BFF* (34 page)

I was glad Gram's chair was turned to the window, because one time we came to visit and someone had left her facing the blank wall. Mom was furious. She'd gone straight to the director to complain.

Mom opened the white florist's box we'd brought and took out a small orchid corsage. She slid it onto Gram's wrist. “Happy Mother's Day,” she said, kissing Gram's cheek.

“Happy Mother's Day,” Jess and I repeated in unison.

Then Charles stepped forward and kneeled beside Gram's chair. “Hey, Gram … remember me … your one and only grandson?” He paused for a moment. “So, how's it going?”

Gram turned her head toward Charles. Her eyes seemed to focus on his face. After that it was as if the rest of us didn't exist.

We took Gram for a stroll around the grounds. The tulips and daffodils were in full bloom, and the dogwoods were about to flower. I guess if you have to be in a nursing home, it's better to be in one with pretty gardens.

Mom pushed Gram's wheelchair. Dad hung back. I think visiting Gram reminds him of his own parents, especially his father. After Grandpa Robinson died, when I was in fourth grade, Dad went to bed for six weeks. I was very scared at the time, thinking he was going to die, too. That's when I started running through my
what ifs
at bedtime. My stomach was always tied up in knots. I went to the school nurse every day. Finally my teacher called Mom and asked her to come to school. The next day I was taken to Dr. Klaff for a complete medical checkup. Dr. Klaff said there was nothing physically wrong with me, except that I needed to learn to relax.

Then one day, just as I was getting used to the situation, Dad got out of bed and decided to change his life. He didn't want to be a lawyer anymore. He
wanted to be a teacher. So he went back to school to get a degree in education, then got the job teaching history at the high school. We never talk about that time in our lives.

A
s we walked with Gram, Charles kept up a steady one-way conversation with her. “Yeah, I'm doing really well at this school, Gram. Dorrance … that's what it's called. I'm probably going to be class president next year and I've already made the varsity track team. That's how it is with us … we always have to be the best! But I guess you know that, Gram …. I mean, you're the one who raised Mom, right?”

“Charles …” Mom said, warning him.

“Yeah, right …” Charles answered.

Gram seemed mesmerized, as if the sound of Charles's voice were enough to make her day. I couldn't help wondering what she was thinking. Did she understand he was feeding her a pack of lies?

An hour later, as we said good-bye to Gram, Charles turned away from her wheelchair with tears in his eyes. When he caught me watching, he walked off by himself.

Gram made a few sounds. Maybe she was calling to him. Who knows? But the nurse had a different interpretation. “We're ready for our dinner, aren't we?” she asked Gram in singsong.

“Will you please not address her in that tone of
voice,” Mom said to the nurse. “Will you please talk to her as if she were a healthy person!”

“But she's not, is she?” the nurse replied tartly.

Mom was about to pounce but Dad reminded her this is the best nursing home in the area. There's a waiting list to get in and if Mom makes a fuss again, the director will call, threatening to expel Gram. Wouldn't that be something … Charles and Gram expelled in the same week! Mom backed off and headed for the car.

The rest of us followed. Charles walked behind me, deliberately stepping on the backs of my shoes, pulling them off my feet. I thought about sticking out my foot and tripping him, but I didn't feel like making a scene. So I moved away and walked closer to Mom. She put her arm around my shoulders and said, “Don't be sad, honey. Gram's had a long life. And she's not suffering. We should all be grateful for that.”

B
y Monday morning I was seething. And all because of Charles!

So at the bus stop, when Dana Carpenter, a ninth grader who also lives at Palfrey's Pond, said, “I hear your brother's back,” I wasn't exactly thrilled.

“Is he going to the high school next year?” she asked.

“I really don't know.”

“I hope he does … he's so cute … and I love his sense of humor.” Dana has been going with Jeremy Dragon since Christmas. They fight a lot and sometimes break up, but they always get back together. So why this sudden interest in my brother?

The bus came along then and I got on with Stephanie and Alison.

“Now I'm
really
curious,” Alison said, as we took our usual seats. “I've got to meet this brother of yours!”

“How can you be so cruel and hateful?” I spoke
louder than I'd intended and some kids turned to look at me. So I lowered my voice to a whisper. “You're supposed to be my friend.”

“I am your friend,” Alison said. “And I think it's cruel and hateful of you to accuse me of being cruel and hateful, because I'm not!” She looked at Stephanie, who kind of shrugged at her.

“I just don't think I can take any more of this!” I felt very weak and leaned back against my seat, closing my eyes for a minute.

“Any more of what?” Alison asked.

“I think she's depressed about her brother,” Stephanie told Alison, as if I couldn't hear.

“I know that,” Alison said. “I'm not stupid.” She fussed with her bag for a minute. She carries this huge canvas tote stuffed with all kinds of junk. She pulled out a roll of Life Savers and offered one to Steph, then to me. I shook my head. Steph popped one into her mouth.

At the next stop Jeremy Dragon got on the bus. “Hey, Macbeth …” he said as he passed us. Last Halloween the three of us went to his house dressed as the witches from Shakespeare's play. When Jeremy came to the door, instead of saying
trick or treat
, we'd recited a poem.

And ever since, he's called us Macbeth. Sometimes it means all three of us—sometimes, like in math class, it's just me.

When we were moving again, Alison said, “I wonder what
my
brother's going to be like?”

“Your brother's going to be a baby,” Stephanie reminded her.

For some reason that made me laugh. But my laugh came out high-pitched, not at all like my regular laugh.

“I wasn't trying to be funny,” Steph told me. “I was just making a point.”

“Are you saying that baby brothers aren't as depressing as older ones?” Alison asked.

“Not
all
older brothers are depressing,” I said. “Just some.”

Stephanie sighed. “Maybe you should see Mrs. Balaban.”

“The school counselor?” I asked.

“Yeah,” Steph said. “I saw her once … when I found out …” She hesitated for a moment. “When I found out my parents were separating.”

“You went to Mrs. Balaban?” Alison said, as if she couldn't believe it.

Stephanie nodded.

“So did I!” Alison told her.

“You?” Steph said to Alison, as if
she
couldn't believe it. “Why did
you
go to Mrs. Balaban?”

“Because of the … when I found out about the …”

“Pregnancy?” I guessed.

“Right …. When I found out my mother was pregnant.”

“How come you didn't
say
anything about seeing Mrs. Balaban?” Steph asked Alison.

“How come
you
didn't?” Alison asked Steph.

“I thought we were talking about
my
problem,” I said, and they both looked at me.

T
he next morning Mrs. Balaban sent a note to my homeroom teacher, saying she wanted to see me. I was really angry. How could Alison and Stephanie betray me this way? If I want to see Mrs. Balaban, I will. But that's
my
business and nobody else's. I intended to tell them exactly that at lunch, which is our first and only period together except for gym, which we have twice a week but not today.

I stopped at Mrs. Balaban's office on my way to the cafeteria. “I'm Rachel Robinson,” I said. “You wanted to see me?”

“Oh, Rachel … yes … I'm very glad to meet you,” she said. “Sit down.”

Mrs. Balaban is young and good-looking. The boys think it's great to be called to her office. One time she brought her baby, Hilary, to school. The girls oohed and aahed over her, while the boys oohed and aahed over Mrs. Balaban.

“I only have a minute,” I said, standing in front of her desk. “I have to go to lunch.”

“Well, let's see how fast I can explain this to you.” She poured some sparkling water into a mug decorated with Beatrix Potter rabbits. “Want some?”

“No thanks.”

She took a long drink. When she finished, she burped softly, her hand covering her mouth. “Sorry,” she said. “Have you heard anything about Natural Helpers, Rachel?”

“I've heard of Natural Lime Spritzers,” I answered.

She laughed. “This isn't a drink. It's a program we're going to try next fall. It's called Natural Helpers.”

I felt my face turn hot. That's the kind of mistake Stephanie would make, not me. And it happened because I was worrying instead of listening.

“It's a kind of outreach program,” Mrs. Balaban continued. “You know … kids helping other kids.”

I waited to hear what this program had to do with Charles.

Mrs. Balaban took another swig from her cup. “I asked the teachers to recommend a group of mature seventh and eighth graders … people other kids would relate to … and you were one of them.”

“So this doesn't have anything to do with …” I began.

“With …” Mrs. Balaban repeated, looking at me.

“Never mind. I was confused for a minute. I thought you wanted to see me because …”

“Because …”

I was so relieved this didn't have anything to do with Charles, I started to laugh.

“What?” she asked, curious.

“Nothing,” I said, trying to keep a straight face.

She twirled her wedding band around on her finger. “Do you think you'd be interested in participating in this kind of program, Rachel?”

When I didn't respond right away, she said, “Of course I want you to take your time and think about it. Because the training will be fairly intense. And I know you're already involved in other school activities, not to mention your schoolwork.”

“Schoolwork is no problem,” I said.

She shuffled some papers on her desk. “Straight A's,” she said, smiling up at me. She must have had my transcript in front of her. “Very impressive. But you know, Rachel, there's nothing wrong with a B now and then.”

“I prefer A's,” I said.

She laughed. “Remember, I don't want you to feel pressured to take this on, unless it's something you really want to do … okay?”

“Okay.”

“We're having an introductory meeting next week, and Rachel …”

“Yes?”

“There's no rule that says Natural Helpers can't have their own problems … so if there's something on your mind that you'd like to talk about …”

“No,” I said, “there's nothing.”

“But if there ever is …”

“I have to go now,” I told her. “This is my lunch period.”

When I got to the cafeteria, Stephanie and Alison were already eating.

“Where were you?” Steph asked.

“Mrs. Balaban,” I said.

“You actually took my advice?” she asked.

“Not exactly …”

Steph turned to Alison. “I knew she'd never admit she took
my
advice!”

M
y life at home is falling apart and Mrs. Balaban wants me to help other kids. What an incredible joke! What makes her think kids would come to me with their problems? I'm not very popular, except right before a test when everyone suddenly needs extra help. And when Steph's parents were separating, she didn't even
tell
me and I'm supposed to be her best friend! We had a huge fight when I found out she'd been lying to me. We didn't speak for seven weeks. And did Alison come to me when she found out her mother was pregnant? No. She went directly
to Stephanie. So, it seems to me Mrs. Balaban doesn't know much about finding Natural Helpers!

That night I had too many
what ifs
. I knew I'd never get to sleep if I couldn't clear my head. So I went down to the kitchen to make myself a cup of herbal tea.

Charles was at the table, stuffing his face with cold mashed potatoes and leftover salmon with a big glob of mayonnaise on top. He'd refused to have dinner with us earlier. The thought of all that mayonnaise at ten o'clock at night was enough to gag me. I looked away and thought about going back upstairs. But then I changed my mind. Just because
he's
in the kitchen doesn't mean I can't have my tea. I took a few deep breaths and put the kettle on. While I was waiting for the water to boil, I opened the cupboard where we keep the teas and chose Grandma's Tummy Mint. Burt and Harry were sniffing around the table, begging for salmon.