by Sarah Kapit
Time to come up with an excuse that sounded at least a little bit true.
“Just looking for a paperweight,” she said.
Okay, so maybe that wasn’t the greatest excuse ever. A paperweight! Not your best work, Lara.
“We don’t have any paperweights,” Benny pointed out. Lara tried not to grit her teeth.
“Right,” she said. “That’s why I’m currently leaving. To go find a paperweight . . . um, somewhere else. You know.”
Lara made straight for the door. Unfortunately, her brother was still standing there.
Benny crossed his arms around his chest, his scowl intensifying noticeably. “You were spying again. Weren’t you?”
“I don’t spy on people!”
I investigate them, Lara added silently. Somehow she thought the distinction would be lost on her brother.
“I’m telling everyone!” Benny declared.
That wouldn’t do. Lara bit her lip and frantically searched around the messy room, as though it could give her an answer to her current predicament. Her eyes fell on Benny’s Rube Goldberg machine. He must have worked on it quite a bit since she’d last visited. Yet as far as she knew, Ima’s heirloom was still missing. And that gave Lara an idea.
“If you say that I’m a spy, then I’m going to tell everyone what you’ve done with Ima’s brooch,” Lara said. She straightened her back as she talked. Even arched her eyebrow in what she hoped was a menacing expression.
She’d expected her brother to appear terrified. Instead, he just looked confused. “Huh?”
“Ima’s brooch!” When that failed to provoke an appropriate response, Lara tried to explain further. “You’re using Ima’s brooch in your machine. You really don’t know that?”
Benny’s face twisted in concentration. “Oh! So that’s what the silver-and-green thing is. I was wondering about that.”
Sometimes Lara found her brother’s cluelessness charming. Now it was just unbelievable. Still, she could definitely use it to her advantage.
“That silver-and-green thing is Ima’s family heirloom from Turkey. I’m sure she’d be thrilled to know that you’ve decided it’s best used for zipping a zipper. That is what your weird machine is supposed to do, isn’t it?”
He paled. “Please, please don’t do that! I’ll return it. I swear.”
Lara smiled widely. “I won’t tell anyone a thing. So long as you don’t tell anyone that I was . . . visiting . . . in here.”
Benny bounced over to his part of the room. “Okay, okay. I won’t tell!”
“We have a deal, then. Excellent.”
As Lara left Benny behind, it occurred to her that both of her brothers could be in very big trouble very soon. Well, no matter. That wasn’t any of her concern.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE:
AN ACT OF DARING
Caroline had thought the Bloody Pen Incident would be the end of this whole nasty Marissa business. It seemed fair enough. Marissa had ruined her sculpture, so she ruined Marissa’s drawing. Now that their business was done, Caroline preferred to pretend that Marissa simply did not exist.
Micah had other plans.
She found out all about it during math class. As usual, she sat next to Micah. And as usual, he had a way to entertain them both when things got boring.
They had a system. Whenever Micah had something to say, he’d scribble a note on the edge of his notebook. Caroline had gotten used to his messy handwriting. To respond, she’d type something in her tablet but would not actually press the “speak” button.
It occurred to Caroline that perhaps she should not be using her tablet in such a way during school hours. But she figured that passing notes to a friend was just something normal kids did in middle school. Maybe she had something of an advantage, but that was no reason not to use it.
Caroline rubbed her eyes and stared at her problem set when a cough sounded next to her. She peered over at Micah’s notebook. Sure enough, there was a message waiting for her.
We should do something.
She tapped her foot as she tried to come up with a smart response. Sometimes, Micah’s suggestions were entirely too vague for her liking.
Like what? she typed finally.
Micah wrote swiftly and confidently:
Another prank on Marissa. The last one was so much fun.
Speaking for herself, Caroline was not sure she could characterize the experience of pranking Marissa as fun. Terrifying, yes. Guilt-inducing, certainly. It was even a little bit exhilarating, once she got past everything else. But fun?
I don’t know about that, Caroline typed. I think Ms. Williamson knows it was you last time.
It was true. For the past few art classes, Caroline could practically feel the weight of their teacher’s eyeballs on them as they worked at their table.
Of course, Micah had a response for that.
So it won’t be in art class this time.
Caroline started to type something. She stopped. Deleted her words. Started typing something else—“but won’t Marissa start realizing what we’re doing?”—when the tap-tapping of shoes against hard floor made her jump a bit.
It was Ms. Garcia, the math teacher. Caroline gulped. Was she about to get into trouble?
“Micah, that doesn’t look very much like your problem set,” the teacher said.
Part of Caroline had expected Micah to deny it, but he didn’t.
“Sorry,” he mumbled. “I’ll . . . I’ll get to work on it.”
“Please do,” Ms. Garcia said. She wasn’t mean, exactly, but even Micah knew he had to listen.
Caroline glanced over at the teacher, waiting to receive a lecture of her own. But it never came.
She frowned. Did Ms. Garcia just not see that she was using her tablet to pass notes to Micah? It was odd—who did she think Micah was talking to, anyway?
Not getting in trouble ought to be a good thing, but Caroline couldn’t help but wonder. A rather unpleasant thought gnawed at her. Did Ms. Garcia not realize that she, Caroline Finkel, the girl who talked with a tablet, could break the rules with her friend?
Did it just not occur to her that someone like Caroline could be just as troublesome as anyone else?
It was the same thing with Ms. Williamson, Caroline realized. She obviously realized that Micah had something or other to do with the not-blood splattered all over Marissa’s beautiful flowers. But did she realize that Caroline had been his partner in crime?
Lara had suspected something. Caroline knew that much. But even her sister, who ought to know Caroline better than anyone, hadn’t gotten close to the truth.
These thoughts troubled Caroline until math class came to a welcome end.
There wasn’t much of a chance to talk with Micah as they walked to lunch together. Caroline vowed that one day she would master the trick of using her tablet while she walked, but that day was a long way off. And Micah usually didn’t talk about important things when she didn’t have the chance to respond—a fact she deeply appreciated about him.
By the time they were eating lunch at their usual table, Caroline had made up her mind. She took in a shaky breath and tapped out her message: “Okay, let’s do something to Marissa. But maybe no blood this time.”
Caroline bit her lip as she pressed the “speak” button. She certainly did not want Micah to think that she was uncool. Still, she didn’t think she could stomach another blood-related prank. Marissa’s scream had been awfully loud.
“Aww. All of the best pranks need blood,” he protested. But given the size of his grin, Caroline felt pretty sure that he was just kidding.
“I’m sure you can come up with something,” she typed.
“Well, of course I can. I am the prank master, after all. I put blue hair dye in my brother’s shampoo over the weekend and it was so epic.”
Although Caroline was not sure that epic was the correct word for such a thing, she smiled. “Cool,” she typed.
“But how about you, Caro? Your plan with the pens was pretty good. I bet you can come up with something even better this time . . .”
Caroline’s mouth quirked upward. Caro. No one else called her Caro. Sometimes Lara or Dad called her Lina-Lin, but that was hardly the same thing. Lina-Lin was a childish name for a child. Caro was someone else entirely. Caro was Micah’s friend. Caro was a girl who fought back against her bullies. Caro didn’t need help from her big sister.
Caro was cool.
Did Caroline feel like Caro? She wasn’t entirely sure. But she could certainly try.
“I can try to find an idea,” she tapped.
She didn’t feel at all sure of her words, but what else could she say?
“I know you’ll come up with something awesome,” Micah offered.
Caroline only wished that she shared his confidence.
As she picked at her apple slices and considered the pros and cons of various prank ideas, Caroline’s mind turned to Lara. Would Lara prank Marissa? What kind of prank might she do? And—this question gave Caroline particular pause—what would Lara think if she knew?
The other day, Lara had clearly been trying to figure out what Caroline had been up to. Somehow, she’d found out about the fake blood. And, Lara being Lara, she’d turned the whole thing into a mystery to investigate. But she hadn’t really found out anything yet. Caroline felt quite sure of that. It probably would never occur to her sister that she was even capable of breaking the rules so badly.
Now Caroline was going to do yet another daring feat. The very idea of it filled her with spiky yellow paint streaks.
Figure this one out, Lara.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO:
THE CASE OF THE ANNOYING COUSIN
LOCATION: A.’s room, 3:30 p.m.
EVENT: Sitting waiting for A. to get here so we can do tutoring stuff.
QUESTION FOR FURTHER INVESTIGATION: Can I make it through the next few hours without wanting to send A. on the next plane back to Tel Aviv?
The neatness of Aviva’s room really was kind of sickening. She even made her bed with special corners on the sheets! Lara didn’t consider herself a slob by Finkel standards, but she certainly saw no need to make her bed beyond tossing a comforter on top of it.
In an effort to avoid messing up the too-perfect room, Lara chose to sit on the floor. Her butt may not be particularly comfortable, but at least she didn’t feel like she was somehow ruining Aviva’s bizarre need to live in a room that looked like it belonged on one of those TV shows about home decoration.
Lara knew, in a vague sort of way, that she probably shouldn’t be in Aviva’s room at all. True, they had agreed to meet this afternoon for tutoring. As usual, Lara needed help with math. Aviva certainly wouldn’t have been her tutor of choice, but Ima and Dad had not asked Lara’s opinion on the matter. So here she was.
Aviva hadn’t exactly given permission for Lara to come into the room without her. But since her cousin was more than twenty minutes late—a fact that was most definitely weird—Lara figured it was more or less okay to let herself in. Unfortunately, she now had absolutely nothing to do. And she was sitting in Aviva’s room.
Well . . . perhaps there were a few things she could do to pass time. Lara could practically feel the weight of her detective notebook in her bag. By instinct, she began to examine the room. Just with her eyes, of course. Still, she ached to do more.
She absolutely should not be doing this. If Aviva were to do something like this to her, she’d be mad for a week. At least. And yet . . .
Aviva’s perfectly neat desk might as well have a flashing light, beckoning Lara toward it.
Lara stepped toward the desk. Stopped. Stared at it.
After all, she reasoned, it’s not like Aviva would keep anything really important in her desk, where anyone could find it. That would just be foolish.
She pulled open the first drawer. It did not surprise Lara to learn that Aviva kept every single piece of homework she’d ever completed. (Which was all of them, of course. Perfect Aviva.) Lara rolled her eyes as she passed through page after page of math homework with “EXCELLENT JOB!!” scribbled across the page.
Then, she came across a page that said “SEE ME.” Even the words looked scary—red and bright and spiky. Lara started reading the paper. From the looks of it, Aviva had written an essay about her family. Her stomach tied up in knots as she read, “I live with my mother. Last year we moved in with my aunt uncle four cousins. Living with cousins are fun. I do not have brother or sister.”
So. Aviva actually liked Lara, or at least she could pretend. That made Lara feel something uncomfortably close to guilt.
But also . . . Aviva was really, really bad at writing in English.
It surprised Lara. Her cousin spoke with an accent, sure, but every word out of her mouth sounded so precise and correct. This essay was anything but.
“SEE ME,” Aviva’s teacher had written. Hmm. Lara flipped to the back of the essay. When she saw the grade her cousin had received, she instinctively cringed. That was very, very not good. The teacher had written another note: “If you rewrite this essay, you may receive a higher grade. You can do it!”
Lara frowned at the paper. Did Aviva’s teacher mean to be comforting? She herself couldn’t imagine being comforted by such a thing. Then again, she’d never received that kind of a grade on a language arts assignment.
The sound of Aviva’s voice caused Lara to jump a good inch. Lara slammed the drawer shut, wincing as it banged. She rushed over to her spot on the floor and did her very best to appear as though she hadn’t just invaded her cousin’s things.
“Hi,” Lara managed to say.
“Oh!” Aviva’s mouth fell into an O-shape. “Hello. I did not know you were here.”
“We, uh, talked about it. You’re tutoring me in math. Remember?”
“Yes, yes. So sorry you had to wait for me. I hope you were not bored.”
If it were possible to disappear into the beige walls of the Finkels’ guest room, Lara would have done so. As it was, she could only smile and try to look normal, or at least normal-ish. “I’m never bored,” she said. “So, uh. I guess we should get to work?”
Aviva nodded with more-than-usual vigor. “Yes! I know I can help you.”
And so for the next fifteen minutes Aviva helped Lara with her geometry homework. She actually was a good tutor. Maybe Lara had a chance of understanding the Pythagorean theorem after all.
Lara tried to ignore the twinge of guilt that had taken up residence in her stomach. At this point, it was not so much a twinge as a bowling ball–sized lump of awfulness. Aviva, as much as she might be annoying, was actually, genuinely nice. Nicer than Lara, for sure. Lara felt pretty sure that spying on a nice person officially made her a terrible person.
Maybe she could try and make it up to Aviva.
“I can help you with language arts if you need it,” Lara offered.
Eyes fixed firmly on the floor, Aviva began to flap her hands against her knees. At first, the flaps were slow, but they soon intensified. Lara had to repress the urge to flap herself.
“I don’t need help,” Aviva said.
“Are you sure?” Lara asked. “You did just help me. A lot. I owe you.”
“Okay,” her cousin said, her voice rather small. “I guess you can help me with this essay I need to write. About a book we read.”
She fidgeted while handing Lara a piece of paper. Lara did her best to look, well, nice.
The essay was a little better than the one Lara had found in the drawer. Still, nearly every sentence had an error. What help could Lara be, really? She had no idea how to explain the difference between there and their, or when to use a comma.
Chewing her lip, Lara grabbed a pen and started making corrections. Next to her, Aviva continued fidgeting.
“I know it seems like I’m not a good writer. But I am very good at writing in Hebrew,” she said.
“I’m sure you are,” Lara agreed. “You should see my Hebrew letters. Last year my Hebrew teacher said my alephs looked like the poop emoji.”
That hadn’t actually been what her teacher said, but it was close enough. Aviva gave a weak smile as Lara mentally congratulated herself. She could be a good cousin. Despite strong evidence to the contrary.
“It is strange how you write backwards in English,” Aviva said. “Sometimes I do not remember which way to write and I end up writing things backwards.”
“Ekil siht?” Lara asked, quirking her eyebrows up.
“What?”
Okay, so maybe this wasn’t the best moment for that particular joke.
“I just said ‘like this’ backwards,” she explained.
“Oh.”
A long silence filled the air. Lara rushed to fill it. “You know, I find that confusing with Hebrew. It always takes me a while to remember that I’m supposed to read things from left to right, not right to left.”
“Actually,” Aviva said. “It is the other way around.”
Of course Aviva would correct Lara when she was trying to offer some kind of comfort. Lara sighed, but did her best to ignore her irritation. She thought about what her sister would do. Caroline would be nice, no matter what.
“Right,” Lara said, waving a hand. “I get left and right mixed up a lot. It drove my ballet teacher up the wall when I took lessons.”
“You were a dancer?”
“Sort of? I took lessons. My parents let me stop when I accidentally head-butted another girl during a recital.”
Lara had been about seven at the time. Even so, she shuddered at the memory. Aviva gave her a small nod. Her hands had stilled.
“I’ve never been very good at dancing, either,” Aviva said. “I suppose we have some things in common.”
