Allie Jo
“We’re not doing the brass today,” I say when Chase meets me after his doctor’s appointment. Brand-new cast, only D-A-D on it right now. I reach over the desk and grab the pink marker.
“No way!” he says, jerking his arm out of my reach.
I tip my head. “Come on,” I say.
He makes a big show of resting his cast and hemming and hawing as I sign it. “What’s it say?” he asks as I’m still writing.
“Cinnamon, aluminum, linoleum.” And then, in little letters, I scribble my initials.
He frowns, trying to figure it out. “What does that mean?”
“Just read it.”
So I listen to him read it three times in a row; each time, he can’t even get to the third word without sounding like he’s underwater. I snicker at him.
This morning has been so busy with festival chores, I haven’t had time to make my rounds; I haven’t been able to look for Tara.
She said she was Selkie. Before yesterday, I’d never even heard of Selkies.
And Chase, he was so quiet and still when he came out of the springs last night. That was incredible, he’d said, his voice hushed and reverent. He wanted me to swim with Tara too, but I reminded him of all the trouble I got into swimming at night the last time. That’s what I told him anyway. I felt safe with Tara in the garden room and on the grounds, but the darkness of the water and the closeness of the manatees were too scary for me. I did not want to do that again, not even with Tara.
A shiver goes through me right now just thinking about it.
I cap the pink marker and lay it on the desk. I’m about to ask Chase if he saw Tara before his doctor’s visit, when Sophie arrives and makes a big deal about his new cast, signing in green this time. The circle over her i is shaped like a heart. I’ll have to ask her about this later.
“Well!” Mom comes out of the office with Nicholas and Ryan. “All three of you! Where’ve you been hiding?”
Sophie and Chase laugh, but I know Mom means it. After I came in from the springs last night, she grilled me good. She wanted to know what was wrong. You look like you’ve seen a ghost, she said, putting her hand on my forehead.
I’m okay, I said, pushing her hand away.
A look of hurt flashed across her face and she stepped back. Somewhere inside, I felt a pang of guilt and then a flicker of annoyance, which made me feel even guiltier. I wished they wouldn’t pay so much attention to me sometimes. Things were coming up now that I had to think on, things I couldn’t talk to them about, like Tara.
I hadn’t seen a ghost—I’d seen a real, live Selkie.
Mom went into the kitchen and came back with a plate of cookies—every mom’s cure—but I said I wasn’t feeling well after all and slipped into my room, shutting the door. I needed to be alone.
If she was hurt, she feels better now, having me and everyone else buzzing around for the festival.
“Let’s head into the workroom,” Mom says. She tugs the third book on the third shelf of the bookcase under the grand staircase, and a portion of the wall creaks inward.
“Awesome!” Chase says.
We slip in, all of us, and walk under the rise of the stairs and enter what used to be a private screening room—a hidden theater for the rich and famous.
Of course, it doesn’t look anything like it used to. The room was gutted when the military was here. Instead of plush leather seats and a screen, the room now holds metal folding chairs and a few card tables. We mainly use it as a workroom.
Today, we’re putting together wedding-type favors to pass out at Taste of Hope. Mom sets us up assembly line style: Chase puts candy wrapped with an embossed image of The Meriwether on top of lacy pink squares, which he pushes down to Sophie and me. Sophie and I pull up the corners and tie each little bundle with a fancy ribbon.
Some of last year’s magnets are sticky with dust, so I give Nicholas and Ryan that job. They like spraying the cleaner on the magnets; I remind them they also have to dry them. That’s why Ryan and Nicholas kneel on the floor, rubbing the magnets like crazy. I’ve promised each of them a dollar and a lollipop if they do a good job.
Sophie’s fingers fly with the ribbon. Me, I’m all thumbs, and Chase isn’t moving so fast with that cast either.
“Can I give you a hand?” I ask.
“Har, har,” he says.
Sophie’s going for some kind of world record. She doesn’t talk, just whips the ribbons around and goes for the next one. She’s building up a sizable arsenal of favors.
Clearing my throat, I say, “Um, Chase. Did you see any cows today?” I’m talking in code because Sophie’s sitting right with us.
His eyebrows wrinkle together. “What?”
I repeat, “Did you see any cows today?”
“No, just some roadkill.” He’s talking about his trip to the doctor’s.
“Allie Jo!” Nicholas whines. “He got polish on my shoes.”
Before I can say anything, he aims his bottle and sprays Ryan’s shoes. Ryan starts bawling.
“That wasn’t nice,” I say, and frown at Nicholas. I take a dry paper towel and wipe off Ryan’s shoes.
“He did it first,” Nicholas says.
“No!” Ryan lunges at him. “It was an accident.”
Nicholas shakes his head at him. “You’re just a crybaby brat!”
“Stop it, you guys!” I’m sitting between them because I know the hitting comes next. “Look, if you keep fighting, I won’t give you lollipops.” I stand up, reach over to the card table, and wave the lollipops in front of them. “Root beer, your favorite.”
And just like that, they’re friends again.
I wonder if it’s always that easy with a brother or sister.
Sitting back down, I pick up the next bundle and fumble with the ribbon. “Nicholas, can you tear a”—I look straight at Chase—“piece of paper towel, please?”
Everyone keeps working. Nicholas hands me a paper towel and I wipe off an imaginary spot on the table.
Okay, this is ridiculous. Chase would never make a good spy. He doesn’t even pick up on the code.
I give it one more try. “Sophie, can you seal this ribbon for me? Seal it?” I’m looking directly at Chase.
He slouches back in his seat. “Oh!”
“What?” Sophie asks, tying up my ribbon.
Chase and I speak at the same time. I say, “Nothing,” and he says, “No, I didn’t see any cows today.”
Sophie crinkles her mouth. “You guys are weird.”
Ryan pops up. “We’re done!”
“Lollipops, please!” Nicholas says. Funny how candy is more important than money, but I’ll still pay them.
Nicholas tears his lollipop open and hands me the plastic. Ryan hands his lollipop to Nicholas without saying a word; Nicholas opens it, gives me the plastic, and hands it back to Ryan. Then he pulls two little cars out of his pocket, and they roll the cars around the lobby, making sound effects.
It must be great having a brother. Of course, it’d be a sister I’d want, a built-in person to talk with. An older sister, who would give me advice on how to deal with boys and stuck-up girls. A girl who likes blueberry pancakes.