The following week Figgrotten took Christinia’s suggestion and began wearing two hair clips, one on each side of her head. She found the second one next to her toothbrush in the bathroom, and she was pretty sure Christinia had left it there for her. Wearing her hair like this made her look around a bit to see if anyone noticed, and it did seem that more people glanced at her and these glances made her feel like she was a part of things in a way she hadn’t quite felt before.
The only problem with her new hair was that wearing a hat kind of ruined it. So, suddenly, she was going out to the bus stop in the mornings hatless, the bitter wind drilling into her ears. And for the first time she understood why Christinia didn’t dress right for the cold.
Starting on Monday Christinia came out and waited for the bus beside Figgrotten. “You realize you’re lucky you have curly hair, right?” she told her.
Figgrotten shook her head. “Um, no. Not lucky.”
“Yes. And I read that if you don’t wash your hair too much and then don’t brush it ever, you’ll get really nice curls. Just let it dry naturally.” Christinia paused, then sort of blurted out, “And also, Frances, I’m sorry I made up that story about telling my friends you were adopted. I didn’t do that. I’m sorry that I told you that.”
When Figgrotten heard this, she held back from letting herself get teary. She’d suffered needlessly for something that didn’t even happen. But finally she shrugged. She was so used to not speaking to Christinia that speaking felt downright awkward. Then finally she said, “Okay. I’m glad you didn’t say it.”
From her new seat nearer to the back, Figgrotten could observe the other riders in a way she hadn’t been able to when she sat in the front behind Alvin. Now she could not only look at the back of Ben’s and Christinia’s heads, she could also see everyone else except for the few behind her. But she mostly found she was focused on James. He sat in the most slumped-down position of all, his head hanging forward over his book. While this had annoyed Figgrotten to begin with, now it just made her feel bad. She knew her yelling in the class that day had probably just made him all the more lonely and miserable, and now every time she saw him it bothered her. Being mean like that had made a kind of bruise inside herself that wasn’t going away. In fact it seemed to be getting worse.
Behind her in the backseat, she also knew, was Becky Moss, who used to be Christinia’s friend. She wasn’t sure whether Ben’s moving out of the seat to sit with Christinia that first time had been what Becky deserved. Someday, if she and Christinia ever got to be close enough again, she might ask her this. There were certain things she didn’t quite understand still. Who was friends with who, who wasn’t, why groups of kids were together for a while, then not together. Why those two bully girls walked around needing to be mean. But it occupied a lot of her thinking now. Especially without Alvin there to talk about bigger, deeper things.
All she did know was that having Fiona now as her friend changed just about everything. It made her feel stronger to always have someone by her side and to share secrets and jokes with her. They gave each other looks throughout each class. About having another math quiz, about being bored, and about counting down the minutes until they were released for recess. They made scrunched-up faces, or rolled their eyes, or raised their eyebrows. Fiona was smart about things in a way Figgrotten had never known before. She had figured people’s personalities out and understood the way certain people interacted with other people. “Those girls are cliquey,” she’d say, pointing at a group of girls whispering together at the picnic table.
“They are?” Figgrotten would look at them and narrow her eyes a bit. In fact, Fiona was kind of like an anthropologist too! Plus she was funny. She made up names for different people, referring to Mr. Stanley as “Stan the Man.” And Gordie Horen was “Gordon Boring.”
For the past couple of days, Figgrotten and Fiona had gone into the bathroom together during recess and stood in front of the mirror and rearranged their hair. Fiona had long brown hair that hung down to her shoulders, but she didn’t do much with it. She just let it droop. Figgrotten pointed out to her that when she pulled it back, you could really see her pretty eyes and that the blue of them seemed even bluer. “Ick,” Fiona said, and made a face at herself in the mirror. Figgrotten knew the feeling. While she’d never thought much about her own looks before, now, most of the time when she looked in the mirror, the same thought went through her head. Ick. But once in a while, if she turned this way and that way, and if the light was a certain way, she thought that maybe it wasn’t totally ick. She remembered spying on her sister staring at herself in the mirror all those times, and she realized, sure enough, as her mom had predicted, now she seemed to be doing it too.
It was when she and Fiona were stepping out of the girls’ room that Wednesday that Figgrotten caught sight of James coming from the school library with a book in his hands. He looked like he always looked, unhappy, walking with his head down so that his hair hung around his face. Figgrotten suddenly stopped and waited for him to get close to her, then she said, “Hi, James,” in a super-cheerful casual voice. Like it was something she always did.
James looked up, startled, and then said, “Oh. Um. Hi.” And he paused for a second, not quite knowing what he was supposed to do next; then he continued past.
Once he had turned and gone outside, Fiona grabbed Figgrotten and said, “Oh wow! Wow! Why did you say hi to him?”
Figgrotten shrugged. “I don’t know. He seems kind of lonely.”
“But he’s such a smarty-pants,” Fiona said.
And Figgrotten shrugged. “Yeah, that’s for sure.”
But she didn’t tell Fiona that saying hi to James was something that she needed to do to make up for screaming at him. Besides, there was something she had started to see in him. And she was pretty sure it was plain old loneliness. And she now was starting to know, even with Alvin as her best friend, she had been a little lonely too for a long time.
The thing that surprised her was how just saying hi to James made her feel like a weight had been lifted off of her. And there was that little bridge again that went right up between her and him. And now she knew she could cross over.
That same afternoon, Fiona went over to Figgrotten’s house for the first time. They were to spend the afternoon together and Fiona’s mom was picking her up after dinner. As excited as Figgrotten was about having her, she was also nervous. She was mostly worried about what Fiona would think of her bedroom. “Prepare yourself,” Figgrotten said as they climbed the stairs after eating a snack in the kitchen.
“How come?”
“Oh,” Figgrotten said with a shrug, “I think you’ll see.”
Figgrotten swung open the door to her room and Fiona stepped inside. “Whoa,” Fiona said quietly. Then, “Holy moly.” She stood in the middle of the room with her hands hanging at her sides and her mouth open, and very slowly she turned, looking around, her eyes taking in the Lucy poster, the branches, the taped feathers, the new photos of Gandhi and Mead that Figgrotten had found on the Internet, printed out, and taped next to her bed.
Figgrotten was standing in the doorway, biting her lower lip. She figured this could very well be the straw that broke the camel’s back. She knew Fiona might see all the branches and just think, Too weird. After all, Fiona’s room was pink. Pink. Pink and more pink.
“Um,” Figgrotten said. “Yeah, I realize it’s a bit odd in here.”
Figgrotten’s voice seemed to snap Fiona back into the moment and she spun around with her eyes wide open and sort of shrieked with laughter. “Yeah, that’s for sure! It’s hysterical. I love it!” Then the laughing started and the two of them collapsed on the bed, trying to get hold of themselves. Once Fiona had pulled herself together, she wiped away the tears that were rolling down her face and began asking Figgrotten about everything. The feathers, the posters, the branches, her books.
“Where do you play music from?” she asked.
“I don’t really listen to music,” Figgrotten said, causing another eruption of hysterics, which ended only when there was a knock on the door and Christinia stepped into the room. Fiona immediately grew quiet and shy.
“What’s so funny?” Christinia asked. “Anyway, if you guys want, I’ll give you makeovers later.”
Fiona’s eyes widened again. “Oh boy, that would be so cool,” she said.
There was a time when Christinia’s offer would have irritated Figgrotten, but now, somehow, she welcomed it. After all, Fiona did have a very pink bedroom, so adding some girly stuff to the afternoon was probably a good idea.
It was another frigid-cold day, so a little while later, when Figgrotten took Fiona up onto the rocks, Fiona’s teeth were chattering. But she sat in the little rock chair and looked all around.
“Oh,” she said, quietly shivering, “this is so pretty.”
“I sort of live up here,” Figgrotten said. “I mean, I’m up here like all the time.”
“I’d be here all the time too. It’s like an outdoor house.”
“Exactly,” Figgrotten said. Then she explained about whistling for the crows.
“Do they come when you whistle?” Fiona asked.
“Well, honestly, they are here before I whistle. In fact, they’re always pretty much around now. You see?” Figgrotten pointed up to the trees behind her. “There they are!”
Fiona looked up. “Oh, cool!” she said. Then she dropped her head back farther and stared into the sky and took a big breath. “Wow, isn’t it just so weird to look out into space and think it goes on forever? I can’t even think about it at all.”
“Yeah.” Figgrotten was now looking up too. She was thinking about Alvin telling her about the discovery of the new planet. “I mean, we’re not even the size of a speck of dust in comparison to how big everything is.”
“Nope.” Fiona put her hands up to the sides of her head. “Can’t think about it. Brain too small!”
They both laughed.
They weren’t up on the rocks for long because of the cold and because, really, there wasn’t much to do up there together. In fact, for the first time, when Fiona was with her, the rocks were not as interesting to Figgrotten.
They went into the house and made chocolate chip cookies, which caused several bouts of hysterics. Especially when they realized Figgrotten had accidentally set the oven temp to 450 degrees instead of 350 degrees and the first batch came out smoking and black and then set the smoke detector in the kitchen off. Figgrotten melted onto the floor at one point and almost peed in her pants, and later, after Fiona went home, she realized her stomach muscles hurt like crazy from so much laughing and everything seemed a bit dull now that she was alone.