| |
Caitlyn
Caitlyn stepped on a pile of clothes and reached for something on the shelf in her bedroom closet.
Zoe sat on Caitlyn’s bed, watching. After school, she had come over to help Caitlyn pack for camping.
Caitlyn didn’t have a cool, sporty, black and hot-pink duffle bag that one could carry by hand or wear as a backpack, like Zoe did, but she did have a choice. She could borrow either Mom’s 1970s purple duffle bag with the word “DUFFLE” all down the side or her flowered carpetbag with the leather handles. Caitlyn tossed both of them onto the bed, collapsed next to them, and sighed.
Zoe laughed and brushed the hair from Caitlyn’s face. “You’re so pathetic. I’ve never seen you like this.”
“Which bag should I use?” Caitlyn sat up. “Which one doesn’t scream dork but only whispers it?”
“I like them both.”
“Oh, that’s great. Then can I use yours?”
“No.” She picked up the purple duffle bag and dropped it in Caitlyn’s lap.
Caitlyn moaned and returned to the closet. She stared, blinking for a moment. Due to the shortage of room in their three-bedroom, ranch-style house, and due to her begging for and getting her own bedroom, her brother’s clothes took up half her closet space. Every time she went to pry something of hers out, she had to remind herself that she did in fact have her own bedroom. Mom and Dad were kind enough to squeeze all of her brothers and sisters into the big bedroom so she could have the little one all to herself.
“We’re going camping tomorrow,” Zoe said. “You told me how much fun I would have, so I cast all my doubts behind me, and I’m going. You should be excited. But here you are moping around, moaning and groaning.”
Caitlyn sighed and searched through the clothes on hangers. Where was her denim jumper?
“Are you going to tell me why you’re so miserable? Or do I have to guess?”
“Oh, I don’t know.” She found the gray ribbed sweater that she wanted to wear and wriggled it free. “I have no reason to be moody. It’s not like I can really have a boyfriend anyway, not with all the new rules. I’m just supposed to work on friendships right now.”
“I knew it. It’s about Roland. Do you think Mya’s won? Just because you saw her standing next to him at lunch? Because that doesn’t mean anything. It doesn’t mean he likes her just because she obviously likes him.”
“No, that’s not it.” She yanked the denim jumper and a long khaki skirt out of the closet and tossed them onto the bed.
“Well, then what?”
Bringing a white, long-sleeved t-shirt with her, she approached Zoe. “Roland doesn’t want me for a girlfriend.” She flopped onto the bed.
Zoe suppressed a giggle. “How could you know that? Did you ask him?”
“No, I heard him. He said, I’m only fourteen. I’m not ready for a relationship.”
“You heard him? How?”
Groaning and moving with great effort, she stood up again. “It doesn’t matter how I know. I was being nosy, eavesdropping. Peter told him he should make me his girlfriend, and he said no. That’s all that matters.”
She leaned against the clothes in the closet. They were so tightly packed that they easily held her body weight. “I finally meet the most handsome, mysterious, and sweet guy in the whole world, and he wants nothing to do with me.”
“He’s fourteen? Aren’t you fifteen?”
“Not yet. Next month I will be. Don’t you know my birthday?” She sounded offended though, given the greater issue, she couldn’t have cared less.
Zoe joined her at the closet. “Where are those jeans I gave you for Christmas?”
Caitlyn pointed to her dresser. “I was so worried about all the courtship principles that I have to follow, him being so shy, but here he doesn’t even like me at all.”
“Of course he does. Don’t be a quitter.” Zoe opened the bottom drawer and lifted David’s pants off Caitlyn’s never-worn jeans. “Just because he thinks he’s not ready for a girlfriend, doesn’t mean he doesn’t like you.” She brought the jeans to the bed. “Like you said, he’s shy. Maybe the whole girlfriend-boyfriend thing scares him.” She sat on the bed again.
Caitlyn joined her, knowing she was about to receive great advice. When it came to boys, Zoe always knew what to do.
“You need to show him that having a girlfriend isn’t so scary of a thing.”
“I do?”
“You do. And if you don’t, Mya will. Mya and Roland are in several of my classes and, let me tell you, she’s after him. She tries to walk with him between classes, sit by him in class . . . And she hangs on his every word, though I admit he has few. She’s not going to give up just because he thinks he doesn’t want a girlfriend, and neither should you. Here . . .” She reached for one of the miniature paintings that sat on Caitlyn’s nightstand.
Caitlyn loved making little paintings. She struggled with history class, so sometimes she painted a scene to help remember things.
Zoe handed Caitlyn a battle scene. “You can’t accept defeat before the battle has even begun.”
Gazing at the painting, she sighed and almost laughed. Though it wasn’t funny. If the painting Zoe chose was an omen, defeat was imminent. “This is the Battle of the Alamo. We lost that one.”
“Oh.” Zoe snatched the painting from Caitlyn’s hands and tossed it over her shoulder. “Forget the Alamo. This is a battle you’re going to win.” She grabbed the jeans and stuffed them into the duffle bag. “I’ll help. You just listen to me. Mya’s going camping too, right?”
“Yes. I invited her before I knew she liked Roland. She’s even sleeping in our tent. You never answered when I asked you before. Do you think it’s wrong to un-invite someone?”
“It’s too late for that. We just have to prepare. Don’t worry.”
Mya for competition. Caitlyn dragged herself to the mirror on the closet door.
Peter once compared her to a longhaired, red tabby cat. The image had stayed in her mind, haunting her whenever she looked in the mirror. Her long, red hair hung in curls and waves that easily turned into clumps and tangles. The layers often made it fall in her face. Her green, round eyes had the same naïve, crazy look of a cat’s, Peter had said. Even her mouth, too narrow but with full lips, reminded him of a cat’s little mouth.
Meow. Maybe Roland liked cats.
Zoe came up beside her, making Caitlyn automatically compare them. Zoe, with tan skin, silky smooth black hair, thick lashes, and thin shapely lips, was all sophistication and beauty.
“See? You’re gorgeous,” Zoe said. “The only reason guys don’t hit on you is because you never flirt with them. Or if they do hit on you, you misunderstand and get offended. Plus, you’re clumsy.” She opened another dresser drawer. “We probably can’t do anything about that. You’ve always been clumsy, so we won’t worry about it.”
“We won’t?”
“No. Do you have any make-up?”
“Make-up?”
“If you want Roland, you’re going to have to do just as I tell you.”