Worst Enemies/Best Friends Page 6

  “Hi, Charlotte,” I said, snatching her book. She blinked like she was reentering Earth’s atmosphere. My brother Sam’s the same way when he’s reading. Personally, I don’t get it.

  “Uh. Hi, Maeve.”

  “Wanna taste the best hot chocolate in the entire world?” She still looked dazed.

  “Sure, I guess so.”

  “Great,” I said, putting down her book and grabbing her arm. I pulled her out the door.

  “It’s not too far, is it?” she asked. “I told my dad I’d stick to Harvard Street, unless I called him.”

  “No, silly,” I assured her, dragging her across the street to the entrance of Montoya’s Bakery. “You’re going to absolutely LOVE this place,” I said.

  “Oh, no,” she said, stopping cold. “Not here.” She looked like she was going to bolt. What was up with her?

  I grabbed her arm. “Oh, yes,” I answered, and dragged her inside. “Here.”

  The jingling bell on the screen door announced our entrance. Charlotte was looking a little green. I chattered in her ear while checking the room full of round tables and chairs. No sign of Nick. His older sister, Fabiana, “local legend and star of most of the Brookline High musicals,” stood behind a case full of cookies, muffins, and croissants.

  “May I help you?” Fabiana asked.

  “Two hot chocolates, please.”

  “I’ll bet you both want whipped cream,” she said.

  Charlotte and I nodded. I absolutely adore this place. Yummy baking smells filled the air: brownies, cakes, and fresh bread. Fabiana squirted mountains of whipped cream into our mugs.

  “Chocolate sprinkles on top?” she asked.

  We nodded again.

  “This place is great,” said Charlotte.

  “I knew you’d love it,” I said. “That’s why I brought you here.”

  Not really, but with a soup bowl of hot chocolate and Nick in my future, I was feeling warm and fuzzy.

  “You look familiar,” Fabiana told me.

  “Maybe you’ve seen me in the movies,” I said, giggling. “My parents own The Movie House.”

  “That’s it. I’ve seen you at the candy counter. We’ve been going to your movie theater since we were little. My father used to drag us to all his old favorites so he could brush up his English. I’m Fabiana.”

  Like I didn’t know her name and every time her family had been in!

  “Hi!” I said. “I’m Maeve Kaplan-Taylor and this is my friend Charlotte Ramsey.”

  Charlotte smiled. She was looking a little less nervous. I carried our drinks to a window table. Things were going well, but there was no sense in taking any chances.

  “Thanks,” she said, looking relieved.

  Just as we were sitting down, HE came out of the kitchen and glanced at our table. So what if we were the only people in the bakery? It was a meaningful glance. He smiled and walked toward us. As he pulled up a chair, I held my breath. I wanted to remember his first words forever.

  “Did you really live on a houseboat in Paris?” Nick asked.

  “I’ve never been…” I started to answer.

  “Yeah, I did,” Charlotte mumbled into her hot chocolate.

  Hey! Wait a minute! Who was running this conversation anyway?

  “Cool!” said Nick.

  “I’m Charlotte’s good friend Maeve,” I offered, trying to get things back under control.

  “Hi Maeve,” he said, and turned back to Charlotte with a killer smile. “Nice teeth,” he said, his brown eyes sparkling.

  Nice teeth? Was this some code between them? Why was she blushing?

  “So,” Nick went on, “tell me about the houseboat. I’ve always wanted to live on the water.”

  Was I invisible here?

  “It wasn’t as cool as it sounds,” said Charlotte, who had finally stopped blushing. “The river was dirty and there wasn’t much room. Australia was a lot better.”

  “Australia?! You lived in Australia? I’ve always wanted to go diving at the Great Barrier Reef. Have you been there?”

  “Sure!” she said. “I lived in Port Douglas. We snorkeled on the reef a lot.”

  This was annoying. Suddenly, the shy, nerdy bookworm was chatty and smiley. She even looked the teensiest bit pretty! Where did this come from? Help! What could I do?

  “I haven’t swum in anything but a wading pool since I saw Jaws,” I joked.

  They both gave me blank looks. Hey! Don’t you recognize humor when you hear it? On and on Charlotte droned about going barefoot to school and swimming with sea turtles. Boring, boring, boring. But Nick didn’t seem to think so. Hmmpf.

  “Wow!” he kept saying over and over, like he was stuck. “Wow!” This was getting too far off my script. Time for a show stopper.

  “Hey!” I said. “Wanna see an imitation?”

  I stood up and nailed my Janet Jackson moves. Yes! Nick was so obviously enchanted. Then the door jingled and someone rushed in.

  “Hey, Nick! You coming?”

  COMEDY CENTRAL…

  I couldn’t believe it! Avery, from my lunch group—with a basketball! Was Katani next? If I didn’t know better, I’d think THEY were my destiny instead of NICK! All we needed was one of Ms. Rodriguez’s checkerboard tablecloths—and that gave me an idea.

  “Wait, wait…One more imitation,” I said.

  “Cool,” said Avery as Nick and Charlotte agreed. “Great!”

  Avery bounced over and sat on the edge of Nick’s chair. I hate people who are tiny and cute enough to fit onto other people’s destined beloved’s chairs. And her constant giggling was distracting Nick. Definitely time for my newest, funniest imitation for him. Something to remember me by the whole time he was away from me.

  I grabbed Charlotte’s glasses, stuck the tablecloth in my pants, and started to walk away. Laughing, Nick caught our mugs before they hit the floor.

  I have to admit—I felt the teensiest bit mean when I saw Charlotte’s face, but why’d she have to take it so seriously? It was only a joke.

  CHAPTER 11

  CHARLOTTE

  Empty House

  The walk up the hill seemed to go on forever. It was the same trees and houses, same sidewalk and lampposts, but my feet dragged like I was walking through mud. I couldn’t think of a reason to get home. Even on a good day, 3:30 is an empty time of the afternoon. Right after school is when I miss having my mother the most, which is strange because she died before I even went to kindergarten. It just seems like the time of day someone should be meeting you at the door, greeting you with a snack, and asking about your day. I would have told her how awful it had been…how each time I thought someone around here was nice, they turned out to be nasty. I know that she would have understood.

  I sat on the sidewalk and looked down the hill toward Beacon Street. Some of the houses were as fancy as ours, with turrets and balconies and painted woodwork. I liked our house, but it was empty, and I couldn’t figure out a way into the Tower. If I could get into the Tower, I could see past school, past Boston, maybe all the way to the ocean. I was stuck between a lonely house and a school where I was doomed to be humiliated. Maybe I’d just sit here on the steps—halfway up, halfway down—until winter came and the snow covered me. My face felt hot, and I could tell I was about to start crying…

  Hey, I said to myself, get a grip, Charlotte. This was only the second day of school…Dad’s right. I’ve always made friends before. Why would Brookline be any different? I just had to be patient.

  I climbed the front porch, and did my usual trick of pretending there’s a whole family waiting inside for me. Opening the front door, I ran up the front stairs, and called out, “Hi, everybody! I’m home!”

  Then, the strangest thing happened. I heard a voice. At least I thought I heard a voice. I peeked over the banister toward the empty dining room with the dusty chandelier and into the carpetless living room with the grand piano. It must have been an echo in these dusty old rooms. All the same, I ran upstairs and t
urned on all the lights, even though it was still daylight. I headed to my desk, put on my writing jacket, and scribbled Sophie a letter on the barf bag I got from the seat pocket on the flight over.

  * * *

  September 4th

  Hey Sophie,

  Do you like my barf bag stationery? I snagged it on the plane just for you, mon amie. Speaking of friends, I don’t have any here. I thought I did for a few minutes this afternoon. A girl from my lunch group, Maeve, invited me to a bakery. But she ended up completely embarrassing me in front of a bunch of people.

  I’m so lonely. There’s no one to talk to. Remember Roman Day last year when Monsieur Spurling would only let us talk in Latin? My lunch table is more deathly silent than that. Speaking of lunch, here’s one that will make you gag—French toast sticks. Don’t worry, there’s no translation. Just imagine a piece of sponge left in the sun—although that would have more flavor. I miss those French baguettes so much. Thanks for looking for Orangina. I miss you très très très très like crazy.

  Love,

  Charlotte

  airsicknessbag

  * * *

  CHAPTER 12

  KATANI

  Changing the Rules

  Ms. Rodriguez had given us the homework assignment of writing a letter to change something at our school we didn’t like. That wasn’t hard. I detested my lunch group.

  If I Could Change a School Rule

  Dear Ms. Rodriguez,

  I don’t think it is fair that we have assigned seats at lunch. First, this is the one time we have to relax with our friends from other classes. Second, you say we need to bond with our new classmates, but our bonds with our old elementary school friends are just as important. Third, our lunch group really has nothing in common. Fourth, I design and sew a lot of my own clothes. It would cut into my homework time if any more of them were ruined by someone dropping a tray, or trays, or yanking a tablecloth.

  I have thought long and hard about the problem and our chat and about a solution. I think we should have a sleepover. That way we’ll get to know each other quickly and then we can move on and sit with other people at lunch.

  Sincerely,

  Katani Summers

  I didn’t think it was possible, but lunch that Friday was even quieter than the day before. Something must have happened between Charlotte and Maeve, because Charlotte wouldn’t even look at her. I wonder what did happen? The sooner this was over, the better for all of us. I was thinking about Ms. R, and whether she had read my letter, when there she was, right behind me. She is seriously psychic.

  “Girls,” she asked. “How is lunch going today?”

  We all mumbled “fine” or something like that.

  “Well, Katani wrote me an interesting letter last night,” began Ms. R, “about changing the assigned tables rule. Thank you for your letter, Katani.”

  “You’re welcome, Ms. Rodriguez,” I answered.

  The tables near us were listening to every word.

  “Katani, it was obvious you thought long and hard about your assignment. I, too, thought long and hard when I put the groups together. I appreciate your creativity in suggesting a sleepover instead of spending the next few weeks getting to know each other at lunch.”

  And then she spelled out our chance at freedom.

  “With your parents’ permission, I’ll OK a sleepover this Saturday. If all goes according to your plan and by Monday you’d like to move to free seating, I’ll honor that. Of course, you’ll still have to fulfill the writing assignment on what you learned about each other. I’ll look forward to hearing how it goes.”

  I think the other girls were surprised, but they didn’t look disappointed.

  The buzz from other tables started up. I heard Billy Trentini say, “So what if Charlotte spilled some food. Get over it. That Katani is real cold.”

  “Brrrrrrrr,” said Daniel Jordan. “Where are my hat and mittens?”

  That was enough of that.

  “Billy,” I said, “I just want to sit where I want. They can put me in whatever class they want, but I have a right to be with my friends at lunch.”

  “What friends, Katani?” asked Henry Yurt.

  I thought Avery’s milk was going to come out of her nose. Boys can be so stupid. If my name was “Yurt” maybe I’d be stupid, too. I did not have time for this.

  “Very not funny, Henry. And when was the last party you were invited to?”

  Then, I turned and asked, “Who wants out of this seating arrangement?”

  There was a long, weird pause—one of those pauses when you know everybody’s wondering, “Should I do this or not?”

  “OK,” said Charlotte.

  “Me, too,” said Maeve, tossing her hair.

  “Sure,” Avery said between giggles. “Whatever. Charlotte, can I have that napkin?”

  “So,” I began. “Let’s make this as painless as possible. We’ll draw for the house, get permission, and meet after dinner Saturday at one of our houses. No reason to drag it out through another dangerous meal.”

  Charlotte looked away.

  CHAPTER 13

  CHARLOTTE

  Losing the Lottery

  To: Sophie

  From: Charlotte

  Subject: drama

  hey sophie:

  it will really be a relief when it’s over, but what happened today still feels weird. we got our teacher’s ok to end the lunch group if we have a sleepover. we’re supposed to e-mail each other about permission tonight. katani said “no use stalling. somebody has to host this thing.” so we drew for it.

  the girl who laughs at everything, avery, put four pieces of paper—three blanks, one with a big fat S for Sleepover into her baseball cap. Not me, not me, please not me i prayed when i pulled out my slip of paper. i couldn’t handle the pressure of the three witches at my house, even if they were asleep. at first i thought i was safe because mine was blank. then I saw them cheering. the S was on the other side of my slip. S for Super. just super. i called dad and got permission, but I haven’t gotten any e-mails from those girls yet, so it may not happen. kind of a no-win situation. wish me luck.

  miss you.

  charlotte

  Dad was way too excited about the sleepover when he got home. I reminded him the girls weren’t coming because they liked me, but that didn’t stop him from turning into a cleaning tornado. I helped for a while but then I went to my room. I was kind of sad because these would be my first Brookline visitors, my first sleepover, and nobody really wanted to be here. I wasn’t even sure I’d show them my room, but just in case, I hid Truffles so I wouldn’t look babyish. Dad was in his office writing when I went to bed.

  “So, we’ll get to the store early,” he said, “buy a few things for tomorrow night…”

  “Dad,” I interrupted, “I think this is getting out of control, don’t you?”

  But he kept right on talking.

  “…and on the way, we’ll stop off for pancakes.”

  “Did you say ‘pancakes’?”

  He really knows me.

  “Thought that would do the trick.”

  CHAPTER 14

  CHARLOTTE

  Truth and Consequences

  I woke up early and, because Dad wouldn’t be up for a while, went to check out the park across the street. It wasn’t that big, but the lawn seemed to roll away to the edge of the world. I sat on a swing and watched a woman playing with her dog. I’m kind of a cat person…but that’s probably because I’ve never had a dog.

  As I swung up in the air, I could see our house. We had found the place through the housing office at Boston University. I knew why Dad decided to rent the top half of this yellow Victorian with the midnight blue shutters. He loved the possibilities of old homes full of cozy nooks and crannies. I did, too. This one reminded me of a birthday cake, spread with frosting shingles, sugar balconies, and a Tower on top. The wide front steps led up to a grand porch with towering pillars and a porch swing at one corner. Floor
to ceiling windows, twice as tall as I was, reflected the golden light of the rising sun on the trees.

  When we were looking for places to live, the porch and the balconies were what first captured our attention. The inside of the house was really cool, too. I loved the elegant, winding front stairway leading to the second floor—our floor. The banister was perfect for sliding. I tried it out on our first day in the house.

  But it was the windowed room on the roof, the Tower in the center of the house, that sold me. Each of the four sides had a large center window, sandwiched between two smaller windows.

  I really wanted to ask our new landlady, Miss Pierce, about the Tower, but we still hadn’t seen her yet. The day we signed the lease, the rental agent explained that Miss Pierce lived in an apartment downstairs, and that in the ten years of renting the space, she had never ever seen her. I thought that was kind of weird and really spooky.

  “How does she get food?” I remember asking her.

  “I honestly don’t know,” she answered. “My only contact with Miss Pierce is by e-mail.”

  “By the way, she has a couple of rules, and she’s very strict about them.”

  “What are the rules?” I asked the lady.

  “No pets, and restrict your use of the house to the second floor.”

  I turned to Dad and said, “This sounds like a perfect setup for a murder mystery.”

  “Charlotte,” he said, laughing. “I know this isn’t the parent or author thing to say, but you need to stop reading so much. The poor woman is just a shy recluse…period.”

  “OK, Dad, but do you think she’ll ever let us into the cool Tower on the top?”

  “First, Charlotte, it’s a cupola, not a Tower. Towers come on castles. This is just an architectural decoration on top of a Victorian house.”