Chapter Twelve

Splash! Splash!

I flutter my legs in the water as fast as I can. It’s my second swim lesson, and I have plenty of pent-up frustration. The heavy kicking helps distract me from everything that is stressing me out. Ben is a huge part of it, but most of all, I’m thinking about this coming Saturday.

We made some big progress on our mural at yesterday’s art club meeting. Mr. Foster collected all of our sketches, and he is going to present the official final sketch tomorrow. That’s also the same day we’re going to prime the walls white with paint rollers. I get to wear messy, baggy clothes and get paint all over me. However, I also found out we’re starting the mural on Saturday—the same day as our Sea Musketeers fundraiser! Fortunately, our mural session is in the morning, and Mariel’s soccer game is in the afternoon. But it’s going to be a long day.

So, for now, I just keep kicking with all my might. I kick so hard that I think I could create a tsunami-size wave in the pool. Then I feel a tap on my shoulder. Jenny looks at me.

“Are you okay? You didn’t say much in the car ride over here, and you’re kicking really hard. I feel like I’m on a boat about to capsize in a storm swimming next to you.”

I pause. There is so much I want to say. I really want to tell Jenny about Ben, but part of me thinks that if I tell her Ben is saying stuff about Stanley and me, she’ll believe it, too. While Jenny is friends with Stanley, I hang out with Stanley more than she does. I’m also afraid that Stanley and I are the weirdos and that we missed the memo with the rules for fourth grade. Instead, I tell her only part of what’s bothering me.

“I’m just a little worried about my new schedule and the egg-drop project.”

“Me too,” she replies, swirling around in the pool.

“Really?” I ask. Jenny seems so unbothered by everything.

“Well, you saw that our first egg container didn’t work, and we don’t know what to try next,” she says. “And while I love dance class, it keeps getting harder! I’m no longer the best one in the class.”

“I doubt that,” I reply.

She shakes her head.

“It’s true. I’m still very good, but I need to work extra hard. Then with more homework and Sea Musketeers, I just sometimes want a break.”

I nod. I feel bad that Jenny is stressed out, but it makes me feel better that I’m not alone. I have been feeling the same way. Just to think, I was so bored at the beginning of last summer not doing anything. How things have changed! I’d love for one day to do absolutely nothing. A day to draw for fun or just wander around the Shedd Aquarium.

I give Jenny a hug in the pool.

She tells me, “Don’t worry, Stella. If anyone can do it all, it’s you. You make things happen.”

I smile. At least Jenny believes in me.

When I get home, Nick looks wiped out. He’s lying down on my thinking spot, the rug in the living room. I notice he’s still dressed in his work clothes. He must have had a shift at the pizzeria tonight.

“How was work?” I ask, looking down at him.

“Fine.” He sits up on his elbows. “Just tiring. I like making pizzas, and my coworkers are awesome, but school is just so much harder this year. It’s hard not to get exhausted.”

“Same for me, too.” Then my stomach rumbles. All the swimming made me hungry. I grab my tummy and look at him.

“Did you bring home any breadsticks this time?”

Nick throws a pillow at me jokingly. “You bet.”

As we dip our breadsticks into marinara sauce on the kitchen counter, Nick vents about high school.

“It’s just weird. I’m in all the honors classes, which is exciting, but I actually have to work hard for my grades. Before high school, all I had to do was read some, write a paper, and then I got a good grade. Now I have to memorize or do more ‘critical thinking.’”

He puts air quotes around “critical thinking.”

“And it’s crazy because I really care about my grades now. They keep talking about college, and it’s so expensive. But if I get good grades, I could maybe get a scholarship, and then Mom wouldn’t have to worry so much about paying for it.”

He drops his head on the counter. I frown a little. My poor brother has big things to worry about.

“That’s a lot, Nick,” I say. “Can I help you?”

He looks up at me and smirks. “I’m just venting. I’ll be okay, kiddo.” He hands me another breadstick. “What about you? What are you so worried about?”

I don’t want to bother Nick too much with my personal stuff, especially since he is so busy, so I stick with the smallest issue.

“Have you ever done an egg drop before?” I ask Nick.

“Oh, those are fun! I think we used plastic straws to make ours.”

I shake my head. “No plastic straws.”

He puts his hand on my shoulder. “I’m sure there has to be an alternative.” Then he throws his arms up. “Hey, I’ve got an idea. Why don’t we trade homework? I’ll do your egg drop, and you can do my biology homework?”

“If it’s marine biology, count me in,” I say, kidding.

Nick messes with my curls. “Deal.”

I look around. I suddenly realize I haven’t seen Mom since I got home an hour ago.

“Where is Mom, by the way?” I ask.

“She texted me while I was at work. She’s hanging out with Diego. He wanted to buy a new couch, and she offered to help him pick out one. She should be home soon.”

I squeeze my eyebrows together. Sometimes I get frustrated that I don’t have a cell phone. I want to check in with Mom and send her fun emojis, but I’m not allowed to have a cell phone until high school. But what bothers me the most is the possibility of Diego and Mom becoming boyfriend and girlfriend. I take this opportunity alone with Nick to ask, “Do you think Mom and Diego like like each other?”

Nick laughs. “Whoa, I’m not sure. We haven’t really met him yet. It’s hard to tell.”

“I think it’s a little weird,” I confess. “Kids at school are saying that boys and girls can’t be friends when they get older.” I don’t point out that it’s specifically Ben and Jeremy who are saying it.

“That’s not a real rule,” he replies.

I feel partially relieved. If Nick says it, it must be true. Then Nick looks at me sincerely.

“The most important thing is, Mom deserves to be happy.”

I nod. He’s right.

“And if they do start dating, then it’s our job to spend time with this Diego and see if he is worth Mom’s time. She deserves only the best.”

I stare at Nick. It’s strange; we’re only a month into school, and he seems more mature than ever. He almost seems like an adult.

“When did you get so wise?” I ask Nick.

“Oh, they teach it to you in ninth grade,” he replies with a wink.

I think he’s joking, but with all his textbooks, I’m not so sure anymore.