The Steps (3 page)

So then Justine figured out a gimmick. I should become a vegetarian. Justine's mother is a political-science professor, and they decided I needed to run on an “issue” to combat the Brittany factor. Justine and her mom were right. Standing on a chair in the cafeteria, I proclaimed my new meat-free existence with a ceremonial dumping of spaghetti and meatballs into the garbage can. (It hurt, too. I really love meatballs.) The class liked that I respected their food choices and wanted to work to improve their lunch options in the cafeteria. Brad Dufus the Third was forgotten as ballots were cast in favor of a meat- and lactose-free cafeteria. So what that the cafeteria cooks told me to “fuggedaboutit” when I strutted into their kitchen as the newly elected seventh-grade president and demanded that our dietary needs be respected? What counted was that I made the effort, that I stayed a vegetarian on principle, and that my efforts at least resulted in lactose-free chocolate milk arriving in our cafeteria as a concession to my new political power.

Maybe it was a little radical to change my whole way of eating, but there is a price to be paid for popularity and being class president, and if that price is being a vegetarian, then I am willing to pay it.

So imagine my surprise and horror when I arrived at the Steps' house and they had cooked my supposed favorite chicken dinner.

I was so shocked I didn't know what to say. So I sat at the table and sulked.

Lucy said, “Annabel, do you like pizza? Dad says everyone in America loves pizza, and I want us to go together one night and eat pizza.”

“I like pizza so long as it doesn't have sausage or anchovies on it,” I said, thinking maybe they would get the message. And thinking,
STOP CALLING HIM DAD!

“Me, too!” Lucy squealed. This girl was really getting on my last nerve.

“Annabel isn't eating her chicken, and Lucy is playing with her food,” Angus whined. I had noticed very quickly that he was very competitive with Lucy. If Lucy had a game, he wanted to play it. If Lucy had a drink, he wanted a drink. If Lucy made a face at him, he couldn't wait to tell on her.

Jack was too distracted spoon-feeding Beatrice to notice.

Penny said, “Annabel, Jack cooks chicken cacciatore all the time and tells us how it's your favorite food. Lucy says it's her favorite food now too.”

Lucy nodded and grinned at me. I could see that with a good makeover—replacing her corduroys with a funky plaid miniskirt, and taking away her sport top and replacing it with a soft cashmere short-cropped sweater—she could be quite the Miss Thang. With her rosy cheeks and big smile and athletic form, she would look great in my designs. Not like I'd ever let her know that.

My stomach growled. The chicken smelled sooo good, oozing with tomatoes and drowning in pasta. The food seemed to be calling to me, “Eat me, Annabel, sweet girl Annabel. You knooowww how hungry you are. You remember how much you luuuuv chicken cacciatore.” I nibbled at the potatoes on my plate, wanting to cry from how good the chicken smelled.
No one at the Progress School will know,
I thought. But I knew better. A guilty conscience would be harder to live with than Brittany Carlson herself taking my picture as I ate chicken cacciatore and then parading the photo all over school and saying, “See? I told you all you should have elected me class president, not Annabel. I wouldn't have said I was a vegetarian and then flown off to Australia and eaten chicken!” Horror!

“More mash, Annabel?” Penny asked.

“Mash?” I said.

“Mashed potatoes,” Jack said, still not looking up from Beatrice's gooey vegetables dribbling down her sweet little face. Angelina says you should never put pasta and mashed potatoes in the same meal. Too much starch.

“No more,” I said, “too much starch.” I saw Jack's shoulders slump when I repeated that Angelina rule.

Penny said, “Is there anything special you want to do during your vacation with us?”

I ignored her and said, “Hey, Jack, do you remember how I sent you those E-mails about the class elections at my school?”

Jack finally looked away from Beatrice. “I think Penny asked you a question, young lady.”
Young lady?
What had they done to Jack?

I couldn't take it anymore. I stood up and not-quite-yelled, “I'M A VEGETARIAN!”

Then I stormed away from the table and ran to Lucy's room, where they had put in a cot for me. I didn't care that it was her room. I slammed the door and lay down on the bed and cried. I looked up from my pillow once, and what I saw almost killed me. On Lucy's nightstand was a framed picture of Jack giving Lucy a piggyback ride in some park. In the picture the sun reflected off her multicolored braces, her grin was that wide and happy. “He's
my
dad,” I whispered.

I buried my head back into the pillow. I hated Australia, I hated the Steps, and I wanted to go home.

That was the first day.

I woke up at about three in the morning, totally confused. I couldn't figure out where I was. The air from the open window was warm and balmy, and there was no street noise from taxicabs and buses. Moonlight was streaming in through the curtains, which freaked me out because I certainly didn't have smiley-face curtains hanging in my room in Manhattan! I could also see another bed next to mine. An empty bed, with . . . more smiley-face linens.
Blech,
I thought. At the Progress School we are so beyond smiley-face thingies everywhere. I realized I was still stranded in Sydney, Australia, and I was still mad about dinner. But where was Lucy?

I got out of bed and stumbled into the living room, where Jack was sitting in a big love-seat chair with a sheet draped over it for upholstery, which was the kind of house decorating Angelina always used to complain about when we lived with Jack. But all the furniture in his new house was homey and kind of tattered and worn in. Obviously, Penny didn't mind.

Jack was holding Beatrice and feeding her a bottle. “Anna-the-Belle,” he whispered.

“Jack,” I said. I crossed my arms over my chest.

“You fell asleep before I could come talk to you,” he said.

I dropped my arms from my chest and sat down on the old sofa next to his chair. I could feel tears streaming down my face.

“I'm sorry, Annabel,” Jack said. “You were right to be angry. I should have remembered you were a vegetarian. There are so many things going on here, sometimes I forget important details like that. I wanted everything to be perfect for you, and I blew it.” He put down Beatrice's bottle and leaned in with his free hand to wipe away my tears.

“I guess I'm sorta sorry about yelling and running away,” I whispered.

“Sorta?” He laughed softly.

“Sorta,” I said, and laughed a little too. “Not totally.” I caught my breath and added, “When you lived in New York, you never forgot about things like that. You were never that busy.”

Jack said, “When I was in New York, I had a very unsuccessful career as a comedian, which left me with loads of time, and I was blessed with a daughter who remembered everything for me.”

I liked that Jack was talking to me like he knew I wasn't a little girl anymore and I would understand what he was saying.

“And now?” I asked.

“And now,” he said. He gestured toward the computer table, which was stacked with papers and glossy photos and baby toys and children's books. “And now I've got this moderately successful career as a booking agent, bringing comedians who are much funnier than I ever was over to Australia, and sending some Australian ones over to the States, and there's Lucy, Angus, and Beatrice . . .”

“Oh yeah—them . . .”

“Annabel, I know it's hard, but promise me you'll try. Lucy and Angus want so much for you to like them, they've been so excited about your coming here.” He paused and looked into my face, like only he can do. Then he understood. “And you know you'll always be my best girl, and I'll always love you—”

“Love me best?” I interrupted.

Jack smiled. “Love you totally as my most wonderful, special, irreplaceable first daughter.”

That was a start.

“So why don't you put down that baby already and make some room for me?”

Jack chuckled again and put sleeping Beatrice into the bassinet next to his chair. He held his arms out to me and I snuggled right in, resting on his lap and burrowing my head in his neck. It had been so long since Jack had held me in his arms. He still smelled like aftershave and fresh garlic and tomatoes. He patted my head and twirled my hair as I sat in his lap.

“You're getting so tall!” he said.

“No I'm not, you're getting shorter!” I said. Our favorite old joke. After a few minutes of snuggling I asked, “Where's Lucy?”

“She went to sleep in Angus's room. But not before yelling at me for forgetting you were a vegetarian. She and Angus stayed up to make you something special.”

“What?” I said it low and quiet so he would think I wasn't interested.

“Macaroni and cheese to eat tomorrow night. Your second-favorite meal, if memory serves. That was pretty cool of them, no?” I could smell the cheese sauce on Jack's shirt. I knew it was pretty cool of Jack, not of the Steps.

“I guess,” I allowed. I didn't want to be mean about it, considering I had Jack all to myself.

Beatrice gurgled in her sleep. “Do you want to hold her?” Jack asked.

She was my half sister, not a step, so I figured why not. I lifted her out of the bassinet, careful to hold the back of her head, and the two of us sat with Jack in the big chair. She was so pretty, with eyes and lips shaped just like Jack's, and soft black hair just like Penny's. I could feel the rhythm of her breathing on my arm, which was cradling her back.

“Awesome,” I whispered. I wondered if I could design baby clothes.

Feeling Beatrice's back rise and fall in my arms, cuddled in Jack's arms, I decided I felt okay about Beatrice and Jack. About Penny and the Steps, still not cool.

When I woke up the second time, it was already noon! I have never slept so late in my life. Maybe I slept so late because I dreaded spending time with the Steps.

I was right to dread. The Steps, Jack, Penny, and Beatrice were all sitting around the kitchen table working on a giant puzzle of a panda, and obviously waiting for me to haul my butt out of bed. The first thing Angus said to me when I went into the kitchen was, “Annabel, the Frosties don't have any meat in them!”

“Frosties?” I mumbled, still dazed.

“Frosted Flakes, sleepyhead,” Jack said. I have always been a Cocoa Puffs girl myself, so I didn't care about the Frosted Flakes.

“Bagel?” I asked.

“Penny went out and got you bagels this morning,” Jack said. He said it like this was a special favor she had done for me, which I didn't like. They looked like such a family, and I felt uncomfortable that everyone was doing special things for me. I knew they were trying to be nice, and even though I didn't want to be part of their family, since I fully expected that Jack would come to his senses and come home to America, I still didn't appreciate being singled out with special treats, like I was a guest instead of a member of the family.

I made a face when I saw the bagel. It was pasty looking and small. I broke off a piece to sample. Dry, tasteless. Conclusion: Awful! If it's one thing I know besides clothes, it's bagels, and this was no New York bagel.

“How 'bout some of those Frosties?” I asked.

“You're a very picky eater,” Lucy said.

“I have high standards,” I answered back.

Frosties. Conclusion: Yuck! No wonder they didn't call the cereal by its proper name, Frosted Flakes. This cereal tasted nothing like what I expected from Tony the Tiger. The cereal tasted like sawdust sprinkled with sugar. I didn't know what scam these people in Australia were trying to pull, but their attempts at American breakfast foods were terrible, insulting even.

Jack said, “Nothing here seems to please you, Annabel. What would you like to have for breakfast?”

“How 'bout lunch?” I said. Because breakfast in Australia was a joke.

Angus said, “We could get Kinder Surprises from the milk bar! Annabel, Dad told me you don't have Kinder Surprises in America. It's this chocolate candy with a toy inside!”

I shrugged like that was no big deal. “Milk bar?” I said. “What's that?”
Milk bar?
What tilted kinda thing could that be?

“The store, silly!” Angus said. He shook his head and looked toward Jack like,
She doesn't know what a milk bar is?

“It's a convenience store,” Jack said. “Like the corner store or the neighborhood bodega.”

“Oh,” I said. “Milk bar” sounded to me like some cocktail lounge where cows sat on barstools and ordered some fancy drink on the rocks.

Penny butted in. “Lucy, how would you like to take Annabel into town for lunch? Just the two of you.”

I figured Lucy would squeal with excitement, but now she shrugged her shoulders. She said, “Okay, I guess, if Annabel wants to go.”

I totally did
not
want to go, but I looked at Jack's face, and he was staring at me with such hope, and I remembered I had promised him I would at least try.

“Well, okay, but only if you want to go,” I said. I said the words in Lucy's direction, but I didn't actually look at her.

“Only if you want to go,” Lucy said, this time in my direction but not to me.

“GO!” Jack and Penny said at the same time.

This I will admit: Even though I was used to Manhattan skyscrapers and massive apartment buildings, I thought it was kind of cool that the Steps could live in a major city like Sydney, and yet their neighborhood, which was called Balmain, was really cozy and quiet, lined with pretty little Victorian cottages. As Lucy and I reached the top of the hills near the center of Balmain we could see the skyscrapers of the Sydney skyline and harbor. It was like being in Brooklyn, except the neighborhood felt very peaceful and, with its quaint cottages and willowy trees, somewhat enchanted.