Two Naomis (10 page)

I've never been so happy about a rainy day. A soaking, rainy day. Heavy, endless rain that means Annie's after-school soccer practice is canceled, which Annie says happens almost never, so yay! Keep raining, rain! I want to hang out with my always-busy friend!

Mom couldn't Skype with me over the weekend, so we talked and texted when we could. And this morning she sent me a text:
Need to see your face! Can we Skype at 4?

I guess I needed to see hers on this yucky, gray day too, because, finally! “Mom!”

“I know,” she says. “It's been ridiculous.”

“What do you mean?” I say. “I enjoy not talking to you for so long. It makes me feel so . . . grown-up.” But instead of laughing,
we both shrink a little bit in our seats. Saying the opposite of what you really think, turns out, isn't always funny.

“Well, Naomi girl. I haven't only wanted to see your face for the sake of seeing your face, though that's a pretty good reason right there.”

“It is,” I say.

“Your dad and I have been trying to figure out when you can come out here.”

Oh good! I thought all the quiet from Dad on this subject meant he was too busy being serious, very serious, about Valerie to think about schedules and airplanes.

“But it got complicated because somehow I forgot that Dad and I agreed you're too young to fly by yourself all the way across the country and—”

“I am not!” I say, wondering if it's true. I could watch a bunch of movies and eat a ton of snacks. “Or I could bring Annie and not fly alone!”

“Well, I'm afraid that's not your decision to make. It's one made by your father and me.” I hear her cell phone ring, and she holds a finger up to the screen, to me, and says, “One sec.”

While she talks to whoever she has to talk to, an empty feeling starts swirling through my insides. If I can't fly to California, if I can't see my mother, how am I going to . . . ? How can I keep not seeing my mother? How does anyone think this is okay?

Mom says, “I'll get it to you before five, I promise, but I have to go now,” to whoever's on the phone and turns back to me. “Sorry. So I don't know what you're going to think of this, but
I think it's pretty exciting news. Or at least I'm really excited.”

I have to act happy when Mom tells me about her next job, because she's doing what she always wanted to do and I'd have to be a horrible and selfish person to be sad about it, even if it means I have to wait longer to see her. I hope the smile on my face looks more brave than fake. Because I'm trying!

“Do you remember Myla? My assistant on
Frog Ballet Love Triangle
?”

“The one who had cats named Sidney and Ketchup?”

“You are an oddball.” Mom smiles. “But yes. Well, she's coming out to California at the end of June!”

“And you're really excited about that?” I half say and half ask.

“Yes, because she's going to stay in my apartment!”

“I thought it was really small,” I say. When I imagined my visit to California, I saw it as a long relaxing party, both of us in lazy-day clothes, lying around, eating popcorn and takeout, everything within reach.

“It is. And so is her place.”

“I remember,” I say. It smelled like cat.

“But I don't think that will bother me too much when I live there this summer.”

And now I understand why Mom needed to see my face, because I'm pretty sure it looks like I won the Showcase Showdown and the lottery and a free lifetime supply of cupcakes and five puppies at once. I'm like a one-girl party, jumping up and down and only half listening as she explains that she couldn't figure out how to make my visit to California work, since she was
going to work on one job and then another right away, but then after she talked to Myla, who talked about wanting to break into TV and movies, she was able to pass her next job along to Myla. Which gets us to the important part: she's taking off all of July so she can have a whole month with me!!!

As we're saying good-bye and I'm saying, “I love you and I'm so happy and this is the best news ever,” I hear Annie talking to my dad in the kitchen, so I make Mom wait so Annie can say hello because I think maybe Mom misses Annie too and maybe Annie misses my mom and they have this awkward
hi, hi
conversation and then Mom has to go and I say, “Guess what!” to Annie, who forgot to bring a raincoat or umbrella and looks like she walked through lawn sprinklers. On her hands.

“Um, I get to meet that other Naomi?”

“WHAT?” I ask. “Let's go in my room,” I say, so we leave the not-even-close-to-being-a-library/TV/music/relax-and-also-we'll-be-allowed-to-eat-in-there-but-at-least-there-is-a-computer-in-there room.

We flop down on my bed, which is wrinkly and gross because I haven't made it in weeks, and I tell her about my mother's plans for July, and we think about some of the things we can all do together on the days Annie doesn't have soccer camp.

And then I pull out a stack of picture books. “Please?” I say.

She looks through the pile, laughs her sort of crazy laugh, and pulls out one book. She takes a look at the first illustration and then holds it out for me to see, like she's a teacher and I'm . . . kindergarten.

Showing me the cover, she says, “A boy and a nice lion look out a window.”

She opens the book. “A squirrel is in a tree. A boy takes his lion to school. A girl brought her bunny. One boy has a backpack on his head, and he's maybe a zombie.”

She turns to the next picture and grins. “In the classroom, there are books and weather things. The boy and lion stare at a spider. An alligator might eat a cat.”

And then we're both laughing.

“Can I do the next page? I ask. She hands me the book. We could do this all day. We could do this forever.

Before long, Annie's hungry, and we go searching through the pantry until she finds some probably-too-old Girl Scout cookies.

“You go first,” I say, offering the box to her. She's a brave eater.

“How's stuff with the other Naomi?” she asks, sniffing at a Thin Mint.

“Where did that come from?” I ask.

“You spend a lot of time with her. I think it would be cool to meet her.” She bites into the cookie and her face makes me think we'll be throwing out the whole box, but then she reaches for another.

Dad walks in and says, “Aren't those cookies from last year?”

Annie and I nod. She asks, “Want one?”

Dad takes one.

“Mmm . . . cookies,” he says. “Oh! Before I forget, I was on the phone with Valerie, and we were talking about having a
celebration after your last club meeting.”

“What would we even be celebrating?” I ask.

“Your hard work and open minds? And isn't that the day your projects are due?”

Ugh. That project. I told the other Naomi I would add a list of possible quizzes and I didn't. I shrug. “I guess.” Now I feel bad. I have to get back to that stupid project.

“So we can all celebrate that.”

Right. Sure. We can celebrate. My hard work.

Annie elbows me. And then elbows me again. And then I get it and ask, “Can Annie come?”

“I think that's a terrific idea,” Dad says. “The more the merrier.”

I wonder if that's always true.

“Nice pants, Bennett,” says Mikey as he runs by. I look down at my leggings. The pattern is just like the black-and-white-marbled composition notebooks we use at school. They ARE nice pants, so I don't know why he thinks that's an insult. Oh yeah, right—this is Mikey we're talking about: he doesn't think.

I ignore him and turn to Xiomara as we leave the classroom. We figured out today that there are only twenty-seven more days of school, and it's Friday, so no Mikey for two days—I want to celebrate! “Hey, do you think our moms will let us go to the playground for a little while?”

Xiomara nods. “My mom will say yes if your mom does, so let's go ask your mom together first. I'll sing for her; she can't resist that!”

“Yeah, you'll win her over with the . . . power of your voice,” I say as we walk down the hall to the library.

“Can you start calling me Xio?” says Xiomara, drawing it out in a really dramatic way, like SEEEE-oh. “It sounds like I'm already a star that way.”

“Um, okay,” I say. “I guess it's a good idea to have a nickname ready just in case you have to spend every Saturday with a girl who has the exact same name as you someday.”

“Come on, you have to admit Naomi Marie sounds kind of elegant. And you said she's not that bad,” says “Xio.” “Are you almost ready to introduce us? I think it would be so cool to hang out together!”

“Well, she was telling me about her friend Annie,” I say slowly, lowering my voice as we walk into the library even though school's over. Momma has a rep to protect, so I try to follow the rules even when I don't have to. “Maybe it won't be awkward with all four of us. We can take Shotsie for a walk . . . maybe go to Shelly Ann's.”

We walk into Momma's tiny office, and she's not there.

But Tom is.

“You must be Xiomara,” Tom says, like he belongs in my school. At Momma's desk.

“Xio, actually,” says Xiomara. She lifts up her head like she's fancy. “And you are . . . ?”

“Tom,” he says, smiling. He turns to me. “Hi, Naomi Marie. Your mom had to run Bri over to Dr. Johnson's. She got sick and threw up at school. Val asked me to meet you, and here I am.” He
holds up a white paper bag. “I've even got Shelly Ann's.”

“WHAT?!” I drop my backpack, and the water bottle inside makes a big clank. “Is Bri okay?” I ask. “How come nobody told me?”

“Tom's telling you now,” says Xio, oh so helpfully.

“It sounds like she'll be fine,” says Tom quickly. “Don't be scared.”

“I'm not scared,” I say, but I know my voice is shaking. “But I can feel any way I want to—it's
my
sister!”
And you're in my mom's office like you belong, and I just want to cover my ears and scream.

“I mean . . . your mom just wanted to be careful. There are so many viruses going around right now. She checked in a few minutes ago, and she said you can call her if you want.”

“I do want,” I say, picking up my backpack and trying to speak past the lump in my throat. “I mean, this is
my
family. And Bri doesn't go to
school
, it's
playgroup
.” I know I sound worse than snotty, but it's like there's a different me in control. Momma's gone, and my little sister's sick. . . . Tom's trying to be . . .
dadly
, saying “Bri” and wanting to bribe me with Shelly Ann's. I'm not having it. And he shouldn't know doctor stuff. That's
personal.

“Sorry. Playgroup,” says Tom. “Wherever she was, she puked. Big-time.” He smiles. I don't.

I can hear Xio hold back a giggle.

I turn my back on Tom and call Momma.

“Hi, sweetie pie, I'm so sorry to surprise you like this, but I had to pick Bri up from Little Nubians, she threw up during free play, but she's fine, they think it's a twenty-four-hour bug, and
Tom was around—” Momma sounds breathless, and I know I should say,
How's-Bri-I'm-okay,
but . . .

“Why didn't you get Daddy?” I blurt out. “Since this is a
family
matter.” I look right at Tom when I say that, and it feels good when he looks down. That other me has taken over.

She sighs. “Well, your father was tied up on a conference call. I had to run . . . and I didn't want to leave you hanging, honey.”

“Why was he visiting you?” I ask. “Did he get fired from his job?” I hear Tom snort behind me, so I guess he knows what we're talking about. I move a little farther away. “I mean, I'm just thinking about him and his daughter. He has to spend so much money buying all those frozen dinners since we already know he can't cook.”

“Naomi Marie—”

“See!” I say. “You're saying it when you're upset!”

“Ugh, sorry, sorry,” she says, and sighs again. “My dear sweet Naomi Marie, I know this was a surprise and maybe not the kind you usually hope for. I didn't want to just text you and have you deal with this all alone. It's a little crazy right now, and I have to pay attention to your sister. It sounds like we'll be home this evening. Tom can tell you everything. You can make it work right now, yeah? I know you can. Tom can take you over to your dad's if you want.”

“I just—”

“Thank you, honey. The doctor's back. I love you.” She hangs up.

“I love you too, Momma,” I say slowly, even though she can't
hear me anymore. “And I hope Bri's really all right.”

I stand there with my back still turned, but now it's mostly because I need to fix my face before I look at Tom or Xio.

“Everything okay?” asks Tom softly. “I wrote down everything your mom reported after the doctor checked Bri out. Even her ‘ums.'”

“Momma hardly ever says ‘um,'” I say, looking at him and trying to smile a little. “Everything's okay. But . . . I'd like to see your notes.”

He hands them over, and they're in a list, nice and numbered, just the way I like. I wonder if he found that out about me or if it's just a coincidence, but I don't ask. Xio reads over my shoulder.

“Thank you,” I say, very softly, but I know he hears. “Um, can you take me to my dad's apartment?” I look at Xio and raise my eyebrows. She gets it right away.

“And me?” she asks quickly. “We can do our homework together.”

I smile and mouth, Thank you. I'm not ready to be by myself in Tom's car.

“Sure,” says Tom. “As long as you guys can direct me.” At least he doesn't know
that
. Then it would be too weird.

“I'll, um, call my mom first,” says Xio. “I'll tell her that I can walk home from your dad's place.”

While she does, Tom and I stand there, not really looking at each other. I don't feel like that other me anymore, but I don't feel like myself either.

Tom's car radio turns on when he starts the engine, and it's loud—I bet he was singing, because he shuts it off real quick, like he's embarrassed, and clears his throat. He glances at me in the rearview mirror, but I look out of the window and pretend I don't feel Xio nudging me. I give him Dad's address, and he puts it in his GPS, which I'm surprised this car has because it looks OLD.

“How old is this car?” I ask. “It doesn't seem safe.”

Tom looks at me sideways. “I don't have a car, actually. This one belongs to my neighbor George. I wanted to get to you right away, and he came to the rescue. He calls it the G-DOGmobile, and I have every confidence in it.”

I turn away and think eye-rolly thoughts.

“So, Xio,” he says. “Has Naomi Marie told you about the coding club? You might be interested in joining the girls for the next session.”

“It sounds really cool,” says Xio. “I was thinking that I could make a karaoke game or something.”

He says “the girls” like we're a pair or something. NOT.

“What do you think, Naomi Marie?” he asks. “Maybe you three can all work together. And Naomi's friend Annie—the four of you could be a team.”

“That's exactly what I was thinking!” says Xio, and I glare at her.

Tom clears his throat again. “The girls have a project presentation coming up. Maybe you can join our little celebration afterward.” He pauses. “How's the project going, Naomi Marie?
Naomi doesn't say much about it.”

Because she doesn't do much about it
is what I want to say, but I don't. I won't sell her out like THAT. “It's fine. My dad will help with it too. It's a good thing he's always here for me,” I say, a little more loudly than I need to. “I don't know what I'd do without him. He's the best father a girl named Naomi could have.”

Xio elbows me hard, but I just blink a few times and stare straight ahead.

“Your father is a great guy,” says Tom quietly. “And we have a lot in common.”

“How do
you
know?” I ask, not caring how rude I sound. Xio's staring at me with her mouth open.

“We've met,” says Tom. “We've talked.”

What? Now
my
mouth is open.

“He certainly loves you and your sister very much,” Tom adds as he pulls up in front of Dad's place. “And I can see why.”

Well, now I know Tom's a total liar, because I'm not that nice to him, especially today. But I don't really know what to do except mumble “Thank you” and follow Xio out of the car. Tom smiles, and waves at my dad when he opens his door and waves me and Xio inside. My dad waves back at Tom. All this waving is making me feel sick.

“I don't feel so good,” I say to Xio. “Maybe you should go home now.”

Xio looks at me for a minute and then says, “I have to walk Shotsie anyway.” She stomps off, and I want to run after her.

But I don't.