“Mom,” I call as I come through the door the following week. “I’m home.”
My mom pokes her head out of the kitchen. She looks surprised to see I’m not alone. Kayla, Shayna and Jen are with me. I introduce them. They sound polite enough when they greet her, but there’s something snotty in their voices and in the way they gaze around, taking in the furniture we’ve had forever, the framed needlework on the walls that my mother is so proud of, the wear marks on the floor. I’ve never been to their houses, but something tells me everything in them is newer and shinier and more expensive.
“We’re going up to my room,” I say.
“I’ll bring you some lemonade and cookies,” my mom says. “I made them this afternoon.”
Kayla makes a big fuss about that, telling my mother how she’d love a homemade cookie because her mother is always far too busy to cook, and anyway she’s not very good at it because when she was married and they were living with her dad, they had a housekeeper who took care of all that. Now my mom makes a big fuss.
“Imagine that! I could use some help around here.”
“I’m sure you could,” Kayla says, smiling.
Up we go to my room, which suddenly seems too small and too shabby. My mom appears a few minutes later with a tray. She passes it around as if she’s a maid. She beams when Kayla nibbles a cookie and pronounces it “divine.”
We’re sitting on the bed and the floor, and Kayla’s on my desk chair. The talk is halfhearted and jumps around. Then Kayla glances at the computer on my desk and says, “Oh my god.”
Jen and Shayna turn to look at her. They always do when Kayla seems upset about something.
“The spring review,” Kayla says.
“I forgot.” She glances horror-stricken at Jen.
The high school does a review every year. You have to try out to be in it.
“I’m supposed to get the word out about auditions.”
Jen looks up at the computer.
“I bet Neely won’t mind if you use her computer.”
I shrug. “Go ahead.”
“You do it, Jen,” Kayla says. “You’re the computer nerd.”
It’s true. Jen’s dad is a hot-shot programmer. He worked for years in Silicon Valley. Now he consults from home, another big house up near where Kayla lives. I doubt Kayla would admit it, but I’ve heard that Jen’s parents are even richer than Kayla’s.
Jen changes places with Kayla. While she starts tapping away on the keyboard and clicking with the mouse, Kayla tells us what she’s thinking of doing for the review. She asks me about the kids I know, whether any of them have any special talents. She reaches for another cookie. She seems nice now, like a normal person. When suppertime rolls around and the three of them get ready to go, Kayla stops by the kitchen to thank my mother and to ask for her cookie recipe. My mother promises to send it to school with me the next day. She sounds pleased.
“It’s nice to see you bring home friends again,” she says later. She’s at the kitchen table, writing neatly on a recipe card that has a gingham border. “You should invite them back again.”