Amber Brown Is Green with Envy (5 page)

I’m not sure, but I don’t think he should have acted the way that he did when he dropped me off at the house after Christmas vacation….. talking about how he knew where everything was, and how he had been a big part of the house for a long time.

My dad. I’m just getting used to shared custody, to living in both houses. If I am living in another town, what if he decides to move to New York City? That will mean that I won’t see him as much, and I won’t see the Marshalls as much….. and Brenda won’t be my Ambersitter anymore. And
Mrs. Holt won’t be my teacher. There will be a lot of won’ts.

I’ve never really been mad at my mom before, not like this…not BIG TIME…. I may even hate her.…I may even hate Max. (If it wasn’t for him, none of this would happen.) Why did he and Mom fall in love? Why did I start to care about him? And my dad isn’t acting great either. I could hate him too. I know that it is bad to hate…but I can’t help it.

Mrs. Holt has a few students pass around some paper. My friend Brandi is one of them.

“Amber.” Brandi hands a paper to me and leans down and whispers, “Are you okay? Why are you crying?”

I didn’t even know that I was crying.

I put my head down on the desk.

She leaves and a few minutes later, Mrs. Holt comes up to my desk. “Amber, would you please step outside with me for a minute.”

As we leave, she says to the class, “All right, everyone. I want you to start your writing assignment now….. and I don’t want to hear a sound out of anyone.”

I stand outside the door with Mrs. Holt.

I, Amber Brown, am even upset with Mrs. Holt. Why does she have to be such a good teacher that I am going to miss her?

“Do you want to tell me what is bothering you?” Mrs. Holt takes out a tissue and wipes my eyes.

She’s being so nice…. that makes me cry even more.

I tell her what is happening.

Every once in a while, she has to stick her head back inside the classroom to remind the class to quiet down.

The class….. I will miss them too. Fredrich and his nose-picking fingers…. Brandi….. Kelly….. Alicia….. Tiffany and her collection of Barbie dolls….. her little brother, who is always committing Barbiecide on the dolls…Bobby….. everyone…. everyone except for Hannah Burton.

“Amber.” Mrs. Holt leans down.

“Yes.” I sniffle.

“Are you sure that your mom is going to buy a house that is not in town, that you will have to leave the school?” she asks.

I shake my head no. “But they may. They said that they might buy a house someplace else.”

“Have you told your mom how upset you are?”

I shake my head no again.

Mr. Robinson, the principal, comes by.

Mrs. Holt says that she wants to talk with him for a minute.

They go stand about ten feet from me.

I just stand where I am, sniffling.

They come back, and Mrs. Holt says, “Amber, honey. Would you like to go sit in Mr. Robinson’s office until you feel better?”

I sniffle more. “Am I in trouble?”

I, Amber Brown, have never been inside the principal’s office. I thought that was only for bad kids.

Mr. Robinson leans down and says softly, “No, Amber. Not at all. I promise. We just want you to calm down, to be able to talk about what is bothering you.”

All of a sudden, what is bothering me is that I’m not sure that I want to talk with him about what is bothering me. I’m also
not sure that I can go back into the classroom again. I don’t want everyone to see me cry, especially not Hannah Burton.

I’m not sure what I want to do.

A lot of kids say that it is really scary to go to the principal’s office.

I’ve never heard anyone say, “I’m going to the principal’s office, goody!”

We all just stand there.

The class starts getting a little noisy again.

Mr. Robinson just walks to the door and looks in.

The class gets quiet, fast.

Mr. Robinson comes back again.

I, Amber Brown, have to make a decision, and I have to make it now.

If I go back into the class, I’m afraid that I will start crying.

If I go to Mr. Robinson’s office, I may start crying too….. but at least there, I know that he is not going to call me a baby
for crying….. and I know that Hannah Burton is.

I, Amber Brown, am going to the principal’s office.

The principal’s office….. everything looks so serious.

He has one of the biggest desks I’ve ever seen and he’s got one of those big chairs that a person can twirl around in.

I just can’t imagine Mr. Robinson twirling around and around in his chair.

There are pictures of his family on his desk.

It looks like he has two kids and a wife and two dogs. I never thought that a principal would have a child with a nose ring (the girl) and a child with an earring and turquoise hair (the boy).

It looks like their family is still together, a happy family.

I bet the Robinson kids never had to move.

I bet that their parents never got divorced.

I sigh….. a very loud sigh.

“Amber.” Mr. Robinson leans forward. “Would you like to talk with me about what is bothering you?”

Looking at him, across the desk, I shake my head no and then start talking.

My head is saying no, but my mouth talks anyway.

First, I tell him about my parents separating,
and my dad moving away….. and my mom crying a lot in the beginning…. and my dad moving to Paris….. and then coming back….. and how Mom met and is going to marry Max…and that I don’t know who to choose…Max or Dad…and how I was doing badly in Mrs. Holt’s class, not turning in homework or anything…and how I’m doing well now….. and how now my mom is going to sell the house and how we are going to have to move…and maybe move out of town…and I’m going to have to leave the school…. and why should I even bother to do well if they don’t even care about what I want?

I am losing control….. and I don’t think that I am ever going to calm down.

Mr. Robinson just sits there listening.

I cry really hard. There are tears coming out of my eyes, gunk coming out of my nose.

The tissue that Mrs. Holt gave me is soaked.

I throw it in the wastepaper basket.

It misses.

Looking up at Mr. Robinson, I wait for him to yell at me and make me stay after school.

I pick the wet tissue up again and drop it into the wastepaper basket.

This time it goes in.

Mr. Robinson hands me a box of tissues.

I hope that I don’t use them all up.

Blowing my nose, I say, “Thanks.”

He smiles at me. “Amber….. I’m going to let you in on a secret. I have a little refrigerator hidden in this office.”

He walks to a closet door and opens it up. “What kind of soda would you like?”

I sniffle and then grin at him. “Do you have crème soda? That’s my favorite.”

“Mine too,” he says.

I can’t believe it….. the principal of my school likes my favorite soda.

He hands me the soda and then goes into
a drawer and brings out several different kinds of Twizzlers, black licorice and chocolate and strawberry.

“Amber,” he says, “we’ll talk about what is bothering you, but first I’m going to show you something that makes me smile when I am upset. First, though, I have to ask…you are not allergic to any of this and you are not a diabetic…. and your parents let you eat candy?”

I nod and giggle. “My dad lets me eat more candy than my mom does.”

He says, “Okay….. then here goes. Which Twizzler do you think will go better with crème soda?”

I shrug.

I’ve never thought about that before.

He hands me one of each, and then gives himself a chocolate one.

He bites off each end of his Twizzler and uses it as a straw. “Yummmmmmmmmm.”

I giggle and try all three with my soda.

The chocolate Twizzler straw with crème soda is definitely the best. The strawberry one is okay….. the black licorice one is a little pukey.

I smile at Mr. Robinson.

It’s the first time I’ve had a real big happy smile since Mom and Max told me that we would have to move.

We talk more about how I am feeling.

Mr. Robinson says, “I’ll give your mom a call tonight and let her know what we’ve talked about, if that’s all right with you.”

I nod.

“I want you to know,” he says, “that this may not change what is going to happen. There are times in our lives when we have to do things that we don’t like.…Nothing’s perfect, life doesn’t always seem fair. If you have to move to another town, go to another school, it may be hard for you…but I think you are a terrific kid, and you’ll do all right. And you can always write to me….. and I’ll write back.”

I really like Mr. Robinson.

That makes me want to cry again.

I’m sorry that I really like him so much.

That’s one more person that I’m going to miss.