Picture Perfect #5 (2 page)

“What's the matter, Gracie? Spaghetti too hot?” Mr. Hardwick asked at dinner.

Gracie shrugged. “I guess I'm not hungry.” She'd finished her homework way before dinnertime, as usual, so she was feeling even more bothered that she hadn't been allowed to hang out with Mari at school. There would have been plenty of time to get everything done.

“You've been out of sorts all afternoon,” her mother said, reaching across the table to place a slim brown hand on Gracie's forehead. “Are you coming down with something, sweetheart?”

“No. I just . . . I wish that I had been able to spend more time with Mari today,” Gracie blurted out.

Her mother looked startled. “Gracie, you know the schedule. On the days you have band practice, we have to get right home to start your homework.”

“I know, but my homework doesn't take a whole hour,” Gracie protested.

“Sometimes it does,” her father replied. “And as you get older, the homework gets longer and harder. It's good to get in the habit of setting aside enough time.”

Gracie sighed. She understood why her parents liked to stick to a schedule, but she wished that, just once, she didn't have to follow it. Her parents always agreed with each other, and neither of them seemed to realize that
she
didn't agree.

“What about over the weekend? You didn't even listen to our plan for the sleepover,” she pointed out. “There's no school on the weekend. Why can't I sleep at Mari's?”

Her parents exchanged a surprised glance. “Well, we're busy,” Mr. Hardwick said. “I don't know when you'd even have time to go to Mari's.”

“Right. On Saturday we always visit Gram and Pops, and then we volunteer at the soup kitchen,” her mother said. “And then on Sunday we have to do the shopping, and in the afternoon is our weekly family hike. We're completely booked up.”

“Why can't I skip one of those things?” Gracie asked. “Just once, for one weekend, so I can have a normal sleepover with my best friend.”

Ms. Hardwick's eyebrows drew together in confusion. “You see Mari every day at school. You've gone to her house three times this month. Weekends are family time.”

“You know how important family time is, Gracie,” her dad put in. “It's the three of us against the world!”

“I don't want to be against the world, though,” Gracie replied. “I want to be part of it.”

Her parents both laughed. “It's just an expression, honey,” Mr. Hardwick said.

“It means family comes first,” Ms. Hardwick agreed.

“Of course it does,” Gracie said. “But how come everybody else manages to have family
and
friends?”

“Sweetheart, what's gotten into you?” her mother asked. “You've always loved our weekends.”

“Maybe Mom and Dad aren't cool enough for her anymore,” Mr. Hardwick joked.

Before Gracie could think of how to respond to that, the phone rang.

Gracie's parents still hadn't gotten her a cell phone of her own. They gave her one of theirs to use on special occasions, when they thought she would need it for security. Since they both had cells, any call on the landline was usually for Gracie.

“Are we expecting a call?” her father asked.

Ms. Hardwick shook her head. “It's probably a sales call. You didn't tell anyone they could call during dinnertime, did you, Gracie?”

“Of course not. But can I get it?” Gracie asked. “I'm not hungry anyway.”

Her mother frowned, looking concerned, but she nodded. Gracie pushed back her chair and went over to grab the phone.

“You're never going to believe this!” Mari cried without even saying hello. “It's the best thing ever! Ever ever
ever
!”

“Um, hi,” Gracie said, confused why Mari would be calling right then.

“Sorry, I know it's against the rules to call during dinner,” Mari said. “I was so excited I didn't realize what time it was until I had already dialed your number.”

“That's okay, we were having a sort of fight,” Gracie replied. “Or a talk. Or something.”

“Uh-oh. Are you in trouble?” Mari asked.

“I don't think so.” Gracie shot a look at her parents, who had gone back to eating. “Usually I wouldn't have been allowed to answer the phone, but tonight my mom let me. I must have gotten to her. She thinks I'm being weird.”

“Weird how?” Mari asked.

“I was complaining about how she never lets me do anything.”

“Oh.” Gracie heard Mari blow a bubble with her gum. “Well, it's about time you complained. But your mom is right—you are acting weird. You're not a complainer.”

“I know.” Gracie bit her lip, feeling a little guilty. Had she been too harsh on her mother? “I guess I should apologize.”

“Not until you hear my news!”

“Right. Sorry. What did you call about?” Gracie asked.

“Only the most amazing thing in the history of things,” Mari told her. “My sister Kat just called from college. She's working on this crazy experiment for her sociology class where she and another person are supposed to do a life swap for two weeks.”

“Like, switch lives?” Gracie said.

“Yup. Live in each other's dorm rooms, go to each other's classes, hang with each other's friends, all that. At the end, they write a paper about what they've learned,” Mari replied. “But here's the thing! The girl Kat is switching with has a job that makes her work on weekends, and they won't let her take time off. So Kat has to work all weekend for the next two weeks.”

“Oooo-kay,” Gracie said, confused. How did this story end up being the best thing in the history of things?

“Don't be so spacey, Gracie,” Mari teased her. “Think about it. Next weekend? The long weekend. The weekend when my family goes skiing every year?”

“Oh, right!” Gracie said. The O'Hagans always went to Vermont over Presidents' Day weekend, when they had three days off from school. “So do you mean you're taking this other girl with you? Kat's life-swap partner?”

“Nope. They thought it would be too weird, so she's going to stay at college and write Kat's economics paper. So Kat is pretty happy about that. Which means . . .” Mari paused dramatically. “We have an extra bed in our ski cabin!”

“Wow. Okay,” Gracie said. She wasn't really sure what was so great about that. Mari loved her big sister. Wouldn't it be better to have her along?

“Gracie! Don't you get it? You can come with us!” Mari cried. “My mom said I could invite you.”

“No way!” Gracie said. “That's amazing!”

“I told you!” Mari agreed. “We've got about a million pairs of skis in different sizes from everyone growing out of them, so you won't have to bring a thing. There's room in the car and an extra bed and everything. It will be even more epic than the epic two-night sleepover.”

Gracie's heart sank at the thought of the epic sleepover, otherwise known as the sleepover that
would never happen. Just like this would end up being known as the ski trip that never happened. “Mari, my mother will never let me go on a ski trip with you. First of all, she'll worry that I'm going to wipe out and break my leg or something.”

“No, she won't. You've been skiing since you were two,” Mari said.

“That doesn't stop my mother from worrying,” Gracie grumbled. “And besides, it's more than two nights, and she wouldn't even say yes to that.”

“I know, but it's no problem,” Mari said.

“Why not?”

“Because this is the best thing that has ever happened, and we're not going to let your parents keep us from doing it,” Mari replied. “We just need to come up with a plan.”

Gracie groaned. “Mar, your plans never work. Remember when you tried to get my parents to adopt one of Fluffmeister's kittens by leaving her in a box on our doorstep? My mom knew who had done it in about two seconds and sent him right back.”

“Yeah, but that was because I was nine and I didn't think to disguise my handwriting in the ‘adopt me' note,” Mari said. “This will be different.”

“I doubt it,” Gracie said. “What kind of a plan would
change my mom's mind about sticking to the schedule?”

“Well, it's already different than usual, because it's an extralong weekend,” Mari said thoughtfully. “So your mom can't worry about the usual rules.”

“Wrong. The weekend rules are still the same. We have to go see my grandparents on Saturday, and then we volunteer. And then on Sunday it's shopping and—”

“—your family hike. I know,” Mari said. “But it's a holiday weekend.”

“We still keep the same schedule,” Gracie said. “My parents think consistency gives me a solid ground to stand on and will help me feel secure.”

“What?” Mari laughed.

“I know. They read it in a parenting magazine when I was two years old and they've been consistent ever since.” Gracie sighed.

“Hmm.” Mari hesitated for a moment, thinking. “I've got it!”

“What?”

“Your mom will say you can't come because you have to do all that stuff, right? So we just have to get rid of all the stuff!” Mari cried.

Gracie snorted. “Get rid of it how?”

“I don't know. But we'll figure it out, because it's worth it. Right?”

“Right,” Gracie agreed. “Tomorrow morning at school, we'll start planning.”

One of Gracie's favorite things about Mari was that she thought anything was possible. Maybe Gracie couldn't change her mother's mind on her own, but with the help of her best friend, she knew they could do anything.

“First thing you should do is call your gram,” Mari said the next day as she and Gracie walked from homeroom to their social studies class. “I was thinking about it all night long, and Gram is your best chance at getting out of the weekend stuff.”

“You're a genius!” Gracie cried. “Gram and Pops are always saying I should live life to the fullest. So if I just explain to Gram that what I really, really want is to go skiing with you, she'll try to help me do it.”

“Exactly. So that will get you out of going to your grandparents' house, and I bet Gram will help you convince your mom that you don't have to do the rest of the stuff either.”

“It's hard to convince anyone that I shouldn't go volunteer at the soup kitchen,” Gracie said. “That's important. Isn't it selfish to try to get out of that?”

“Well . . . yes,” Mari said. “But you go every single weekend. I don't know if it's selfish to have one little weekend for yourself.”

“Maybe I can go during the week,” Gracie said thoughtfully. “But my mom has us on such a tight schedule then too. There's no time to get there.”

“I bet we could arrange for my little brother's Cub Scout troop to do a volunteer activity there,” Mari said. “If there's a whole troop full of volunteers, the soup kitchen won't need their normal helpers. It's not big enough for so many people.”

“That's true,” Gracie agreed, stifling a smile. As usual, Mari was so busy making her brilliant plan that she didn't notice the problem it would cause. “But I bet your parents were planning on taking Jimmy with you on the ski trip.”

“Oh! I didn't even think of that.” Mari burst out laughing. “I guess arranging an activity for my brother that weekend isn't the best plan.”

“It's a good idea, though,” Gracie said. “Whenever there's a troop or a school group at the soup kitchen, they tell us not to come that week.”

“So how can we arrange for a group to go there on Presidents' Day weekend?” Mari asked. “Do we know any Girl Scouts?”

“Yes! Mia Oakley from band,” Gracie said. Mia played clarinet too, so they knew her pretty well. “Let's suggest it to her at practice today.”

“Okay, so if she gets her troop to do it, and if your gram and pops are willing to help you, that takes care of Saturday.” Mari held up her hand for a high five. “We're halfway there!”

Gracie slapped her hand, but she didn't feel quite as confident as Mari did. “I don't think I'll ever convince Mom that the family hike should be canceled. Unless you can figure out how to guarantee a ginormous blizzard on Sunday? Even my parents wouldn't hike in that.”

“I'll give it a try,” Mari said with a grin. They stopped talking as they went into Social Studies. Their teacher, Mr. Ferrone, had told them back in the second week of school that they could only sit next to each other if they promised to cut the chatter. But Mari could never stop whispering, and Mr. Ferrone had caught on pretty fast. Still, he was cool enough to let them have a second chance. Ever since he'd told them no talking, they didn't say a word once they got to his classroom. It was worth it just to sit together.

All through class, Gracie thought about the Sunday activities. Getting rid of the shopping trip was easy enough—she would just have to get her parents to eat
unusual things for the week before. If they had sardines for dinner and dried prunes for breakfast, her mother wouldn't have to go to the store for the basics like meat and cereal. But the family hike had never been canceled, ever, not even in the rain and the cold. How could she pull that off? Pretend to sprain her ankle? But that would mean she couldn't go skiing, either. Call in a fake threat of rattlesnakes on their usual trail? Pretend to suddenly be allergic to the oak trees that grew along the bluff where their hike always ended? She couldn't decide.

As soon as class was over, Mari grabbed Gracie's hand and pulled her out into the hall. “I've got it!” she cried.

“What?” Gracie asked excitedly.

“Rain dance!” Mari began shaking her hips and waving her arms around in the air. “Well,
snow
dance. Blizzard dance!”

“Everything all right?” Mr. Ferrone asked with a grin, standing in the classroom doorway.

“I need it to snow next week, so Mari's doing a rain dance,” Gracie explained.

“It's a blizzard dance,” Mari corrected her, out of breath. “It's like a super-sized rain dance.”

“Though I'm not sure she even knows what a regular
rain dance looks like,” Gracie told Mr. Ferrone.

“It definitely involves spinning in a circle,” Mr. Ferrone said, winking at Gracie.

“I can do that!” Mari kept shaking and waving, only now she did it while spinning as fast as she could. Gracie laughed.

“It's not going to work, you know,” Mr. Ferrone told her.

“Mari never wants to hear that things won't work,” Gracie replied.

“You don't know for sure it won't,” Mari panted. “But I might fall down soon.”

Gracie grabbed her arm and stopped the dance. “If there are blizzard gods, I bet they've seen enough,” she said. Mr. Ferrone chuckled and waved as she guided Mari down the hallway toward the science classrooms. They didn't have the same teacher for that class, but their rooms were right next to each other.

“I think it's hopeless. I'll never get out of the hike,” Gracie complained.

“Sure you will.” Mari gave her the typical goofy, hopeful Marianne O'Hagan grin, the one that always made Gracie feel as if anything was possible. “I promise it will all work out.”

“You'll never believe this,” Gracie's dad said as soon as he walked through the door that evening. Well, he didn't actually walk. He limped. “I broke my toe!”

“You did
what
?” her mother cried. “What happened?”

“Oh, you know how I'm always stubbing my toe. I did it again, and this time my one toe got jerked all the way up until it snapped. It hurt so much I knew something was really wrong,” Mr. Hardwick explained. “So I limped around for an hour until my coworkers made me go to that walk-in clinic near the office. . . .”

Gracie so felt bad for him—he really was always a klutz. “Does it still hurt?” she asked her dad.

“Nah. The doctor said I have to keep the splint on for two weeks and rest it a lot. Mostly I'm just embarrassed.” Mr. Hardwick made a face.

“So no family hiking, I guess.” It wasn't until Gracie said it that she realized that she was one step closer to going skiing with Mari.

“I guess not,” her dad replied.

Her mom was already ushering him over to the couch to sit down. “I, um, have to call Mari about . . . homework,” Gracie mumbled. She ran over to the phone and dialed Mari. “You are the best worst rain dancer in the world,” she whispered when her friend answered. “Your blizzard dance broke my father's toe!”

“Oh, no,” Mari gasped. “Is he okay? Is he mad at me? I'm so sorry!”

Gracie giggled. “I'm teasing you, Mar. But his toe is really broken, and he's fine but he can't hike for at least two weeks!”

“I told you it would work out,” Mari said. “Mia Oakley called about five minutes ago. Her Girl Scout leader thinks volunteering at the soup kitchen is a great idea, and they're going to call the place to try to arrange it. Did you talk to your gram yet?”

“No, I didn't bother calling because I couldn't figure out how to get out of the hike,” Gracie admitted. “But I'll call her right now.” She hung up and dialed her grandparents' number.

“Well, hello, pumpkin.” Pops answered the phone. “How's my girl?”

“I'm okay. I guess,” Gracie said. “But I have a problem, and I need your and Gram's help.”

“Well, let's see what we can do. Let me get your grandmother,” Pops told her.

“What's wrong, sweetheart?” Gram's voice came on a moment later. She sounded so worried that Gracie felt guilty. She didn't want to scare them.

“Nothing's wrong,” she said quickly. “I'm just . . . well, I'm just sad.”

“Poor Gracie! What's making you sad?” Gram asked.

“You know my best friend, Mari? Well, I don't get to see as much of her anymore now that we're in middle school. And her family takes a ski trip every year over the long weekend. And they asked me to come along this year, but I know I won't be allowed,” Gracie blurted out. “Mom always says no because we have to stick to our weekend schedule.”

Gram was silent for a moment. Then she chuckled. “Your mother does like schedules. Your grandfather hammered that home when she was a little girl. If you know how to schedule your time, you get more done in a day.”

“Yeah, Mom always says things like that. But why does all the stuff getting done have to be stuff I don't want to do? Why can't it ever be me having fun?”

“Hmm. Well, sweetheart, maybe it doesn't occur to your mom that you're not having fun on your family hikes and your visits with us.”

“I
do
have fun seeing you and Pops,” Gracie replied. “And hiking with Mom and Dad. But I also want to see Mari.”

“You're growing up so fast,” Gram said, sounding just like Gracie's mom. “I bet your parents simply haven't realized that you're at the age when your
friends are terribly important to you.”

“You're right about that. Mom treats me like I'm in second grade,” Gracie agreed.

“So how can I help?”

“I was wondering . . . this sounds terrible, but . . .” Gracie couldn't bring herself to say that she wanted to skip their weekly visit. Luckily, Gram seemed to understand.

“You want to take a weekend off from coming to see us,” Gram said.

“That sounds really bad,” Gracie admitted.

“Nonsense! You're allowed to have your own life, and Pops and I know you still love us even if you're off skiing with Mari.”

“Thanks, Gram,” Gracie said. “But if I ask Mom, she'll still say no. We're supposed to go to your house every Saturday, so that means that we have to do it. She's really bad at changing plans.”

“Don't you worry, sweetheart, I'll take care of that. Let me talk to your mother,” Gram said.

“You're the absolute best!” Gracie cried. “Hang on.” She brought the phone over to Ms. Hardwick and said, “It's Gram.”

“I thought you were calling Mari,” Ms. Hardwick said.

Oops,
Gracie thought.
I am so bad at lying.
“Um, I
did, and then Gram called while we were talking.” She shoved the phone into her mother's hand, moving fast so she could turn away and hide the guilty expression she knew she must be wearing. This whole plan would be worth it if she could go on the ski trip, but it was making her really anxious.

Gracie went over and plopped down onto the couch next to her father. “Do you want an aspirin or anything?” she asked him.

“No, thanks. It doesn't hurt anymore. It's just hard to walk with my toes taped up,” Mr. Hardwick replied, running a hand though his sandy-brown hair. “I feel like a penguin.”

Gracie laughed.

“Well, this is certainly turning out to be a strange day,” Ms. Hardwick said, hanging up the phone. “First your foot, and now my parents.”

“What about them?” Mr. Hardwick asked. Gracie looked down at her hands, trying not to meet her mother's eyes. She was sure her face would give away that she was in on Gram's secret.

“They've decided to go away next weekend, to see my aunt.” Ms. Hardwick frowned. “It's so unlike them, to do something this sudden. My father hates breaking out of his routine.”

“They're taking a spontaneous trip?” Gracie's dad asked, astonished. “They weren't planning it?”

“No.” Ms. Hardwick looked confused, and Gracie knew why. Gram and Pops loved their routine almost as much as Gracie's mom loved hers. It was pretty amazing that they were willing to change it just to make Gracie happy.

“So then we aren't going to visit Gram and Pops next Saturday,” she said. “And I guess we aren't hiking on Sunday because of Dad's foot.”

Her mother frowned. “I guess not.”

“And I heard that my friend Mia's Girl Scout troop is planning to volunteer at the soup kitchen over the long weekend,” Gracie continued. “So there probably won't be room for us.”

“It does seem as if all our plans are falling through,” Ms. Hardwick said. She pulled on one of her black curls, something she always did when she got worried.

“We have almost nothing to do over the long weekend, then,” Gracie said.

“That's true.”

Gracie took a deep breath. She could hardly believe it was working out, just like Mari had said it would. She decided not to remind her mom about the shopping. She would just ask right now, right when
everything was going her way.

“Mari's family is going on their yearly ski trip to Vermont next weekend,” she said in a rush. “They asked me to come with them. Can I? I mean, since all our plans got ruined. Can I go?”