The Sugar Mountain Snow Ball (14 page)

“Well, if you were in Florida,” I demanded to know, “then how come you were spying on us down at the playground?”

He finally looked up at me, squinting into the dull sun.

“I don't understand.”

“Don't pretend you don't know what I'm talking about. You know exactly what I'm saying.”

He glanced over his right shoulder, like he was looking for an answer.

“This is confusing me,” he said.

“What's so confusing? I invited you to hang out with all of us, my little brothers, Eleanor, and me. So why did you have to hide in the bushes and stalk us like a creep?”

He mumbled something.

“
What?
I can't hear you!”

“I don't understand your framework of reference,” he explained a little louder. “I was in Florida until yesterday, when we returned at six fifty-three on a nonstop flight to Manchester-Boston Regional Airport, gate twelve, baggage carousel B.”

Then he kicked at the ground and made a beeline for the giant front door, as usual, without saying anything else, except I could tell he was extra upset by the way he stomped through the snow.

All of a sudden I felt bad, like I had forced him to lie in detail about being in Florida. Obviously, he had to be the one who'd been spying on us at the playground; he just didn't think he'd ever get caught. Except I was mean about it, snapping at him and not giving him a chance to tell the truth. I was no better than those stupid Outer bully girls.

But none of it mattered anymore, since Dream Central was permanently in the past, along with my dreams of the Snow Ball and that awful JB Knox. Honestly, I didn't care much about anything, especially being friends with some strange, rich kid.

I took my time walking over to the Petites' house, still wondering how my life went from
okay-but-kinda-boring
to
super-exciting-dreams-can-come-true
to
worse-than-ever
so quickly. I guess life can be like that. If Mim hadn't been so upset with me, she would have said the trick was looking on the bright side of every situation, seeing partly sunny when the forecast said partly cloudy.

But right now I couldn't see a bright side. Only dark gray clouds spitting endless snow at my face.

Winter was no longer my favorite season. It had practically ruined my life.

“Ruby,” said Mrs. Petite as soon as she opened her front door, “Charlie and Henry seem a tad sluggish, dear. Now, I took their temperatures, which were both normal, but thought I should mention it. Could be the seasonal blues. You know, the lack of sunshine.”

“I think we've all got that problem, Mrs. Petite,” I said, “but thanks for mentioning it.”

The three of us dragged slowly back to our house, since there was no rush to go anywhere or do anything anymore. I felt sad that the boys seemed almost as down as I did. The twins knew Mim was upset with me, which meant they were punished too, since we all had to stay inside.

“I don't get it,” Charlie whined as we made our way up the driveway. “Why can't we go to the playground anymore?”

“I told you already: I'm grounded, which means I can't go anywhere, which means you can't go anywhere. Plus there's no reason to go to the playground, since Eleanor is in trouble like me.”

“Are you and Eleanor going to jail?” asked Henry.

“No,” I said, “even though it feels like we're in prison right now.”

Somehow, my life had offered me a thrilling $50,000 Showcase Showdown, like I had been a finalist on
The Price Is Right,
but then the contestant next to me had beaten me with a perfect guess, winning everything, and leaving me with the big nothing I'd started with.

In fact, I was right back to where I had been before we met Madame M: picking up the twins at Mrs. Petite's house, only to haul them home to watch reruns on television
,
and eat leftover Monster Chunk cookie pieces. Except now I wasn't looking forward to any of it, not even one teensy bit. It felt wrong this time around.

I had seen the other side of an interesting life—a reason to get up every morning and create something out of nothing with my very best friend. I admit, reaching our dreams had seemed impossible most of the time, but still, I had loved every minute of trying.

When we got to the house, I immediately saw the blinking light on the answering machine. I hoped it was Eleanor. Or maybe even Pop saying he was finally on his way home. But it was messages from store customers wanting new E & R Dream Designs to sell.

I had no idea what to do. Was I supposed to go around to every shop and tell them that the company had gone belly-up because all of our dreams had been ruined in one day?

I grabbed the bag of leftover cookie chunks that was still sitting on the counter from Saturday, clicked on the television set, and plopped down on the couch between the boys. But none of us said or ate a thing.

And
The Price Is Right
was completely smushy.

21

The next morning I felt so relieved to see Eleanor in gym class for second period that I practically gave her a big bear hug in the locker room.

But she was acting so weird, like she wasn't herself at all. Slumped on a bench and staring down at the tiled floor, she hadn't even changed into her gym clothes.

“Eleanor, are you okay?” I whispered so no one would notice. I'd had enough negative attention for a lifetime.

“Why were you absent yesterday?” I asked, slipping next to her on the bench. “I was dying to call you after school, but didn't know if you were allowed to talk on the phone.”

Eleanor said nothing. She continued to sulk, her arms folded across her chest.

“Oh, Eleanor, I wished you'd been here. It was possibly the worst day of my life, at least as bad as Saturday. That dumb JB Knox got so much pity for his broken arm in a sling. And people who I don't even know said such mean things to me—as mean as those Outer girls. I almost ran away. But then luckily Anton asked me to sit with
him and the Math Squad at lunch, even though you weren't around. Actually, Anton was pretty nice to me for once, but otherwise, it feels like I'm the most hated person in the entire school.”

I could tell Eleanor was listening, because she tilted her head toward me a little. But at the same time she crossed her legs tighter, like she was trying to twist her whole body up into one big knot.

After the misery I'd been through, I couldn't bear to think that Eleanor also blamed me for everything that had gone wrong with her life.

“Don't tell me you're mad at me, too? Is that why you're acting so strange, Eleanor?”

I bent down close to her so I could see if her lips were moving.

Very slowly, she shook her head back and forth.

“What is it then? Are you feeling sad or mad because your amma came home, and you're back to your crazy schedule?”

Again she signaled no, which surprised me. I thought for sure her mother was driving her crazy.

“Well then, is it about your thaththa discovering E and R Dream Designs, and not getting to buy your sewing machine? I guess your deepest dream turned into a nightmare too.”

But it was no, again.

I couldn't think of anything else that could be troubling her enough to make her act like this. After all, weren't all those things horrible enough?

That's when Ms. Duncan blew her whistle.

“Free morning!” she called. “I've got to write up evaluations, so you're free to play at any station, girls.”

This was the best news I'd heard in days. Everyone cleared out quickly to grab their favorite activities.

“Did you hear that, Eleanor? We can play Ping-Pong if you hurry up and change. I'll save us a table.”

But she didn't move.

“Eleanor?” I said again, whispering very softly, and then I shook her shoulder.

Ms. Duncan appeared in front of us, scowling.

“What's going on over here, ladies?”

She bent down in front of Eleanor, her hands planted on her knees, and stared up into her face like she was examining a wad of gum stuck under a desk.

“Don't you want to play Ping-Pong?” she asked. “I've noticed you two are pretty good at it.”

I had no idea Ms. Duncan thought we were good at anything, but Eleanor still didn't reply, and only scrunched up harder.

“I don't think she's feeling too well,” I said. “I've never seen her like this.”

Ms. Duncan straightened up and scratched out a note on her clipboard. Then she handed it to me.

“Accompany her to the nurse's office, so she can lie down.”

Ms. Duncan also must have realized that something was seriously wrong with Eleanor, because her usual answer to everything was to go sit on the bleachers, even if you thought you were going to barf.

Somehow I managed to untangle Eleanor's arms and pull her to a standing position.

We slipped out without anyone noticing us, and she followed me slowly down the empty hallways, her head tipped at a strange angle. Even though I still felt pretty awful myself, I could only think about Eleanor. I couldn't imagine what could be making her feel so rotten.

The nurse wasn't in her office, but since we had the permission slip, I told Eleanor it was okay to lie down on the cot anyway, and I rolled one of those spinny chairs on wheels close to her.

My pop always tells me I have the gift of gab, so I decided to start babbling to take her mind off things. But as soon as I opened my mouth, she peered up at me from the pillow.

Her eyes were watery and swollen, as if holding back a flood of tears.

“Oh, Eleanor. What's the matter?” I asked one more time. “You can tell me anything. I
promise
I won't tell anyone.”

She took a long, deep breath and murmured, “A boy.”

I was confused.

“A boy?”

And then she added, “The notes.”

Those tiny pieces of paper that had been dropping out of her pockets all winter long . . . She never had explained, and now I knew that something bad was going on.

“Oh, Eleanor, has someone been wicked mean to you, too? Are you being harassed? Or did you get into more trouble with your parents?”

She rubbed and rubbed her eyes with her bony fists, then took another long, deep breath.

“I've been receiving secret notes in my locker from a boy who likes me,” she said, pronouncing each word carefully, like she might drop one and break it.

“Wait. What?”

“Notes of admiration from an anonymous source.”

“Do you mean, like,
love letters?
”

She nodded.

“But that's so cool, Eleanor! Why would that upset you? Oh wait—are they from someone you don't like? Are they from Anton?”

She sat up on the edge of the bed and sighed.

“I had no idea who they were from, because they were signed NA, for ‘Nameless Admirer.' But I knew all along Anton couldn't have written them.”

“Why not?”

She shrugged. “I don't know; they were so . . .”

“They were so
what
, Eleanor?”

“For once, I can't find the right words,” she said. “Sweet? Funny? Kind?”

What was wrong with this girl?

“I don't get it, Eleanor. What's this got to do with you feeling worse than I've ever seen you feel in your entire life? I mean, Eleanor!
Who wouldn't want to get secret love notes from a secret admirer?
Even if they
were
from Anton.”

Eleanor sighed.

“In his very last note NA told me he wasn't going to write them anymore, because he wanted to reveal himself. And that if I wanted
to know his identity, I had to meet him under the large maple tree at the entrance to Sugar Mountain.”

“You mean the old Sugar Tree? That's
so
romantic! Just like something out of a movie.”

Eleanor gazed down at the floor.

“Well, what happened?” I asked. “Did you meet him?”

“I did.”

“
When?
”

“On Sunday, two days ago. Later, after you called me on the phone, but before Thaththa and I left for the airport.”

“You went alone? Are you crazy, Eleanor? Meeting a stranger like that?”

A million things raced through my head. Did this boy end up being some creep? Or even worse, did he hurt her?”

“It's not what you're imagining,” she said. “From what he said in his notes, I knew he was a student at our school. He kept telling me I would recognize him as soon as I saw him. He even suggested the Sugar Tree because it was out in the open and lots of people would be driving by. So I would feel safe.”

“Still, you should have gone with someone.”

She nodded. “I know. I wasn't thinking clearly. And I had to rush in time to leave for the airport.”

“So? Who was it?”

Eleanor covered her eyes and continued her story without looking at me.

“As I approached the entrance to the mountain, I could see the back of someone leaning against the old maple tree. He wore a long green jacket and a dark hat.”