Sophie Hartley and the Facts of Life (5 page)

Nora paced up and down in front of them.

“No, because if I let you do that, then you'll want me to pay for the
next
thing you have to have, Nora,” Mrs. Hartley said patiently. “The list of things you have to have is never-ending.”

“Then I'll buy a kit and do it myself,” Nora said.

“If you do that, you stand a good chance of damaging your hair.”

“You could play soccer with Nora's hair,” John said.

“See?” Nora cried. “Even my seven-year-old brother knows how ridiculous it looks.”

“John . . .” Mrs. Hartley sighed.

Sophie took the milk out of the refrigerator and poured herself a glass. She lifted the lid of the cookie jar as quietly as she could, the way they'd all perfected so their mother wouldn't hear them getting cookies when they weren't supposed to be eating them, but she wasn't quiet enough.

Nora wheeled around and glared at her. “And don't you say a word.”

“Sophie hasn't opened her mouth,” said Mrs. Hartley.

“Yes, but I know what she's thinking.” Nora tilted her head to one side and said in a silly, cheerful voice, “‘I have curly hair too, and I love it!'”

She sounded exactly like Sophie. Sophie vowed never to try to cheer Nora up, ever again. About anything.

“The only people who say curly hair is wonderful are girls with straight hair, and mothers,” Nora said bitterly as she gathered up her books and purse. “I can hardly wait until you get to middle school, Sophie. You're going to
hate
your hair.”

“That sounds like something to look forward to,” Mr. Hartley said as he came into the kitchen.

“Nobody in this family understands me!” Nora yelled. She rushed past him and pounded up the stairs.

“The stairs in this house sure get a workout,” Mr. Hartley commented cheerfully as he looked around the kitchen. “What's for dinner?”

That was Sophie's cue to get out, fast.

 

Thad was late. Mrs. Hartley had a strict rule about the family eating together during the week. Considering how annoying her mother seemed to find her family, Sophie thought as the rest of them sat down, Mrs. Hartley might have more fun if they ate in front of the TV like other people.

Thad crashed through the mudroom door a minute later, threw his things onto a bench, and slid into a chair. “Glad you could join us,” said Mr. Hartley.

“Sorry.” Thad speared two pieces of chicken from the plate in the middle of the table with his fork. “Emily's car got a flat tire.”

“Why didn't she have her butler change it?” said Nora.

“Nora?”

Nora looked at her father, then down at her plate.

When the phone rang, Nora and Thad both started to get up. Mrs. Hartley said, “
I
will get it,” in a firm voice, so they sat back down. Their mother took the phone and went out of the room.

“I thought we weren't allowed to talk on the phone during dinner,” Sophie said. No one responded, so she heaved a heavy sigh and kept eating.

Mrs. Hartley carried on a long conversation in the hall in what sounded like somber tones. Dinner was almost over by the time she finally came back into the kitchen. She was smiling.

“Who was that?” Mr. Hartley asked.

“Carol Dashefsky, our assistant director,” Mrs. Hartley said cheerfully. “She's sick.”

“If she's sick, then why are you so happy?” said Sophie.

“Because it means she can't go to the home health care conference in Chicago next week.” Mrs. Hartley sat down and spread her napkin on her lap with exaggerated care. “So I'm going in her place.”

“Good for you,” said Mr. Hartley.

“Make sure you bring me the little bags of pretzels from the plane,” said John.

“Pretzels, shmetzels. Mom will be lucky if they give her a paper napkin on the plane,” said Thad. “She'd have better luck robbing the refrigerator in her hotel room.”

“For how long?” Nora asked.

“I'll leave on Sunday morning and be gone until next Saturday.” Their mother was positively beaming now. She'd gone from wanting to give them away to looking as if she were thrilled to see them.

It's only because she knows she's leaving us,
Sophie thought darkly.
Us, her horrible children.

“What about us?” Sophie said.

“Your father will be here.”

Everyone looked at Mr. Hartley, who smiled and waved.

“Dad?” Sophie said doubtfully. “For a whole week?”

“Yes!” Thad pumped the air with his fist. “Dad, for a whole week!”

“No baths! No baths! No baths!” John chanted.

“Listen, Dad,” Thad said, leaning toward his father. “Since
she's
not going to be here and you can't drive, how about if I take the car to school?”

Mrs. Hartley usually hated it when they referred to her as “she” even though she was right there. Now she only laughed.

“And so it begins, Tom,” she said to Mr. Hartley. “Come on, everyone.” She stood up, picked up her glass and plate, and headed for the dishwasher. “Someone get Maura ready for bed. You might as well start practicing. Pretend I'm not here.”

Nora grabbed her plate and glass and sidled up to her mother. Sophie was right behind her. “Mom, do you really think this is fair?” Nora whispered furiously.

“Dad's
never
taken care of us for a week,” said Sophie.

“You'll be fine.” Their mother dismissed their concerns with what Sophie thought was alarming ease. “What Dad doesn't know, he'll figure out.”

“How can you be so sure?” Nora hissed.

Mrs. Hartley smiled. “He found the mayonnaise by himself, didn't he?”

 

Their mother hogged the computer in the family room for almost an hour, making plane and hotel reservations. After that, she went upstairs and laid out her dresses, skirts, and pants on the bed so she could look at them.

“What if Dad's foot gets worse?” Sophie said, watching her from her doorway.

“He's a big boy. He knows how to call the doctor.”

“He could get gangrene, you know. If people get gangrene, their limbs have to be cut off.”

Mrs. Hartley gave Sophie a measured look and went back to pulling sweaters and blouses out of her dresser to match them up with the pants and skirts.

“You and Dad better not be getting a divorce,” Sophie said after a few minutes. It seemed as if everyone's parents were getting divorced these days. Sophie didn't understand why people got married if they were only going to get divorced. And why didn't the children get a vote?

Sophie would never forgive her parents if they got divorced.

“Oh, Sophie, please.” Her mother held a navy blue skirt up to her waist and then a black one. “Which of these looks better?”

“They both look the same.”

Her mother held a few more pieces of clothing in front of her and regarded them from different angles in her full-length mirror.

“You act like you're going on vacation,” Sophie said.

“What do you want, Sophie?” her mother said absently. “You can see I'm busy.”

“I have to talk to you about something.”

“Talk to your father.”

“I can't talk to him about this.”

“Why not?” Mrs. Hartley knelt in front of the closet and yanked out a pair of shoes, tossing them onto the floor as if she'd rather hurl them at someone. “Why is it always the
mother
that children have to whine to about needing
this,
and not wanting to do
that,
and why can't they do
such and such?
”
Her mother hurled another pair. “Where is the
father
when all of these earthshattering conversations are taking place?”

“You're going to ruin those if you keep throwing them,” said Sophie.

“Go away!” her mother said. She waved her hand at Sophie without turning around. “Go and talk to your father! I'm off-duty until next weekend. Besides, your father needs the practice.”

“‘Go
away
'?” Sophie said incredulously. “‘Go away,' when I need to talk to you about something important? Fine!” Sophie thought about shutting the door very loudly as she left the room. Then she realized her mother wouldn't even notice and fell into an even worse mood.

There was a cloud of steam at the other end of the hall. Nora had opened the bathroom door after taking her shower. Her showers lasted so long these days that the bathroom looked like a sauna when she was finished.

Part of Sophie wanted to say something about its being Nora's fault their mother was so happy to leave them. The other part needed someone to talk to.

“Mom's being rude,” Sophie said, leaning against the bathroom doorway as Nora brushed her teeth. “She acts like she's going on vacation.”

“Let's face it.” Nora spat out toothpaste and smiled at herself in the mirror, checking for food between her teeth. “She's running away from home.”

“Really?”

Nora shrugged. “You have to admit, she seems pretty happy.”

“She must really hate us,” Sophie said glumly.

“Oh, Sophie, please. You always exaggerate.” Nora put her toothbrush into the bathroom cabinet and closed it. “She wants a break, that's all. And someone else is paying for her hotel. What's not to be happy about?”

 

When it was time for bed, Sophie went downstairs to say good night to her parents. She had decided that if her mother apologized for being rude, Sophie would relent and talk to her about the movie. After all, she really needed to know.

When she got to the bottom of the stairs, she heard her parents talking in the kitchen. It sounded friendly. Good. It was safe to go in.

“I'm making a list of things you need to know while I'm gone,” Sophie heard her mother saying as she got close. “Irene Dubowski will take Maura to daycare and bring her home.”

“Irene Dubowski . . .” said her dad. “Isn't she that young, good-looking gal you and I ran into at the mall?”

“Tom!” Mrs. Hartley snapped.

“What? All I said is that she's nice-looking.”

Sophie turned to head back up the stairs.

Sometimes her dad sounded as clueless as Thad, Sophie thought as she went back into her room. Now what was she going to do?

There was only one solution.

Nora's book.

Sophie was going to have to sneak up to Nora's room, which was strictly off-limits to her, find the dumb book, and look for something she could tell Alice. If Nora discovered Sophie and strangled her, well, their mother would just have to feel guilty for the rest of her life. It would serve her right. Sophie was sick of the whole thing.

She stood in front of her mirror and willed herself to become a tree.

“Sophie!” Megan Parsley hurried up to Sophie when she came out of the girls' room the next day, with Caroline Vega and Gabriella Klein behind her. “Can we come to your meeting?” Megan said breathlessly.

“Alice told us,” Caroline said. “Destiny invited us to hers, but we'd much rather go to yours.”

“Destiny's so mean,” Gabriella added. “Please?”

Two more fourth-grade girls stopped Sophie on her way back to class. Sophie marched into Mrs. Stearns's room and stood in front of Alice's desk. Alice buried her head deeper in the book she was reading.

“How could you?” Sophie said.

“What happened?” said Jenna.

Sophie told her.

“Good going, Alice,” Jenna said.

“I couldn't help it,” Alice said. “Destiny's trying to boss girls into going to her meeting, but a lot of them are afraid of her.”

“Well, there's a problem,” Sophie said, and told them about Chicago.

“What are you going to do?” Alice's face went white. “I know! Nora can tell you.”

“Are you kidding?” said Jenna. “Nora never tells Sophie anything.”

“She has a book,” Sophie admitted reluctantly. “My mother gave it to her a few years ago. I'm pretty sure it's about P-U. Nora said it was about
girl business
and wouldn't let me look at it.”

“That must be it,” Alice said. “My mother left a book on my bed one time and told me it was about love and marriage, but I was too embarrassed to look at it. I don't understand what those things have to do with P-U, do you?”

“Don't ask me,” Jenna said.

“Nora probably won't lend it to me,” Sophie said, “but I'm sure it's somewhere in her room.”

“You can find it. You know how sneaky you are,” Alice said.

“Yeah, creep up to Nora's room and look through her stuff like the good old days,” Jenna said. “Just make sure you bring a parachute in case she starts coming up the stairs and you have to jump.”

“Please?” Alice said.

“Oh, all right!” Sophie sat at her desk. “But I'm not going to sit there and read the whole book. You have to promise you'll let it go after I tell you a few things.”

“I promise,” Alice said. “Thank you, Sophie.”

“And don't tell anyone else!”

“I won't.”

Unfortunately, Alice had already told four more girls.

 

Mr. Hartley and Thad drove Mrs. Hartley to the airport on Sunday morning. Nora had said goodbye the night before so she could sleep in. Sophie waved goodbye as they pulled out of the driveway and went back into the house. She heard John shouting in the family room.

“Back off!” he shouted as Sophie went down the hall.

Then, “Back off!” a little voice echoed.

“Mom's going to kill you, John,” Sophie said. She leaned against the doorway and crossed her arms.

John was standing in front of Maura wearing his white tiger uniform. He had his feet planted wide apart and his hands poised in front of him like the lethal weapons he said they were. Maura looked like a miniature mirror image, except her pajamas were covered with clowns.