18

MONDAY MORNING, THE TIGHTNESS IN MY THROAT is back with a vengeance. I can’t quit thinking about Jasper’s text. He’s definitely still mad at me.

I’ve never dreaded riding the bus as much as I do when I round the corner onto Cedar Street. But Ashley is standing alone. She smiles and says, “Hey, Mabel.”

“Hey.” I look down Magnolia Drive. “Where’s Farrah?”

“Her aunt had her twins early. And since we have Friday off school this week, Farrah and her mom went to visit.”

All I say is “Oh.”

When the bus pulls up, we get on together. Ashley walks to the fourth row on the left and stops so that I can get into my old seat. I pause and she sort of shrugs and says, “I know things have been weird. But we’re still friends, right?”

“Right,” I say, but I’m really not sure. I step in and sit by the window. Ashley settles in next to me and bumps my shoulder with hers. At first, it feels so familiar, like I’ve managed to jump back in time to when things were less complicated. But then McKenna gets on. She’s carrying the cardboard box for our Rube Goldberg machine and has already attached a few of the train tracks to make our inclined plane.

“Hey,” I say when she gets to our row. “I have everything we need in my bag.”

McKenna nods and says, “I really hope the pulley works.”

“Me too,” I say, and McKenna gives me a little wave as she walks past.

Ashley looks back to where I’ve been sitting with McKenna and Jasper. Then she asks, “Do you have a costume for the Fall Festival yet? Since Farrah won’t be back in time maybe we could go as something together? Just like old times.” The Fall Festival is on Friday, we have that day off school, and Halloween is on Sunday. A weekend Halloween is like a magical alignment of the planets.

“What about the rock star thing?” I ask.

Ashley shrugs. “With Farrah gone it doesn’t make sense. So, I’d rather do something with you, if you want.”

“Well, I have a few ideas. I was going to wear all my rain gear and attach stuffed cats and dogs to my umbrella. But maybe we could think of something together. Like a needle and a haystack. Or I could wear a big cardboard box and you could be a think bubble. Think outside the box.”

Ashley laughs and wrinkles her nose. “I don’t know. Will anyone know what we are?”

I laugh too and shrug.

Ashley folds her arms and sighs. “Maybe we shouldn’t even dress up. We’re getting kind of old for it.”

I gasp. “What? No way.”

“Okay. Well, we better come up with something quick.”

We sit together and think. Just the two of us. Just like old times.

“What if we wear our costumes from last year? Anne and Diana.”

Is she saying we’re best friends again? My spider pin has been demoted to my backpack’s pocket and it sparkles up at me from the bus floor. If Farrah were here, would Ashley even be talking to me? Probably not, but Farrah isn’t here. Being left out feels awful, and even though Ashley might deserve it, I don’t want to do that to her. Surely a friendship deserves as much of a chance to be salvaged as anything else. So, I say, “Okay.”

At Jasper’s stop it takes all my energy not to look at him. When I glance up, he keeps his eyes forward. I focus on Ashley while she tells me all about her dad’s new house. Once we get to school, I rush to get off the bus before Jasper and try to ignore how badly I wish he would have at least said hi.

Mrs. Kirkpatrick’s room is bustling. Our energy, forces, and motion unit ended and projects are due today. Partners gather around desks unpacking all their materials. McKenna hops in place. “I can’t wait to see it,” she says as soon as I put my backpack down. We’ve been planning for weeks and broken our machine into parts, each handling different tasks. I’ve sent her a photo of our Rube Goldberg showstopper, but she hasn’t seen it in person.

I unzip my bag and pull out the mannequin head Grampa and I found outside Pearle Vision a while back. He has a little paint chipping around the bridge of his nose, where most likely display glasses sat for years, but he’s otherwise in great condition.

“He’s perfect,” McKenna says, and she starts taking out the supplies from her bag. McKenna’s cut a wire hanger in the middle, then taken the wire and slid it through the hole in the center of an empty spool of thread. “And here’s our fixed pulley.”

We remove the top flaps of the cardboard container and sit it on its side to create a sort of shadow box, then we attach the hanger to the top. McKenna ties one end of a thin rope to a plastic strawberry basket and laces the rope over the spool. I hot-glue the other end to the top button of an Oklahoma City Thunder ballcap. The basket hangs on one side of the pulley, and below, the hat sits on the mannequin head. We run a golf ball down a series of inclined planes built with wooden train tracks. At the last track the ball falls through a plastic cup with no bottom, into the basket, and lifts the hat off the mannequin.

Mrs. Kirkpatrick walks around inspecting everyone’s progress. “A few more minutes for trial runs, and then we’ll have our first presenters,” she calls. She stops by our table and nods slowly. “Very nice work, you two. Extra points for unique materials, but you need a title. What’s your machine called?”

McKenna looks at me wide-eyed. How could we forget a title?

“Hmm. How about the De-cap-tivator?” I ask.

Mrs. Kirkpatrick laughs and says, “I’d say that’s perfect, and very Rube Goldberg of you.” As Mrs. Kirkpatrick walks off, McKenna gives me a big hug and I hug her back. I replay our machine and that hug for the rest of my morning classes, and all my thoughts stay positive.

Jasper and I aren’t in the same classes, so I don’t see him again until lunch. Ashley waits with me in line, even though she’s brought her own. David Verdon walks past and says “Hey” in Ashley’s general direction.

“Hey,” Ashley says. She waits until he goes to sit down, then she sort of buries her face in my shirt sleeve and giggles. “I can’t believe he said hi. And while I’m in the school lunch line.”

I stare down at my tray. “What’s wrong with the lunch line?” Today is chicken fingers with tater tots, only bested by pizza Fridays.

Ashley shrugs. “Nothing. It’s just some kids are saying only poor kids eat school lunch. But that’s not what I think.”

We walk toward our old table. “Right. Especially since a month ago you were eating school lunch too. Besides, you love the chicken fingers.”

“Exactly,” Ashley says. “Sorry.”

We sit down and Ashley stares at my tray. I sigh and pass her one of the chicken fingers. She laughs her wild, snorty laugh then covers her nose. And for a second, I forget about the school lunch comment.

“How’s your grampa doing?” she asks between bites.

“Okay, I guess. He’s getting better and is able to walk with a cane now.”

“At least you don’t have to go on more dumpster dives, huh?” Ashley asks.

A piece of paper lands on the table. It’s a folded note. As Ashley unfolds it, her eyes widen. Her face is turning splotchy, but I can’t tell if that’s good or bad anymore. She slides the note toward me.

“David thinks you’re cute,” is written in squashed print.

I laugh. “Well, that’s way more embarrassing than eating school lunch.”

Ashley reaches across and snatches the note out of my hands. “Maybe he’s my Gilbert Blythe. Besides, I think he’s nice.” Gilbert is Anne’s one true love in Anne of Green Gables. They start off on the wrong foot and he’s sort of annoying in the beginning, but David is so much worse.

I snort. “You’re joking, right?” Ashley glares at me. Okay, not joking, but nice? David spits loogies on the sidewalk. There is a whole collection of boogers wiped under the aisle-side seat on the tenth row of our bus and every single one of them is from his nose. And he called me fat all through third grade. I think of jokes that I could’ve said to Ashley before this summer.

He’s snot the one.

Could there be a worse boy to pick?

Who’s better than David Verdon? Everyboogie.

Ashley puts the note in her lunch box. “I knew you wouldn’t understand,” she mumbles.

“You’re right. I don’t get it.” I point over to his table. He has a Cheeto shoved up each nostril. I want to say that I don’t understand liking Farrah either. But I just stare down at my remaining chicken fingers.

Ashley turns back to me and sighs. “Maybe you have a point.” She bites into her sandwich, and we spend the rest of lunch eating. There’s something uncomfortable about the quiet. Maybe it’s because I have things I want to say but can’t. Or maybe it’s because I do have things to say, just not to her anymore.

I spend the rest of the time staring around the lunchroom. Mrs. Brandon, the lunch lady, smiles at every kid in line. Jasper sits clear across the room and talks much louder than I’d realized. He’s giving McKenna one of his giant grins while she gestures wildly. They look happy. David sits at table 6 and does not limit his nose picking to the bus.

“Saturday you can come over to Dad’s and swim. The pool is heated,” Ashley says.

“That’d be fun.” Or maybe it’ll be full of more uncomfortable quiets.

On the bus ride home, Ashley talks the whole way about her dad’s new neighborhood and the puppy he’s promised her. A few blocks from Whispering Pines, Jasper gets off and walks down the block without looking back. I tell Ashley about Mom’s almost-winning table and she even does her snort laugh a few more times without trying to cover it up. When we get off the bus, she gives me a quick hug like we always used to do.

I don’t know what I was thinking at lunch; it’s good to be back in the fourth row. But then I see McKenna walking toward her house alone and think of Jasper at Whispering Pines, and I worry I’m making a mistake. Ashley’s been pretty terrible to me lately, and Jasper and McKenna never have. But I’m not even sure Jasper and I are friends anymore.

I distract myself by going over my trash-to-cash plan as I walk. I’ll go home, bike to Grampa’s, and then head over to Frank’s. With or without Jasper, I still need to prove I can make money each month. And I only have an hour before Mom will get home from work.

I rush into the house, only to find Mom already there.

“Hey, what are you doing home so early?” I ask. Looks like Frank’s will have to wait.

“Nice to see you too,” Mom says. She wraps me in an unexpected hug. “Did you have a good day?” I nod and Mom ruffles my hair like Grampa always does.

The dining table is covered with bags of rhinestones, strips of black pleather, and rolls of red ribbon. I point to a glove coated in silver glitter. “What’s all this?”

“Oh, I took the afternoon off to work on these. I volunteered to make centerpieces for the Halloween show at Whispering Pines as a favor to Margaret. I think I’ll have the glove rising out of an arrangement of red roses. They’re going to be small, but a dozen is still a big job. Plus, the whole “Thriller” song happens in a graveyard, and I imagine that’s the last place most of the residents want to think of. But Margaret is counting on me and so is Pattie. Each vase has to have a Pattie’s Parties business card.”

“Ah, right. Grampa mentioned the party.” I push the memory of Jasper being there out of my head. “Who’s Margaret? And why a glove?”

Mom scrunches her eyes up at me. “Michael Jackson wore one sparkly glove. It was his thing. And Margaret is Mrs. Hayden, the social director.”

I nod.

“Enough about me and Michael Jackson. Tell me about your day.” She tosses one of the gloves at me.

Mom always has advice for me instead of just listening like Grampa does. I don’t know if it was the hug/hair-ruffle combo, or that she used vintage glass on her table, but today I tell her about Farrah and how I was afraid Ashley might not want to be friends anymore. This time Mom listens, and when I’m done talking, she says, “I don’t understand why you all can’t be friends.”

“Maybe we can,” I say. Mom gets up and kisses me on the head. I already feel a ton better. I guess being loved on a little and listened to was all I needed.

“Well, if you want to wear that costume, it’ll need some alterations.” When mom first started pageanting, she learned to sew. She’s good too, but she usually doesn’t have time. “Let’s get it out and see if we can’t add a little more spiff to it,” she says. “I have extra lace somewhere.” She starts off down the hall. “And a straw hat! Oh, I know—a pinafore!”

The whole dining room quickly fills with her supplies—thread, boxes of fabric, a dressmaking dummy, and her sewing machine.

“I almost forgot,” Mom says as she grabs her handbag, pulls out an envelope, and slides it toward me.

Inside are two tickets. I pull them out and see the words Collector’s Menagerie printed across the top and almost drop them.

Mom smiles. “Out of thirty thousand applicants only twelve thousand got tickets. Let’s hope it’s the beginning of our winning streak. There’s more information about bringing in an item to be appraised.”

I tuck the tickets back inside the envelope. All I can think of is Grampa not being able to go.

“You look shocked.” Mom laughs. “I knew you’d be excited.”

I nod and try to squeeze out a smile.

Mom gestures to the costume on the table. “Well, try it on.” Her eyes widen. “Let’s add a ruffle at the bottom. And a whole white cotton and lace pinafore to wear over it?”

I groan and put on the dress.

“Okay, okay. No lace.” Mom laughs.

Maybe it’s Mom mentioning ruffles, but poor Edna Worn from Collector’s Menagerie with her painted table pops into my head. She’d only wanted to make it look beautiful and ended up decreasing its value. And I start wondering about all the people on Collector’s Menagerie who think they have something special and then find out they were wrong all along.

Mom pauses. “Remember the year Ashley desperately wanted to be Belle and wanted you to be the Beast? First grade, I think.” She looks at me and her smile widens. She touches her pearls with one hand and my cheek with the other. “You’re a good friend, and I hope you know you’re Ashley’s equal, not her shadow. She’s been lucky to have you.” She stands back to look at me. “I’ll work on the pinafore, but we need to head over to Grampa’s before it gets too late.”

Mom is just being Mom, but there’s something about what she said that bothers me. I keep trying to figure it out while we drive to Whispering Pines.

As we park, I still I have this sort of sticky, not-quite-right feeling. People only say things are like old times when things aren’t like old times anymore. Ashley’s been lucky to have me. Been. Past tense. Over and done. Plus, Mom called Whispering Pines “Grampa’s” like she’s already said goodbye to his house.

Ashley wants me to not like treasure hunting, to like David Verdon, and be like boring, loyal Diana. Maybe my friendship with Ashley isn’t as special as I thought. Maybe it’s not worth what I thought it was. Maybe not to her, anyways.

Dinner with Grampa that night reminds me of my lunch with Ashley. There’s all this stuff I want to say but can’t. I can’t tell him about the haul Jasper and I made. I can’t tell him about the tickets Mom got to Collector’s Menagerie. And I can’t tell him how badly I miss him and all the things we used to do together. Then what Ray Reno said to Edna about her table crosses my mind, how some things are so changed they can’t ever be brought back to what they once were.

“Everything okay, Mae-mae?” Grampa asks.

“Everything’s fine.” I give him my best impression of a real smile and hope that he’s not so great at spotting a fake.