Tell Me (12 page)

 

Tell me how you're doing,

I really want to know.

Are you feeling good

Or are you feeling low?

 

Mr. Cool twirls his finger in the air. I don't know what that means, so I stop.

We work on this song again and again until it's sounding decent.

 

Tell me if it's bad for you.

Tell me what you need.

I'm your friend.

You can count on me.

 

“Anna,” Mr. Cool says, “sing behind the beat on the
you can count on me
. You can uh uh count on me. Try it.”

 

You can uh uh count on me.

 

Everybody laughs.

The
uh uh
was supposed to be silent.

I try it again, again.

“Anna,” Mr. Cool says, “keep your head up.”

I don't really want to look at people.

“And remember,” he says, “your vocal cords are strong. They like it when you sing out.”

I gulp, put my hand over my neck.

Mr. Cool snaps his fingers:
“One . . . two . . . three . . . take it.”

I get it this time. It's sounding halfway good, almost like I'm a real singer.

“Do it again,” Mr. Cool says, and this time Caitlin plays her solo.

That sounds good!

I add:

 

Oh yeah . . .

You can count on me!

Caitlin and I finish exactly on time.

I smile at her. She doesn't smile back exactly, but she doesn't seem like she hates me either.

I'll take that.

Mr. Cool says the band should play this at the parade.

The thing is . . . I raise my hand.

“I won't be able to sing with you. I'm a deputy petal person and I've got to march with twelve little kids.”

Ben is disappointed.

Mr. Cool says they'll just do the instrumental.

It's a good song, Ben.

I wish I could sing with you.

And, Caitlin, you're the best player in the band.

You probably already know that.

“It's pedicure time,” Taylor says, wiggling her toes.

“I've been meaning to get a pedicure for about twenty years,” Mim adds.

I've never even thought about having a pedicure.

I gobble up the last of my caramel roll and we walk out of Mabel's.

Mim, Taylor, and I head across the street to Star Nails.

Up the stairs.

Through the door with the silver star.

We're baaaaack . . .

“Happy!”

“Beyond happy,” Taylor assures him.

The man claps his hands. “Good customers, special price! Pick color.”

I want to match. I find the Whisper Pink. Taylor searches through the polish. “I am such a contradiction,
my toes should be blue, I think.”

Mim picks rose.

We sit in the chairs, put our feet on risers. The women who work here take such care to do a good job. I like them.

I'm feeling so many things.

My nail lady washes my feet, which is weird. She smoothes the bottom of my foot with a file and I break out laughing.

She smiles. “Tickle?” She uses the file again.

I laugh and twist in the chair. Is this part of the pedicure? Taylor and Mim aren't laughing. The lady does it to me again. I laugh hard. Everyone smiles.

“Happy!” The man comes over to me. “You more happy now.” He smiles at me and gives me a rose from a vase. “For most happy girl.”

“Thank you.” He's kind of nice, actually.

The nail lady starts up with my other foot and I fall apart.

“So much for blending in,” Taylor mutters.

I guess spies aren't supposed to be ticklish.

This is a pretty place, all pink and white with stars and flowers; this is a clean place.

The Happy! man goes outside to smoke.

So, what am I looking for?

What's going on here?

The lady with the big eyes who gave me the magazine when I had my manicure stands in the corner watching.

My nail lady puts paper sandals on my feet. She smoothes and shapes my toenails and paints them Whisper Pink.

Honestly, these don't look like my feet at all.

I get out of the chair, head to the foot dryer. Walking in these sandals makes me waddle like a duck. If we have to run for our lives, I'm in trouble.

I stick my feet under the dryer. I wait, watch.

I want to go up to every nail lady, show them the napkin drawing, and shout:

 

HAVE YOU SEEN HER?

Mim and Taylor waddle over now, and we sit in a line drying our toes. I'm dying to ask them if they saw anything new.

The nail lady with the big eyes walks over to me
quickly and hands me a magazine like last time. “Nice,” she says. She pats the magazine.

“Thank you.”

She turns the page for me, and there is a little blue envelope. She touches the envelope quickly and looks at me. Her eyes are big and scared.

It's almost like—

Now Taylor, who is sitting next to me, sees the envelope. She sucks in air.

My phone buzzes.

I jump.

The magazine drops.

The envelope hits the floor.

 

I CAN'T BELIEVE THIS!

Instantly, I put my foot over the envelope, which isn't easy. I'm now slipping out of the chair.

Taylor grabs hold of me.

People are looking. “She's young,” Taylor says. “Her first pedicure.”

I smile and wave at people, trying to seem normal twisted up like a pretzel.

I can't take my foot off the envelope! I try to move it toward me slowly.

Inch by inch.

Almost.

And now my foot is cramping.

“Everyone,” Taylor whispers, “is watching us.”

“Do something weird,” I whisper back.

Taylor instantly laughs way too loud. Everyone looks at her, and I scoop up the envelope.

There's no place to put it fast except down my shirt!

So I do.

Wow.

I clamp my hand over my chest to keep it there.

I don't dare look at the nail lady with the big eyes.

I'm sure everyone saw everything I just did.

Mim says a little loudly, “Now what would you girls like for dinner tonight?”

“Hmmm,” Taylor says. “Now let me think about that.”

I pat my chest in time to the music that's playing, nod my head.

“Pizza!” Taylor shouts.

“Oh, yes,” I'm still patting myself to the music.

I look at Mim, make my best
we so need to get out of here
expression.

We stand up, I feel the envelope drop lower in my shirt. I'm patting my stomach now. Let me tell you, it's not easy to get my real shoes on!

“Bye-bye,” Mim says. “Thank you.”

“Bye, star ladies!”

I'm walking down the street with Mim and Taylor, and I'm whispering about the envelope. Only whispering, and Mim says, “Not here.”

I'm pretty sure that everyone is looking at me.

I start humming the “Smile”
song written by Charlie Chaplin, who had to get a lot of information across just using his face.

I roll my eyes at Taylor, who doesn't get that I mean

 

DEEP AND POSSIBLE DANGER

As in . . .

 

ARE WE BEING FOLLOWED BY BAD GUYS?

I'm sure we are.

Which of us will turn around first to check?

Mim does. “We're fine.”

Speak for yourself.

My heart is rolling in my chest, causing the envelope in my shirt to shake.

“I feel a little dizzy,” I mention.

Mim takes my arm.

We walk to the car and get in. Mim starts the engine, and we're off.

Taylor shouts, “Tell me everything, Anna, with unerring detail.”

“I don't have any detail yet. I haven't read the note!”

I take the wrinkled envelope from my shirt, try to smooth it.

There are symbols on it, that's all, drawn with black ink.

This isn't English. I hand it to Taylor. “Is this Chinese?”

She looks at it while Mim drives. “It's Asian writing, that's for sure.”

“Okay,” I say, “now someone better pay attention.”

“Hold on.” Mim makes a sharp turn and heads down the street fast.

“Are we going to the sheriff's?” I ask.

“Absolutely not.”

She speeds around a corner, turns right, left, right, and cuts through to the back end of the library.

I look around. “Why are we at the library?”

Mim slaps the dashboard. “This is where things get done!”

Mim jumps out of the pickup. Taylor and I do, too. We slam our doors at exactly the same time, march up the front steps, and head for the return desk.

Winnie stops what she's doing.

Taylor hands her the note.

“Is this Vietnamese?” Mim whispers.

Winnie puts her finger to her mouth.

Shhhhh . . .

She heads to the back, and we follow her up the stairs, to the right, where she reaches for a book on a high shelf. She opens it, lays the note on it.

“You see these symbols? They're similar. I think you're right, Mim. This is Vietnamese.”

She looks at Taylor and me. “What can you tell me?”

I look around and whisper about what happened at Star Nails.

Winnie nods.

I mention the size of the lady's eyes.

“Maybe she's related to the girl,” Winnie suggests.

I hadn't thought of that!

She whips out her phone, punches a button. “Agent Brad Dugan please . . . He's in a meeting? . . . Yes, it's extremely important.” She stands tough. “Tell him his grandmother is calling!”

Winnie makes copies of the Vietnamese note and sends the original to Brad, who is going to have it translated and probably dusted for fingerprints, or whatever it is they do to fight evil.

“It's official,” she tells us. “Brad is opening a full investigation. That boy can find a button at the bottom of the sea.”

Taylor yells, “Woo-hoo!” which is the right thing to shout, but not in the library.

“I have something to say.” Winnie puts her hands on her hips and glares at me, Mim, and Taylor. “I can't believe you went to Star Nails without me!”

“We could have used a librarian,” Mim mentions.

Winnie snaps, “Remember that next time.”

“We won't be going back there,” Mim says.

I think about what Lorenzo told me:

 

She's lucky it was you who saw her, Anna. You won't let it go.

 

I should have done more.

But what?

Mim walks over. “You need a break, Anna.”

“I can't—”

“You need a break,” Mim says.

Taylor says, “Listen to your grandmother.”

I shake my head.

The van was scratched.

The people were Asian.

The lady was wearing a pink shirt with a silver star.

The girl was wearing . . .

What?

What was she wearing?

My brain closes up.

Mim takes my hand. “You need a break, Anna. That's an order.”

“Ohhh . . .”

That's all I can say.

I feel my hair go electric frizz from the humidity. There are trees, a little path, so many flowers, and the butterflies—you can't believe how many.

“It's year-round now,” Mim says. An orange butterfly flits in her face. She smiles at it. We're in the Rosemont Butterfly House, and every color of butterfly is here—they drink from hanging feeders, get juice from cut-up oranges. A pink one flutters past. I hold out my hand, and it lands on my thumb.

“Hi,” I whisper. “I'm totally honored you chose me.” The butterfly stays for a minute, then flies off.

A monarch butterfly flits right in Taylor's face. “I'm going to name you Fluffy,” Taylor says to it. “Can you handle that?”

Guess not. The butterfly takes off.

Taylor calls after it. “How about Seymour?”

Taylor is sitting on a rock by a waterfall looking like a little kid. It's impossible to be stressed in a butterfly house.

I grin at Mim. “Thank you.”

She nods,
you're welcome
.

And if I had to write a paper for English, which I don't because it's summer, I would write about how good things sometimes light on you for just a minute, but
their touch stays with you.

I feel peace—I need that.

I feel warmth—I need that.

“You're relaxed?” Mim asks.

I nod.

“Are you ready for the next part?”

“Don't lean over when you sit her. Taller, girl. That's it. Chin up.”

Dr. Gudrey, Taylor's grandmother, tells me this. She and Mim are standing by the riding ring watching, but I get the better deal.

I'm riding Zoe! This might be my greatest moment ever, with the exception of when I got a standing ovation as a radish. Being on this horse makes me feel like I'm on top of everything big that could hurt me.

“Now, she wants to understand you,” Dr. Gudrey says as calm as anything. “What do you want to do?”

“I want to go faster.”

“That would be a trot. In a minute you'll give her a gentle press with your foot, and as she moves into it, find the rhythm and rise and fall with her.”

“Okay, girl, let's go.” I press slightly with my foot, and she picks up the pace. I'm not sure how to go up and
down, and I think she might be going too fast. “Whoa,” I say. And instantly Zoe stops. “No, not that kind of whoa.” I'm laughing now.

I press my foot, feel Zoe click into the trot. I feel the way to go up and down with her. It's like I'm part of this animal.

“You're a natural, Anna!” Dr. Gudrey says.

How cool is this!

I go round and round the ring. I never want to get off this horse.

Mim smiles like she knew I had it in me all the time.

Thank you, Mim. Thank you for knowing what I need!

“Now,” Dr. Gudrey says, “I want you to take it to a canter, Anna. Press with your foot and she'll go a little faster and it will be smoother.”

Faster is smoother?

I press and she does speed up. Maybe too much? Did we skip cantering and go right to galloping?

“You're looking strong,” Dr. Gudrey calls.

“Zoe, I hope you know what you're doing.”

Zoe likes the canter. At first I'm bouncing up and down like crazy, but Dr. Gudrey calls, “Find her rhythm,
Anna. Up, down, up . . . that's it. Like sitting in a rocking chair.”

I'm bumping, but that's how it is when you're learning something new, bumping along, trying to remember all the things you're supposed to do in your head, and they all swirl in your mind as you try to grab each one and do it and then the next and the next . . .

And then there's that moment when you get it. You're free.

I'm grinning. I love this!

I don't think about anything else. The dust kicks up under Zoe's feet, my hair flies back in the wind, the sun is shining, the sky is pale blue, and I'm doing it, I'm really riding.

Now I see Taylor watching me, and she shouts, “Yeah, Anna. Ride!”