Читать книгу The Crepe Makers' Bond - Julie Crabtree - Страница 11

A Major Misunderstanding

I join my homeroom, already in progress, and take a vacant seat near the back. Nicki and M are in a different homeroom this year, so I am on my own. Mr. Kraft, a science teacher who knows me already, just raises an eyebrow in my direction and keeps talking. He even gives me a little half smile, which doesn’t make any sense. He is the type that will say something sarcastic about students coming in late, but he surprises me with silence on my tardiness. I am grateful but confused. He is talking about his strict attendance and tardy policy, so I can zone out. I’ve heard it before.

The morning passes quickly. It seems like last year, more or less. A few new faces drift by in the halls, the classes are different, but it all feels the same. I am on guard for people making fun of me for the PA announcement and for tripping like I did, but strangely no one says anything. In fact, several kids actually give me what appear to be looks of sympathy. Kayla, the undisputed leader of the most elite, popular girl pack at school, even says hi and pats my shoulder. I don’t think she’s even noticed I exist before. Wow, could it be possible that the normal savagery of junior high has been replaced with kindness and sympathy? I can’t wait to talk to Nicki and M about all this.

At lunch we meet up at our usual table next to the temporary building. M sits with her elbows propped on the cake carrier full of cucumber salad, which I left when I stumbled my way to the office this morning. Her face is tilted toward the bright sun, which just broke through the fog minutes ago. Her eyes are squinched and she doesn’t see me approach. Nicki’s not here yet.

“Hola Ms. Mattie-M-Matilda,” I call out as I approach. When she was going through all her name confusion I made up this name, which encompasses all the different phases of name she’s been through. She says it sounds like a crazy old lady from a children’s book, but it makes her smile.

She isn’t smiling now though. Her eyes snap fully open and she looks at me with a little furrow of worry running across her forehead. “I can’t even believe you are still here,” she says.

I think she’s being overly dramatic. Yes, I was totally humiliated this morning, but everyone’s been so nice. I’m really not even feeling upset about it anymore.

“Actually, I’m over it, M.” I grab the Tupperware and take off the lid. “In fact, I think everyone’s grown up a lot around here. I mean, no one’s been anything but cool. Even Kayla was sweet to me . . .”

I stop talking because Nicki has raced up. She is stuffing her “emergency only” cell phone into her pocket. She sits at the table, eyeing me very intensely.

“You okay?” She’s staring at me as though I am fragile.

“What is it with you guys? I mean, I got paged and then tripped in front of the school. It wasn’t a stellar experience, but I didn’t pee my pants or barf or something!”

As I talk I smooth the cucumber slices into little fans and slide them to the middle of the table. M takes two and crunches slowly, still staring at me as though I might break down at any moment.

Nicki is straddling the bench so she is staring at my profile. Her body posture says she is ready to hug me or hold me up at any second. I turn my head toward her and give her my best one-raised-eyebrow look.

“I guess being here is probably easiest anyway,” she says, in what I know is her soothing voice. She uses it when her baby brother is crying. My humiliation is hitting them harder than me. Weird.

Nicki puts her hand on my arm. “Air, I have never even told you about going through stuff like this. I mean about . . . loss . . . or just even almost losing someone.... I know this is hard . . .” Nicki is stringing out her words, pausing a lot. I am not one to curse, but what the hell? What is she talking about? Does Nicki have some secret story? I knew something odd was going on with her! But why is she rubbing my arm as if I am going to break down at any moment? Will Rod Serling be making an appearance soon?

I shake my head and shrug. “Nick, what are you talking about?”

Nicki seems to snap out of some trance and she jerks back her arm, shakes her head a little and says, with a forced smile, “Oh, nothing, never mind, you don’t have to talk about it. I just hope you’re okay.” She sounds fakely cheerful.

“I am fine. Over it.” They both just stare back. Awkward silence. Last week’s earthquake pops into my mind. I think it knocked a few screws loose in my friends’ heads.

A change of subject is in order. “Did I tell you guys I’m going to enter the Idaho potato baking contest? I have made my twice-baked recipe five times now, and it is supremely yummy. . . .” I trail off because they are both looking confused. “Um, is there something sinister about potatoes? You guys are acting freaky.”

There is an expectant silence as though they are waiting for more from me. I feel out of sync with them—kinda like the feeling you get when the soundtrack doesn’t match the picture on a TV show and the person’s mouth moves a second after you hear their words.

“Maybe talking about her cooking is helping her cope,” Nicki says to M.

I am going to slap these two in a minute. Why can’t they let it go?

“Is he going to make it?” M asks in a voice barely above a whisper.

“Who?” We are officially in the Twilight Zone. What is she talking about?

“Your dad,” they both stage-whisper at once, and neither says “jinx.”

There’re a few seconds of silence as I try to make sense of this. We were talking potatoes, weren’t we? Where on the planet does my dad fit in here?

“My dad?” I finally ask, still not comprehending.

Now they look confused. M cocks her head at me and squints her eyes. “Everyone heard. It was on the police scanner the janitor keeps in the side office. It was your dad they said. He had a heart attack or stroke or something. He collapsed, a bunch of people saw it! That’s why you got called to the office this morning. That’s why your mom was here.” Nicki is nodding, agreeing with M.

“What . . . what? WHAT?” It’s the only word I can muster.

Nicki makes a little cucumber stack in the container, waiting for me to say something else, but I can’t. I feel like someone dropped me on an alien planet and forgot to tell me what language the natives speak.

“Maybe it wasn’t a heart attack?” M finally asks.

Suddenly I flash on a bunch of little moments from my morning: the looks of sympathy and kind glances from normally mean or indifferent kids, Mr. Kraft tactfully ignoring my late entry into homeroom, the click of Kayla’s French manicure as she brushed my shoulder. They thought something had happened to my dad. It suddenly makes sense. But it also makes no sense. How did we go from a bee sting kit to this? If something did happen to him, my mom would have told me when she was here, right?

“It was my bee allergy stuff,” I say dumbly to Nicki and M.

Now they look lost. I start to explain, but only get to the part about going to the school office and seeing my mom there. I stop talking when Jerrod, a really cute guy from the water polo team, passes by and says, “Hang in there, Ariel.”

And just like that I choose to play a part. “Thanks, Jerrod, I will,” I say and smile bravely. Jerrod winks and gives me a thumbs-up.

M and Nicki just stare at me.

For once all three of us are speechless.

Once Misunderstood Twice Baked Potatoes

4 large baking potatoes

2 T. butter

¼ C. or less milk

½ C. sharp cheddar cheese, grated

5 slices bacon, cooked crisp and crumbled

1 T. grated onion

1 t. minced garlic

salt and pepper

crushed (seasoned) dry stuffing mix

Preheat oven to 425°. Scrub potatoes and prick several times with a fork (or they will explode and dump potato guts all over your oven—trust me on this). Put potatoes directly on middle rack in oven and bake about 35 minutes, or until they feel soft and squishy inside when poked. Using a kitchen towel or pot holder, remove them and cut them in half. Use a spoon to scoop the soft baked potato into a bowl. Use an electric mixer to beat the potatoes with the milk. Use just enough milk to make the potatoes creamy but still very thick. Stir in all the other ingredients. Spoon the potato mixture back into the skins. Put them in a 13x9˝ pan, cover with tin foil, and return to oven for 15 minutes.