It's an Aardvark-Eat-Turtle World (10 page)

Never has she written or called me.

The only one she's in regular contact with is Dave. She's only coming up here to go to a dance with him.

I'm going to stay at the Little Nerdlet's house on that weekend so that I won't have to see her face.

Mindy's upset that I'm leaving. “Rosie, it's your home. You shouldn't have to go.”

However, she also said, “There's a part of me that wants to leave, too, but I'm not going to give her that satisfaction. I'll just work a double shift.”

We refer to Phoebe as “she” and “her” a lot.

I'm lying on my bed, doing my Spanish homework with my stereo on full blast.

Last night was truly boring . . . another Saturday night with the Little Nerdlet . . . El Nerdleto Chiquito.

There's loud knocking on my door.

“Come in,” I yell.

The door opens and Jim walks in, holding his ears.

I turn the music down.

“Rosie.” He smiles at me. “I'm going for a ride to look at the leaves turning color and I'd love company. Want to go with me?”

I look down at my Spanish grammar book and decide to check out the leaves. “Sure. I'd love to.”

Jim grins. “Great. I'll meet you at the car in five minutes, okay?”

After he goes, I put my books away, turn the stereo off, and think about how Jim and Phoebe always went out for rides in the fall.

As I go down the steps, I hear the sound of typing coming from Mindy's study.

Going outside, I see that Jim's already in the car.

As I get inside, he says, “How about Cooper Lake?”

“Great,” I say.

Jim sings “Autumn Leaves,” off tune but happily.

It's a good thing he's an artist, not a rock singer.

Cooper Lake is beautiful. The clear blue water, the leaves turning red, orange, and shades of green.

I wonder what it's like at Lake Ontario and wish I could be there with Jason or he could be here with me.

We drive around for a while and then head for Sunfrost, the fruit and vegetable place that has a great juice bar.

We get out of the car.

Squash and pumpkins are on the tables.

Jim goes inside and picks up corn, broccoli, spinach, and fruit. Being a vegetarian is something he takes very seriously. Mindy, however, loves meat, coffee, and junk food, all the stuff he hates. It makes our kitchen cupboards look very interesting.

After he's done shopping, we sit at the side of the building where the juice bar is set up.

“What would you like to order today?” Cathy, the woman behind the counter, asks.

“The creamsicle,” I say. It's the one made of yogurt, orange juice, and maple syrup.

Jim asks for a glass of orange juice.

It's so much fun to watch the orange juice machine. Cathy throws whole oranges in and the machine slices and squeezes them in minutes.

“Food?” Cathy asks.

Jim orders the power breakfast, although it's late in the day. It's made with green and sweet apples, ground nuts, three kinds of berries, maple syrup, and orange juice. Mindy would have taken me for an ice cream sundae.

I order the avocado plate with chips and salsa.

As we eat, I sit and look around at the green house and gardens by the stand.

“Woodstock in the fall is a great place, isn't it, Phoebe?” Jim smiles.

“I'm Rosie,” I say, staring at him. “Not Phoebe.”

He looks confused. “I didn't call you Phoebe, did I, Rosie?”

I nod, frowning.

“I'm sorry, Rosie.” Jim looks upset. “I know who you are. I guess it's just that I felt so comfortable with you that it was like old times with Phoebe.”

That doesn't please me.

He continues: “What I'm trying to say is that I feel like you're my daughter.”

“Like Phoebe.” I'm getting even less pleased.

He shakes his head. “Like my second daughter, Rosie.”

That makes me feel better.

I guess I can forgive him for calling me Phoebe because he felt close to me. It's kind of like when kids in school call their teachers “Mommy” by mistake. I, of course, called my third-grade teacher “Mindy.”

Jim says, “Look, Rosie. I'm having a wonderful time with you. Please don't let it be ruined because of my mistake.”

He looks miserable.

Poor Jim. He tries so hard to have everything turn out well and it's just not going the way he'd like it.

I smile at him and shake his hand. “Pals.”

“Pals.” He grins.

Jim's had a lot of trouble being a father.

I'm going to try to make it easy for him to be my stepfather.

S
tudy hall . . . .It's so boring.

One kid's reading a comic book behind his geometry text.

Another's playing tic-tac-toe with the kid next to him, on the back of the kid in front of him.

I'm doodling in my notebook, writing in J
ASON 'N' ROSIE.
Then I write J
ASON CARSON.
Then I think about what if we got married and took each other's names. All three of his names would end with
SON.
If I took his name, two out of three would end that way.

I doodle it out on a new sheet of paper:

Someone taps me on the shoulder.

I check out the study hall teacher. He's busy reading the stock quotations in the newspaper.

Turning around, I take the note that is being passed to me by Janie Gams.

It's yet another marriage proposal from Garbage Gut.

I write on the bottom of the paper:

I pass the note back to Janie, who passes it over to Garbage Gut.

He pretends to eat the note.

Since I've met Jason, I'm much more aware of other boys, but even if Jason were not in my life, I seriously doubt that Garbage Gut would be.

The intercom buzzes.

Everyone in the room jumps, afraid that it's for them and they'll be in trouble.

That includes the study hall teacher, who's only trying to hold on till retirement.

It's for me.

I'm being called to the front office.

I can't figure out what I did.

Even though I know I haven't done anything wrong, I'm still nervous. In schools, you're guilty until you're proven innocent.

Getting to the front office, I see Mindy standing there, waiting for me.

I hope that nothing terrible's happened to Jim or Phoebe or my father.

Running up to her, I say, “What's wrong?”

She's grinning from ear to ear. “Nothing. Read this.”

She hands me a letter.

I take the envelope that she's handed me. I pull out the letter and read it.

Mindy's just sold her first book.

Life does go on.

Hooray for our team.

“M
y mother, the author.” I raise my orange juice glass to toast Mindy as we sit on the porch of Deanie's Restaurant.

Mindy clinks her glass to mine. “Your mother, the fibber—who told the school that you had to leave because of an emergency doctor's appointment.”

“I feel paroled.” I keep grinning. “Oh, Mindy, I'm so proud of you.”

The waitress comes up to take our order. She knows Mindy's a waitress, too, and she's really nice to us.

After she leaves, I say, “Can you quit your job now?”

Mindy shakes her head. “Honey, don't expect too much. First of all, they said they'd buy it, but that I'd have to do revisions. Then it takes at least a year before it gets published, and then maybe some money will start coming in six months after that. I'll be getting some advance money, which will help pay bills and will put some money in your college fund, but we're definitely not going to be wealthy . . . .Maybe someday . . . but Rosie, don't expect it.”

If I'm going to be a writer, I'd better be prepared to have another job too.

Taking a sip of my orange juice, I say, “I thought it would be like winning the lottery.”

“No,” Mindy says, “it doesn't work that way, but just think—you'll be able to go into a bookstore and buy
Frogs in My Locker
by Mindy Kovacs.”

“Won't you give me a copy?”

“Not only give you a copy but dedicate it to you,” Mindy tells me.

“Oh, Mom.” I love her so much.

She puts her hand on my cheek. “You haven't called me Mom since you were five years old, came home from kindergarten, and announced that since
it was just the two of us, we'd be pals and on a first-name basis.”

We just look at each other for a few minutes, and then I say, “So tell me everything. What happened when you got the letter? . . . What did Jim say?”

She says, “I went out to our mailbox and there it was. I was so scared that it would be another rejection letter. I opened it up right there . . . and then I jumped into my car and went over to Jim's studio.”

“What did he say?” I ask again.

Since the waitress is bringing us our food, Mindy waits until she leaves and says, “He was excited, sort of. It's hard . . . I interrupted him in the middle of his painting. I've never gone over there while he's working.”

“But you've gone over there with him sometimes at night.”

Mindy blushes. “He's not painting then.”

Now we're both blushing. “So was he pleased or not?”

She nods. “Yes. He was. He hugged me and we jumped up and down. Then we talked about what to do with the money. He said it was all mine. I said it was the family's money. He didn't say anything.

“I asked if he still considered us a family.” Mindy looks very serious. “It was so hard to talk about. He said that he did, sort of, but he missed Phoebe and wanted her to be part of our family.”

“Sort of!” I can't believe it. “How can he say that? And how can he be such a big down on the day that your book gets accepted? That sounds like something Phoebe would do.”

Mindy takes my hand. “Rosie. I know this is all very complicated. Jim and Phoebe are alike in some ways. They're both very self-involved, but Jim is really trying to grow out of it.”

“Why stay with him if he's like that?” I'm getting upset.

“Do you love Jim?” Mindy says.

“Yes. Most of the time.” I nod. “Even when he sings ‘We're Off to See the Gizard.'”

“I love him too,” Mindy says. “Rosie, he's not perfect, but neither am I. We love each other, are able to laugh and have a good time. We can also talk to each other about problems. We try very hard to communicate. That's more than I can say about a lot of people. Nobody has a perfect relationship.”

“I want to,” I say, thinking of Jason.

Mindy shakes her head. “Honey, don't expect perfection. It'll only cause trouble. That's what happened with your father's and my marriage. We had unrealistic expectations about what marriage should be and weren't able to work at making the changes. Now after all those years I've finally met someone I want to be with and I'm working harder at it than I ever did. And so is Jim.”

“Is he really working at it?”

“Yes, but Phoebe's leaving has really hurt him and there are moments when he wonders if he made the right choice or if we should have waited.”

“I hate Phoebe.” I stab at my lunch.

“Try not to.” Mindy shakes her head. “Phoebe's having a difficult time right now. She's a person who really needs a structure, and the divorce and her parents' being with other people has really thrown her for a loop.”

“Other kids don't act that way.”

“Some do,” Mindy continues. “And I don't think even when her parents were together that Phoebe was given a strong structure and taught the best way to act.”

“You're being too nice. She's really tried to screw things up.” I think of how she acted in Canada too.

Mindy nods. “True. There are days I want to wring her neck . . . and I'm really glad she's out of the house if she's going to try to break Jim and me up. But remember last year—she was very lovable, sweet, and fun.”

“I remember. It makes me sad that she's not like that again.” I can feel tears start even though I don't think I care anymore.

“It's a tough time for her,” Mindy says.

“I don't want to stay home when she comes. Do you think I should?”

“Decide for yourself. There's no right or wrong,” Mindy says.

I think about it. “I don't want to see her . . . and I don't want to talk about her anymore. Let's talk about the book.”

Mindy smiles. “Honey, you've always been so helpful around the house so that I could write. And I appreciate your reading the book and giving me suggestions. So I want to buy something very special for you. Think about what you'd like. Don't ask for something for someone else. Pick a present for yourself. I want it to be very special so that when you are very old, you can look at it and say, ‘We got that when Mindy sold her first book.'”