Confessions of a So-called Middle Child (15 page)

Man, Life Can Suck Sometimes

With her face all streaked with mascara, her lipstick smeared, her hair a mess again, Marta stood in the doorway. If I hadn't known her, I'd have been terrified for my life. No joke. “Where's your mom, Marta?” I asked pointedly.

Marta looked around the room like it was a magical place, a secret place. “She died.”

 

 

When she said those words, I couldn't believe it, I just couldn't. “What?” Died? As in death? I couldn't handle death. No, no, no! I sat on the edge of her dead mother's bed and had no idea what to say. All I could think of was how horrible it must be to
not
have a mother. “How the hell could that happen?” I looked at the pictures. “She's so young, healthy. An Olympic athlete, for God's sakes.”

“She had a heart attack,” Marta said, “in her sleep.” Marta looked at the pillow where the medals were, next to my behind. “Right there.”

“Yikes.” I so didn't want to act like I was getting the creeps, but I was.

Marta didn't seem to notice though, luckily. “It turned out she had a leaky ventricle she never knew about.”

“But when she died, how'd you manage grown-up stuff?”

“My aunt came over. She tried to take care of things, but she doesn't speak English that well.” She looked around the room. “It's strange, but it's easier than you think, the details of being a grown-up. Buying food, tossing out the trash, even paying the bills was pretty easy.”

I was impressed. I couldn't count the number of times I'd dreamed of just going off and being a grown-up with a trust fund.

Marta must have seen it in my eyes, because she shoved me and said, “Don't even think about it. It sucks something awful. No one cares about you; no one notices when you need a bra or when you get an A. No one screams at you when you don't pick up your room, or brush your hair, and then you just stop caring. I stopped caring about everything except gymnastics.”

“But how have you been living all this time?”

“My mom was a big saver, you know, on account of her being from Romania and my dad not being around. She had life insurance, so whenever the bills come in the mail, I just pay them online. I'm good at math; I go to the market. No one ever stops me.” She showed me a picture of the three of them together by the sea. “My aunt had to go back to Romania last week to fix her papers and was only going to be gone a few days, but then something happened with her visa . . . she's”—Marta took a deep breath—“she's stuck in Romania.”

“Stuck? As in she-can't-come-back-and-fix-your-permit stuck?”

She got up and straightened the bed, making sure the comforter was perfectly in place. She wanted to leave. “Do you think you can get Trixie to lay off me for one more week? My aunt will be back. I'll have her get the permit, it'll all be legal, I swear, just a week, that's all I need.”

“Are you kidding me? Trixie? She's probably already got her parents on it as we speak.” I took a deep breath and walked out of her mom's room and down the hall. I checked my watch. Seven o'clock. Crap, I had to call home. “Can I use your phone?”

“Sure.”

Pen answered with “Uh, you know it's a school night, right?” And “You think hanging out in Trixie's pool all night is gonna get you anywhere—”

“I'm at Marta's, all right?” I said. “Mom and Dad know too, so don't even try—”

“At Marta's?”

I held out the phone. “Marta, say something in Romanian, will ya?” Marta went into a handstand and rattled off something in Romanian while upside down. “See?”

Pen yelped. “Did you spend the forty bucks?” She was getting all excited. “Did you get her something sparkly—they love sparkles, those people—”

“No, Pen, I've been a little too tied up to shop.” Jeez, where was Jai when I needed him? “Just tell Mom and Dad I'll be home by eight.” I looked over at Marta. “And if I'm late, cover for me.”

“You got it.” She said it like she actually liked me instead of tolerated me. FYI, you can tell the difference. “And PS I want the forty bucks back.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” I hung up and went over to where Marta's face was now a deep reddish purple. “Marta, give the handstand a rest? I need a computer, preferably one from this century.”

She jumped down. “Coming right up.”

A museum piece, that's what she brought out. She could barely lift the old geezer, it was so old and heavy.
Bam!
She dropped it with a clang on the coffee table.

If Jai could see this, he'd die. “You've got to be kidding.” I got up and looked for the plug.

Marta watched. “What are you gonna do?”

“Your thing is gymnastics; my thing is making these things sing.” I stretched out my fingers, cracked the old knuckles, and logged on to the Los Angeles Unified School District's convoluted website. Wow, the website was a behemoth of a system, old and hard to navigate. Junk. Crap. They should just hire me to fix it.

First I had to get into the personnel section. I attempted to log in by using their real user names, which are usually some super simple combination of their first and last names, like pwest for Pam West. Next I tried to figure out passwords based on combining usernames, possible birthdates, and cell numbers, all of which were easy to find on the web if you knew someone's name. Once I had the password, then I'd be able to access the permits section and update Marta's expired permit.

“What was your mom's name?”

She was in the middle of splits, of course. “Olga Cochenko. She was so beautiful, she could fly.” Marta got tears in her eyes. “But my dad, Boris Urloff, not so beautiful. He pushed her so hard, she snapped all the ligaments in her knee.” She stopped and got up.

I don't know how long it took me to get that old computer buzzin'. All I can say is when I looked up, it was pitch-black outside, my shirt was covered in sweat, my fingers ached, but when that email confirmation popped up stating that Marta Urloff's permit for Happy Canyon was renewed for one full school year, I knew I was destined for greatness.

“You did it?” she said, shocked.

“Yep.” I showed her the confirmation. “You're permitted for another year at Happy Canyon. And no one can take it away.”

She began to cry.

I got a Kleenex and handed it to her. “Now listen, Marta, listen carefully. They're after you, you know that, right?”

“Yeah.” She blew.

“If you drop the idea of the team, they'll leave you alone.”

She shook her head. “Never.”

“Okay, then be prepared. That permit will buy you time, and so will whatever lies I tell them. But get your aunt back here as soon as you can. You could lose everything.” I left the makeup, brush, and teeth whiteners on the table and reminded her again not to forget the teeth. Shiny white teeth were key. I walked to the door. “How often do the buses come?”

“Every fifteen minutes.”

“I've got to get out of here.” And then I remembered one last thing, a thing of utmost importance. “Marta, please use
a lot
of deodorant tomorrow, and please, please check your teeth before you go out onstage. We don't need a piece of tuna in the teeth, if you know what I mean.”

“Will you be there,” she asked timidly, “tomorrow?”

“Wouldn't miss it for the world.” I did a little cheer and threw up a high five. “You're going all the way, Marta Urloff. All the way.”

I walked down the broken walkway, where dandelions grew tall and strong without fear of ever getting picked. But I picked one. I closed my eyes, made a wish, and blew as hard as I could. So many seeds flew through the air, but all I needed was just one of them to come true. Just one.

The Day of Reckoning

“Happy Friday morning to you!” Mr. L started out as he always did, with a clueless smile and a crazy tie. “Today is a big day for—” He scanned the class for Trixie and Marta. “Where are they? They can't both be gone!” He jotted down the names of the tardy. “Probably sleeping in. Well, anyway, a big day in sports and also a big day for our Emperor Caesar, right?” The class groaned. “Open your Ancient Roman history books to—”

Trix and Babs ran in, out of breath. “So sorry! So sorry we're late.” Trix looked straight at me, mad as you-know-what.
Where have you been?
she mouthed.
Huh?

“Books, please!” Mr. L shouted. And I was grateful. For one hour we studied pointless Rome, but all I did was watch the door. Marta, where was Marta? I didn't even care that Bobby was flirting with me by trying to knock over my backpack. Where. Was. Marta? When the bell rang at ten o'clock for nutrition, I got up to go look for her, but Trix—and her follower, Babs—blocked me from leaving.

Trixie came over to my desk, arms folded, bearing down on me. “I didn't sleep, you know. Not good for competition day.”

Babs threw her hands in the air. “Seriously, Charlie, where have you been?”

“I'm sorry, I got home super late.” I pulled out my lunch. “Her mom works long hours—it's crazy.”

Babs's mouth dropped open. “Her mom? You actually saw her?”

“Yeah, yeah.” I acted as casual as I could. “Like at eight or something. Boy, does she work late.” I got up and tried to leave, but still they wouldn't move. Did I mention I can't maintain eye contact when I lie? “Can I go now?”

“No, you cannot go.” Trixie glared.

“What? Why?” I rolled my eyes. “Look, I did what you asked. I went, I waited, I saw her mom, who drives one of those corn cars.” I laughed. “She's really into saving the environment,” I added for detail. “Can we just move on and have some fun already?”

Trixie was bone still, her hands flat on my desk.
“I don't believe you!”

I could see her sequined leotard under her sweater. “You gotta let this go. We did all we could.” I looked into her now-raging eyes.

“Did you?” She looked unconvinced. “Really, Charlie?”

“Yes.” I was exhausted. “Come on, Trix, let's think about fun stuff, like the Halloween party. What are you gonna be, huh?”

“You don't think I know?”

Here it comes. My past catching up with me. “I've known all along, Charlie.” She looked evil. “I've just been waiting for that perfect moment to let it out.”

I could feel my heart racing. My face burned with shame. “So what's stopping you?”

“I've been waiting to see whose side you're really on.” Trixie looked into my eyes like she was trying to suck information from my brain.

“Yours.” I gulped.

Her eyes narrowed. Our noses were nearly touching. “I'm not sure I believe you.”

 

 

“Are you kidding me? After all I've done for you?” I yelled, indignant. “I'm not friends with Marta. I feel sorry for her, that's all.”

“So sorry you want her to win?”

“No,” I said. “I want you to win.”

“Good,” she said calmly. “Then from now on, stay out of it, hear me?”

My stomach tightened.

“Hear me?” she repeated. “Because whenever you get in it, for some strange reason, things seem to work in Marta's favor,
not
mine.”

“I won't do anything else,” I promised.

“If you do anything to stop me from winning, you will pay, you hear me?”

“I do,” I said, realizing that I was, in fact, a big, fat coward. They'd started to walk away when off in the distance, near the lower parking lot, there was a horrible noise. An entire metal bookcase had fallen to the ground. The art teacher scrambled to pick up the drawings before the wind carried them away. Trixie stood watching her pick up all the pieces. Babs suddenly ran over and joined her at the top of the steps.

“Look!” Babs pointed at something in the distance. She whispered in Trixie's ear. I could see Trixie's evil smile from a mile away.

I ran over to where they stood, to see what they were looking at, but Trixie quickly put her arm around my neck and turned me around. The bell rang. She whispered, “Plan B, Charlie, Plan B. Now go away.” And they ran off down the stairs to the parking lot in the opposite direction of class.

 

Lunch rolled around, and Marta still wasn't at school. Trixie's mood went from raving lunatic to cloud nine. Everywhere she went, people asked where Marta was, and I could hear her say with absolute certainty, “Yeah, maybe Marta realized she's no team player,” as though it was a done deal that she wasn't coming. Or “I heard her permit expired, poor thing.” And “Yeah, she's really good, it's true, and I wish her the best, but—”

Her change in mood scared the crap out of me. Could Trixie be so demented that she'd actually do something to stop Marta from competing? I knew Marta, and I knew nothing would keep her from this day. At lunch, when no one was looking, I ran home. Outside, there were bulldozers, bricklayers, electricians, carpenters. Dad saw me running through and stopped me. “Uh, what are you doing here?”

“Forgot my homework.” I pointed to my room, huffing and puffing. “Is Mom in there?”

“She's working on the rock walls.” He nodded. “Around back.” Then he gave me one of those looks like he could see through me. “You sure nothing's the matter?”

“Just forgot the homework, trying to be all I can be, you know the slogan.” I jumped up and kissed him.

“I always knew you had it in you.” He hugged me back. “I'm so proud of you, Charlie.” And then he got that look parents get when they know you're
not
telling them something, but they'll give you a pass anyway. “See you tonight.”

“See ya!” I ran into the house and grabbed the phone. The refrigerator door closed,
bam
! And guess who was there? Mom. And she didn't look all that happy to see me. “And what are you doing home, young lady?” She got closer. “You know, just because you live near school doesn't mean you can take off whenever you feel like it.”

“Forgot my homework,” I said as fast as I could.

She folded her arms and took a step closer. “Lie.” See, even if she were blindfolded, Mom could tell when I lied.

I took a step back. “Okay, fine.” I twirled around. “Marta didn't turn up today, and I'm really worried—just wanted to call her, which”—I took a deep breath—“I could have done at school from my very own cell phone, if you'd buy me one.”

“She's not at school?” Her super thin eyebrows got all worried. “Isn't today the big day?”

“Yeah.” I nodded, scared that something really had happened to Marta.

Mom got that creepy look like Dad's, that proud look, which made my skin kinda crawl. “That girl needs to win today. Give her a call. Maybe she overslept.”

I dialed. It rang forever and then clicked to a woman's voice. Her mom's voice, I think, was on the answering machine. Man, did that make me feel horrible. I don't know how she kept it. Then I thought, You know, maybe it makes her feel like her mom is still here.

I heard the beep, and I went off:

“Where the heck are you? It's today, Marta, you have to be in school ASAP!” I hung up. Looked at Mom. “Not there.”

Mom took out her cell phone from her pocket. “Do you have her mom's cell-phone number?”

I was hoping she wouldn't ask me that.

“Charlie?” she pressed me.

I didn't know what to do. I was scared and in over my head, but God help me, I was no nark.

Mom put down her phone. “Baby, what aren't you telling me?”

That's when Dad came walking in. “Ladies, it's looking good out there.” He poured himself a tall glass of sun-kissed tea and saw that something was bothering me. “What's up?”

“Marta's not at school.” Mom tapped a pencil on the counter like she was trying to piece it together.

He shrugged it off. “Maybe she's sick.”

“No, Dad, she's not answering the phone. She'd never, ever miss this. You don't understand. She'd cut her arm off if she had to.” I dropped my head, so they couldn't see the worry.
Oh, Marta, how can I keep your secret if you don't show up?

“Oh, she'll show; she probably just slept in.” Dad put his arm around Mom and kissed her cheek. “Or she's sick, and her mom's getting her medicine.”

Mom looked at Dad. “Yeah, you're right, hon.” She kissed him back. “I have a tendency to always jump to conclusions!”

No, Mom, you're right on the money!
I felt like screaming.
There is no mom to take care of her; there is no sick for Marta; there are gymnastics, and that is all.

“Go back to school, Charlie.” Mom walked me to the door; she kissed me. “Marta's tough. She'll be there, unless something really serious has gotten in the way.”

That's what I was afraid of. It was so unfair. I felt like crying. “She deserves it, you know? More than anyone. When she's up there, on those bars, or flying through the air, she's the most beautiful thing you've ever seen.”

Mom hugged me tight. “So are you.” She swatted me on the butt, pushing Dad out the door too. “Now get out of here, you two.”

When we stepped out, I noticed just how crazy it was outside. There were so many tractors and backhoes, giant hoses spraying water on the digging sites, and electricians—and then I noticed he'd put a giant pot over the trapdoor to the tunnels. I whispered into his ear, “You didn't tell them yet?”

Dad looked over at Martin and all the suits with their clipboards. “Not yet.”

In my opinion he was totally right not to trust them. Suits in the canyons spelled trouble.

He whispered into my ear, “My gut tells me they'll do something pretty tacky with those tunnels that I'm not too excited about.”

I jumped up and kissed him. “You're a good man, Dad.”

 

I ran back to school just in time to sit with Trix and Babs for a second before the bell rang. “Hey!” I slid onto the bench to try to get a peek at their lunches. Man, was I hungry. Of course, with all this drama, I hadn't eaten a single bite of my mozzarella-and-tomato sandwich. I took a look at Babs's lunch first, which was always hit-or-miss. Sometimes she had egg salad on whole wheat, and other times pizza. But Trix—Trix packed her lunches herself, so it was all candy, and if she felt like it, a little gourmet cheese.

But evidently Trix was not in a sharing mood, 'cause when she saw I was hungry, she scooped up all her stuff to her chest like a mean hoarder. “You always seem to be running away.”

“Um, I forgot my homework at home.” I chewed a nail. “Had to run all the way back. Why?”

Trix reached across and grabbed my hand, hard. Really hard. “Roxy wants to talk.”

But before I had time to react, Bobby walked past. “Yo, yo, yo, Charlie!” Bobby's friends, Sam and Wyatt, walked past too. “Hey, Trix, who's gonna win?”

Trixie dropped my hand and smiled like a psycho who can't see or hear anything else besides what's in her own head. She said with a smile, “It's mine, mine, all mine.” She was seriously losing it, which was crazy. If I had her pool, her house, Esmerelda, I'd never ask for a single thing again for as long as I lived.

The bell rang; it was already twelve thirty. We all got up and went back to class. Two more hours until showtime, and all I could think about was where the heck was that Marta?