The next morning I woke up when the phone rang. I heard Mom outside my door saying, “I’m so sorry. I’ll get her right now.”
She walked in and told me Mr. Russell wanted to speak with me because Ashanti’s grandmother had died. Oh no, poor Ashanti.
“Hello?”
“Landry? It’s Ashanti’s dad. She doesn’t feel up to talking to anyone right now, but she wanted me to call and tell you that her grandmother passed away. She won’t be in school tomorrow, but she’ll call you soon.”
“I’m so sorry. Is there anything I can do? I can bring over her homework.”
“Thank you. It would be great if you could collect her assignments.”
I hung up the phone and my eyes started to water.
“Hon, you okay?” Mom asked.
“Ashanti was supposed to go see her grandma on Saturday, but she went to a cheerleading thing instead. She’s going to feel so guilty — I just know it. I wish there was something I could do to make her feel better.”
“Well, just be a good friend to her. And listening will help, too.”
I shrugged.
“People send flowers and drop off casseroles and things like that. Do you want to think of something we could take over to the Russells?” she asked.
“Flowers might be weird, but maybe like a card or something.”
We drove over to this big supermarket in town that has everything.
“Ooh, they have kiwi flavored lip gloss. Ashanti loves kiwi stuff. Maybe I could get this with the card.”
“We could buy some kiwi to take over there when we bring them dinner as well,” Mom said.
I shook my head. Ashanti hated the actual fruit.
“But you said—”
“She likes fake kiwi flavoring, not the real kind. She thinks the actual fruit is too hairy and disgusting with all those little seed thingies in them.”
“O-kaaay.”
“It’s like how fake banana flavor tastes nothing like real bananas,” I said.
“Gotcha. I seem to remember a certain little someone who used to love banana flavored taffy, yet almost threw up from the mere mention of it at the American Ingénue competition.”
Yeah, that was a memory I wanted to cherish forever — me barfing two minutes before I had to go on live TV and then making a fool of myself. Fortunately for me, I hadn’t thrown up on camera or else that video would probably have been online everywhere as, “Stupid Girl Pukes on Stage.” However, I still managed to embarrass myself by saying I was from the wrong city. It wouldn’t have been so bad if I hadn’t decided to go back and correct myself and crashed into the next contestant and hit the microphone so it made that screeching sound. Beyond embarrassing. And people laughed just like they did that time when I was a little kid and my mom forgot to stick my scarves in my dance recital tutu. I remember standing up on stage while all the other girls pulled out the scarves and looking on either side of my tutu. Then I remember how I burst into tears and cried, “Mommy,” as I ran off the stage. What was it with me and stages? Why couldn’t I control myself in front of a crowd?
“Oh, Mom, they have new nail polishes. Ashanti is on a never ending quest to find the perfect opaque lavender. She’s always saying the ones she has are too sheer or gray or whatever. Can I get her one?”
“How much are they?”
Like you could put a price on a gift to cheer up a friend. No wonder my mom had, like, no friends to hang out with on weekends. However, I decided that bringing that up might make Mom less likely to buy anything, so I just checked the price tag.
“Only seven dollars. What a bargain,” I said.
She rolled her eyes. “Fine, but I better not see that on those little fingers first,” she said tapping my hand.
How rude. Like I’d try out nail polish before I gave it away. I’d try it out after I gave it to Ashanti — with permission, of course. I didn’t wear polish much because whenever I attempted to paint my nails, my left hand would come out amazing and my right hand would look like a toddler did it for me. Plus, I didn’t have a lot of patience for drying time either. Ashanti said the key was to do it at night and try to be super still with your hands while you slept, but I moved around a lot and would get sheet smears and wind up with it on my pillowcase.
We went to look at cards next, but all the sympathy cards were depressing.
“How about a thinking-of-you card instead?” Mom said.
I found a pretty butterfly card, and it said she was in my thoughts and prayers. I asked Mom if giving Ashanti the lip gloss and nail polish now was weird.
“You know, I was your age when my grandma passed away and it was difficult,” Mom said. “Sometimes just getting a little something from a friend lets you know someone cares and that helps.”
I nodded, but felt a little sick thinking about if anything happened to either of my grandmas. The idea of losing either one of them was awful, and I couldn’t imagine how much Ashanti must be hurting right now.
“Okay, before we head over there, we should pick up some food for them,” Mom said. “People usually bring casseroles or things you can stick in the freezer.”
“How about dumplings? Mr. Russell loved the ones from My Lil Foodie Mart.”
“That’s a good idea. If they’re not hungry, they could reheat those pretty easily.”
We picked up the food and then Mom called Mrs. Russell.
“Landry and I would like to drop off something. We don’t want to intrude, so we’re not coming inside or anything,” she said.
We got to their house, and Mom said she’d go up to the door alone. Mrs. Russell waved to me from the door and took the bags in. I could see she was trying to get Mom to come in, but my mother hates people coming over uninvited, so she refuses to do that. She says it’s just good manners, but I think it’s because then people know not to drop by unannounced when our house is a mess and she’s in sweatpants.
Mom came back to the car. “Ashanti will call you tonight.”
After dinner, Ashanti called and I went into my bedroom to talk to her.
She got out, “Hi,” and then started sobbing.
“I am the worst person EVER!” she said.
“What? Why? No,” I said.
“I blew off my own grandmother, and for what? Some stupid cheerleading thing that didn’t even matter. We just sat on the bleachers and watched those high school girls practice. It was so dumb, and all because I wanted to fit in with those girls and I didn’t want Yasmin to get mad at me for not going.”
“But you didn’t know it would be your last chance to see your grandma. There’s no way you could have. You’re not psychic.”
“A decent granddaughter would have just gone to the nursing home to visit,” she said sniffing. “But I’m a horrible person, and horrible people do selfish things and then get punished for them.”
“No, that’s so far off. You’re not horrible or selfish. If your grandmother had been… more aware and you had asked her if it was okay if you went to your cheerleading thing, I’m sure she would have told you to go and have fun,” I said. “Ashanti, you couldn’t have known what was going to happen.”
“I feel like the worst person in the world.”
“You’re not.”
“But I let myself get talked into doing something when I knew it wasn’t the right thing to do. And, yeah, I wanted to be included with those high school girls. I didn’t even care what for. I would have gone and watched them fold their socks if it meant I could hang out with them, but I knew I shouldn’t go. And you tried to tell me I should spend all the time I could with my grandma.”
“You didn’t know that was going to happen. Don’t beat yourself up over this,” I said.
“Tomorrow is the visitation at the funeral home. I know this is weird and all, but do you think you could come? If the whole thing weirds you out then just forget it, but… I mean, if you’re not, you know… busy or whatever.”
“I’ll ask my mom, but I’m sure we can come. Hang on.”
I went to ask and Mom said of course we would go.
“I wish there was something I could say to Ashanti so she wouldn’t feel so guilty about not seeing her grandmother that weekend,” I said.
Mom nodded. “Maybe she could write down some things in a letter to her grandmother. Just to get her thoughts out. It might make her feel better.”
I shrugged.