by Alex Flinn
You may not realize this, but before this year, most of my clothes weren’t even new. That’s not as bad as it sounds. There are great buys at Goodwill, and it’s satisfying to take home a whole bagful of clothes for $25. Miami public schools have uniforms, so it really didn’t matter. But one time, in middle school, this girl, Ashley, came up to me in the cafeteria and pointed to the polo I was wearing and said, “That used to be mine.”
I looked at her like why are you talking to me, but then she said, “I know, because of this.” And she pointed to this tiny bleached-out area, right on the bottom that you could barely notice, but she knew it was there. She said, “That’s why my mother gave it to Goodwill, because it was good enough for poor people.”
So, to go from that to buying Laundry by Shelli Segal at Bloomingdale’s—wow!
Vanessa bought me three more dresses and two pairs of boots—one for snow and one just because they’re adorable. I’m sending you a picture of the boots and another I took in the fitting room of me in the blue dress.
Do you like it? Do you think you would like me?
That was merely a rhetorical question. Don’t feel obligated to answer.
Jarvis arrived at 7:00. His face was pink from the wind, and his eyes were bright. He looked so handsome! He opened his coat a bit to show me his green sweater. “In honor of Wicked.”
I laughed and showed him my green dress, the same one from that first night (the butter came out), which I’d worn for just that reason.
“You look beautiful.” He took my arm. And then he whisked me off into the night.
I was chilly, since there’s been a sudden cold snap, and I didn’t bring my warmest coat. Who could have imagined, a year ago, that I would be in a position of choosing between multiple coats! But Jarvis sneaked his hand into mine during the overture, and for a moment, I shivered. Then my entire body felt warm, like when you step into a hot shower.
I got immersed in the play. Mr. Smith, I would be so lucky to get to be on Broadway. Just imagine—up on stage with all eyes on me! I’ve seen hundreds of TV shows and movies, but theater is different. Being in the same place with a few hundred other people and sharing the experience with all of them at the same time—it’s magical! I want to be part of it!
And did I mention he held my hand the whole time? He has this old-fashioned watch with a leather band, not something you’d think a rich person would wear, at least not a young person. I kept wanting to touch it.
After the play, he said he wanted to take me to dinner a few blocks away, instead of going to the touristy places near the theaters, and did I mind walking a bit. I said no, even though I was chilly. But Jarvis took my hand, and somehow I felt like there was a protective cocoon around us.
We went to a diner. They’re all over the place here, so you probably know what they look like. This one was Paramount Diner. Maybe you’ve eaten there. It wasn’t crowded, and as soon as we walked in, the waitress, a plump woman in her fifties, rushed up to us saying it had been a long time since she’d seen Jarvis, at least three days. He hugged her and called her Penny, which wasn’t the name on her name tag. She asked if we wanted a booth or counter.
Jarvis looked at me. “If we choose the counter, we can sit next to each other.”
I told him I wanted to sit next to him in the booth, and the woman, Penny, smiled like she knew what I was up to. “Smart girl!” she said, even after I explained that I was cold.
In the kitchen, someone was yelling in a language Jarvis said was Greek! Penny showed us to a booth, and we both sat on the same side. Then she handed us giant menus with maybe ten categories of stuff. I had no idea what to order. I asked Jarvis what was good here, and he said he came for the comfort food, but the gyros were supposed to be good. Someone opened the door, and I shivered.
“Are you that cold?” Jarvis asked.
I said I was fine. It was only when the door opened. But, before I could finish, he removed his coat and put it around my shoulders. I protested, but it felt so warm and nice, and it smelled like him, a nice woodsy scent. I don’t think anyone’s ever cared if I was cold before.
I snuck closer to him with the excuse that now he must be cold. He didn’t object.
Are you scandalized by my behavior?
A different waitress came up, and Jarvis greeted her by name, Allison, which was also not the name on her name tag (Ellen). Weird! He asked how her kids were, whether Nicholas got his braces on, and she started chattering about how they hurt his mouth. But finally she took our order. I didn’t get the gyro because I can’t imagine eating a drippy sandwich on a date, much less in someone else’s coat, so I got chicken. Jarvis ordered meat loaf!
“Why aren’t the names on their name tags right?” I asked.
He laughed that I’d noticed that. “They’re scared of stalkers, so they made up fake names. But I come here at least twice a week for home cooking, so they know me.”
This guy has millions of dollars, and he eats cheap meat loaf and asks about the waitress’s kid’s braces.
During dinner, I probably talked too much, but I was still so excited about the show. I talked about Elphaba and how she felt different from everyone else because of her green skin. I said I thought Phoebe would make the perfect Glinda, both vocally and personality-wise. He seemed surprised by that, but I guess he doesn’t spend much time around her.
I asked Jarvis if he ever felt like that. “Like you’re green?”
He said he felt it all the time. “People know who I am, who my father is. But, really, I’ve never done anything notable. They think they know me, and wherever I go, they stare. Like them.” He nodded toward a couple at the counter who, sure enough, had turned around to look at us. He gave a little wave, and they turned back.
I remembered how he told me to google his report card. I asked if that was why he didn’t want to go someplace close to the theater.
“I mean, I love this place. But not having people pointing me out or taking my picture is a bonus.” Allison/Ellen brought our plates then, and he inhaled appreciatively before saying, “Besides, where else can you get meat loaf?”
I laughed and said literally every single day at my school. I think it’s a Midwestern thing.
“Do they really take your picture?” I asked.
He nodded and asked me if I ever felt green, and then dug into his meat loaf while I talked about being new at school and how much everyone else knows, compared to me. It’s funny because he was as excited about meat loaf as I’d been about the lobster!
Jarvis said he wished we could spend more time together. I reminded him that we were going to a play on Tuesday and the opera on Saturday, but he said that Phoebe and Daisy would be there too. He wanted to spend time just with me.
I wanted to tell him I’d stay longer, but of course, I couldn’t. I’d promised I’d be at Daisy’s on Sunday, and I’m true to my word. I think it’s important to be.
Later, Jarvis told the driver to circle the block so he could walk me into Vanessa’s lobby. Then he walked around to my side and let me out and took my hand to escort me to the door. “Do you remember what I told you last time?” he asked.
I did, but I wasn’t sure I wanted to admit I’d been thinking about kissing him. So I said, “You told me a lot of things.” But I said it a little coyly, so he’d know I remembered.
He laughed and moved closer. His eyes were bright, emphasized by the cold. “So nothing stands out, then?” he said.
I smiled and said the lights of New York City sure were bright.
“Can I?” he said.
I nodded, and he took me into his arms, sliding his hand under my coat, around my back. At that moment, I felt like my skin was sparkling, and he kissed me.
This is probably TMI, but since I have no one else to tell, I’m going to tell you: It was such a lovely kiss! I said I’ve been kissed before, but I’ve never been kissed like that. I don’t know if anyone has. I felt like I was in a movie musical, like when Tony meets Maria on
the dance floor, and he walks away, singing her name, and all of a sudden, the scenery changes behind him and he doesn’t even notice!
I’m still thinking about it, even though it’s 2:49 a.m. Good night!
Love, Jacaranda
To: [email protected]
Date: November 26, 8:49 a.m. Eastern Standard Time
Subject: Happy, happy, happy!
My dearest Mr. Smith,
Happy Thanksgiving Day! I’m writing from Syosset, New York. I hope you’re watching the parade, in person or on TV, surrounded by your loving friends and family. I’ll be in Daisy’s kitchen when the Snoopy balloon goes by!
I had an invitation to watch in person from a New York window, but I had to decline. More on that later . . .
Daisy’s house is beautiful! Professor Murtaugh-Li (she told me to call her Diana, but I can’t quite bring myself to) or, more likely, her housekeeper, has been cleaning so hard you can see your face in the granite kitchen counters. She’s a law professor, but she gave her students Tuesday and Wednesday off so she could stay home with us and bake pies and cover every surface with autumn leaves, painted pumpkins, gourds, and drapes with the word “Thankful” stenciled on. Daisy and I helped. Yesterday, we prepared cranberry sauce from actual cranberries and learned to make turkey-shaped napkins for the Lis’ thirty guests!
There’s a fire in the fireplace, and the entire house smells of cloves and cinnamon.
I arrived on Sunday, and Daisy picked me up at the train station herself! She got her driver’s license last summer, so she was very excited about driving. It was a little scary, but she drove slowly and carefully. When we reached the house, Professor Murtaugh-Li—Diana—rushed up and hugged me. She exclaimed over my boots! And my hair! She’d heard so much about me! Then she called upstairs, “Danny!” I was expecting the golden retriever Daisy has mentioned multiple times (to hear her tell it, the entire reason she came home this week), but it turns out the dog is Mulligan. Danny is Daisy’s twin brother, who she’s mentioned far less often.
After Diana called the third time, a tall boy lumbered downstairs, saying, “What, Mom?”
Diana said not to “what, Mom” her and to take my suitcase upstairs. I said it was fine, but Daisy said that Danny spends half his time exercising and the other half bragging about his strength (he’s on the football team), so he could at least lift a little suitcase.
“Not everyone can be a flute prodigy, sis!” Danny retorted, but he said it affectionately. He picked up my suitcase like it was nothing and said he hoped I was nicer than Daisy’s other friend.
“He means Phoebe,” Daisy said, like I hadn’t guessed. “They met at move-out last year.”
I said we all had our issues with Phoebe, and Danny grinned and lifted my suitcase over his head, doing some squats to show off. Like Daisy, he has an infectious smile. Also, the kindest brown eyes, like a big teddy bear.
Daisy and I spent the afternoon gathering pinecones and sticks and spraying them with gold paint. Daisy’s mom said we could put them out in baskets for Thanksgiving and then take them home to decorate our suite for Christmas. They’re so pretty!
And that night, we actually played board games. We played a trivia game, which Danny, Daisy, and I won because Danny knew sports trivia and Daisy knew classical music. Danny high-fived me when I correctly identified the musical that takes place in River City, Iowa. Daisy said he was flirting with me, but I think he was just being nice. I want to be in a family that makes crafts and plays board games. Maybe someday when I have kids of my own, I will.
Tuesday, we met Phoebe and Jarvis in the city for a play, a very new, cool one that I didn’t like as much as Wicked. Before the play, Jarvis took us out for Chinese. The place was called Kung Fu Kitchen, and Phoebe was angry about it.
“Ramen, Jarvis? Is this a joke? I’ve been eating gross dorm food for two months!”
“This isn’t dorm ramen, dear cousin,” Jarvis said. Then he looked at me and added, “I thought your friend might like to have authentic cuisine.” He looked at Daisy for validation, and she said he was right, even though I happen to know she loves dorm ramen. Jarvis added that he was sure Phoebe’s family could afford to take her wherever she wanted to go. Phoebe sulked and picked at her white rice the whole time.
Jarvis was right about the food, though. The dumplings were so good, crispy and soft at the same time! A few more days of eating with Jarvis will make me completely forget the girl who used to enjoy cafeteria fruit cups.
JK, I will always love peaches in syrup!
I was finishing up the last bit of my dumpling when I saw Jarvis looking at me. God, he was staring, because I’d been trying to pick up the last, tiny bit of sauce-soaked cabbage with my chopsticks so it wouldn’t go to waste. I stopped.
“Sorry,” I said.
“For what?” Jarvis asked.
“For eating like she grew up in a barn,” Phoebe volunteered helpfully.
Jarvis shushed her. “I like watching Jackie eat.” To me he said, “You seem like someone who grew up in a tower on a hill, and only now they’re letting you come down and see and smell and taste everything.”
He didn’t know how far from the truth that was. I wasn’t sheltered. I was too poor to have anything good. And yes, sometimes we lived off those ramen packets that sell 6 for $1.99. But it was sweet for him to say anyway. Phoebe said that was a nice way of saying I acted like I was raised by wolves. Jarvis shushed her again, and when he gave out the tickets for the play, he made sure to put himself on the end by me, with Phoebe at the other end. I saw him check the numbers.
Maybe I didn’t like the play as much because I barely watched it. The whole time I was thinking about how close he was and how it had felt to kiss him. Not being able to kiss him now just made it more tempting. I bet he was thinking the same thing, because he leaned his arm against mine. I sort of nudged him back, and then we were touching and nudging each other throughout the second act. I hoped he couldn’t feel my heartbeat or hear my breath quicken.
Afterward, as we walked to the train station, Jarvis asked if Daisy and I wanted to come back to the city to watch the parade. His father’s office building is on the parade route, and he always hosts a giant party with a catered brunch to view it and lets Jarvis invite his friends. Phoebe would be there, of course.
Daisy shook her head, though, saying her mother was having thirty people over for dinner and counting on our help. I was a little disappointed about missing the opportunity to see the parade live. I’ve watched it on TV every year I could. Also, I wanted to see Jarvis. I bet holidays are hard for him. But he won’t be alone—he said he was inviting other friends.
Today, the house already smells of turkey and pie. I’ve never had a Thanksgiving dinner with a big family and certainly never had anyone counting on me to help with the meal. Daisy and I are in charge of the stuffing, though Danny promised to help chop the celery. In fact, I’m due downstairs right now. The parade starts in ten minutes.
This year, I am thankful for you!
So HAPPY THANKSGIVING, and enjoy the parade, wherever you’re watching!
Oops—Danny’s calling me to help with the stuffing!
Love, Jacaranda
To: [email protected]
Date: November 29, 5:31 p.m. Eastern Standard Time
Subject: I’m back!
Dear Mr. Smith,
Do you wish you knew me? I mean, in person? I wish I knew you. I write these letters as if you’re a real person. I mean, I know you’re a real person, but as if I really knew you. And yet, I might have passed by you on the street and never realized!
You don’t have to write back to me, but could you send me a picture, so that I can see your face while I’m writing? I want to know what color your eyes are.
On the other hand, maybe not seeing your face helps me write to you. I wouldn’t have told a real uncle or father about kissing Jarvis or how Danny flirted with me. (Okay, I’ll admit he flirted.)
What do y
ou think was waiting for me when I returned from break? Just guess!
A letter from my mother.
She’s angry. She can’t believe they’d send her daughter off to a different state when she wasn’t there. Because she’s such a great mother they should have consulted her. Like, what? Did she think I was going into a holding pattern for fifteen years? That maybe I shouldn’t graduate high school since she won’t be around for the ceremony?
Wish she’d had all this concern for my welfare when she was around.
And to think, I felt guilty for not writing sooner! I missed her!
I’m sorry. I hadn’t planned to write about this. It was going to be all about Thanksgiving dinner with two tables of Murtaughs and Lis, gathered hand in hand to give thanks. And how I gave thanks for you and for the opportunities you’ve given me . . . and that the stuffing came out okay!
As I was writing, Phoebe stuck her head through the door, and what do you think she said?
You’ll never guess. Prepare to be amazed.
Phoebe: My cousin’s obsessed with you.
Me: I don’t think he’s obsessed with me.
Phoebe: He called my mother and suggested we have you over winter break. He said he thought I should hang with you because I don’t have enough friends. Can you believe it? Also, your family are out of the country. Actually, I guess he feels sorry for you because you’ll be alone. That would be typical.
Me: Him being nice is typical?
Phoebe: No. I mean, yes. I mean—
Me (interrupting): You don’t want to have me over. I can do something else. It’s fine.
Phoebe: I didn’t say I didn’t want you to come.
I’m deeply confused by her behavior. First, she acts so unfriendly (downright hostile, tbh). Then she includes me in outings with her cousin. Then she acts mad that he likes me. But now she wants me to come and spend TWO FULL WEEKS at her house? I’m imagining the pleasant evenings with Daisy’s family, playing Settlers of Catan in their comfy family room, and then I’m imagining the environment that made Phoebe into Phoebe! It sounds awful, and I’m saying that as someone who’s lived in the much-maligned foster care system. In FLORIDA!
