The Secrets of Blueberries, Brothers, Moose & Me Page 12
I smiled a little, thinking about how Claude liked to slide around on the shiny wooden floors at Dad’s house. He liked his bedroom there, too, with little blue sailboat wallpaper, just waiting.
But as much as I looked forward to the time when he would spend the entire weekend in his room at Dad’s new old house, it also made me ache. The idea of Mom, home alone with her bare yellow walls and abandoned toys, was just about the saddest thought ever. I suddenly realized the problem. No matter where I was, I would always be missing something. There was just no way around it.
• • •
The next morning, when I went downstairs, the sun was at its nine o’clock mark, the breakfast dishes were already in the dishwasher, the countertops had been wiped shiny-clean, and stacks of lavender-colored envelopes were piled on the table. I picked one up and pulled out the matching card inside.
Tessa Marie Johnston &
Theodore Edward McKenzie
Invite you to share and celebrate their wedding
Saturday, August 24
At 4:30 in the afternoon
• • •
Ugh. What would happen if the pretty cards disappeared? Maybe fell into a ditch or went down the toilet? What if I volunteered to drop them off at the post office, but they mysteriously got lost? What if Tessa Marie Johnston and Theodore Edward McKenzie threw a wedding and no one came? Would they still get married?
Or what about this: What if I readdressed them all, with random names from the phone book. What if on their wedding day, all these crazy strangers started showing up. What would they do then?
Shuffling through the stack, I examined the names and addresses on the cards. Some I knew, some I didn’t. There was a whole section with the name Johnston, all from Ohio.
I had met Tessa’s parents once—they’d given me a souvenir spoon from their hometown of Cleveland and were actually pretty nice without trying too hard. But suddenly, for the first time, I actually thought about a new family in my life. I would officially have step-people. Step-grandma and step-grandpa, step-uncles and aunties. Step-cousins, even. And I would be a step-person to all of them. It was enough to make a person’s head explode.
Where was everyone, anyway? I needed to warn Patrick about the step-people who were about to invade our lives. “Patrick?” I called.
No answer.
I stood still and listened. And then I heard it: laughter from outside. I ran to the window and looked out. There were the three of them, busy at work moving enormous rocks, trimming trees, pulling weeds, and planting flowers.
I studied the yard, looking for a high spot to hide a bucket. What about that? A bucket of ice water, crashing down on their heads, right as they stared into each other’s eyes and said, “I do.”
Through the window I watched as Patrick held up a flowering red plant. Tessa pointed to the corner of the yard, and he trotted off like a stupid dog. It was bad enough watching my dad and Tessa prepare the backyard for their big, beautiful day, but knowing that Patrick was helping them—and laughing with them—was just too much. It made me dizzy.
My friend Constance would say that dizziness was the physical result of losing a life anchor. It was the kind of thing she said to me a lot when my parents were first splitting up. It made me laugh back then, even through my piercing pain and spinning head. This time, though, I wondered if maybe she was right. She and Allie were at camp, my mother was home with Claude, and Patrick, the one and only anchor I had at my father’s house, was no longer an anchor.
I pictured a boat bobbing around on the wide-open sea. The more I thought about water and waves and boats, the dizzier I became. I thought back to the day they’d announced their plan to get married. Tessa’s crab hand and her maid of honor question. She’d even bought the dress, without waiting for me to say yes. Without knowing my favorite color!
Well, I still hadn’t said yes. And I wouldn’t wear the dress.
But just thinking about it—just remembering that the dress was somewhere in the house—made me want to find it. Maybe I would destroy it. Cut it into tiny pieces. That would show them.
Slowly, because I was still dizzy, I started my search downstairs, in the hall closet where Patrick had seen it. It wasn’t there.
I went up to my dad’s room and searched his closet. It wasn’t there, either. I knew it wouldn’t be in Patrick’s closet, so I didn’t even bother looking. But, swallowing a lump in my throat, I did look in Claude’s sailboat-wallpaper room. Not there.
Really, there was only one other place it could be, and that, of course, was the place I should have started.
CHAPTER 27
IT WAS SILVER-GREEN AND SHIMMERING, WITH PERFECT little crystal buttons running down the back. If it had been a gift, it would have been the nicest I’d ever received. And it had been in my closet all along. I just never looked in my closet, or even put clothes there. That would be too much like admitting it was permanent. That Dad’s new old house was also my home.
I don’t remember what I was thinking when I pulled the dress out and held it to my chest. What I do know is this: Somehow I was wearing it. Somehow my cutoffs and T-shirt were on the floor and the silvery-green maid of honor dress had slipped around me in the most perfect way, and I was wearing it and feeling like a princess, whichever one was fairest of them all.
I twirled around and felt the heavy silk cool against my legs. I twirled the other way and listened to the whispery sound it made.
My bedroom didn’t have a full-length mirror, but the bathroom did. After first peeking out to make sure the coast was clear, I dashed across the hallway. I closed the bathroom door and turned to study the dress, how the silk billowed and floated as I moved. I twirled around and then twirled again. It was like a ride I couldn’t get off. I was mid-twirl when the bathroom door opened and Patrick pushed inside.
“Oh, sorry!” He held up his hands, which were covered in dirt. “I didn’t know you were—” And then he stopped, taking it all in. Me. The dress. Me wearing the dress.
“Wow,” he said after a moment. “You look amazing.”
“Haven’t you heard of knocking?” I tried to step past him to run back to my room, but he didn’t budge.
“That dress—it looks so good on you, Missy.”
“Move!” I said, finally pushing him out of the way. I stumbled into the hallway just as Dad and Tessa appeared at the top of the steps. I wanted to shout, This is a joke! But nothing came out. So we all just stood in the hallway, staring.
“My goodness, Missy! I’d give you a hug but—” Dad motioned to the dirt on his hands. “Look at you! Look at my little girl!” He took a step toward me, and that broke the spell. Without a word, I turned and ran to my room. I slammed the door shut and locked it, too.
“Missy!” Tessa called. She knocked softly. “Missy, the dress is beautiful on you.”
All the mean words I wanted to yell back at her were battling with these odd feelings of gratitude. Tessa had picked out a beautiful dress for me. And all three of them had stood there and given me such nice compliments, such shining looks. For a moment, I had been part of all their happy planning. I hadn’t been alone.
But no. I wasn’t part of it. I didn’t want the wedding, and I was alone. And I would not wear a dress that Tessa picked out for me. I wouldn’t.
I slipped out of the dress and left it in a shimmering heap on the floor, where it belonged. Then I grabbed my own clothes—my faded T-shirt and cutoff shorts. After I was dressed, I perched on the edge of the bed and waited to feel like myself again. But the feeling wouldn’t come. My heart was still racing like it wasn’t my own. Maybe the dress had cast some evil spell on me. Evil stepmother, evil spell.
Through the closed door came soft murmurs, and then I heard my dad say something like, “Maybe you can talk to her.”
The crumpled dress seemed to stare at me. Finally, I tiptoed ove
r and picked it up. Remembering the silky whisperings and twirling ride, I felt a pang of sadness as I slipped it back on the hanger.
“Missy!” Knock, knock, knock. “Missy, it’s just me. Patrick. Dad and Tessa went downstairs. Let me in. I want to talk to you.”
“Go away, Patrick. I just want to be alone.”
I hated that they’d all seen me wearing the dress. It felt like somehow they’d won. I hung the dress in the very back corner of the empty closet. If I had another dress in there, something completely ugly and hideous, I would put it on. I would put it on and stomp out into the hallway and say, “Here I am. Here I am in the dress I’m wearing to your wedding.” And I laughed out loud, just thinking about it.
Then I stopped laughing.
I’d been trying to come up with a plan. A plan to ruin their wedding. And at that very moment, remembering their three happy faces beaming at me in a silvery-green maid of honor dress, I suddenly had one.
I yanked open the door. Patrick, who had been leaning against it, stumbled into the room.
“Missy—” he started, but I didn’t let him finish.
“Tell them I’ll wear it,” I said quickly. “Tell them I’ll be in the wedding and I’ll wear the dress.”
“Really?” Patrick said. It might have been my imagination, but a look that seemed like disappointment flickered across his face. Just for a moment, anyway.
“Yes,” I said. It was the hardest thing I’d ever done, telling Patrick such a huge lie. So I forced myself to remember him in the backyard, just minutes before, helping them plant flowers and move boulders. “Tell them.”
• • •
It was the day Dad and Tessa moved into full steam ahead wedding. Tessa even tried to get me to go to the mall with her and pick out shoes to wear with my silvery-green dress. I convinced her that I had the perfect shoes at home, and that I’d bring them next weekend so that she could see for herself.
“But what if the dress needs to be altered?” She frowned down at her wedding planning calendar. “You should try it on again.”
“It fit perfectly. You saw it.” It was actually a little loose and a little long, but with my plan, it wouldn’t matter a bit.
“Okay,” she said hesitantly. “Bring your shoes next weekend and we’ll take another look at the dress. Are you sure it wasn’t too loose in the waist?”
“Oh, no,” I said. “It was like a glove. You saw it.” And I even smiled.
As she nodded, surprised and grateful, I saw her replace the picture of the slightly loose-around-the-waist dress in her mind with the just-right one I’d handed her. Her lovely eyebrows went back to their normal places, she crossed off another item on her wedding to-do list, and she breathed a sigh of relief. Because, after all, the wedding was just a few weeks away.
I knew I couldn’t stop it from happening, but I could stop it from being the glorious day of their dreams. In their perfectly landscaped world, I would be the one thorny weed.
CHAPTER 28
FIRST THING AFTER DAD DROPPED US HOME, I BEGGED Mom to take me shopping.
“What do you need, Missy?”
“Just some stuff. And will you take me to the mall instead of Second Time Around?”
She thought for a moment. “How about we all go right now? A special family outing? We can have dinner at the food court.”
“Great,” I said, while at the exact same time Patrick said, “No.”
“Why not, Patrick?” I asked.
“I’m too tired.”
“Right,” I said. I knew the real reason. He was embarrassed to be seen with us.
Mom said, “Well, maybe you can stay home and watch Claude for us. Missy and I can have some girl time. How does that sound, Missy?”
“Great, Mom.”
Patrick said to Claude, “We’ll play duck-duck-goose as soon as they leave. Just us boys.” Claude wiggled like an overjoyed puppy and even Patrick looked happy.
My mom went to her room and came out wearing a flowery skirt and pink blouse.
When I saw her I asked, “Should I change?” I was wearing my usual cutoffs and a T-shirt. My blueberry money was wadded up in my backpack.
“You look perfect, honey.” To Patrick she said, “Just warm up some leftover macaroni and cheese for dinner.”
On the road, Mom messed with the radio for a minute. Then she snapped it off and said, “I’m glad it’s just us, Missy. I’ve wanted to take you shopping. I think it’s time to buy you a bra.”
My heart stopped. I clutched at it, convinced this was a heart attack. “What? No! I don’t need a bra! Mom, if you’re going to buy me a bra we can turn the car around and go home right now.”
Mom laughed. “Missy, getting a bra is just part of life. It’s part of growing up.”
“But I’m not growing up, Mom. I’m having a heart attack. Turn the car around. Please!”
“Okay, listen. No bra today.” She glanced over at me and shook her head, but she was smiling, too. “What is it you wanted to buy?”
“I want a dress.”
“What kind of dress?”
“Just a dress.” I didn’t add, “For Dad’s wedding,” but somehow the words were there and my mother knew. I could tell she knew.
We rode along in silence for several minutes until I finally got the courage to look at her. She glanced back at me and smiled. “Let’s get you a dress you’ll feel fabulous in.”
We didn’t go shopping often, and never just the two of us on our own, so at first I felt sort of shy, which is a weird feeling to have with your mom. We usually had Claude either singing or crying and Patrick sulking and trying to look like he wasn’t with us. With just us two, there was a lot of silence.
To get to the center of the mall we had to pass all the makeup counters. When I saw a sign that said, “Free Gift with Purchase,” I pointed it out.
“Look, Mom. If you buy one thing you get that little carrying case with all those other things in it.” My mom doesn’t really wear makeup, but they were so pretty, those little pots of color, and my mom was wearing a special blouse and skirt. Maybe it was because she suddenly seemed like a person to me and not just a mom. Maybe I just wanted her to have something nice and new.
“I don’t need anything here,” Mom said.
I tugged on her arm. “See—there are two different lipsticks and a little square container with four different colors for your eyes, plus some cream for your skin and that tiny bottle of perfume. Look—and it’s free. And the carrying case, too. You just have to buy one thing.”
“Well—” Mom hesitated in front of the glass display. “What would I buy?”
“Ask the lady,” I said. “Excuse me!” I waved my arm to get attention.
The lady behind the counter was wearing a white coat, like a doctor. Her lips were shiny red. She said, “Can I help you?”
“We want the free gift,” I said. “For my mom.”
“I don’t really need anything,” Mom said. But she glanced at the woman behind the counter and added, “Well, maybe I do. What do you think?”
The lady tilted her head and squinted at my mom’s face. Then she told Mom that her skin was beautiful—maybe she just needed a little this or that to even out the tone. “May I?” she asked, holding up a small bottle of thick, brown-colored liquid.
Mom nodded.
The lady poured the goopy stuff from the bottle onto a little sponge and patted it all over Mom’s face, like a smooth coat of paint. “Yes, that’s great,” she said, and handed Mom a mirror.
Mom stared into the mirror and turned her face from one side to the other. “Okay,” she said suddenly. “I’ll buy it.” Then she hummed while the lady took her money. I was pretty sure my mother had looked better before she got the goop on, but I didn’t tell her that. I just felt happy that she had bought something for herself.
“This is nice,” Mom said. “We never go out like this.”
“Yeah,” I said.
“Where do you want to look for a dress?”
I finished off the last bite of noodles and pointed across the mall. From the ads I’d seen, it was the store that would offer the most variety.
We rode the escalator up to the second floor. My mother went straight to the pretty dress racks and started the serious business of shuffling through them. “What about this one?” she asked, pulling out a pretty silk dress in cornflower blue. I knew it was cornflower blue because the tag said so.
“No,” I said.
“You should at least try it on. The color would be beautiful on you.”
“No,” I said again. I saw a gray-haired saleslady heading our way. Even before she reached us she was calling out, “Can I help you ladies find something?”
“We’re looking for a dress for my daughter,” my mother said. “A nice dress.” The saleslady looked me up and down—my eyes, my hair, my waist, my arms, and even my chest, which made me squirm and turn away. The two of them hunkered down over the racks of silky fabrics. I said, “I’ll just go look over there.” I don’t think my mom even noticed I was gone.
At the far side of the store, the TV monitors flashed music videos. Wandering up and down among the racks, I suddenly wondered if I would be able to find what I needed. And even if I did, would I be able to pull it off without my mother seeing me?
It was just at that moment, that sinking-feeling moment, when the most magical thing happened. A salesgirl appeared, but she wasn’t like the lady helping my mother. This salesgirl was young, like she might be in high school. She had thick black eyeliner and a skull tattoo on the side of her neck.