It was Poppy’s idea for me to help build the clubhouse.
Here’s how it happened.
I couldn’t wait to tell Poppy about my detective work and citizen’s arrest and the new paint job. Telling it was almost as much fun as doing it.
As I was blabbing on, I noticed him grinning at the bowl of fudge ripple ice cream in front of me. I looked down. It was a creamy puddle. We laughed. “Guess I got carried away,” I said.
Now he was aiming his smile at me. I asked him what else was funny.
“Not funny,” he said. “Just nice.”
“What’s nice?”
“Something’s missing,” he said. “Do you know what?”
“Tell me.”
“You haven’t mentioned Jake or goombla this whole time.”
I thought about it. He was right.
“In fact,” he said, “I don’t think I’ve heard those words since you’ve been telling me about your days with your new friend Sydney.”
“So what are you saying?” I asked him.
He took away the puddle bowl and brought me another with three new scoops. “I’m saying I think you’ve done it.”
I knew exactly what he meant, but I wanted to hear it in his words. “Yeah? What’d I do?”
“You got a life. You’re a new Lily. You learned that you could go solo, stand on your own without clinging to your brother.”
I took a spoonful of fudge ripple. I nodded. “Yeah. I guess you’re right.”
He stared at me, thinking. “How would you like to know, not guess?”
I shrugged. “Sure.”
“That clubhouse I heard about? That Jake and your parents are going to rebuild for Jake’s new friend, kid named Ernie?”
“Yeah,” I said. “What about it?”
“I’m thinking maybe you should jump in. Help them build it.”
“Why should I?” I said. “It’s gonna be for Jake and his friends. His life.”
He snapped his fingers. “That’s the point. It would be a good test for you. Prove to yourself that you can spend a day with your brother—with the boys—and walk away on your own two feet. Still the new Lily.” He took the spoon out of my hand and stole a big gob of my ice cream. “Whaddaya think? You gonna do it? Or wimp out? Afraid you can’t pass the test?”
I didn’t wimp out.
Next morning I rode the family truck to Meeker Street. I sweated. Lifted. Hammered. Ate. Talked. Even laughed at their stupid jokes. Nacho. Burke. Ernie. Jake. The boys. I asked myself, Do I still want to be one of them? The answer was no. I prayed they didn’t remember that day I yelled after them from my bike, “I’m not a girl!”
The day came and went, and at the end of it I was still me. Still standing on my own two feet. The new Lily. I passed the test.