Center of Gravity Page 14

  I did promise. I’m not sure what I’ll do if something terrible happens because I keep Petey and Marvel’s secret, but I did promise.

  “They’ll be separated again,” Jay Jay says quietly. “And it will be worse this time, especially for Marvel.”

  If I did tell, would Dad even think about what happens after he makes his report? I love my dad, but he didn’t think very hard about making me leave Denver and our house and my school and soccer team and friends.

  Adults think they know everything, but sometimes they miss the most important parts. “I won’t tell.”

  ELEVEN

  The rest of the evening goes so slow, I think I might lose my mind. Every time I think it must be nearly midnight, I look up and only ten minutes have passed.

  “You’re driving me crazy with your fidgeting, Tessa,” Dad says. “Why don’t we pull out the Scrabble board?”

  “No!” That comes out too harsh, and both Dad and Lila look at me. Dang it. “I mean … can I just go to bed?”

  “Are you okay?” Dad asks.

  I should say that I have a headache. Or maybe that I’m just tired. But I’m not either one, and I don’t want to lie. Between the campout and not telling about Petey and Marvel, I’m already skirting too close to that line. “I’m fine. I just want to read the book Lila gave me.”

  Dad looks at Lila, and it happens. That little bit of talking without saying anything. Is it all right with you? I don’t care if you don’t. I pluck the words out of the air, as if they’re really flying past.

  “Okay, Cookie.” But I’m already halfway to the stairs.

  Upstairs, I lie on my bed and pull out Petals on the Wind. It helps me forget about the look between Dad and Lila.

  Lila is not my mom. She never will be. I don’t want to like her. I don’t even want to know her. But she isn’t so bad. And Dad wasn’t doing very well, if I’m totally honest with myself, when we were in Denver.

  Maybe he needs someone to talk to without talking.

  * * *

  “Lila bought us the lemonade stuff,” I say. “It cost five bucks. After we pay her that back, the rest is ours.”

  The fire was already going in the grocery cart when I got to the clubhouse at midnight. All the boys were sitting around it. Someone brought hot dogs and Marv had one on an unbent hanger, sizzling.

  “I’ll be surprised if we can make enough to even pay her back,” Oscar says. “This is such a stupid waste of time.”

  “Don’t be a jerk, O,” Jay Jay and Petey both say.

  “There are a ton of people on the beach in the morning.” I sit on one of the milk crates. “It could work.”

  Oscar shakes his head. “Waste of time.”

  “It’s worth a try anyway.” But I’m starting to wonder if this is a good idea after all. These boys are going to hate me if we spend a whole Sunday trying to have a lemonade stand and we can’t even earn enough to pay back Lila.

  “I called Greyhound today,” Jay Jay says, and we all turn toward him. “A one-way ticket to Detroit costs thirty-nine fifty. It’s three days, so some money for food. We need to make, say, a hundred dollars.”

  “We need to give some to our uncle.” Petey shakes his head when Marvel offers him a hot dog. “We have to win that tournament.”

  “But in case we don’t,” Jay Jay says. “Just a plan B. We need about a hundred dollars.”

  “And you think a lemonade stand will do that?” Oscar looks at me. “Or babysitting on Thursday night?”

  “It’s better than nothing,” I say.

  Oscar lifts his eyebrows and opens his mouth, but Jay Jay cuts him off. “Let’s talk about the tournament.”

  Oscar says, “We sucked.”

  “Some of us sucked worse than others.” Jay Jay reaches for the package of hot dogs and sticks one on a hanger. “But we made it through to the finals.”

  “Barely.” Petey takes the hanger when Jay Jay offers it.

  “But we did,” I say. I’ve had an idea brewing all afternoon, and I try to put it into words. “How well do you know Aaron’s crew?”

  “I told you, Aaron was a Loser. Ricky goes to our school, but we don’t hang out with him. I don’t know Matt and Luke at all.” Jay Jay asks the others, “Do you?”

  Oscar and Petey both shake their heads.

  “They go to Eisenhower,” Jay Jay says. “Doesn’t matter anyway. Aaron’s new crew didn’t make it to the finals.”

  “Will they practice with us?”

  All three boys look at me like I’ve lost my mind.

  “We don’t want them to,” Oscar answers. “They’re the enemy.”

  “Oscar’s right,” Jay Jay says when I turn to him.

  “Well, we need to find someone to play against this week in practice.” They all give me blank looks. Weren’t they at the same tournament I was today? “You guys are too used to playing against each other.”

  “And you think the answer is to play against Aaron’s crew, which couldn’t even make it to the finals,” Oscar asks.

  “Well, I just got here. I don’t know any other teams.”

  “Neither do we,” Jay Jay says.

  Everyone is quiet then, and I finally reach for a hot dog myself. I know I’m right, but I can’t make them listen. Petey eats his burned hot dog right off the end of his hanger, the same way that Marvel had.

  Between the fire and the hot dogs and the ocean, the clubhouse smells wonderful. Marvel has opened his sleeping bag and is lying on it, near Petey.

  “I’ll call Aaron this morning,” Petey says. “After our mom goes to work.”

  Oscar adds another stick to the fire. “This is so stupid.”

  Jay Jay sighs. “Don’t be a—”

  Oscar turns on Jay Jay. “I’m not a jerk, okay?”

  Jay Jay holds his hands up. “I’m sorry.”

  “I just don’t want to miss practice time because some girl we barely even know says so.”

  “We’ll still practice,” I say. “We’ll just practice better.”

  “Great.” Oscar unrolls his sleeping bag onto the sand and lies down with his head on his backpack. “I’m still not a jerk.”

  My cheeks burn. “I know you’re not.”

  He grunts once, but his body relaxes some.

  “So what about Aaron’s new crew?” Jay Jay asks.

  “I said I’d ask, okay?” Petey’s voice sounds tight and angry. “Obviously we have to do something different next weekend.”

  * * *

  Oscar’s watch buzzes at six in the morning. The fire has gone out, and I’m inside the sleeping bag that Jay Jay lent me.

  The alarm woke me from a dream about Denver. Nothing in particular, just Denver. My nose is filled with the scent of pine and snow, instead of burned-out campfire and ocean.

  It takes a minute for me to get fully back to California. I sit up and rub my hand over my eyes.

  Jay Jay is already up, folding his sleeping bag. I don’t see Petey and Marvel at all. Oscar seems to be sleeping through his own alarm. Jay Jay pushes Oscar’s hip with his toes. “Come on, O. Get up.”

  I stand and stretch. I have to pee so bad it hurts. “So now what?”

  “Sneak back to bed without waking up your dad,” he says. “And meet us back here at nine. We’re going to the community center to practice.”

  * * *

  I make it back into my room before seven, and the note I’d left on my pillow is still there. I look at the bed and realize way too late that I made a mistake. The note says that I woke up early and went to the beach, but my bed is made. Dad would never believe that I made my bed so early in the morning without anyone telling me I had to.

  I pull the blankets down and get under them, wiggling around a little to make the bed look slept in. It feels so good, lying on a soft mattress after a night on the sand that I stretch out and think another hour of sleep might not be such a bad thing.

  Except I really do have to pee. I get out of bed and take the stairs down to the fi
rst floor. When I come out of the bathroom, Dad’s in the kitchen making coffee.

  When I see him, I feel a little guilty about sneaking out the night before. “Morning.”

  “Morning, Cookie.”

  He just keeps looking at me until I say, “Is everything okay?”

  “Everything’s fine. I just wanted to say goodbye before I head for the airport.”

  Portland. “Are you sure you have to go?”

  He sets his coffee down on the counter. “I’ll only be gone until Tuesday morning, and then I’ll have some time to hang out with you. And I’ll be at your tournament on Friday.”

  “Promise?”

  “I promise.” He leans over and kisses my forehead. “Be sure to help Lila, okay?”

  “Help her with what?”

  “With whatever she needs help with. She’s not feeling very well.”

  I’m hungry, but it still feels weird to just take food from Lila’s kitchen. “What do you mean?”

  “She’s fine,” he says. “Her back’s hurting, that’s all.”

  “I really wish you didn’t have to go.”

  “I’ll call you tonight,” he says.

  He doesn’t say that he wishes he didn’t have to go, too.

  Lila walks into the kitchen and stops, her eyes closing. “I wonder if the smell of coffee will ever stop making me feel like I want to die.”

  Dad pours the rest of his cup into the sink, then picks up the half-full pot and pours that out, too. “I’m sorry, honey. I’ll get some at the airport.”

  “Ready?” Lila asks me. “We need to get on the road.”

  “Oh.” I look at Dad. “Do you mind if I stay? The boys are practicing today.”

  “I’m not sure if I like the idea of you out without anyone here,” he says.

  “Mrs. Sampson will be home.” I turn to Lila. “Please.”

  “I’ll be back by ten,” she says to my dad. “I think it’ll be okay.”

  Dad reaches to brush my hair from my forehead. “You’ll be safe?”

  “I promise.” I look at Lila. “I’ll call at lunchtime to check in.”

  Dad smiles. “Okay then.”

  I go back upstairs. Another hour of sleep really does sound good. Maybe even two.

  * * *

  Before I leave the house, right at nine a.m. I pick up the kitchen phone and exhale slowly before dialing the number on the little slip of paper I pulled from Mrs. Norton’s flyer.

  The phone rings twice before it picks up, and a little kid’s voice says, “Hello.”

  “Oh.” I’ve built myself up to speak to an adult, and I’m suddenly not sure what to say. “Augie?”

  “Yeah!” the kid says, like I’ve won The Price Is Right. “Who’s that?”

  “Um. Tessa. Is your mom—”

  “August Norton, how many times do I have to tell you not to answer the phone?” I hear a little struggle, then Mrs. Norton speaks directly into the phone, “Norton residence.”

  “Um—” I force myself to take a breath and start again. “Hello, my name is Tessa Hart. I saw your flyer at the community center and—”

  “Oh!” The phone goes silent for a second, and I imagine the nurse who reminded me of my mom holding the receiver to her chest. Then I hear her home in the background again before she goes on. “Oh, thank you so much for calling.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  “What was your name again?”

  “Tessa Hart. I just moved here with my dad. I’ve been playing foosball and I saw your flyer and—”

  “How old are you?” she asks.

  “Twelve.”

  Mrs. Norton goes quiet again, and I’m certain she’s going to tell me that I’m too young. Or that she wants someone with references. Or maybe she’ll let me down easy by telling me that she’s already hired a sitter, even though I could tell by her reaction that it isn’t true.

  “Have you ever babysat before?” she asks.

  I think about Petey and Marvel, and a little white lie comes flying out of me before I can stop it. “I’ve helped take care of my friend’s brother. He’s seven.”

  It’s not enough. I wouldn’t let me take care of a four-year-old.

  “Are your parents okay with you watching my son on Thursday nights? I don’t get off work until seven.”

  “My dad knows I’m calling,” I say.

  “I can pay you fifteen dollars a week,” she says. “Since you’ll have to fix Augie’s supper.”

  That’s five more than I guessed, and the only thing I can think of to say is “I make really good macaroni and cheese.”

  “I’m sure he’ll love that,” she says. “I’d like to meet you in person before Thursday. Could you and your mom or dad come by sometime this weekend?”

  “Would tomorrow evening be okay?”

  * * *

  Lila is curled on the sofa. She looks a little green around the edges, but she sits up straighter when I stop in front of her.

  “Headed to practice? Your dad took your bike out for you.”

  “I am,” I say. “But actually, I called that lady I told you about. The one who’s looking for a babysitter on Thursdays. She wants me to come tomorrow at six to meet her. She wants to meet an … um … an adult, too.”

  I still can’t say parent, but Lila doesn’t seem to notice. “That should be okay. Did you get an address?”

  I hand her the slip of paper with the phone number printed on one side, and an address scribbled in pencil on the other. She looks at it and says, “That’s not far at all.”

  * * *

  There’s a group of girls playing on the good table when we get to the community center. Aaron and Ricky are rallying the ball back and forth from keeper to keeper on the Losers’ table.

  “I don’t know if we can teach you very much in one day,” Ricky says. “But we figured we might as well try.”

  Oscar stands beside Ricky and stares at him until he walks around the table to take his place beside Aaron. Petey takes the defense beside Oscar.

  Marvel acts as tender, dropping the ball so the play can start.

  “I called that babysitting job,” I say to Jay Jay when no one is paying attention to us. “I’m going to meet her tomorrow night, with Lila.”

  “Are you going to tell her that you can’t start until next week?”

  I look up at him. I don’t want to lie. “I think she really needs someone this Thursday.”

  “Tessa.”

  “It’s not until four. She’s paying me fifteen dollars a week. Even if the lemonade stand doesn’t work and we lose the tournament, there would be enough money in six weeks.”

  Jay Jay looks at me for a minute. The boys are getting into their game. Oscar slams his offensive line forward and blocks a pass. “I’ll handle O.”

  TWELVE

  When I take Lila’s giant plastic pitcher over to Jay Jay’s on Sunday morning so we can fill it up with ice from his grandma’s freezer, it’s the first time I’ve ever been inside his house.

  His grandmother sits at the kitchen table, drinking tea out of a fancy cup with a matching saucer and working on a crossword puzzle in a folded-up newspaper. She looks at me over the rim of her reading glasses as I follow Jay Jay in.

  Jay Jay takes the pitcher from me and leaves me standing in front of his grandmother while he goes to fill it.

  “You’re Lila’s new girl, then?” She sets her paper down and turns more squarely toward me. She’s wearing a white pantsuit with a pink blouse that matches her low-heeled pumps. She looks like she’s ready to go to work.

  She calls me Lila’s new girl like maybe she thinks I’m at the house to wash the windows.

  “I guess so,” I say.

  “She’s not much older than you. The same age as my Lucy.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Lila O’Neil was a nice young lady before she moved to Colorado.”

  I’m surprised to find myself feeling defensive of Lila. Whatever it is that Mrs. Sampson is tr
ying to say about her, and probably about my dad and me, too, I don’t like very much. “She’s Lila Hart now.”

  Her cheeks turn as pink as her blouse. “Yes, well. I suppose that’s true.”

  “And I’m pretty sure she’s still nice.”

  “Ready?” Jay Jay says before things can get any worse. He’s holding the pitcher, filled with ice cubes.

  “What are you doing with all that ice?” Mrs. Sampson asks. “You must have cleaned us out.”

  “There’s plenty more, Grandma. We’ll be back when we run out.”

  “Joshua Sampson.” I guess she’s not completely against calling him by his father’s name after all.

  “We’re just having a lemonade stand,” he says. “Across the street. I told you last night.”

  Maybe someone as rich as her doesn’t want her grandson to be seen selling powdered lemonade across the street from her mansion. But she purses her lips and shakes her head, then picks up her newspaper again in one hand and her pen in the other.

  She looks at me, though, before we leave. “You tell Lila that I expect to see that baby when it comes.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” I say. I wonder, though, why she didn’t tell Lila herself at the tournament on Friday.

  * * *

  Between the five of us, we lug gallon jugs of water, packets of pink lemonade Flavor Aid, a five-pound bag of sugar, and two sleeves of Styrofoam cups down into the clubhouse.

  Oscar peers at the little paper envelope of drink powder and says, “One cup of sugar. Did anyone bring a measuring cup?”

  Petey and Marv are up on the bluff, setting up a card table with a sheet Lila gave me to use as a tablecloth.

  Jay Jay and I look at each other and groan. One of us will have to go back up and across the street.

  “Rock, Paper, Scissors?” he asks, holding his hands out, one fist resting in the other palm.

  “Forget it,” Oscar says as he lifts the sugar bag and starts to tip it into the ice pitcher. “I’ll just eyeball it.”