Take Charge (2 page)

Mrs. Landers paused by the closed door and knocked quietly. No one answered, and so she cracked open the door and called out, “Chelsea, I’ve got someone here who wants to meet you.” Still no answer. She pushed the door fully open. “Chelsea?”

“Go away!” screamed a girl’s voice. “Leave me alone! And take that freak with you!”

Carlie sucked in a quick breath. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all. Maybe Chelsea really was a monster. Oh, why had she ever agreed to come here today? What a total mistake!

“Come on, Chelsea,” urged Mrs. Landers as she slowly led Carlie into a large bedroom with a high ceiling. “You can’t mope forever.”

Carlie looked around the room. The walls and the carpet were pale blue, but the furnishings were all a creamy white. And the bedspread and pillows had touches of buttery yellow and shades of blue. Very pretty. But not too frilly. Still, it was nothing like any bedroom Carlie had ever seen before. Even her parents’ master bedroom was way smaller than this. One wall was filled with built-in shelves that were loaded with every kind of entertainment option anyone could ever want, including a fairly large, flat-screen TV, a DVD player, and a computer. Several shelves were packed full with video games and DVDs. Carlie suppressed an unexpected wave of jealousy. This girl had everything!

Mrs. Landers walked across the room to where another door was half opened. It seemed to lead into a bathroom. Did Chelsea have her own private bathroom too? It was too much!

“I know you’re not happy, sweetheart, but I just wanted you to —”

“Just leave me alone!” came the girl’s voice from the bathroom again. She sounded even angrier now. “And take
her
with you!”

“Come out and meet Carlie,” urged her mother as she went into the bathroom. “She’s the same age as you and has only lived in Boscoe Bay a few months. I think you’ll —”

“I don’t want to meet anyone!”

Mrs. Landers came out of the bathroom helplessly holding her hands in the air, as if she was giving up.

“Maybe I should go,” said Carlie.

“Oh, please, don’t leave, not yet,” pleaded Mrs. Landers. “Give Chelsea some time. I think she’ll come around.”

“The only way I’ll ever come around will be to kill myself!” yelled the girl. “Not that anyone would care if I did!”

Mrs. Landers pointed over to the window and a big, padded window seat. “Why don’t you just sit down and wait, Carlie? There are some magazines you can read.”

Carlie wasn’t so sure she wanted to stick around. The girl in the bathroom sounded horribly mean, not to mention slightly crazy. And yet, this poor woman seemed so desperate, how could Carlie just give up and leave?

“Okay,” said Carlie, walking over to the cozy-looking window seat. “If you really think it’ll help … ”

Mrs. Landers nodded then lowered her voice. “I think maybe if I wasn’t here … maybe she would come out. You see, she’s angry at us; she blames her dad and me for ruining her life.”

“Oh.” Carlie sat down on the window seat and looked out to see the ocean stretching out before her. “Wow, you guys have a great view from up here.”

Mrs. Landers smiled sadly. “Yes, it’s much prettier here than where we moved from. You’d think Chelsea would appreciate that.”

“Chelsea would appreciate it if you would shut up!” yelled the girl from the bathroom.

Mrs. Landers made a little waving motion to Carlie then quickly left the room, closing the door behind her.
Great
, thought Carlie,
what if this girl is dangerous?
She glanced over to the still-opened bathroom door, unsure of what she should do next. Should she say something? Or maybe go in there … and risk getting her head chewed off? Maybe not.

Maybe she should just play it cool, just wait until Chelsea was ready to come out and have a civilized conversation. If that was even possible. Carlie picked up a glossy teen magazine and pretended to read it as she looked out the window to where the darker blue of the ocean met the lighter blue of the sky. It was such a gorgeous day outside. And here she was stuck with this spoiled brat who seemed
to be intent on having a pity party for one. Suddenly Carlie really missed her friends back at the Rainbow Bus. But even more than that, she was so thankful that she had friends!

Out of sheer boredom, she actually started to read an article about skin care. She’d just gotten to the part about exfoliation — which was supposed to leave your skin looking
creamy and fresh
— when she heard Chelsea come out of the bathroom.

“Why are you still here?” asked Chelsea grumpily.

Carlie set the magazine aside. “Your mom told me to wait for you.”

“Well, I’m telling you to leave.”

Without answering, Carlie just looked at the girl. She was about Carlie’s height with shoulder-length, curly red hair that looked like it hadn’t been combed in days. Her freckled nose was slightly turned up and her eyes — probably her best feature — looked to be either green or blue. Carlie couldn’t decide. She had on wrinkled, flannel pajama bottoms and a yellow tank top that looked like she’d slept in it for a week or so.

“You don’t look very happy,” said Carlie.

“Brilliant observation,” snapped Chelsea.

“It’s hard to move and leave friends behind … ”

“Duh.” But Chelsea took a few steps closer. It looked as if she was checking Carlie out now. “Why are you dressed like that?”

Carlie looked down at the sundress and frowned. “My mom. She makes me wear prissy-looking stuff like this. She wants me to act like a lady.”

Chelsea laughed in a sarcastic way. “Well, you look like a total geek.”

“Duh,” said Carlie.

“I mean, that color and that style, well, it’s like so yesterday.”

Carlie shrugged. “I don’t know about that. All I know is that I don’t like it. I hate wearing dresses. If I had my way I’d burn them all.”

“Parents are so lame.” Chelsea sat down on the bed across from Carlie, still studying her with a slight scowl on her face. “And what’s with your hair anyway?” she asked. “You trying to look like Salma Hayek or Penélope Cruz or something?”

Carlie blinked. “You really think I look like Salma or Penélope?”

“More like you’re
trying
to look like them with all that hair. How can you stand all that long, curly stuff anyway?”

“You should talk,” said Carlie, losing her temper now. “Look at that red mop top you’re wearing — you look like a circus clown!”

Chelsea looked shocked, and Carlie felt really bad. Why did she say that? Then Chelsea stood up and walked over to a dresser with a big mirror on top and stared at herself.

“I’m sorry —”

“No …” said Chelsea slowly. “You’re right. My hair does look like a clown’s.” She fluffed it up even more then turned around to show Carlie. “There, that’s even better.”

Carlie suppressed a giggle.

Chelsea looked down at her tank top and pajama bottoms. “I guess I don’t really look like I should be handing out fashion advice, huh?”

“Not really.” Carlie laughed nervously. “But you could pose for a
before
picture.” She flipped the magazine open to show a section where girls had been made over by a panel of experts. “See, here’s a
before
picture that looks a little like you.”

“Thanks a lot.”

“Sorry.”

“Why did you come here anyway?” asked Chelsea as she sat back down on the bed again. “Do you live in the neighborhood or something?”

Carlie firmly shook her head. “No way. My aunt was doing some cleaning and stuff for your mom and she thought you seemed lonely.”

“So they imported a little Mexican friend for me?”

“Yeah, whatever.” Carlie looked out the window again. How she wished she was anywhere but here. She was tempted to act like Amy now, saying that she hadn’t been born in Mexico and that she was an American —
thank you very much
! But she decided to just ignore her instead.

“Sorry,” said Chelsea. “That wasn’t very nice.”

Carlie looked back at her. “You’re right. It wasn’t.”

“I said I’m sorry.”

Carlie just nodded. “Maybe I should go.”

“No,” said Chelsea, standing quickly as if to block Carlie from the door. “Look, I really am sorry. Sometimes I just say totally lame things like that. My shrink says I have no impulse control.”

“Your shrink?”

“You know, my psychiatrist.”

“You have a psychiatrist?”

“More like a counselor,” said Chelsea. “And it’s only been since we moved here. They all think I’m depressed.”

“Are you?”

“Yeah, maybe so.”

Carlie looked around her big room with all its cool stuff and sighed. “Man, if I lived here, I don’t think I’d ever be depressed.”

Chelsea rolled her eyes. “Haven’t you ever heard that money can’t buy love?”

“Who’s trying to buy your love?”

“Who do you think? My parents. Duh.”

“Oh.”

“I suppose your parents don’t do that.”

Carlie laughed. “Not even. But they do pay me for babysitting. Of course, then they make me put half in savings
and save the rest for school clothes.”

“And then they pick out your school clothes?”

Carlie nodded. “Talk about a lose-lose situation.”

“So are you poor then?”

Carlie pressed her lips together, determined not to say something she’d regret. Just because Chelsea had no impulse control, it didn’t mean that Carlie should stoop to her level.

“Sorry,” said Chelsea, looking believably contrite. “I guess I shouldn’t have said that either.”

So Carlie told Chelsea how they used to have a pretty nice house in Coswell. “My dad had a great job, and I had friends, and life seemed good. Then my dad got laid off and we had to move up here. It hasn’t been real easy.”

“Where do you live?”

“Harbor View.”

“That sounds nice.”

Carlie laughed. “Well, some parts of it are nice. I mean, I have three really good friends there. And we have this club where we hang out. But Harbor View is a trailer park.”

“A trailer park?”

“Actually, it’s a mobile-home park,” said Carlie. “At least that’s what my mom tells people. And we don’t plan on living there forever. Just until we can save up some money for something better. And my mom and my aunt want to start a business.”

“So what are your friends like?” asked Chelsea. “Are they poor too?”

Carlie gave Chelsea a warning look.

“Sorry.” Chelsea slapped her hand over her mouth.

“It’s just that saying things like that can hurt people’s feelings,” Carlie told her. “And besides we don’t think of ourselves as poor. I mean, we have lots of fun and do all kinds of things, and you should see our clubhouse.”

“You have a clubhouse?”

Carlie went into a detailed description of how they’d been given the bus by Mr. Greeley, the owner of the trailer park, and how they’d worked so hard to fix it up. She told about the kinds of things they liked to do together. “Like today,” she said, “Morgan was going to teach us how to do beaded jewelry. Her mom has this cool shop down on the waterfront. It’s called Cleo’s, and she has beads and all kinds of imported stuff. And Morgan is really creative. She can make almost anything. We think she’ll be a real designer someday.”

“She sounds pretty cool,” said Chelsea. “I know you wouldn’t guess it by looking at me today, but I’m usually into fashion too.”

Then Carlie told her about Amy and Emily. “We’re all really different,” she finally said, “but it’s like we go together.”

“I think I’d like to meet your friends.”

Carlie nodded, but she had some concerns about this. She wasn’t sure that a girl like Chelsea would really get them. She might even make fun of her friends or their bus. That would definitely not be good. She decided to change the subject. “Can you get to the beach from your house?”

“I guess.”

“You guess?” Carlie frowned at this strange girl. “You mean you haven’t even been down there yet?”

Chelsea shrugged. “I didn’t want to.”

“Well, do you want to now?”

Chelsea brightened a little. “I guess so.”

Carlie pointed to her pajama bottoms. “So you really wanna wear your little yellow rubber ducky pajamas on the beach? I mean, we might see someone, you never know.”

Chelsea smiled. “Maybe not.” Then she looked at Carlie. “You really wanna wear that goofy looking dress on the beach?”

Carlie sighed. “Guess I don’t have much choice.”

“We’re about the same size,” said Chelsea. “Why don’t you borrow something?” Then she opened a door and flicked on a light, and there was the biggest closet Carlie had ever seen.

“Sheesh,” said Carlie. “Your closet is bigger than my bedroom.”

Chelsea just shrugged. “Go ahead and find something you want to wear. I think maybe I should take a shower.”

Carlie nodded. “Yeah, I think that’d be a good idea.”

Chelsea made a face. “I smell that bad, huh?”

“Well, no offense, but I’m guessing your personal hygiene’s been a little neglected lately.”

Chelsea laughed. “That’s putting it mildly.”

So while Chelsea showered, Carlie picked out a pair of denim shorts and an orange tank top and slipped them on. So much better! Before long, Chelsea was showered and dressed and the two of them headed downstairs.

“We’re going to the beach, Mom,” called Chelsea as they trekked through the kitchen where Mrs. Landers was unloading a box of fancy goblets. She just blinked and nodded; and then when Chelsea wasn’t looking, she gave Carlie a quick thumbs-up.

“I think the trail to the beach is a couple of houses down,” said Chelsea. “I saw the sign when we were moving in.”

Sure enough, there was the trail, leading to some steps that took them right down to the beach.

“What a glorious day!” said Carlie, lifting her arms as she turned in a happy circle. “It’s crazy to stay cooped up on a day like this.” Then she kicked off her sandals and ran straight toward the surf, screaming with delight when the cold water washed up around her feet. Chelsea stood back, a little unsure, but then she kicked off her flip-flops and joined her. Soon they were daring each other to go out
farther and farther, and before long they were both dogpaddling through the waves.