The Forget-Me-Not Summer (6 page)

“D
o you think we'll see a whale from up here?” Zinnie asked when their gondola reached the top of the Ferris wheel at the Santa Monica Pier. The gondola was a circle-shaped bench with a high back and little swinging door for people to get on and off the ride. Zinnie, Dad, Marigold, and Mom were seated inside.

“Not without binoculars,” Mom said. “Shoot! We should have brought them.”

Zinnie made a visor with her hands and scanned the horizon, hoping that with just her naked eyes she'd still be able to see a whale or a pod of dolphins. She'd even settle for one dolphin. She just wanted something to remember California by. They were leaving for the East Coast in two days for three whole weeks, and her parents had agreed to take them to the pier as long as
they were packed for Pruet. Zinnie and Lily, with Berta's help, both had their suitcases ready to go in about a half hour. Marigold, on the other hand, had spent the entire morning packing, and they hadn't been able to leave the house until after lunch.

After some pretty bad traffic and an emergency frozen yogurt stop, they were finally here, though not all of them were on the Ferris wheel. Lily and Berta were at the carousel, which was back by the bridge, much closer to the road. Lily was terrified of the ocean and refused to walk out beyond the old-fashioned ice cream parlor.

Zinnie, however, thought all the fun started once she walked past the carousel and ice cream parlor, went beyond the fruit carts and the tourist shops and the arcade, and arrived at the amusement park. Even if they weren't as scary or as fast as the ones at Universal Studios or as elaborate as those at Disneyland, she loved the rides that swept and looped and suspended her above the Pacific Ocean. She wasn't about to take off for three whole weeks without reminding Dad that he had promised they would come here once school was out.

The Ferris wheel paused at the tippy top of its cycle, and Zinnie held her breath as she looked down at the crowds on the pier and beach below. People were eating hot dogs, tacos, ice cream, and funnel cake. They were playing tag and splashing barefoot in the
surf. Boyfriends and girlfriends were holding hands and hugging. One family was even swimming, even though it was chilly enough for Zinnie to wear a light jacket. Mom wouldn't let them go in the water here because she said it was polluted, but the blue-green waves looked clean and inviting from where Zinnie sat. Behind her was the city of Santa Monica with its office buildings and shopping malls. To the left were the fancy hotels where Marigold said some girls in her class were going to have their bat mitzvahs next year. And to the right was Malibu with its mansions and rugged pink cliffs.

Above it all, swinging over the sea, with a chilly salt breeze blowing on her face, Zinnie felt peaceful. She wondered if the beach was what she would miss most about California. Mom said there was a beach in Pruet, but she'd also mentioned that it didn't have an amusement park attached to it, or a mall down the street, or the best taco truck in the whole wide world parked on the street nearby.

“Do they have any taco trucks at all in Pruet?” Zinnie asked, wondering if she could actually survive without good taquitos, burritos, or churros for three whole weeks.

“I don't think so, Zin,” Dad said, putting an arm around her. She leaned against his shoulder.

Now that Zinnie thought of it, she was going to miss a lot of things about California. Her mom kept saying
that three weeks wasn't that long, but it felt that way when it meant that she wasn't going to be able to go to the summer program at Miss Hadley's with her best friends, Milly and McKenzie, who were probably at this very moment deciding what classes to sign up for. And Miss Hadley's summer program was totally different from school. It had classes like fashion design and ice cream making and field trips to Dodgers games and a real animation studio. As hard as Zinnie was trying to have a good attitude, Pruet sounded boring in comparison with all that she would miss.

The Ferris wheel started again. This was Zinnie's favorite part, when the gondola began its descent, because there was always a moment when it felt like she was flying. They tipped forward, and her stomach fluttered with suspense. Zinnie held tight to Dad's hand and, looking at the ocean through cracks of the swinging door, delighting in the tingling thrill that there was nothing but air between her and the watery depths below.

Marigold had always loved this Ferris wheel too, but her eyes were totally glued to her cell phone. How could she be texting right now?

“Can you put that phone away?” Mom asked Marigold. “The point of today is to spend time together.”

“It's Pilar,” Marigold said. “I need to see my best friend before I leave. Can I hang out with her tomorrow night?”

“Only if you put that away,” Mom said.

“Just let me finish this one thing . . . ,” Marigold said, not even looking up.

“But you're missing the best part,” Zinnie said, reaching to cover the screen of Marigold's cell phone. Zinnie was too forceful, and Marigold's phone slipped from her hands and fell to the metal floor. Zinnie's stomach clenched as the phone slid toward the opening.

“Zinnie!” Marigold shrieked just as her dad's foot stopped the phone from falling through the crack.

“I didn't mean it!” Zinnie said.

“What were you thinking?” Marigold asked, her cheeks pink with anger.

“Relax,” Dad said, bending to pick up the phone and handing it to Marigold.

“If you had lost my phone, I would have—” Marigold began to say. Their mom didn't let her finish.

“But she didn't,” Mom said. “The phone is safe. So it's all good.”

But it didn't feel all good. Marigold was scowling even though her phone was safely back in her hands, and Zinnie couldn't help wondering what Marigold would have said to her if their dad hadn't caught the phone with his foot. And the Ferris wheel was already at the boring bottom, and the attendant was standing ready to open the door for them to get out.

“But I missed the right-over-the-ocean part,” Zinnie said.

“Then it's lucky we still have time for one more go-round, isn't it?” Dad said, wrapping his arm around her.

T
he day before Marigold's dreaded departure to Pruet, Massachusetts, she and Pilar had plans to go to the Farmers Market, a historic marketplace with about a hundred restaurant stalls and farm stands. It was one of Marigold's favorite places to go in L.A. She loved all the different kinds of food there, especially the kimchi at the Korean stall, the pancakes at the 1950s diner, and the pupusas at the Salvadoran stand. And it was dessert heaven! There was ice cream, French crepes, and, Marigold's personal favorite, the Periwinkle Pie Shop, the oldest pie shop in Los Angeles.

She also loved the knickknack stores because she could always find at least one thing that she could afford with her allowance, like a package of stickers to seal the notes she passed in class or a piece of English toffee. And of course she loved the fancy outdoor mall
behind the Farmers Market. It had all the coolest clothing stores. Even if she couldn't buy anything, it was still fun to try stuff on.

The girls were going to the Farmers Market to get something delicious and discuss their summer plans. At least that was the story. What they were really doing, Pilar said, was meeting up with Alex Key, the cutest seventh-grade boy at Epiphany, the boys' school down the street from Miss Hadley's. Alex Key had dark-blond hair and eyes the color of green Jolly Ranchers, and he smelled ever so faintly of Right Guard “fresh scent” deodorant (Pilar and her sharp nose had memorized the scent when they all were dancing to a fast song at the Winter Snowball, reported back, and initiated a research investigation at Rite Aid). He could snowboard, skateboard, breakdance, and beatbox. Now that he'd gotten his braces off and had a cool surfer haircut, Pilar had nicknamed him California Dreamin', after the Mamas and Papas song that played on her grandma's favorite radio station once an hour.

Pilar had heard through the Miss Hadley's grapevine that Alex Key thought Marigold was cute. Despite her own crush on him, Pilar was determined that someone should go out with Alex Key, even if she wasn't the one. She also knew that Marigold, who was prone to shyness around the opposite sex, had never held hands with a boy. Pilar wanted her friends to be in the loop and on the cutting edge. Pilar wanted Marigold to get kissed.

So did Marigold.

In fact, when she hadn't been thinking about landing a part in
Night Sprites
, she had been thinking about kissing.

Marigold's secret was that she had been kissed a month ago on
Seasons
. Thankfully, the scene had been cut, so no one knew about it. When she'd read the kissing moment in the script, she put a hand over her mouth and yelped. Her belly clenched. It wasn't fair. She didn't want to kiss anyone. Especially not Martin Goldblatt, the young actor who played the boy. He was only eleven! And he chewed with his mouth open! But she was too shy to voice her concern. Ronald P. Harp had taught her to always be professional. So when the director called action, Marigold ignored her churning stomach, puckered up, and touched her tremulous lips with Martin Goldblatt's. Even though their mouths were closed, she could smell the nachos he had eaten at the craft services table. His hand was on her knee, and it was so light that it tickled her.

“Did you fart?” he asked afterward. She stared at him unable to speak. Had she? She wasn't sure. It was true that something didn't smell right. But before she could deny it or defend herself, he was back at the craft services table, eating more nachos. She speed walked toward her dressing room and nearly knocked over Clint Lee on the way.

“Hey, you okay?” Clint asked.

“Yeah,” she said, and bit her lip.

“You sure?” Clint asked. Marigold nodded. Clint put a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “Just remember, that was your character's first kiss”—he looked her in the eye and gave her shoulder a light squeeze—“not yours.” She nearly burst into tears of pure relief.

“So it's like it never happened?” she asked.

“That's right.” He smiled his magical smile, the very one that earned him millions, and she felt her cheeks burn. Suddenly she wanted him to kiss her.

I
n fact, kissing had been on Marigold's mind ever since her run-in with Clint. She'd even practiced on her pillow once or twice. Or okay, maybe ten times. But Clint Lee was way too old for her. He was twenty-one. When Marigold was eighteen, he'd be twenty-seven, and they could get married and have babies named Topaz, Opal, and Aquamarine. But that was a long way away. And she was going to have to get some kissing practice in before then, and not just on her pillow. Why not with Alex Key? He was really cute. Also, she wanted to extinguish the kiss of Martin Goldblatt as soon as possible. The longer his kiss remained her only one, the more reality it seemed to accumulate.

Marigold stood in the kitchen, staring out the window, waiting for Pilar's French au pair, Sylvie, to pick
her up and take them all to the Farmers Market. Mom was on the computer, making arrangements for her trip to Canada. Berta was humming softly as she chopped fresh fruit. Zinnie and Lily were gobbling down their favorite Berta dish, chicken flautas. Finally a car horn beeped.

“Oh, that's Sylvie,” Marigold said. “Gotta go.”

“Wait a sec,” Mom said. “Who's Sylvie?”

“She's Pilar's new au pair,” Marigold said, taking a quick look at herself in her camera phone. “Remember? She's the one who'll be watching us at the Farmers Market.”

“Can I come?” Zinnie asked.

“No,” Marigold said, and headed toward the door.

“Why not?” Mom asked.

“I'd like to spend my last hours in civilization with my best friend,” Marigold said. “Besides, Zinnie is eating dinner. And all we're doing is going out to dinner. So I don't see why she'd even want to come.”

Mom tilted her head and raised her eyebrows as if to say, “Give me a break.”

Zinnie pushed her plate with the remaining bites of flautas on it away from her, which showed her commitment to joining Marigold on her outing, because she really loved those flautas. “Please can I come?” Zinnie asked. “I won't even speak. I won't talk at all.” She ran a pretend zipper across her lips.

“I said no,” Marigold said.

“She just wants to be with you, Marigold,” Mom said.

“And I just want to do my own thing. Why is that a crime? I should be allowed to go on my own, right, Berta?”

“I'm staying out of this one,” Berta said.

“Can I go?” Lily asked.

“You're staying home with me,” Berta said. “We're going to make pan dulce for tomorrow morning.”

“And watch a DVD?” Lily asked.

“I said no more DVDs today,” Mom said. Lily looked like she was about to cry, and Mom quickly added, “Okay, one more, but that's it.”

It was impossible to say no to Lily.

The car horn beeped again.

“Please.” Zinnie begged. “I want to be in civilization, too!”

“Lose the attitude, Marigold,” Mom said, folding her arms across her chest. “I'm not sure you should go if you can't include your sister.”

“No!” Zinnie said. “Don't keep Marigold home because of me, Mom.”

Guilt pressed on Marigold like a Lily-sized foot. “Fine,” Marigold said. “Come on. Just don't embarrass me.”

“Keep your cell phones on!” Mom called as Zinnie sprang from the table and followed Marigold down the hallway and out the front door.

“Hi, Marigold,” Pilar said from the front seat as
Marigold and Zinnie climbed into the backseat. “Zinnie, you're coming, too?” Zinnie nodded, and Pilar gave her a high five.

“But I'm not allowed to talk.” Zinnie buckled her seat belt. “I'm just along for the ride.”

“Zat's horrible!” Sylvie said from the front. Marigold shrank in her seat. This had been the story of her life. Babysitters always liked Zinnie better. Ever since she was a baby, Zinnie had a way of drawing people toward her. Marigold knew that she wasn't doing it on purpose, but it didn't mean that it was any less painful when just as Marigold was about to make a new friend or start a game on the playground, Zinnie would magically appear, beaming like a patch of sunshine on a cloudy day. Sometimes Marigold just wanted to do things in her own way, in her own time, without having to worry that she'd be left in the shadows.

Sylvie stopped at the red light at Beverly and La Brea. “In zis car, anyone may say what zay sink. It eez ze French way.”

“Vive la France!”
Zinnie said, and Sylvie exploded with laughter.

“You can talk, okay?” Marigold snapped.

“What's your problem?” Pilar asked.

“Nothing,” Marigold said, and gazed out the window, regretting that she had allowed Zinnie to come. Pilar was an only child, so she didn't understand just how annoying a little sister could be.

“So Zinnie, do you want my advice for middle school?” Pilar asked.

“Uh . . .” Zinnie looked to Marigold for approval. Marigold nodded. “Sure.”

“Don't put a penny in your penny loafers,” Pilar said. “That's not cool. And request Mr. Bonito for your adviser. Oh, and don't join too many clubs; just pick one or two. Yearbook and Irish dancing are good.”

“Irish dancing sounds fun,” Zinnie said.

Marigold rolled down the window as far as it would go. They drove past the gates of a major TV network where people were lined up around the block with sleeping bags and folding chairs, hoping to be first in line the next day to maybe audition for a game show or be in the audience for the finale of
America Sings.
As they turned left onto Fairfax Avenue, Marigold's eyes were drawn to a giant billboard advertising the latest
Night Sprite
s book. She could only hope that kissing would distract her from the dream she wouldn't have the chance to fight for.