Tell Me (5 page)

Mim left her meeting and sent Burke to pick me up.

I have a feeling I made a mistake with Caitlin—she doesn't seem like the kind of girl who lets things go. I lean back in the passenger seat of the Flower People truck. “So, Burke, I keep hearing about this guy, Coleman Crudup.”

His face gets tight. “You'll hear more, I'm sure.”

“You know him?”

“Yeah . . .”

I drum my fingers on the door. “So, what's he like?”

Burke points a finger at me. “Stay away, Anna. He's not a good guy.”

I bite my lip. “Why do you say that?”

“Because I do.” He drives up a winding road that gets narrower. “And it just so happens . . .”

Now a huge house appears—it's yellow with white shutters, three stories tall with a wraparound porch
filled with plants and wicker furniture. The front door looks like it's built for a giant. There are balconies by the windows and three chimneys on the roof.

Burke pulls by the locked gate. “That's one of Crudup's houses.”

“How many does he have?”

“A few around here, and at least one on an island somewhere.”

“Wow. He's rich.”

“Money-wise he's rich, but not in any other way.”

I nod. I get the difference. “I met his daughter. She doesn't like me.”

Burke smiles. “I'd take that as a compliment.” He backs the truck up. “Come on, I want to show you something else.”

It's long and gray, at least a block long, and it doesn't have windows. The roof is rounded and trucks are parked outside.

“It used to be an old airline hangar,” Burke explains, “but now . . .”

We go through the huge doors.

Oh, wow!

This is where the floats are being decorated for the parade.

“In a week we'll have so many volunteers, you won't be able to move in here.”

There's scaffolding everywhere—a few people are high up on it, decorating, painting.

Burke points to a float in the corner. “That's for the library. They're going to have a twenty-foot bookworm covered in flowers.”

Fun!

“And over there is the middle school jazz band float.”

It's not as big as the others, but still. I walk with Burke past all the floats. There's yellow caution tape around some of the areas. A lady climbs up a ladder and waves at Burke.

“The flowers go on the last few days,” he explains. “If we put them on too early—they'll die.” He touches the float we're passing. It says
CACTUS CHARACTERS
on the side with prickles coming out of the sign.

“They just grow cactuses,” Burke explains. “No flowers.”

A man working that float raises a paintbrush. “Cactuses have flowers, boy.”

“You're right, sir.”

“We've got four hundred and sixty-three of them showing up.”

Burke grins. “That's going to be great, Mr. Burley.” He tells me, “You won't even recognize these floats by parade time. People work day and night.”

“Where's Coleman Crudup's float?”

Mr. Burley says, “Crudup thinks he's above it all. He doesn't want people to see his design till the parade.”

Burke looks up at the scaffolding. “Crudup doesn't get it, Anna. When my family first moved to town, I volunteered as one of the decorators. It's hard to explain what happens. People come from all over to help decorate the floats. They don't get paid, but they get to be part of something special that gives a lot of people happiness.”

I look at the middle school jazz band float. There's a big note on a musical staff rising above the stage. The words above it say
MIDDLE SCHOOL BLUES
. That's cool. I want to work on that one.

I bet Caitlin will have a few words to say about that.

Maybe it was the petunia thing or what I said or didn't say, or maybe she doesn't like medium-height girls with curly hair, or maybe she's just a major-league mean
girl that I should avoid like food poisoning.

Dad told me if he didn't respect someone, he didn't care if they liked him or not.

I want people to like me. Actors need this.

So, if I were Caitlin Crudup, what would I be about?

I shake that thought from my head. I don't want to think about Caitlin. But it doesn't want to leave.

If I were Caitlin Crudup . . .

I'd be used to getting my own way.

I'd want to always be in charge.

I'd probably know that not everyone likes my father. Lots of people don't, probably.

I know what that's like—just a little.

And then this thought comes . . .

If I were Caitlin Crudup, maybe I wouldn't even like my father.

Or maybe she's exactly like him.

That's probably it.

I don't like the way my dad is acting these days, but I know what he can be, and I'm not giving up on that.

I don't know what to do about it, but I'm not giving up.

We're heading back to Mim's. Burke stops the pickup
at a stop sign on a narrow road.

“Oh!” I say.

Out from behind the trees walks Zoe with Taylor in the saddle. Taylor waves at us. Burke gets out, grinning.

“Hi,” he says to her, still grinning.

“Hi.” She looks down. This girl is so pretty, but not as pretty as this horse.

I can't stay in the truck. Zoe and I are connected. I walk slowly toward Zoe, not paying attention to anything else.

“Hi, girl,” I say.

Zoe swishes her black tail. “Take a couple steps back,” Taylor tells me. “It shows respect. Let her invite you in.”

I do this. Zoe turns her head toward me. I look at Taylor.

“Be specific in what you tell her, Anna.”

“Okay. Zoe, I'm going to walk up to your side now and pat you.”

Zoe looks at me with the softest eyes.

“We're already friends,” I remind her. “All right, I'm walking now.” I do this slowly. “That's a girl.” I put my hand on her side. “I'm going to rub you.” And I do this.
“Does that feel good?”

Zoe cocks her head at me.

“You're going great,” Taylor says. “Nice and easy. She was shot by a hunter. It was an accident, but she was really skittish for a while. I worked with her for a year.”

I can't stop patting this horse. “She's so beautiful.”

Taylor looks down. “Anna, here's what you need to know about a horse. They're just like us. They know when you love them.”

That's the coolest thought.

Taylor gives me an apple. I hold my hand out, and Zoe takes it. And I don't know why, but I just feel the mess with my dad right now. Zoe shakes her head, flares her nostrils, and backs up.

I back up, too.

I look at Taylor. “What happened?”

“I don't know, she picks up on moods.”

I stand there trying to not be moody.

“You've had your Z moment. Don't worry, you'll have more.” Taylor makes a clicking sound, and she and Zoe walk across the road and trot up the path on the hill.

Burke stands there watching, smiling.

He stands there longer than is necessary, in my
opinion.

A car comes up behind us and starts honking.

Burke jumps into the pickup. I get in, too.

I take out my phone and send this to Lorenzo and Becca:
I've had my Z moment
.

Lorenzo writes back:
Zorro?

Better than Zorro.

Becca:
You went to a zoo?

No cages here—everything is free! I miss you guys.

Lorenzo writes:
Good!!

I look at the plastic rhino on Mim's bookcase. It's got teeth marks on it—from Bean, probably.

“Rhino, I used to play with you. Do you remember?”

I inhale through my nose, throw my voice. “I remember,” I make it say.

“Life was simpler then,” I tell the rhino.

Another nose inhale. “Tell me about it.”

When you can throw your voice, you're never really alone.

But I could sure use a friend in this town.

I put the rhino down, stand in front of the full-size mirror, cock my head, make a rubber face.

I raise one eyebrow, put it down.

I push back my hair and wiggle my ears. I'm rusty at this.

I get close up to the mirror and wiggle my nose. This is close to my best trick.

I stand on one leg, then the other.

Mr. Dez always told us, “The world doesn't need more cookie cutter people!”

I stand there looking.

I go deeper.

I see a girl whose dad needs to sit on his anger and he can't.

I see a girl who wants to be home and wants to be here at the exact same time.

I flop into the hugging chair and try not to think about my life.

Mim comes in. “Are you singing much these days?”

“Not really.”

“Winnie said that the girl who was singing with the middle school jazz band has to have her tonsils out. The band needs a singer.” Mim looks at me.

I go deeper into this chair.

“And, not that it's my place to volunteer you . . .” Mim says.

“You always volunteer me!”

“So I'm staying in character, but I did mention that you can sing.”

“I don't really sing!”

“You sang when you delivered the “I'm Sorry” bouquet. And I distinctly remember you as a singing radish. You got a standing ovation.”

That was one of my best moments ever.

“Winnie said she'd let them know.”

“Mim!”

“How can it hurt to let them know?”

Caitlin Crudup jumps to mind. She doesn't want me anywhere near her.

Mim's phone rings. She walks out of the room saying, “Doria, Coleman Crudup's placement in the parade is number seven, also known as last. And, no, he cannot pay for his daughter to lead the parade. This parade is not for sale!”