Operation Pucker Up Page 2

  I pulled out the small black box and clicked it on. Mom refused to buy me a cell phone. She had a firm rule that I couldn’t get one until I was in high school. I told her that’s about as ridiculous as saying I didn’t need food or water, to which Mom always replied that I was being too dramatic and should pick up the house phone if I needed to make a call. No, thank you. Claire’s favorite hobby was eavesdropping, and it’s kind of hard to trade secrets with your best friend when your sister might be listening to your every word.

  That’s why Lizzie and I came up with the greatest plan ever. We bought a set of walkie-talkies that could reach ­people up to six miles away.

  If people heard we communicated this way they’d probably laugh and tell us no one really uses walkie-talkies, but they’re pretty much the best solution ever because they solve the cell phone problem. I got the idea from a TV show about a group of guys who went hunting in the woods. They had superpowered industrial walkie-talkies to keep in contact. One of the guys wandered miles away chasing after a bear and fell and hurt his ankle. No one had a clue where he’d disappeared to, so his walkie-talkie saved him. He was able to tell the other guys where he was before the wild animals devoured him. It was all very dramatic and awesome. So maybe bears aren’t going to eat us in our backyards, but you never know when an emergency late-night conversation might save one of our lives.

  And I definitely needed one of those talks right now, because I was feeling miserable and, no matter what, ­Lizzie could make me feel better. It’s as if she has some magical power to make me laugh, even when everything around me is a big, awful mess. She’s possessed this talent since kinder­garten, when we became friends after the two of us were paired up to practice writing the alphabet together.

  I turned the power on and pressed the red button on the side of the walkie-talkie. “Hello, hello? Are you there?” Usually, if we wanted to talk, one of us would call the other’s house phone and let it ring twice, but my family was still in the kitchen, so I hoped Lizzie would be waiting. “Lizzie? Talk to me!”

  Luck was on my side, because the walkie-talkie crackled and Lizzie’s voice came through.

  “Where have you been?! Who goes MIA after finding out they got the lead in the school play?” she asked enthusiastically. Everything about Lizzie was enthusiastic. She always talked as if the most important thing in the world was happening right that very moment. I pictured her lying on her hot pink and white polka-dot comforter. I’m sure her blond hair was pulled back in a ponytail with her signature bow around it, and if her older sister, Amy, wasn’t home, she’d be wearing a bunch of her eye shadow. Lizzie always practiced with her sister’s makeup, something that constantly got her in trouble. The walkie-talkie crackled and her voice came through loud and clear. “I can’t believe you didn’t get on the walkie-talkie as soon as you got home.”

  “Sorry, things were kind of busy here,” I told her, and tried not to sound as upset as I felt.

  “You were too busy celebrating, weren’t you?” She continued to blab on before I could correct her. “Let’s talk about more interesting things, like what it’s like to have the lead. Do you feel like a different person? Because you don’t really sound like the same Grace to me.”

  I laughed despite everything. Lizzie was that good at making a person feel better. “I’m still me, but this is all pretty incredible.”

  “You’re right it is. Beck and I were so excited when we saw your name. And you wouldn’t believe how jealous Michelle was when she checked the cast list. I was standing by her, and she was fuming. It’s about time someone knocked her off her throne.” She said everything quickly, rushing through each sentence and not pausing to take a breath.

  “What are you talking about?” My happy feeling suddenly evaporated, and I was left with a churning in my stomach like the time Mom poured me sour milk and I took a big gulp. Michelle and her friends were eighth graders who ruled the theater at Sloane Middle School. They were always getting the big parts in the plays and coming up with these amazing dance routines for the talent show each year. I definitely didn’t want to get on Michelle’s bad side—even though I was still pretty psyched that I’d beaten out the theater queen!

  “Michelle totally wanted Snow White, and she wasn’t happy when she found out she didn’t get it. Anyway, how did your mom and Claire react? Did they go nuts when you told them about your part?”

  “Not exactly,” I said slowly, not sure how much I should tell Lizzie. “We kind of had a change of plans before I could tell them about the part.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  I decided Lizzie should know; she knew everything about my family, the good, the bad, and the ugly. She’d seen Mom go ballistic on me for not emptying the dishwasher after asking me repeatedly to do it, and there was the time Claire got the flu and threw up all over the front hallway, and when Dad ran over the neighbors’ garbage can and bolted instead of telling them. With how much time she spent in my house, there weren’t a lot of secrets. Besides, Lizzie would kill me if I kept something like this to myself.

  I took a deep breath and figured jumping right into it was the best way to go about it. Kind of like pulling off a Band-Aid real fast; no sense dragging these things out forever.

  “My dad is moving back in,” I said. I told her what happened at dinner, every last bit of it.

  “That’s great news! Your dad moving in is a good thing.”

  “It most certainly isn’t,” I said a little too loudly. I lowered my voice, afraid my parents would hear me and come to check on me. “He showed up at dinner as if he never left us and things were A-OK.”

  “Talk about stealing your thunder,” she said.

  “My part doesn’t seem like a big deal now,” I said.

  “It’s a huge deal, Grace. You need to march right back downstairs and let them know how awesome you are.”

  I thought about how hard I had worked to get the lead. I went to drama camp for the past three summers, took voice lessons and ballet and tap lessons every week. Before I auditioned for the play, I watched the Disney version of Snow White over and over again, studying the movie as if I was preparing for a final exam. I’d worked so hard for this part, and now my parents’ announcement had blown my hard work to pieces. It seemed so much smaller after the bomb my parents dropped on us.

  “I don’t know,” I told Lizzie. I really didn’t want to go back downstairs.

  “I mean it,” she said. “You need to be celebrating. I’m signing off and fully expect you to tell your family about your part.”

  “Okay, okay,” I said, even though I had no intention of doing that. “I’ll talk to you later.”

  “Congrats, Snow White!” Lizzie said one more time before I turned off the walkie-talkie. I stuck it back under the mattress and climbed onto my bed so I could stare out my window. It was growing dark. A man walked past with his dog, and Evan, my neighbor, hit a ball against his garage with a hockey stick. A car sped down the street, and two blackbirds sat on the side of the roof and pecked away at something. I stuck my tongue out at the birds.

  “I bet you don’t have to worry about other birds who try to move back into your nest,” I told them. I draped my hand over my eyes and wondered what everyone was doing downstairs while I sat up here alone and tried to figure this all out myself.

  CHAPTER

  Four

  DAD LEFT SHORTLY AFTER I finished talking with Lizzie. He tried to say good-bye to me, but I hid under the patchwork quilt Grandma made me and pretended to sleep. I didn’t know what to think about everything. I considered what it would be like to have Dad home. I remembered the good times: nights cracking peanuts while we watched the baseball game on TV; how Dad built campfires in our backyard so Lizzie, Beck, and I could roast marshmallows; and Dad and me taking Darby to the park. And it wasn’t only the fun stuff that made him great, it was the other things too, like how he’
d make me mashed potatoes from scratch when I had a sore throat and couldn’t swallow anything else, or the night he slept in my room on the floor when Grandpa died and I was too scared to be alone. I remembered all the things that made Dad so great, and as much as I wanted to tell him I was glad he was coming back home, it scared me to think he might leave again.

  I stayed under the covers until I heard Claire and Mom drive away the next morning. Claire had a soccer game, so the house was all mine for a few hours. I played on the computer, took a shower, and then made a big bowl of oatmeal. I covered it with about a pound of brown sugar, which was a big no-no when Mom was around but just what I needed. It was so much better than the plain oatmeal with fruit on top Mom would dish up for us. Blech! She’d try to convince us it was good, but Claire and I were smarter than that. It tasted like a bowlful of glue.

  I took my food into the family room and sat smack-dab in the middle of the couch. Eating on the couch was another big no-no, but I’d make sure to hide the evidence before Mom got home. I settled down deep into the cushions with the TV remote in one hand, a spoon in the other, and the bowl of oatmeal balanced on my knee.

  It was 11:57, and the midday news—the news station where Dad reported on the weather—would be on soon. I hadn’t watched the news in a while, but today I needed to. The opening credits rolled and the two weekend anchors, Raymond and Emily, smiled at the camera. Emily’s hair was teased up all high and she wore bright red lipstick.

  “Good weekend afternoon, Cleveland,” Raymond said. His teeth were so white, I wondered if they blinded the camera crew. “Thank you for joining us today. First up, a fire burned down a house in the middle . . .”

  I zoned out and ate my oatmeal as the two of them droned on and on with the news. It wasn’t until Emily introduced the weather that I paid attention.

  “Next up, Chris Shaw is going to tell us if we should be pulling out the umbrellas this week.” Emily smiled huge into the camera. I sat up in my seat and wished the commercials would finish faster.

  I’d avoided watching Dad’s news station during the past few months, but in the weeks right after he left, I studied him during the weather reports. He was on every afternoon except for Sundays. I’d tape the show while I was at school and watch it when I got home. I searched for clues in each newscast, trying to find something that helped make sense of my parents’ separation. Mom didn’t know I watched him; I always deleted the show from the DVR right after I watched. After it became obvious that Dad wasn’t returning, I stopped watching.

  While Dad was describing the winds over the lake with big, sweeping hand gestures, the garage door opened and then slammed shut.

  “We won, we won!” Claire screamed.

  “Take off your shoes and go upstairs and change out of that dirty uniform. I don’t want you messing up the floors,” Mom yelled back. Not exactly the victory celebration Claire was probably hoping for, but that’s our mom for you. I could hear Claire running up the steps.

  I took the empty oatmeal bowl and quickly slid it under the couch so Mom wouldn’t catch me eating where I wasn’t supposed to. I’d get it later; it was better to hide the evidence now than face the wrath of Mom. I searched for the remote so I could change the channel before Mom caught me watching Dad, but I couldn’t find it. I was checking under the cushions when Mom walked in.

  “Looking for loose change?” she asked. “I’d be careful under there, you never know what you might find.”

  “Looking for lunch,” I joked, and pulled out a shriveled-up carrot stick and held it high in the air as proof that she was right: there were questionable things lurking beneath the cushions.

  Mom laughed with me. The two of us, just joking around, finally made me feel like this was the perfect moment to tell her about my part. “I have to tell you something,” I said. “It’s something really, really good.”

  “I like things that are really, really good,” she said.

  “Well . . . ,” I started, but as I was about to tell her, the commercial ended and the news came back on.

  “Good afternoon, Cleveland. Are you ready for a wet one this week?” Dad’s voice boomed from the television and we both turned to look at him at the same time.

  “The forecast shows it will be raining cats and dogs. After almost two weeks without rain, the grass is going to think tomorrow’s storm is purrrrr-fect.”

  Mom made a little snort. “Your father makes the worst jokes in the world.”

  “People love him, though,” I said, and it was as if the cameraman had read my mind, because suddenly ­Raymond’s and Emily’s faces appeared on the screen, the two laughing hard.

  “Please don’t tell my kids it’ll be raining cats and dogs,” Emily said. “They’ve been begging me to get a puppy.”

  “They might be getting their wish this week.” Dad winked at the audience.

  Mom and I both groaned, but you couldn’t help but laugh. Dad was the highest-rated weatherman in Cleveland. The city loved Dad and he loved them back, which was why he always worked long hours doing his own broadcasts and covered special assignments, going to schools to give presentations and filling in for the other meteorologists when they took time off.

  I fixed the cushions and plopped down. The TV changed to a commercial for McDonald’s, and Mom sat too, putting her feet up on the coffee table, which was another big no-no in our house. I tilted my head and studied the rule-breaking stranger who looked like Mom.

  “So about what you wanted to tell me . . . ,” Mom said.

  The moment felt less perfect now, but I couldn’t not tell her. “Brace yourself,” I said. “This news is going to rock your world.”

  “I like having my world rocked,” my mom said, and leaned toward me. “Let me have it.”

  “I’m going to be Snow White in the school play!” I shouted.

  Mom squealed and pulled me into a hug. “Oh, honey, I’m so, so happy for you.”

  “Me too! I can’t even believe it,” I said. I was so excited that I felt like I could burst.

  “Why didn’t you tell us last night that you got the part of Snow White?” she asked, and I could see the hurt in her eyes. She was still smiling, but I knew her better. It was the same look she used to give Claire and me after she hung up the phone from a conversation with Dad. The calls where she tried not to raise her voice or say anything beyond the usual instructions of when we’d go to visit with him. “We could have spent the evening celebrating.”

  I shrugged and played with the cuff of my shirt. Every time I thought about my role, I thought about crying, too. How was it possible to be happy and sad at the same time? “I didn’t feel much like celebrating last night.”

  Mom’s smile disappeared and the tone of her voice got more serious. “Last night was a bit of a surprise, wasn’t it?”

  Really? Of course last night was a surprise. Dad hadn’t been in our house for almost a year and suddenly he was the guest of honor at dinner.

  “I’m sorry we sprang it on you and Claire, but we wanted to tell you together.”

  I played with the fringe on one of the cushions and stared at the TV. The car commercial made me wish I was old enough to drive so I could get far, far away from here.

  “Having your dad here is going to be a good thing. Don’t you think?”

  I shrugged again. Did it have to be a good thing or a bad thing?

  “Think about all the junk food your dad will bring back in the house,” Mom joked, poking me in the side like she does when she wants me to laugh. The thing is, this wasn’t a laughing matter, but Mom didn’t seem to realize that. She acted as if this talk would make everything better. “It will be good to have him home.”

  “Claire seems to think it will,” I said.

  “And so should you. We need to be a family again,” Mom said, and I nodded to make her happy. “So do you feel okay about Dad moving back in?
”

  “Sure,” I said, because that’s what Mom wanted to hear, but my mind was screaming, No, no, no.

  “I’m glad we talked about this,” she said. She brushed a piece of hair away from my face and then squeezed my shoulder.

  “Me too,” I said, but it didn’t feel like we talked about much. Mom might have thought I understood things, but inside I was still scared and confused. Why did Dad decide to come back now? If you loved someone, why would you walk away from them in the first place? And if you walked away once, what would keep you from walking away again?

  CHAPTER

  Five

  I WAS EXCITED ABOUT MY part in Snow White, but Dad’s news made it hard to focus on my new role. He moved in on Sunday and it felt strange having him back in the house. It seemed as if the only important thing now was Dad returning home, so it was a relief to go back to school on Monday.

  The cast list was still posted, and I’m not ashamed to admit I walked past it on my way to every single class, which is where Michelle and her gang found me after fourth period. I was staring at my name with a goofy grin on my face when they walked up behind me. Michelle, Katie, and Susan. The girls who ran the theater. The leads and solos always went to them. They were amazing and they knew it.

  I remembered what Lizzie had told me when we talked the other night about Michelle being upset that I got the part of Snow White. I faked a smile that I hope looked real, because I sure as heck didn’t feel happy right now. More like scared, but I wasn’t about to let these girls see that.

  “Congratulations on your part,” Michelle said in a way that didn’t feel very congratulatory. She stood with her hands on her hips as if waiting for me to say something. Katie and Susan snickered on either side of her.