Almost Identical #1 (14 page)

That's for Etta and all the girls who are brave enough to have green hair and purple hair and polka-dot hair.

As my dad would say, I was in the zone.

Charlie was working it, too, playing inspired tennis. She was keeping up with me, shot for shot.

We were too far behind to win the first set, but we won the second, and took the third to a tiebreaker. As a grand finale, I delivered two service aces that ended the match.

Charlie and I threw our rackets in the air and ran into each other's arms.

“We did it!” she said, hugging me hard.

“We certainly did,” I answered, hugging her harder.

It was like old times. We were together, perfectly in sync, two halves of a mighty circle. Wow, did that feel good.

Our dad didn't stop talking all the way home, replaying every minute of the match. He was giggling like a little kid. Ryan was taking full credit for our success, claiming to have inspired us with his words. I kept smiling at Charlie, feeling so close and connected to her, even though Lauren had placed herself in the middle of the backseat, separating us.

Our mom wasn't arriving until seven thirty that night, which gave Charlie and me plenty of time to go out for Pizza Bonding. We had so much to celebrate. Our amazing and surprising win. GoGo's recovery. Our reunion after a tough couple of weeks. Our recommitment to each other. Our friendship. Our sisterhood.

Charlie got into the shower when we got home, and Ryan and Lauren went out to the beach for a walk. I called GoGo. She couldn't talk just then, but I told the nurse to tell her we had won.

“Good for you,” said the nurse. “I'm sure it will make her very happy. She talks about you girls all the time.”

When Dad came out of the kitchen with a glass of orange juice, he ruffled my hair like he used to do in the old days.

“You were fierce out there today,” he said. “Fire in the belly. That's what makes a champion.”

“Thanks, Dad. By the way, can you drop Charlie and me off at Barone's?”

He got a funny look on his face.

“Have you discussed it with your sister?”

“What's to discuss? It's our tradition. She knows that.”

He nodded. “Okay. Just tell me when you're ready.”

I went to our room. Charlie was out of the shower, drying her hair with a towel.

“I'm just going to shower real fast,” I told her, “but I'll be ready in five minutes max. Dad said he'll drive us.”

“Sammie—”

“I know what you're going to say, Charlie, and I agree. Let's get extra cheese today. And maybe some garlic rolls. I'm down with that. We deserve it after the way we played.”

“Sammie,” Charlie said, draping the towel around her shoulders. “I can't go to Barone's. I have plans with Lauren.”

No. I wasn't hearing this. I must've gotten something wrong.

“Excuse me?”

“I'm sorry,” Charlie said. “I know we always go out for pizza. But it's Spencer's birthday, and his mom and dad have invited us all out for dinner.”

“But Charlie. It's our tradition. We've never missed a Pizza Bonding.”

“I know. We'll do it next time. I promise.”

Next time? No, we won't do it next time. And that's because there isn't going to
be
a next time. Not if I have anything to say about it.

“Dad, can you drive me downtown right now?” I asked, hurrying out of our bedroom and into the kitchen. I hadn't even changed clothes, just threw on some sweatpants over my tennis skort.

“What's the rush?” he said with a yawn. “I thought I was taking you girls to Barone's in a while.”

“Yeah, well, plans changed. I need you to drop me off at the Civic Auditorium. I have to be there, like, two hours ago.”

“The Civic Auditorium?” he asked, giving me a curious look. “Why do you want to go there?”

“I'm going to a city council meeting, actually,” I told him.

“Oh, right. I think there's some special program there today,” he said. “Read about it in the newspaper. Something to do with kids and adults.” Then he laughed. “That doesn't narrow it down too much, does it?”

“Could we hurry, please, Dad? It's important.”

“Okay. Okay. I'll get my keys.”

I knew he'd do it. After the win we had delivered for him earlier, he would have driven me to Mars and back if I'd asked him to.

I didn't tell Charlie I was leaving or where I was going. What difference would it make to her? She was going with her friends. Now it was time for me to be with mine. I checked the time. It was after four o'clock. Probably the meeting was over. Probably I had missed the Truth Tellers' performance. But there was always a chance. It was worth a try.

I tapped my foot nervously as we drove the half mile or so to downtown Santa Monica. It's not much of a downtown, just a mall, a couple of hotels, the police station, and the Civic Auditorium where they hold community events like Christmas concerts and gem shows and lectures on how to recycle your plastic and glass. As we got close, I noticed that the parking lot of the Civic Auditorium still had cars in it. That was a good sign. Where there are cars, there are people.

“You can just let me off there, Dad.” I pointed to the main doors where a sign read
A Dialogue with Our Kids, Presented by the Santa Monica City Council. Today, 2:00
.

“Oh, that's the thing I read about,” Dad said.

“Yeah, some of my friends are in there. I'm hoping to catch them.”

I hadn't told him much, if anything, about Truth Tellers since that time at the dinner table when he told me he didn't see the point of it. He hadn't ever asked about it again. So I didn't see any reason to go into why I wanted to get inside so fast. I was sure my dad, unlike Alicia's father, wouldn't have pinned a carnation on his jacket and been a proud parent in the audience. He's a great guy and all, but the truth is, if it doesn't have a bouncing ball, he's not interested.

I hopped out of the car and made a mad dash for the door.

“Call when you need a ride home,” he hollered after me. Without turning around, I waved my hand to let him know I had heard him.

There was a woman sitting at a bridge table at the door. The table was covered with leaflets on various topics, from recycling to parking permits to tide charts. I sprinted toward her.

“You're a little late, honey,” she said when I reached her table.

“It's not over yet, is it?”

“They're just wrapping it up, I believe. But can I interest you in some information on next weekend's craft show?”

“Is it okay if I just go in, anyway?” I asked, and before she could answer, I heard a huge cheer and a giant round of applause coming from inside the hall.

“Sounds like you just missed it, but go on in if you'd like.”

I darted inside and practically galloped across the lobby. Throwing the door to the auditorium open, I saw a room full of people, all on their feet and applauding like crazy. Up on the stage, the Truth Tellers were gathered in a half circle, and standing in the middle of them all was Alicia. She was taking a bow. She smiled broadly at the audience, and I saw her look over at Candido, Esperanza, and her grandmother and blow them a kiss. Six adults, also standing and applauding, were behind a table set up onstage. There was a name tag in front of each of their places, and I assumed they were the city council members.

I wanted to scream. I was so close to getting there in time, but obviously I had just missed Alicia's performance. From the reaction she was getting from the crowd, I knew it had to have been super. I crept down the aisle to the front row, hoping to find an empty seat. Alicia spotted me as she looked up from taking her third bow.
I did it,
she mouthed.

Ms. Carew saw me, too, and flashed me a happy smile. There were no chairs, so I just scrunched down in the aisle.

“I want to thank Ms. Carew and her remarkable group of students from Beachside Middle School,” one of the council members said when the applause finally died down. “Too often we talk to our kids, but we don't listen to them. I think we've learned today that these fine young people have a lot to teach us about facing challenges with courage and honesty.”

The audience applauded again, and then a couple of the parents started yelling “Encore!” The crowd picked up on it, and soon lots of people were yelling “Encore! Encore!”

The councilman quieted them down with his hands, then turned to Ms. Carew.

“It appears our citizens haven't heard enough from your students,” he said. “Do you have one more piece you'd like to do about life in middle school?”

Ms. Carew looked at the group assembled onstage.

“Kids? Is there something more you'd like to do?”

They talked among themselves for a second, then Alicia spoke up.

“Yes, we have one more thing,” she said. “Everyone stay where you are. I'll be right back.”

She bounced down the stairs of the stage, came over and got me, and pulled me back onstage with her.

“What are you doing?” I whispered.

“We've all had our turns,” she said. “Now it's yours.”

“I can't. I don't know what to say.”

“You're a Truth Teller, Sammie. Time to tell it like it is.”

“But I don't have anything prepared.”

“Remember what you told me?” she said. “Speak from the heart. That's all you have to do.”

Alicia deposited me in the middle of the stage, then joined the others and left me standing alone in front of the microphone, facing the largest group of people I'd ever faced . . . without a tennis racket in my hand and Charlie at my side, that is. It was scary.

I looked over at Ms. Carew. I'm sure she could see the fear in my eyes. I had no game to hide behind. No forehand or backhand. No killer serve. No strategy. No sister. Just me and my mouth and my heart.

My mind was a total blank. All those faces staring at me, waiting for me to talk. I looked down at my feet and suddenly realized that I was standing onstage in my grungy sweatpants. I felt completely embarrassed. And that gave me an idea.

“As you can see,” I said into the microphone, “I'm not much into fashion. I'm a tennis player, a jock, and my idea of dressing up is sweatpants and a T-shirt. That makes me something of a geek at Beachside. I don't have great hair or made-up eyes or glossy lips like a lot of the other girls. And in case you didn't notice, I don't have a skinny, little body. It doesn't look good in tight clothes, that's for sure. But it's my body. It's strong and healthy, and I'm trying to learn to think it's . . . well . . . fantabulous.”

And then, I recited Sonya Sones's poem.

 

“I don't need to rock
a pair of size 2 jeans
or prance through the pages
of magazines

because I am a woman
who's round and full,
made of wind and wild
and honey.

A woman made
of curve and swerve
and flow and glow
and strong and funny.

I am a woman made
of fire and fierce and free.
I am fantabulous.
Fantabulous me!”

When I finished, there was total silence in the room. And then one of the moms in the back row stood up and yelled, “You tell 'em, girlfriend. You tell 'em like it is!”

All the women in the room jumped to their feet and started to applaud. Pretty soon, the men followed. The whole room was standing and cheering.

And they were cheering for me.

“You rocked the house,” Keisha said to me, stuffing a large slice of pepperoni pizza into her mouth.

“Correction.
We
rocked the house,” I answered, chomping down on my own slice with olives. I had thought of ordering sausage and mushroom, but it didn't seem right. Not yet. It would take a while before I could do that.

“Can you believe the reaction we got?” Alicia giggled.

“Yes, I can,” Sara said. “And do you know why we got it?”

“Because we rock!” everyone said in unison.

The Truth Tellers were gathered around a long table at Antonio's Pizza Parlor, which was just down the street from the Civic Auditorium. Ms. Carew had offered to take us all out for pizza to celebrate, and we accepted, naturally.

“I'm proud of each and every one of you,”
Ms. Carew said, raising a glass of lemonade to toast us. “It takes courage to tell the truth, especially to yourselves. So I salute you guys. Here's to truth and here's to pizza!”

We ate and laughed and celebrated. Just as we were polishing off the last slices, the door opened and another large group of kids came in. The General led the way, followed by Brooke. Then Jillian and Sean, Lily and Lauren, Spencer and . . . Charlie. At first she didn't see me, but when she did, she froze in place. I think I was the last person she was expecting to see.

There were eight SF2s in all. Spencer brought up the rear, and he was followed by the man who had talked at the city council meeting. When the man saw our group, he marched right over to our table.

“Congratulations again,” he said, going around and shaking each of our hands. Then, turning around, he called out, “Spence, come on over here for a minute.”

Spencer, who was taking a seat next to Charlie, left her side and walked over to our table.

“Do any of you guys know my son Spencer?” the man said. “Say hello to a remarkable group of kids, Spence.”

“Hey, guys,” Spencer said. Then, seeing me, he added, “What's up, Sammie?”

“You never told me your dad was on the city council,” I said.

“You never asked. Everyone, meet my dad, Tom Ballard. Watch out, or he'll shake your hands again. Nothing he likes better than to press the flesh.” Spencer slapped his dad on the back in a really sweet way, then flashed a cocky grin which I swear was aimed at me. I noticed that he had a dimple on one side when he smiled. Why hadn't I ever noticed that before?

Maybe it's because he never smiled at you before, airhead. Did you ever think of that?

“So how is it you don't know any of these kids?” Mr. Ballard asked Spencer. “You go to the same school, for crying out loud.”

“I know Sammie really well,” Spencer said. “She throws a mean Frisbee. She's Charlie's twin sister.”

Mr. Ballard looked over at Charlie, then back at me.

“So she is,” he said. “Oh, wait a minute. You're Rick's girls, from the club.”

I nodded. By that time, Charlie had come over to say hi. I noticed that none of the other SF2s joined her. They were already sitting down, ordering Cokes from the waiter. Lauren was figuring out what kind of pizzas they should order. In charge, as always.

“So tell me, ladies,” Mr. Ballard said, putting an arm around Charlie. “Which one of you is older?”

“I'm older,” Charlie said.

“And I'm wiser,” I said. And this time, I really meant it.

Mr. Ballard let out a big, friendly laugh.

“You're a hoot!” he said to me.

“So people say,” I told him, nodding.

Then he shook my hand and waved good-bye to all of us. You could see how a friendly guy like that got elected to city council. He and Spencer went back to their table to join the SF2 kids. I could tell Charlie wanted to go, but she didn't. She just stood there like she was reporting for duty, looking awkward and uncomfortable.

“So where have you guys been?” she asked.

Alicia told her about our performance at the Civic Auditorium. She seemed very surprised.

“Did you go?” she said to me.

“I was supposed to, but I missed most of it. I got there at the very end.”

“But just in time to be a smash,” Alicia said. “You should've seen her. You would have been so proud.”

I could tell Charlie was thinking, biting her lower lip like she does when she's concentrating. Our waiter brought a tray of ice-cream sundaes for dessert, and everyone lunged for them. Except me. This time, it wasn't that I was watching my weight. I was watching Charlie.

“So you skipped your show because of our tournament?” she said.

I nodded. “I promised GoGo.”

“You didn't tell me about the show,” she said.

“You didn't tell me about Spencer's party,” I replied.

“You didn't ask.”

“Neither did you.”

That was the truth of it. Just a few weeks before, we would have known. About the party, about the performance, about each other. But that was before Beachside, before the SF2s, before I learned how to be a Truth Teller. Now there was a strange gap between us. Not necessarily in a bad way. But definitely in a new way.

“Well, I better get back,” Charlie said. “My friends are waiting for me.”

I nodded. “So are mine.”

I watched her go over and take a seat between Spencer and Lauren. She looked natural there in between them, like she belonged.

I felt a hand on my shoulder. It was Alicia.

“You okay?” she asked.

I looked over at Charlie's table, then back at my own, filled with my new friends.

“You know what, Alicia? I'm more than okay,” I said, taking her hands and feeling entirely like a Truth Teller. “I'm fantabulous.”