Pack of Dorks (4 page)

“Please!” I cried. “Please! It’s really important to me!” Like that time “Puff, the Magic Dragon” got stuck in my head for three days, Becky’s whisper-shout about the ring making sure we stayed popular rang in my ears. If I showed up to school without that ring, who knew what would happen?

“Absolutely not.” Dad turned his back to me and lifted the lid of the laptop again.

“If I don’t have that ring, Tom might break up with me!”

“Then he didn’t really care about you to begin with,” Dad said without turning around.

“Dad!”

He punched the words D
OWN SYNDROME
into Google.

“It’s not my fault!” I screamed.

“Of course it’s your fault,” he answered automatically. “You took off the ring and forgot to put it back on. Who else is to blame for that?”

“No!” I snapped, knowing the words about to spill out of my mouth wouldn’t help but not being able to stop them. “That’s not what I mean. I mean, it’s not my fault Molly’s retarded and you’re all—”

I couldn’t finish, not with Dad jumping to his feet and storming toward me. Somehow I had never noticed just how big and scary my dad could be. But standing so close in front of me, his face twisted and red, his hands in fists, for the first time ever I worried that maybe I did something, said something, that made my dad hate me.

“Get to your room! Now!” he bellowed. I swear, my hair flew back when he yelled. My dad—he never, ever yelled at me. I was too scared to move. That is, until I saw his red face turn purple. “Go!” he screamed even louder, his arm jerking out to point toward my room down the hall.

I ran, slamming the door behind me. In the living room, Molly screamed and Mom sobbed.

At lunchtime, I figured Dad would come to my door and apologize. He might even have my ring, so overcome with guilt at the way he had treated me that he went straight to the hospital and found it. I would hug him and tell him I loved him and knew he loved me. Everything would be fine, fine, fine.

Only he never came to my door.

I smelled grilled cheese (Dad’s specialty, since he adds spinach and uses pepper jack cheese and rye bread), but he never called me to the table. Mom did, patting gently on the door with her knuckle. “Come have some lunch, Lucy.”

I walked slowly down the hall, but Dad wasn’t at the table. He must’ve taken his plate with him to the office. And my grilled cheese was just white bread and American cheese.

Mom sat with me, but just picked at the crust of her sandwich. Just as I finished, she cleared her throat. “That word,” she said. “That word you used to describe your sister. That’s a hateful word. A mean word. It’s a word we’re not going to use in our house.”

“Retarded?” I whispered. Just because I wanted to be sure.

Mom squeezed shut her eyes. “That’s the second and last time you’ll ever use that word. Do you understand me?”

I nodded. Mom patted my hand. “This is confusing for all of us. When I was pregnant with Molly, all the tests came back normal. That happens sometimes, the doctor said,” she whispered and her eyes got wet again. “We knew the statistics, because of my age, but we weren’t prepared . . . I mean, is anyone prepared . . .”

I squeezed her hand back. “Mom, about my ring—”

“Lucy,” Mom snapped. “Forget about your stupid ring.”

“My ring isn’t stupid. Why can you use that word? Isn’t that a mean word?”

Mom’s eyes narrowed and dried up. “Back to your room,” she said in her quiet, scary voice.

Maybe by dinnertime they’d realize what jerks they were.

Sometimes your parents don’t realize they’re jerks. Sometimes you even wonder if maybe, just maybe,
you
might actually be the jerk. I heard the radio click on in the kitchen. That’s Dad’s first signal that he’s about to start cooking. For some reason, that one little click made me feel sorry. I should be in the kitchen, part of our robot unit. I shouldn’t be alone in my bedroom while my brand-new sister gets cuddles from everyone but me. I should be talking to my dad, not scared that he doesn’t like me. Of course he likes me. What’s not to like? So I took a deep breath and skipped down the hall.

“Hey, Daddy-o,” I said.

He looked up from his cookbook, eyebrows raised. I gave him my sorry-I-was-mean-but-now-I’m-sweet smile. He flashed back his glad-to-see-you-and-of-course-I-like-you grin. “I’m feeling creative,” he said.

“Oh no!” Mom called from the couch. “Another DD.”

Soon we were chowing down on spaghetti with canned clams and chili sauce. Not one of my favorites, but I ate a little of the sauce then switched to buttered noodles. One upside of Mom not being pregnant any more: she didn’t insist on a leafy green vegetable with each lunch and dinner.

Mom still was swirling a noodle around her fork when Molly started squeaking from the bassinet. Dad and I jumped up at the same time and laughed. “Since she’s already not content and I’m already done eating, could I go to her?” I asked. “Please?”

Mom nodded and warned me to watch Molly’s head. I’m not sure why. But I knew from the hospital’s big sister class Mom and Dad signed me up for that I had to put one hand behind her neck when I lifted her out of the bassinet and the other under her rump. I held her close to me and sat down on the couch. I knew that Dad was watching me and felt like I had won a prize or something when he and Mom started talking quietly and not barking out what I was doing wrong.

Finally, I had a minute to get to know my new sister. Her bluish gray eyes blinked slowly. Her lashes were blond, like mine, and curled out so far that when she closed her eyes they fell against her cheek. Her mouth was open in a little circle. I laid her against a couch pillow so I had a free hand. She turned her face toward my finger when I brushed her soft cheek.

“Hello, Molly Lump,” I whispered. She blinked again. “I’m your big sister. Soon you won’t be so lumpy. You’ll even be able to move around and stuff. Then you’ll need to stay out of my room. But we’ll cover that when you’re older. You can stay lumpy as long as you want. I’ll hold you.”

I smelled the top of her head. Not quite as fresh as when she was just washed at the hospital, but still sweet smelling. She whimpered a little so I started talking some more. Her eyes got a little bigger and she stopped squeaking. “You’re a great little sister,” I told her. “You’re going to love our family. Mom gets cranky, but she gives great hugs. Now that she can drink coffee again, I think you’ll be in the clear on the cranky front. Dad’s a good listener, but not in a going-to-bring-it-up-later sort of way. I’m going to take really great care of you, even though I’ve already got loads of friends and a boyfriend. No boyfriend for you, though. Not until you’re in third grade. That’s a rule. I get to make up rules, now that I’m a big sister.”

I suddenly realized that Mom and Dad weren’t talking anymore. Sure enough, they were both staring at me and Molly. Mom smiled, even though I guessed she had heard me talk about her crankiness. Dad nodded at me, and the sick feeling I had trapped under my ribs since our fight trickled away.

But then Molly made a noise and her little hand shot out. It knocked against my hand and her long, thin fingers latched on. That’s when I saw the narrow green band on my ring finger where my diamond ring had been. And that sick feeling shored up all over again.

I realized something as my alarm clock blared in the morning. I missed the most important day of school ever thanks to Molly Lump. The first day back after The Kiss! Tom was sure to rush up to me and ask what had happened. In fact, I bet Ms. Drake’s entire class was worried that I had some kissing-related ailment. They were probably so concerned! I wondered if I’d have cards shoved in my desk. Maybe there would even be a banner for me.

Having been absent might be just the distraction necessary to keep people—Tom, especially—from asking me about the ring. Plus, if I wore a really long-sleeve shirt and spent the day with the cuffs covering my fingers, maybe everyone would just assume I was being modest out of respect for all the girls who didn’t have boyfriends they kissed and who gave them fancy jewelry.

And maybe Dad could take me to the Dollar General this week and I could get a new ring. And Tom would never, ever find out that I lost the one he got me.

Maybe my life wasn’t over!

Except that everything was just as strange at school as it was at home.

It started on the bus. April sat down next to me. Usually, I get the bench to myself and stretch out. But she just plopped her booger-picking self right next to me. Like that would be all right. I mean, I know she helped me out with the distraction during The Kiss, but that didn’t mean we were friends. Especially not bus buds. I glared out the window and tried not to look at her. If she was picking her nose right next to me, I would die.

The next strange thing: Ms. Drake had rearranged desks while I was gone. She does that every month or so, but usually Becky and I are near each other. This time, Becky was right next to Tom. My Tom! And Henry was right behind her. On the whole other side of the room, by the door, so they’d be first out at recess. I was stuck next to the window and pencil sharpener. Even worse, my desk, horribly, was next to April. Again! That must’ve been why she thought we could sit together on the bus. I was right behind Sam Righter. That wasn’t as bad; Sam had brown hair that twisted into curls when it was hot outside. He was tall and his eyes were the color of chocolate. Not that I really saw them that often. Sam has this way of not really looking at anyone. Or talking to anyone. Ever. Even though we had been in school together since kindergarten, I don’t think I’d ever heard him speak.

But when I finally found my desk, Sam flashed me a quick smile. He has nice white teeth. Ever since The Kiss, I’ve been noticing things like teeth and lips more. Tom’s teeth are really short. Like maybe they should be in a baby’s mouth. But everyone, even Tom Lemming, should have a flaw. Keeps them humble. I’m not sure what my flaw is, though. I’ll have to think about it.

Strange thing Number Three: When I flipped open my desk, I was sure I’d find a bunch of cards or at least a note from Becky. But I only had books and pencils inside. I glanced over at Becky, sure she’d be waving or mouthing, “Where were you?” But nothing. She was talking to Tom. My Tom! And she didn’t seem to realize I was there. Even though I walked right past her when Ms. Drake showed me where my desk was stationed.