until next week.”
“Okay,” I said. “But let me tell her. I have to talk to her anyway.”
I stood at Jenna and Esme’s table for a full five seconds before Jenna looked up at me. “What?” She said it in an annoyed way, like I was interrupting something important. Esme didn’t look at me at all.
“Can I talk to you? Alone?”
“Why can’t we talk here?”
I thought for a second. “It’s about the egg baby project, and I don’t want any other groups to
hear our ideas.”
Esme did look up at me then, and rolled her eyes. “Don’t worry, Elfie; I’m sure you’ll still get the very highest grade in the class.”
“Thank you, Esme,” I said. “I’m sure you’re right.”
Jenna groaned, but she got up and followed me to the corner by the recycling bin. “You’re so weird, Elfie. What do you need to say?”
I took a deep breath. “Well, first I want to say I’m sorry. I know I”—what was the term Mom had used?—“stood you up yesterday so I could go to my friend Sierra’s house. And I shouldn’t have done it.”
“You’re just saying that because your mom made you.”
“No, I’m not. My mom’s not here right now; how would she even know I’m apologizing?”
“She could ask me later.”
I sighed. “Can’t you just trust me? I really am sorry. And I stuck up for you with Will, about the pictures of Mom reading with Linda.”
Jenna looked down and twisted her friendship bracelets. “I know. Thanks for that.”
“You’re welcome.”
“Okay. Is that all?”
“No, that’s not all. Will and I think you should get to have an extra night with Linda, since he had the whole weekend. So you can take her home if you want. But I actually have another idea of something we could do.”
“What?”
“Do you think Linda McMuffin would be interested in visiting a hospital?”
I’m not sure why I decided to invite Jenna to come with us to visit Rhoda. If someone had asked me a week ago to name people I would want to accompany me to visit Rhoda during one of her chemotherapy treatments, Jenna wouldn’t have even been on the list. No way. But I was still thinking about how Mom said Jenna had cried, and I couldn’t shake it out of my head. Besides, if I went to Jenna’s house to help with Linda today, then I wouldn’t be able to visit Rhoda. This way, I could do both.
Elfie Unperfect Page 13
