by Sarah Kapit
“We’re going to school and meeting with Principal Jenkins,” Dad told them as he pulled the car out of the driveway.
At that news Lara crossed her arms across her chest. “We can’t possibly be in trouble yet! School hasn’t even started.”
Even though she agreed with her sister, Caroline did not say anything. She was still supposed to be mad at Lara, after all.
“You’re not in trouble. This is just a visit,” Dad said.
“Aren’t we going to spend enough time there once school starts?” Lara asked.
Dad smiled, but it looked a bit strained. “My signature is needed on some paperwork. I’ve been so busy with work that I forgot to mail some things in. Luckily the school is being understanding.”
Of course. Her father was good at many things, but paperwork was not one of them. It probably had to do with the fact that he had ADHD. As an investigative journalist he was brilliant at figuring out powerful people’s secrets, yet somehow filling out a two-page form on time eluded him. That was just Dad.
“Anyway,” Dad continued. “Since I’ll be going in for the bureaucratic stuff, the principal and I thought it would be a good idea for Lina-Lin to see the school before she begins.” He looked at Caroline in the rearview. “We want you to feel right at home from your very first day.”
The words made Caroline bounce around in her seat. In just a week, she would go to middle school for the first time ever. The prospect filled her with excitement—and, okay, maybe just a little bit of terror.
Her six years of elementary school had left much to be desired. For her first few years Caroline had been in special education—an experience she would gladly scrub completely from her memory were it possible to do so. In special ed., teachers talked in weird voices and made Caroline read books that were way too easy for her. They had lessons like “How to Make a Bed,” as if Ima hadn’t taught her how to do that when she was five. When the school finally decided she could move to regular classes, Caroline had cheered. Silently, of course.
Even then, a paraprofessional had shadowed her every move. Sometimes that was helpful, like when things got too loud, too bright, too everything. Still, Caroline would have preferred not to have the help. Not many kids invited the autistic girl with a speech device and paraprofessional to play tag with them during recess.
Middle school was going to be different. After much talk and pleading on Caroline’s part, it was decided that she could be on her own. There would be no paraprofessional hovering, offering help and high fives and bad jokes. She, Caroline Finkel, would be in charge.
And maybe, just maybe . . . she could be more than just the girl who didn’t talk in the normal way.
It was all very exciting, if more than a little terrifying. Visiting ahead of time was a good idea. New places tended to make Caroline nervous. Still, she couldn’t help but wonder if normal kids—the ones who spoke with their mouths—visited school the week before it began. She suspected not.
“Exactly what am I supposed to do while we’re there?” Lara asked. Obviously she was still cross about who-even-knows-what. “I know where everything is already.”
“Exactamundo, Lara-bear. I was hoping you could give your sister a tour. You know, show her all of the cool hangouts. I’m sure you know much more about that than us old people,” Dad said.
“Dad, no one calls places ‘hangouts.’”
“See? You’re already proving my point.”
Caroline glanced at her sister. Maybe a tour would help them fix their sort-of fight.
“I would like you to give me a tour, Lara,” she typed.
Lara gave her a small smile. “I guess I can do that.”
And so Caroline soon found herself in Principal Jenkins’s office, listening to the small blond woman ramble on about how Pinecone Arts Academy was an inclusive environment. Caroline wondered why it was necessary to repeat this statement seven times in fifteen minutes, but did not say so out loud.
Luckily, Dad saved her from being subjected to more boring talk.
“Caroline’s sister is outside,” he said. “I was hoping that Lara could give her a tour of the school.”
“Oh yes, of course!” Principal Jenkins said. “Please do take a look around. And don’t be a stranger! I know you won’t be getting in trouble and ending up here, but I’d love to shoot the breeze with you sometime.”
Caroline agreed, although she had little desire to chat—or shoot the breeze or whatever you called it—with Principal Jenkins.
And why was the principal so sure that Caroline wouldn’t get into trouble? She frowned. Perhaps it was silly, but now she almost wanted to prove Principal Jenkins wrong and do something just a little bit naughty. Caroline filed the thought away for further consideration. Right now, she needed to focus on learning how to get around this place by herself.
“Finally,” Lara said when she saw Caroline. Her irritation appeared to have faded, much to Caroline’s relief. “What were you doing in there, anyway?”
“Boring stuff. Now are you going to show me all of the cool places around here?”
Lara rolled her eyes. “There are no cool places around here, and even if there were, I certainly wouldn’t know them. But I can show you all the big things. Where do you want to begin?”
There were lots of places Caroline wanted to see, especially the art rooms. Pinecone Arts Academy was known for its arts programs, as Dad and Ima mentioned approximately eight million times over the past week. And art, after all, was her thing. But that’s not what she asked to see first. “What’s your favorite place?” she asked her sister.
“Here?”
“Yes.”
“I really haven’t thought about that,” Lara admitted. “I don’t exactly consider school one of my favorite places at all.”
“There has to be a place here that you think is less bad than the other places,” Caroline pressed.
For several moments Lara didn’t say anything else. But she soon took off at a brisk walk, forcing Caroline to take large strides to keep up.
If Caroline had been forced to guess her sister’s favorite place at school, she probably would have selected the library. But that wasn’t it at all. Lara led her through several series of doorways before reaching a courtyard. Once there, she marched right up to a scraggly old tree along the courtyard’s edge.
“This is my tree,” Lara said.
“It’s a nice tree,” Caroline told her, even though there wasn’t really anything special about it. “Why do you like it?”
Stroking the bark, Lara chewed on her lip. “It’s . . . it’s just a good place to come and think. When I want quiet, you know. Especially when it rains. That’s the best time to come out here.”
Caroline had never known her sister to have a particular fondness for trees. But she could picture Lara coming out to the courtyard to be alone. There was something very comforting about that picture.
“When I’m at school, can I come here too?” she asked.
Something flashed across Lara’s face, and Caroline regretted asking the question.
“I like to be alone here,” Lara said.
“Okay.”
It was, Caroline supposed, only fair. But when she thought about going to school—in a week!—and facing all of the students and teachers and their noise, she couldn’t help but get antsy. No wonder Lara came here for quiet.
“If I really, really needed it, could I come?” Caroline said, hesitating only slightly.
“If you really, really need it, then it’s your tree.”
Caroline beamed. She probably wouldn’t come to her sister’s tree. But knowing that it was here for her made her feel just a little bit better.
“We should continue our tour,” she said.
Lara made a face. “Honestly, the stuff around here is hardly tour-worthy. What exactly do you want to
see—the fine linoleum tables in the cafeteria? Or maybe the sweat-scented gym?”
“The cafeteria,” Caroline replied, ignoring Lara’s sarcasm. Perhaps the sights of Pinecone Arts Academy weren’t exactly exciting, but she wanted to see the place where she’d be spending the next three years.
At that Lara took off at a brisk walk once more. Although Caroline tried to pay attention to the directions, she soon lost track amid the hallway maze. She could only hope that she’d be able to find places again without her sister as a guide. After all, middle school was her big chance to do things all by herself. Caroline did not intend to squander that opportunity.
“Here it is,” Lara announced when they reached a set of double doors. “The cafeteria, in all its glory.”
Caroline peeked in through the small window. Looking at the empty rows of chairs and tables, she tried to imagine the room full of chattering middle schoolers. Where would she sit? Probably not with Lara, since sixth graders and seventh graders had different lunch periods. Yet she couldn’t imagine who else might sit with her, and her stomach turned.
“The food actually isn’t terrible,” Lara said. “Though I recommend avoiding the meatloaf at all costs. Your bowels will appreciate it.”
Just as Caroline began to type a thanks for the bowel-saving advice, a clomping sound startled her. She swiveled her head to see a trio of kids—two boys and a girl—rounding the corner toward the cafeteria.
Caroline oftentimes felt as though an artist silently lurked in the back of her mind. Her artist painted and doodled and shaded with a perfect precision that she herself lacked. She didn’t know if it was an autism thing or just an artist thing, but either way the artist had a way of knowing her feelings before she did. And right now, the artist was painting big, bold streaks of yellow and green.
This was Caroline’s big chance to meet real Pinecone students. Kids who weren’t related to her, kids who maybe could be her friends. She inhaled a deep breath and tapped a few buttons on her tablet. “Hello!”
The kids stared, and Caroline felt her heartbeat skitter. Of course they’d stare. They probably had never met someone like her before. Still, Caroline held out hope that they could get used to it. She stared at the tablet screen and tried to come up with the right words, words that might let them see that she was friend-worthy.
“Are you really talking to us?” the boy asked.
“Yes, she is. And when someone says hello to you, it’s generally considered polite to say hi back,” Lara said in her bossiest voice.
Caroline immediately shot her sister a Look. As much as the question hurt, she hardly thought that Lara’s response would help improve the situation in any way. There was a lot Caroline didn’t know about middle school, but she knew she didn’t want her sister acting like a bossy busybody.
The boy glared at Lara—an understandable response, in Caroline’s opinion. “Hey, look,” he said. “I didn’t mean anything by it.”
“Yeah,” one of the girls added. “We just wanted to know! I’ve never met anyone who . . . you know . . . talks that way.”
“Well, now you have,” Lara said. “And Caroline would certainly appreciate it if you didn’t gawk at her like some kind of zoo exhibit.”
Bouncing on her tiptoes, Caroline flapped her hands at a rapid speed. Why, oh why, did Lara have to be so very protective? Sure, the kids’ ignorance was annoying, but Lara was even worse. Caroline could speak for herself! She didn’t need her big sister to swoop in and save her from anything.
With so many bad emotions flooding her, Caroline could barely keep up with everything that was going on around her. The girl was saying something, but it was difficult for Caroline to pick up on every word.
“Whatever . . . no offense . . . freak out . . .”
“I am not freaking out!” Lara said in a volume that suggested that she was on the verge of doing just that. “I just want you to apologize to my sister.”
Caroline put considerable effort toward not screaming as she mashed buttons on her tablet. The artist in the back of her brain started sketching messy scrawls in black and gray.
“No no no no no,” Caroline said. At times like these, the “no” button in her app was quite useful. All of this was moving way too fast for her to type out a proper response. Hopefully “no” would get the message across.
Caroline cradled her head in her hands and tugged at her hair. She wanted the sensation of ripped hair, painful though it was. But she had just enough awareness to know that actually doing so would be a very, very bad idea. To calm herself, she tried humming her favorite pop song.
“I think you’ve done quite enough,” Lara told the group, her voice cold. “Maybe you should get out of here.”
They did. As the kids scampered away, all Caroline could think was that they most definitely were not going to be her friends now. And it was all thanks to Lara and her big mouth.
CHAPTER THREE:
THE CASE OF THE IRRITABLE LITTLE SISTER
For as long as she could remember, Lara had looked after Caroline. No one asked her to do it. It just felt right to her. Even before Caroline learned how to talk with her tablet, Lara could sometimes guess what her sister wanted to say. Her accuracy rate wasn’t perfect, but she was better at it than anyone else. Even Dad and Ima.
These days Caroline didn’t need Lara to be her translator. That was good, of course. Still. When awful kids were being awful, why shouldn’t Lara step in? It was her job as the older sister. Yet now Caroline was acting as though Lara had stepped on Kugel’s tail. On purpose!
Caroline did not say a single word on the walk back to Principal Jenkins’s office. Nor did she show any sign of talking once the car engine started humming and they began the ride home.
“I was just looking out for you,” Lara repeated for approximately the seventy millionth time. “Those kids were being awfully rude.”
Still nothing. Lara glanced over at her sister’s tablet and saw that Caroline was deeply involved in a game of Candy Crush. She made no move to open her speech app. Okay. Fine. Maybe Caroline was mad now. But she couldn’t possibly ignore Lara forever.
Yet as the evening wore on, it became apparent that Caroline’s irritation had not gone away. Even Kugel, who usually favored Caroline, stayed clear of her.
Lara found her sister outside on the swing set, although she was not swinging so much as she was kicking her feet into the dirt.
“Hi,” Lara said, staring at her sneakers.
Since this was a rare occasion when Caroline didn’t have her tablet, she couldn’t say anything back. That meant Lara could talk all she liked without worrying about being interrupted. Normally she didn’t like to take advantage of this. But right now she had quite a lot to say.
“Look. I’m sorry. Well, I’m not sorry that I told those jerks off, because they deserved it. I’m sorry that you’re hurt. Anyway, if you want to talk, you know where I am.”
Lara trudged back to the house, fully expecting Caroline to stay put. To her surprise, footsteps followed only a few strides behind her. She turned to see Caroline flash a hand signal—the one that meant “wait.”
As she waited for Caroline to retrieve her tablet, she considered how best to approach the situation. Clearly, she’d messed up. But if Caroline would just understand that she was only trying to help, then maybe . . .
“I don’t need you.”
Lara flinched at the words, even though Caroline’s tablet-voice spoke without judgment. How could Caroline not need her? She was the older sister!
“I didn’t ask for your help,” Caroline continued.
“I had to!” Lara protested. “You’re my sister and the way those kids were talking about you just wasn’t right.”
Lara could have said more. She wanted to say more. But Caroline was tapping furiously, and Lara doubted whether she could have said anything to make her sl
ow down.
“You always try to fix things. But you can’t fix everything, Lara.”
Unbelievable! Lara just didn’t get it. One minute Caroline was asking to share her tree—her personal tree!—and then the next she got all annoyed when Lara tried to do something nice for her. Sometimes Lara felt like she didn’t understand her sister at all.
“I don’t understand why you’re so mad at me for trying to help.” Lara tried to keep her voice even, like Caroline’s computer voice. “I just thought that maybe if I told them that they were being rude, they would, you know, talk to you like a normal person.”
“I am not a normal person,” Caroline said. She continued to tap away furiously at her screen. “And I know how to deal with people being rude.”
“Yes, but you shouldn’t have to! I just wanted to help.”
Caroline drew her face into a pout and did not touch her tablet for eons, although Lara supposed the silence probably only lasted for mere seconds. Finally, she started typing again.
“You don’t know anything, Lara Finkel. You can’t help anyone. You definitely can’t help me.”
Lara opened her mouth. Tried to think of a smart comeback. Failed. And so she closed her mouth. Meanwhile, Caroline pranced away somewhere. She was probably off to bake challah with Aviva or something. Lara scowled at the very thought.
Never mind Caroline.
She, Lara, had plenty to do on her own.
Unfortunately, she failed to think of a single thing at the moment.
So she did what she always did when her feelings started to be too much. She went to her bookshelf and pulled out one of her Georgia Ketteridge books—number three, the best one in the series.
She tried to concentrate on the plot—a terribly exciting mystery that involved a series of kidnappings. But she couldn’t. Thoughts of Caroline and school and everything that had been said kept invading her mind.
How would Georgia handle a moody little sister? It was hard to say. Georgia was an only child. Lucky her.
