Sweet Thirteen Read online

  But it was already too late.

  The air filled with angry buzzing. The creatures had colorful wings, like butterflies, but stingers, like monster bees. They swarmed the travelers in a cloud bigger than Orangina’s lost barge!

  Big Bruce cowered behind one of the cat’s legs. “Let’s scram! Otherwise, we’ll never make it.”

  “Neverrr say neverrr.” Orangina batted at the bugs with his paws and tail as the wheels of his clever brain turned.

  “Can you chirp comme un oiseau, like a bird?” Orangina asked.

  “What kind of a mad, larky idea is that?” Big Bruce’s voice shook. “Owww! It bit me!”

  Orangina smacked three more butterbees away from his little friend and growled. “Take out the book! How big can it grow?”

  “Not sure . . .”

  Big Bruce took out the book, and Orangina caught a glimpse of the beautiful cat’s face peering out from between the pages. “Ah, ma chérie,I will rescue you!” Orangina purred.

  As the cat and the tiny man cowered, swatting away stingers and colorful wings, the book swelled in size, until it was big enough to hide underneath.

  But Orangina’s plan wasn’t to hide. He had a much more interesting idea.

  Friends Forever

  “Qu’est-ce que c’est?” Sophie asked quietly from over Charlotte’s shoulder, causing the writer to jump with surprise.

  “Uh, nothing.” Charlotte tried to cover the computer screen with her hands and glanced at the clock. She’d been writing for more than an hour, so absorbed that she hadn’t even heard Sophie get up!

  “Can I see?” Sophie asked.

  Charlotte was suddenly very nervous. She could feel her heart beating hard in her chest. “Ummm,” she sputtered. “You might think it’s silly.”

  “What is it?” Sophie asked, trying desperately to look past Charlotte. “It is about Orangina?” Sophie actually sounded curious.

  “It was supposed to be your welcome gift,” Charlotte admitted. What’s the harm in letting her see? Charlotte steeled herself, then stepped away from the computer. “But I haven’t finished it yet. . . .”

  “‘Orangina’s Travels!’” Sophie exclaimed as she read the title. “Magnifique!”There was that word again, “magnificent.” But this time, the way Sophie said it was full of real excitement, completely different from the night before.

  Sophie eagerly sat down at the desk and began to read. Charlotte leaned back on her bed, waiting to hear what Sophie thought of the story.

  She has to like it, the optimist inside Charlotte whispered. I wrote it for her.

  But she doesn’t think about Orangina any more, her own brain countered. Only clothes and boys.

  She’s still reading! argued the optimist. Wouldn’t she have stopped if she didn’t like it?

  Maybe she’s just being polite, the worrier responded. Wait and see.

  Sophie’s reaction when she finally spun around in the chair was better than either side of Charlotte’s brain ever could have hoped for.

  “Fantastique!” Sophie leaped up and hugged Charlotte. “It’s so good. You are a writer, just like your father!”

  “Really?” Charlotte asked, breathless. “You really liked it? But you said you didn’t think about Orangina anymore . . . and that Marty’s cuter . . . and I thought . . .”

  “Oh, mon amie! I didn’t mean it that way. Of course I still love that cat. And this story . . .” Sophie beamed. “It is just how I imagine Orangina talking! And I feel so worried for him. Will he ever find the cat from the book?”

  “Of course he will! But I haven’t decided yet if she should be good or bad.” Charlotte felt all her anxiety and insecurity melt away as Sophie nodded enthusiastically.

  “Good, of course!” Sophie paused. “But maybe . . .”

  They talked about the story until Charlotte had a whole five pages of new notes and ideas to sort through. It was so wonderful to just talk to her friend Sophie, without a million other people around.

  During a pause in the conversation, Charlotte realized they’d lapsed into speaking French and not even noticed. It was almost just like before, when they’d been best friends in Paris, making up adventures for the orange cat while he sat by the window of Charlotte’s houseboat, tail twitching and ears perked.

  “I’m sorry if I’ve been acting funny,” Charlotte blurted out, then rushed on before she wimped out and never told Sophie how hurt she’d been feeling over the past week. “It’s just that . . . well . . . at school at least . . . you’re so popular and cool now.”

  Sophie nodded, waiting for Charlotte to continue.

  “It’s weird, but I was even feeling like maybe you didn’t want to be friends with me anymore, because everyone at school was, like, your instant BFF, and no one seemed to notice me. I’m sorry, I just—”

  “Oh, Charlotte! Do not apologize!” Sophie exclaimed. “Ma cherie! Mon amie! How could you ever think I didn’t want to be your friend?! We are, like you say, BFFs! The extra F is not really for French like we pretend, but for ‘forever,’ yes?”

  Charlotte nodded. Why didn’t I tell Sophie how I felt sooner? she wondered, but it was too late for regrets. Better late than never! she told herself.

  “So we’re really still friends? Even though I look terrible in designer scarves, I can’t get you VIP passes, and I didn’t come to either of your clubs?”

  Sophie smiled and said, “You are my best friend ever. You know the most important thing: Chacun doit midi à sa porte.”

  The actual French words meant, “everyone sees noon from their own door,” but Charlotte recognized the phrase. “Be true to yourself,” Charlotte translated out loud.

  “And true to your friends!” Sophie added.

  Charlotte grabbed a piece of paper and jotted down the French idiom. “I’m adding that to my quote board right now!”

  After she had pinned up the words, Charlotte sat back and hugged a pillow to her chest. “I told Nick we’d hike with him tomorrow. And I invited Dillon. I hope that’s okay?”

  “Of course!” Sophie was still sitting in Charlotte’s computer chair, and her hands hovered over the keyboard. “Should I tell him so? Is Avery coming?”

  “Wait a sec.” Charlotte remembered Dillon’s hopeful face through the mail slot, and wondered if Sophie realized how far he’d fallen for her. Now seemed to be the time for coming clean, so . . . “You know Dillon likes you, right?”

  Sophie laughed. “Me? Non! He likes Avery. Is it not obvious?”

  “Ummm . . . actually, he likes you,” Charlotte repeated. “He and Avery have been friends since, like, kindergarten. So sometimes they seem flirty, but believe me, they’d never go out.” Charlotte waited for that news to sink in, watching Sophie’s expression.

  Sophie smiled, then frowned, then smiled again. “You are sure?” Sophie spun slowly in Charlotte’s desk chair, understanding dawning on her face. “Ahhh . . . now that you say this, I see it is obvious. He buys me the cap, changes his clothing, invites me to play soccer. . . .”

  “Mmm,” Charlotte agreed. “So, do you like Dillon?”

  Sophie got up from Charlotte’s desk chair and joined her on the bed, sitting with her legs crossed. “I am confused about him. He is very cute, and he knows kung fu! But I will leave in one week, and I still like Adrien too.” Sophie got a dreamy look in her eyes and sighed. “But right now, Adrien seems so far away. Dillon, he is . . . koa-lio.”

  Charlotte giggled at Sophie’s new American slang word. “Dillon’s definitely coolio,” Charlotte corrected her pronunciation.

  “What will I do?” Sophie asked. “You are the boy expert.”

  “Me?!” Charlotte almost fell backward off the bed. Sophie’s asking me for boy advice? Wow!

  “Yes. Ummm . . . you know, I still have not kissed a boy,” Sophie said shyly.

  Suddenly Charlotte realized something ironic. What if this whole time while I was worried that Sophie was way ahead of me, she was thinking the same thing?It had see
med like Sophie knew everything about clothes, boys, and how to be cool. But now Sophie was asking Charlotte for advice, and she actually had some good advice to give!

  “Well, if your stomach feels all funny when you think about him, it’s definitely a crush. And also, I think it’s like what you were saying before: Chacun doit midi à sa porte. Be true to yourself.”

  Sophie smiled and jumped up from the bed. “How about we spend the day together?” she suggested. “Take me to your favorite place here in Boston. Just the two of us—like when you lived in Paris. That is what I want to do today!”

  “Okay!” Charlotte’s heart felt lighter as she leaped up next to Sophie.

  Then her BFF wrapped Charlotte in such a huge bear hug that the two of them fell back onto the bed giggling, just like old times.

  Castle Island

  “Maybe Orangina should visit a castle,” Sophie suggested.

  “Oooh . . . a castle by the sea!” Charlotte replied as she looked out over the ocean from the beach walk around Castle Island.

  Mr. Ramsey had agreed that Charlotte’s idea of spending the day at the historic fort located in the Boston harbor was a wonderful idea, and they’d left immediately after a late breakfast of yogurt parfaits. Marty wanted to come, too, but Avery and Isabel had offered to take him to the park instead.

  It was windy on the beach outside the fort, but neither Sophie nor Charlotte seemed to mind the cool breezes. They were so happy just to be together on an outing—no pressure, no other obligations, no being pulled in a million different directions by a million different people.

  “Can Orangina swim?” Sophie wondered.

  “No, he doesn’t like being wet, remember?” Charlotte replied.

  Sophie ran up to the very edge of the surf, jumping back playfully when the waves came reaching for her bare toes. “It’s all so different here than Paris!” Sophie shouted as Charlotte joined the game. “The ocean is freezing! And everything is bigger. The streets, the cars—everything.”

  “I like it here, though,” Charlotte replied. “Sometimes I miss the Seine, but who needs a river when you have a whole ocean?”

  Just then, a roaring sound distracted them; an airplane had come in to land at Logan Airport. Both their feet got soaked by the next wave.

  Soon, Charlotte thought, all the drama of this past week will be a distant memory. A plane just like that one will carry Sophie back to Paris. . . .

  “We need hot cocoa!” Charlotte announced to get her mind off that sad thought. “There has to be a café somewhere close. . . . Come on!” She linked arms with Sophie, and the girls skipped off laughing.

  “Sophie?” Charlotte asked when they were sitting together, sipping hot chocolate. “Do you want to help me with my story when we get home?”

  “Bien sûr,” her friend replied. “I’d love to!”

  * * *

  Part 6

  Into the Pumpkin Forest

  Orangina flipped open the book so the pages fluttered, then poked his head under to lift it onto his back like a pair of strange-looking wings.

  “Chirp!” Orangina ordered as the storm of colorful, buzzing butterbees dove for his back, screaming in surprise when they landed on paper instead of fur.

  “Tweet. Tweet. Tweet,” said Big Bruce.

  “Louder, petit monsieur!” Orangina yowled as he arched his back, making the “wings” flap like a bird.

  “Tweeeeet! Tweeeeet!”

  Flap, flap.

  Butterbees scattered every which way, hovering just out of reach. Then when the flapping and tweeting didn’t stop, they buzzed off into the bright blue sky.

  “Whooop!” Big Bruce cheered. “We got ’em! Orry, you really are the cleverest bloke I ever did see.”

  “Wherrre is she?” Orangina asked with a faraway look in his eyes. He had shrugged the book-wings off his back and stared into the beautiful painted cat’s green eyes.

  “Ahhh, right this way, mate.”

  Past the field of tulips, the cat and tiny man found a cobbled path leading into a dark, mossy forest. Curling and twisting around the ancient tree trunks were bright green pumpkin vines and huge pumpkin leaves. Here and there, pumpkins the same shade as Orangina’s fur grew bigger than the large dogs that sometimes chased cats through the streets of Paris. Orangina was safe from them on his barge, though. Safe and happy.

  But he realized then that he was feeling pretty good even here in the dark forest, because he had his new friend, Big Bruce, by his side. They’d made it through the tulip field and out of danger, together. All he had to do now was find the beautiful cat from the book, and his adventure would be complete. . . .

  CHAPTER

  17

  The Chipmunk Ninja

  Sophie, let’s go!” Charlotte burst into her bedroom, wearing shorts and a sweatshirt. Her long hair was pulled into a ponytail through the back of an AAJH baseball cap. “My dad’s waiting downstairs. We gotta go pick up Nick, Chelsea, and Dillon for the hike.”

  “I need une minute,” Sophie told her.

  “Umm, Soph, I’m thinking you need more than one minute.” Charlotte surveyed the scene in the room. Sophie stood in her bathrobe in the middle of a maelstrom of clothing. Her suitcase lay upside down on the floor, shoes were scattered out onto Charlotte’s desk, and there was even a pair of discarded brown leggings hanging over the computer monitor!

  Charlotte snagged the leggings and tossed them to Sophie. “Put these on, we need to hit the road.”

  “Non! They are not right.” Sophie flipped through a pile of clothing on the bed. “I want to look nice today.”

  Charlotte knew why. “We’re going hiking, Soph. Dillon won’t care what you wear. And trust me, you’ll be happier if you’re comfortable.”

  “But what will he think if I don’t look like myself?” Sophie held up a short skirt, a short-sleeved sweater, and a silvery scarf.

  Charlotte shook her head no. Sophie grabbed a different pair of leggings, with a little lace around each ankle, a thick belt, and a midlength shirt dress.

  “Hiking,” Charlotte said, shaking her head no again. She could hear her father calling from the front hall. “Think dirt and bugs and rocks.”

  “Ugh.” Sophie grimaced. “Maybe this?” She held up a pair of light khaki pants and a silk blouse.

  “Non! Nothing light colored or dry-clean only.” Charlotte knelt down and dug through Sophie’s suitcase, finally locating a pair of blue jeans and a button-down shirt. “Wear these.”

  “Girls?” Charlotte’s dad called up. “Chelsea’s mom just called. Are you almost ready?”

  “We’ll be right down!” Charlotte answered.

  Sophie reluctantly slipped into the clothes Charlotte had picked out. She went to the mirror and turned this way and that, trying to decide if she liked the way the outfit looked.

  “Dillon likes you for you, not your clothes.” Charlotte reassured Sophie. “But he might change his mind if you don’t hurry up,” she teased.

  “Okay, this is the outfit, then.” Sophie grabbed a thin sweater and tied it around her waist. Then they both stared at her pile of shoes.

  Charlotte saw the problem straightaway. Sophie had no good hiking shoes!

  “Here, you can wear these.” Charlotte handed over a pair of beat-up old hiking boots that had carried her through many adventures in Australia.

  Sophie’s feet had always been a size smaller than Charlotte’s, but now Sophie could just barely squeeze her toes through the opening of the old shoes, and Charlotte’s extra pair of sneakers were also too small!

  There was no choice. Sophie slipped on her ballet flats, and then chose a matching scarf to twine around her neck. As a finishing touch she put on the Red Sox hat Dillon had given her.

  “Done,” Sophie announced, taking one last glance in the mirror.

  “It’ll work—I hope,” Charlotte agreed, hustling Sophie outside and into the car.

  Along the Skyline

  Hiking, biking, and dog-walking tra
ils crisscrossed the Blue Hills Reservation. As Charlotte, Sophie, Chelsea, Nick, and Dillon piled out of Mr. Ramsey’s car, he pointed to their location on a well-worn trail map.

  “The skyline trail makes an eight-mile loop around the whole reservation,” Mr. Ramsey explained. “If you think you can make it the whole way, I’ll meet you back here. But there’s another parking area on the other side where I can pick you up if you get tired. Got your cell phones?”

  Charlotte held up hers. Chelsea had one too, and Dillon had borrowed his dad’s.

  “Okay, kids. Call and tell me when and where you need to be picked up. I won’t go far!” Mr. Ramsey waved and got back in the car. He had offered to hike with them, but Charlotte wanted a day with just her friends. Thankfully, her dad understood and trusted her enough to make good decisions. Also, Nick had completed a hiking safety course at camp the summer before and had brought along a first-aid kit, flashlight, water purification tablets, and a multitool. Mr. Ramsey had double-checked that they each had two bottles of water, a bag lunch, and an extra jacket.

  “Are we ready?” Charlotte asked the group, unable to keep the excitement out of her voice. She loved the smell and taste of the air out in the woods!

  “All systems go.” Nick patted his backpack full of supplies.

  “Sunscreen or bug spray anyone?” Chelsea passed around the bottles and hung her camera around her neck.

  “Is this the place with that sweet view of Boston?” Dillon asked Nick.

  “Totally, but it’s near the end of the loop.” Nick glanced at Sophie’s shoes. “Think you can make it?”

  “Totally.” Sophie confidently tossed back her shoulders and led the way onto the trail.

  The path started out straight and flat. Sophie was entertaining everyone with a story about a science experiment at school that went terribly wrong, until a rock got stuck in her shoe. Everyone stopped while she fished it out.

  “The school smelled like stinky socks for two weeks!” Sophie finished her story and got up to lead the way once again.

  The path was rising slightly now, and Sophie stayed in the lead, slipping this way and that on the loose rocks strewn across the trail. Her little shoes didn’t offer much support, and Dillon hovered right behind her, as if waiting to catch her if she fell.