21

Nana’s Cure

Because I’d run away from school and because I’d been what everyone was calling blue—which means “mostly not happy”—since my best friend had gone, I’d been summoned to Nana and Grandpa Reindeer’s apartment for the weekend.

“I want you to stop this moping around, Zoe,” Nana told me. “It does not become you. It’s not like you’ve had your heart broken . . . yet. Just like those tears we talked about that Jade used to make you spill, better to save that moping for later, when you’ll need it.” Nana got in my face and grinned. “Now give me a smile.”

I almost smiled.

“I’d tell you a good joke if I knew one, but I was never good in the joke department. Don’t suppose you know one?”

I shook my head and kept peeling potatoes.

Nana inched closer to me until we were standing side by side. “Seems to me you’ve grown a little, my Zoe.”

Why were people suddenly calling me my Zoe like they owned me?

The store was called Zoe’s. Inside, there were rows and rows of life-size dolls for sale and all of them looked just alike, just like Zoe G. Reindeer—except they each had on a different extremely cute outfit. They were selling for $199.99.

“Zoe?” Nana said.

“Yes?”

“I said, seems to me you’ve grown a little.”

“A little,” I replied.

I watched my nana as she washed the celery and onions for the potato salad we were making. Her silver hair was pulled back into a bun and red earrings dangled from her ears.

“You like eggs in your potato salad, don’t you?” she asked as she opened a carton of eggs.

“Yes.”

Earlier, we’d gone shopping and Nana had bought me two new dresses and a pair of sparkly lavender sneakers. Even though she always treats me nice, today felt special because I barely ever have her all to myself. Nana had held my hand now and then as we shopped, and I almost told her I’m too old for hand-holding, but I didn’t. I really liked not sharing her.

“Every so often, a young lady needs to be doted on,” she’d told me later as we sat side by side, eating burgers and fries at a fifties diner.

“What’s doted on?” I’d asked.

“Spoiled rotten.”

I’d finally smiled.

“Now, that’s my Zoe.” I’d leaned my head into her shoulder, soaking up her flowery smell. “No more running off from school, promise me? We were worried sick,” she’d whispered.

For the zillionth time, I swore I would never do it again.

“Can I use your computer to check my e-mail?” I asked after I’d peeled the last potato.

“Of course,” Nana replied. “Expecting a note from Quincy, I suppose?”

“Hope so.”

“Must be really hard on Quincy with his mom being sick and having to move and go to a new school,” Nana commented.

I nodded in agreement and thought about what she’d said for a little while. Nana’s right. It must be really hard for him.

When I turned on the computer and entered my e-mail address and password and saw that there was a new message from Quincy—that made me grin. But when I read it, the inside part of me finally started dancing again. I leaped up and ran into the kitchen.

“He’s coming back . . . next week!” I shouted.

Nana patted the top of my head.

“And his mom is almost done with her treatments,” I told her. “I know he’ll be happy to see her.”

Nana winked. “And you.”

For some reason, her saying that made me feel a little ashamed. With Kendra being so sick, I shouldn’t even be thinking about myself, but I couldn’t help it. I missed him so much and couldn’t wait to have my only friend back.

As if Nana were reading my mind, she asked, “I never hear you talk about any other friends. You must have some, don’t you?”

I shrugged. “I’m not very good at friends.”

“Maybe you could join a club.”

“Not good at clubs either. Mostly, people think I’m odd.”

“Sounds like me at your age. I had a hard time fitting in too.”

I stared into Nana’s brown eyes. “Did you wear glasses?” I asked.

“No, but I was always tall for my age, and kids teased me something awful,” she replied.

“How tall are you now?”

“Five foot ten,” she answered.

I remembered Mrs. Warner’s comment about big feet and being tall and snuck a peek at my nana’s feet. “Were your feet really big too?”

Nana laughed. “So big, I used to trip over them. But my being tall paid off later.”

“How?”

“Made a little book money modeling during college, and it probably helped me nab your grandpa,” Nana answered.

“How?” I repeated.

“He was six foot four. Liked me being tall.” She paused, then added, “Some things are in the genes. Can’t change that, Zoe.”

“Were you shy too?”

“Still am sometimes. No crime in that.” Nana patted the top of my head. “Lots of people feel a little odd at your age. Like those shoes you keep growing out of, you’ll grow out of feeling so different. I sure did.”

Nana had a way of being right about lots of things. I hoped this was one of them.