When Life Gives You O.J. (15 page)

“The question is,” said Allie, trying to keep a straight face, “which of the Sleuth brothers do you think is cuter? The
older
one? Or the
younger
one?”

“Allie!” I yelled. “You promised!”

“What?” she said defensively. “I’m not talking about
them
. I’m asking about the real Sleuth brothers. You know, from
The Brothers Sleuth
? The TV show? With Chaz Parker?”

“Not talking about who?” asked Jenny.

“And Zack Owens,” added Megan. “Whenever there’s danger,” she sang, doing an exaggerated rendition of the theme song.

“I’ll cover you, man!” Allie chimed in, trying to make her voice sound low like a guy’s.

“ ’Cause you’re my bro-ther …,” they crooned together.

“Wait, shut up, you guys. Not talking about
who
?” repeated Jenny.

“Nothing,” I snapped. “I changed my mind. Dare.”

“You can’t do that,” argued Jenny. “If you said truth, you have to do truth.”

“Or what?”

“Or … you’re out of the game,” said Jenny.

“Yeah, and you have to go home,” added Megan. “Right, Allison?”

I stared at Allie, who blinked several times, fast.

“Ummm …,” said Allie, stalling. She looked at Megan, then Jenny, before looking back at me.

I glared at her. Finally I said, “Joe.”

“What?”

“Joe Sleuth.”

“Zack Owens!” cried Megan triumphantly.

“Ugh, you guys are such babies,” said Allie. “Anyone can see that Chaz Parker is
much
cuter.”

I tried not to fume as Jenny and Megan both asked for and did dares. Then it was Allie’s turn and she said truth. Jenny and Megan insisted they had the perfect question for her.

“Okay, who would you rather kiss?” said Jenny. “A dead frog covered with flies and maggots or—”

“Q-tip!” yelled Megan.

Allie shrieked. Megan and Jenny fell over, laughing.

“Who’s Q-tip?” I asked, trying to remember if he was a character from some show.

Megan stopped laughing long enough to tell me. “He’s this kid from camp. His real name’s Curtis, but everyone
called him Q-tip because he’s really skinny, but he has this giant puffball of frizzy hair.”

“Like me?” I said, feeling angry again.

“Worse!” hollered Jenny. She must have realized how it sounded, because she quickly added, “I mean, your hair is really pretty, Zelly. His is a mess. Plus it’s orange!”

“Yeah, he looks sort of like that kid Jeremy,” said Allie. “Only with bright orange hair.”

“Who’s Jeremy?” asked Megan.

“He’s that kid who moved into the Blanchards’ house, right?” asked Jenny, a sneaky look coming across her face. “My mom took them some brownies. But his mom said they couldn’t eat them because they weren’t kosher.”

“Seriously?” asked Megan.

“Uh-huh,” said Jenny.

Everyone looked at me.

“How come you can eat brownies, but they can’t?” asked Jenny. “You’re Jewish too, right?”

“Yeah,” I said warily. “But we’re not kosher.”

“You don’t eat ham,” said Allie.

“I don’t
like
ham,” I said. “That’s different.”

“Brownies aren’t not kosher,” scoffed Jenny. “My mom said she must have just made that up.” Again, everyone looked at me like I was the authority.

“Yeah, well, I don’t know about that,” I said.

“Does Jeremy wear one of those little beanies?” asked Jenny.

“Those little what-ies?”

“Beanies,” she repeated. “You know, those little hat thingies.”

“You mean a yarmulke?” I asked. “No. He wears a Red Sox cap sometimes.”

“Oh yeah? What else does he wear?”

“Jeremy? I dunno. Just regular clothes. Shorts, T-shirts, you know, and—” I suddenly noticed that Jenny looked like she was about to burst out laughing.

“What?” I said.

“Nothing!” Jenny replied. But she glanced at Megan, who looked like she knew exactly what Jenny was smirking about.

“What?” I asked, louder. Jenny tried to put on a super-innocent face, but Megan grabbed a pillow and whacked her with it, and then they both just started laughing and laughing.

“You guys, cut it out!” said Allie. She lunged for a bowl of jelly beans we had hidden under a beanbag chair so her mom wouldn’t take them upstairs and held it protectively like Jenny and Megan were about to break a precious heirloom. But then she threw a handful of jelly beans at them and Jenny and Megan, shrieking, attacked her with pillows.

I hung back, not feeling like joining in. Finally, Allie threw a jelly bean at me. I made a fakey smile back.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

“Nothing,” I said.

“No, seriously.”

“I just …” I took a deep breath and looked at Jenny. “Why were you asking me all that stuff?”

“About what?”

“You know. About Jeremy?”

Jenny grinned mischievously. “Jeremy who?”

“JENNY!” said Allie. “Zelly, ignore her, she’s just being dumb.”

“Yeah,” said Megan. “And even if he is your boyfriend, it’s really okay.”

“WHAT?” I yelled. “Who said that?”

Jenny and Megan looked at Allie.

“I did
not
say that!” said Allie. “I said they
look
like they should be boyfriend and girlfriend!”

“What’s
that
supposed to mean?”

“Nothing! You just both have glasses and dark wavy hair and …”

I glared at Allie. “And?” I said.

“What? That’s all. Honest!” she said.

“Do you swear?” I said suspiciously.

“You also said his brother was cute,” added Megan.

“Chaz Parker–cute,” threw in Jenny.

“Okay, but that’s it, really. I swear, Zelly!” Allie gave me a pleading look.

Just then, I heard the door at the top of the basement stairs creak open. All of us froze.

“Zelly, honey?” I heard Allie’s mom say. “The phone’s for you. Can you come up here a minute?”

I gave Allie a final angry look before going up the stairs. Mrs. Schmidt was in her bathrobe and slippers. Her face looked oddly pale, maybe because she usually wears a lot of makeup. She put a hand on my shoulder and handed me the phone.

“Hello?” I said.

“Zelly, it’s Daddy,” said my dad. “Listen, I’m calling you from the hospital.”

“What happened?” I said, my heart starting to pound.

“Everything is okay now,” said my dad quickly, “but Ace had a heart attack. He’s going to stay the night so they can monitor him and help him if he runs into any more trouble. We’ll come get you in the morning, but I just wanted you to know what had happened. If you need to reach us before then, Mrs. Schmidt has the number for the hospital.”

“But he was fine this morning,” I said. Although as soon as I did, I realized that I hadn’t actually seen him that morning. The last time I had seen him had been the night before. When I was yelling and screaming at him, just before I gave up on his plan and threw O.J. in the trash.

“Sam’s here with us,” continued my dad, like he was giving an oral report or something. “But I just called Paul’s dad, and he’s going to come get him.”

I made a funny little noise in my throat.

“Zell? Are you okay?”

“I want to go home,” I said.

“What’s wrong?” asked Allie when I came back downstairs and began stuffing my things back into my overnight bag.

“I have to go,” I told her.

“What? Why?” said Allie.

“Who was on the phone?” asked Megan.

“Nobody,” I told her. For some reason, my stuff wouldn’t fit back in my bag, so I had to dump everything out on the carpet and start with the sleeping bag first. Focusing on this task was good because it kept me from crying.

“Would that be a Mr. Jeremy Nobody?” asked Jenny.

I gave the sleeping bag a final shove and stood up.

“Noooo,” I said, trying to sound indifferent.

“Hey, Zelly, wait,” pleaded Allie. “Don’t go. We’re sorry.
We were just messing with you, honest.” She glared at Megan and Jenny, who both nodded on cue.

“It’s not that, okay? I just—I have to go.”

“You’re mad.”

“I’m
not
mad.”

“Well, then what?”

“Look, it’s not about that.” For some reason, I didn’t want to tell them about Ace. Maybe because they’d act all sorry for me and make a big deal. Maybe because after I left, they might talk about my weird grandpa and me even more. And Allie, who’d already broken her promise and told about Jeremy, might even break down and tell the others about just how crazy my weird grandpa was:
Get this: he made Zelly walk around the neighborhood dragging a plastic jug and pretending it was a dog
 … 
even cleaning up its pretend dog poop! NUH-uh! Yuh-HUH!

“I just have to go,” I finally said again.

“You said that,” Allie replied, looking irritated and hurt, probably because I wouldn’t explain.

I didn’t know what else to say, so I started up the stairs to go wait for my dad.

“Hey, Allison,” I heard Jenny say. “C’mere.”

And then I heard whispering and laughing.

Later, Allison
, I thought to myself.

I thought my dad was going to drive me to the hospital, but he took me home instead. He didn’t say anything, he just turned left to go to our house instead of right to go to the
hospital and that was that. When we got home, he explained that he was going to stay with me, but my mom was going to spend the night at the hospital with Ace.

I was already wearing my pajamas, so I went up to my room, put my overnight bag down, and got into my bed. The house was really quiet, except for my dad’s muffled voice downstairs. I guessed he was on the phone, calling over to the hospital. Which made me think about my conversation with Jeremy and what he had said about taking O.J. to the sleepover.
If they’re really your friends, they won’t make fun of you
. And what I had said to him.
Like you would know anything about that
.

Guilty tears stung my eyes. If anyone didn’t have any friends, it was me. I couldn’t believe I’d convinced myself that Jenny and Megan were my friends. And Allie, my so-called best friend, was the worst of all, breaking her promises and blabbing my secrets so everyone could laugh at me.

Well, fine. Who needed them?
I had other friends. Like Jeremy, maybe, if he was still speaking to me after how mean I had been on the phone. And Lena, back in Brooklyn, although except for an occasional email I hadn’t heard from her in months. She probably had a new best friend by now. A good one, not a traitor like Allie.
In the fall
, I told myself,
when sixth grade begins, I’m going to start over and make all new friends. Friends who I can trust. Friends who really understand me. Friends who are just like me
.

Oh, who was I kidding? No one here was just like me. Everyone was just like Allie and Megan and Jenny. Except
me, and Jeremy maybe, and Laraine Marcus, the only black girl in my class, who was almost six feet tall and never said a word to anyone.
Fine
, I thought to myself,
forget about people friends
. One of these days, I’d convince my parents to get me a real dog instead of O.J. and then he could be my one true friend.

O.J.

Oh no.

All of a sudden, I remembered what I had done. My heart started pounding. I had thrown O.J. in the trash. I had yelled at Ace. I had told Ace that I was done with O.J. and Ace’s stupid old plan.

And then he had a heart attack.

Just like that.

Oh God.

What had I done?

I jumped out of bed. I tiptoed downstairs in my pajamas and opened the front door. The cold night air made the hair on my arms stand up, but I didn’t hesitate. I ran outside, barefoot.

I was afraid that if I opened the big, rolling garage door, my dad might hear me, so I crept into the garage through the side door. It was really dark, so I went back into the house and found a flashlight in the junk drawer by the phone. With the flashlight, I reentered the garage and went over to the trash cans. I lifted the lid of the first one and found …

Ewww!
The pungent, sweet smell of overripe bananas, dirty coffee grounds, and moldy leftovers bombarded me.

Slam!

Garbage. No O.J.

I moved over to the other can. Lifting the lid with one hand and plugging my nose with the other, I peeked inside.…

Empty.

Oh no.

Where was O.J.?

Was it possible he was in the first can, buried under the trash on top? I had thrown him out more than a day earlier. Much as I didn’t like this possibility, there was only one way to know. With the flashlight, I found one of the gardening trowels we had bought at Garden Way. I also put on my mom’s new gardening gloves, even though I knew I’d be in big trouble if they ended up getting stinky.

Using the trowel, I picked through the trash. Tossing some of the larger items—like milk cartons, wadded-up paper towels, and a cereal box—in the empty garbage can gave me room to dig deeper.

After shoveling my way through about half of the full can of garbage, I still hadn’t found O.J. To make it easier, I picked up the half-full can and tried to dump it into the formerly empty—