The Sister Solution (21 page)

“GIRLS, LET'S GET GOING! THE
traffic reporter just gave the commute into the city an eight on the jam-factor scale.”

“Coming, Mom,” calls Jorgianna.

Down on one knee, I glance up at my sister. “Shouldn't we have some kind of ceremony or something?”

My sister and the four white angel clips in her hair flutter in agreement. “Short and sweet.”

I hold up all the copies of our contract. “We promise never to have anything in writing between us ever
again. Farewell, middle school contract. Good-bye and good riddance. Hit it, Jorgianna.”

My sister presses the start button and I feed both copies of our contract into the shredder. I feel a sense of relief, watching the big metal teeth slice the pages into confetti. When the machine stops whirring, I stand up and dust off the knees of my black yoga pants.

Jorgianna unplugs the shredder, we grab our backpacks, then head out to the car. Mom backs out of the garage, and, for the first time since Jorgianna started middle school with me, I relax—really and truly relax. On the way to school Jorgianna and I look out our own windows, as we have always done, and still get lost in our own thoughts of the day ahead, as we have always done, but that mysterious force that once pushed us apart . . . is gone.

Jorgianna scoots toward me as far as her seatbelt will allow. “It would never have worked, you know.”

“What?”

“Ignoring Noah.”

“You don't think so?”

“Nope. You can't make somebody
not
like you,
especially someone who likes you as much as he does.”

I smile.

Mom pulls up to the drop-off curb next to the school. Jorgianna and I open our car doors together. We get out, say good-bye to Mom, and head into the building side by side. As we split apart to go to our own lockers, I say, “See you at lunch.”

“Sammi, you don't have to—”

“It's all set. You're eating with Eden and me. Third table next to the windows. See you at noon.”

She gives me a grin, but doesn't argue. Jorgianna bounces away in my once-beloved hunter-green Daisy Chain boots. Four sets of lacy angel's wings wave to me. I wave back. I watch until her emerald-green jumper and red tights turn the corner. Sheesh. All that's missing are the reindeer.

I head for first period.

Ding-dee-ding. Ding-dee-ding. Ding. Ding. Ding. Dong.

Today's instrument is a row of juice glasses, each filled with a different amount of water. Miss Fleischmann
is rapping on them with a couple of small metal curtain rods. She is so into her performance she doesn't greet me. I melt into my seat. Eden and Charlie both have the same “get me out of here” look I am sure is on my own face.

After taking attendance, Miss Fleischmann says, “We'll be going to the library so you can research your poet biographies today. Before we go, I have your fairy tales to hand back.”

My stomach slides into my toes.

This is it.

I let my head fall back. Close my eyes. Listen for the gentle smack of paper against my desk, and when it comes I take a long, deep, terrified breath.

Please, please, please, let it be an A. Not another blah B.

Just one little, itty-bitty, teen-weeny, pointy-hatted A.

I open my eyes. Hold the air in my lungs. Flip the pages over . . .

An A-plus!

Hallelujah! My first A in Miss Fleischmann's class, and it only took eight months. It's gorgeous—a sweeping teepee shape in red marker with a little curly cue at the end of each leg. I trace my finger over it. A for
Amazing! Plus, a plus! Miss Fleischmann has written her comments below the grade.

This is a touching and emotional story, Sammi! Seraphina's pain at having to leave her family was heart wrenching. I knew you could do it! Great work!

I cannot wait to show this to Jorgianna.

The second I enter the cafeteria, I begin looking for my sister. I also start to get worried. Patrice may not have my sister under her thumb anymore, but she is still the most popular girl in school. Saturn has a lot of influence in our universe. What if Patrice starts spreading gossip about Jorgianna? What if Jorgianna doesn't make any new friends? What if—?

Stop it. Stop 'what if-ing.'

“Do you see her?” I ask Eden, my voice shaky. We are standing by our table so Jorgianna can easily spot us.

“No, not yet.”

“Where could she be? I told her where to meet us.”

“It's only two minutes after. She'll be here.”

“You can't miss her. She looks like one of Santa's elves. She's got on a green jumper, red tights, and a
bunch of angel clips in her hair. Maybe I should go look for her—”

“There she is.” Eden spins me toward the south entrance.

We wave like mad until Jorgianna sees us. She is not alone.

“Can I bring a friend or two?” asks my sister as she approaches.

“Sure.” I grin at India, who is right behind her. “There's plenty of room.”

“Good,” says Jorgianna. She throws an arm into the air. “Hanna! Lauren! Over here.”

The pair is getting their lunches at the deli counter. Hanna puts up a hand. “Be right there.”

Eden tugs at my sleeve. “We should have done that a long time ago, you know.”

I know.

“Where do we sit?” asks India.

“Anywhere you want,” I say.

“What do we eat?”

“Anything you want,” says Jorgianna. “I'm getting a taco and some peanut butter cookies.” She bends in
close to India, and I hear her say, “And I can promise nobody here will ask you for money.”

“Really?” India's face lights up. “It's like a whole new world.”

“It sure is,” I say, then quietly to Eden, “and as far from Saturn as possible.”

Pinky lock.

“Skuh-wee!”

TWENTY

THREE WEEKS LATER . . .

My knees are wobbly, my palms damp. I stay still, daring only to let my eyes wander beyond the railing as the metal steps take me farther from the ground. I don't understand why we couldn't have taken the regular stairs. Cement stairs don't grab your sleeves or skirt. They don't suck you in. I am only on this escalator because Sammi is with me. She is one step below me, directly behind my right shoulder. Banana, Mom, and Dad are several steps behind us.

“I can't believe I let you dye my hair,” says Sammi.

Carefully, I turn to look at her. Thanks to the step, we are almost at eye level. “You look cute.”

She twirls a lock of hair around her index finger. “I feel like everybody is staring at me.”

“You can barely see it. Maybe next time you'll let me do more than one strand in a color that
isn't
already on your head.”

“We'll see.”

This has to be the longest escalator on earth. We continue climbing and climbing, gliding toward the glass ceiling of the state convention center. I rub my palms against the hips of my lime-green sparkly dress that Banana gave me—another great score from her thrift store. I check again to be sure that my left gossamer wing of a sleeve isn't too close to the rubber handrail. If I had known I was going to have to ride the Stairs of Death, I would never have worn a dress with such wide sleeves. I never know when to get off these things. Too early and you trip. Too late and you trip. Either way, it's a disaster waiting to happen.

“Nervous?” asks Sammi.

“Yes.”

Smoothing the front of her pink sleeveless dress, she gives me a sideways grin. “Don't be.”

“Why not?” I study her. She is too calm. “You know something. What do you know?”

My sister untangles one of my dragonfly earrings. “Mrs. Vanderslice called last night.”

“And?”

“I'm not supposed to tell.”

“Sammi!”

Topaz blue eyes crinkle. “But nobody told me I couldn't say how much Banana and I are looking forward to seeing our nation's capital.”

“The capital?”

The capital is Washington, D.C. And Washington, D.C. is where they are holding the national student art show. Oh my gosh!

“Close your mouth,” she whispers. “Turn around. One other thing, Jorgianna.”

“What?”

“I'm proud of you. Always was. Always will be.”

“Same here,” I say. I let myself relax, because I know I can stop counting now. I can stop counting how
many times I win, because for the rest of our lives this is how it is going to be. When I win, Sammi wins, and vice-versa.

“Hey, girls!” calls Dad.

I glance over my right shoulder. Sammi looks over her left.

“Complementary colors,” he says. His eyes move from Sammi's pink dress, also a gift from Banana, to my green one. “You know what that means, don't you?”

We glance at one another. We know. We bring out the best in each other.

We are almost to the top of the escalator. I hope I can do this without tripping. Or getting sucked in. Or dying. As the mechanical steps slide over the curve of the summit, there is a hand on my elbow. “I'm here,” Sammi's calm voice fills my ear. “Ready?”

“Ready,” I whisper back.

“Step now.”

Acknowledgments