The unique lou fox, p.4
The Unique Lou Fox, page 4
“The storage room. I’d love a hand.”
I zipped into the storage room. Every box and plastic tub had been taken off the shelves and opened. Clothes and lids were strewn everywhere. All thoughts of Grammers drifted from my mind. “Woah. What happened?”
“Just trying to find something.” Mom peeked up over a stack of boxes, at the back of the narrow room. As always, her paint smock covered up her clothes.
“Did a bomb literally explode in here?” I squeezed between my old stroller and highchair to move farther into the room.
“No bombs.” She smiled, opening another box. She shook her head. “Not here.” She turned and pointed to the last box on the top shelf. “Cross your fingers that’s the one I need.” She looked at me. “Come on. Cross those digits.”
I crossed my fingers.
“Only good energy allowed in this room.”
Good energy. See? Weird.
Mom stood on a large plastic tub, reaching high.
“You’re too short,” I said. “Maybe wait for Dad to get—”
Mom jumped and her fingers snagged the edge of the box, moving it just enough that she could drag it down. That’s another thing about Mom. If there’s something she wants to do, she just goes out and does it. She smiled down at me, wobbling on the tub. “Yup! This is it!”
“What’s inside?” I shimmied around the highchair to get closer.
“You’ll see.” She stepped to the floor, hiding the box behind her. “No peeking.…Oh…” Her face suddenly paled. “I need to scoot to the restroom.” She climbed over a shorter pile of boxes. “Meet me in the kitchen. I want to hear all about your day.”
“It was a doozy.” I squished flat to my old crib so Mom and her mystery box could get past.
Why was Mom wasting time messing around? Didn’t she want things to be as perfect as last time Grammers visited? I shrugged and bounded from the storage room, past the boxes in the rec room, and up the stairs. Mom still hadn’t mentioned my grandmother. How long did she intend to keep the secret? I couldn’t wait until she arrived.
I sat at the kitchen table while Mom poured me a glass of almond milk. She stacked three store-bought cookies in front of me. Store. Bought. Cookies. First mayonnaise, then white bread, now store-bought cookies. Utter cookie joy filled me. We have never, ever had anything but homemade.
Mom glanced at the mystery box on the kitchen counter. She’d spread a tea towel over it, so I couldn’t see the words written on the cardboard. “I have something to tell you,” she said, and clasped her hands. She smiled, her face no longer pale.
“Grammers is coming!” I blurted. I couldn’t help myself. I’d been home close to ten minutes already. “I know you love surprises, and this was likely a humongous one, but come on, you know waiting is excruciating for me.” Ex-cru-ci-at-ing. Beyond painful.
“Yes, but Lou—”
“So, when is she supposed to get here?”
“I’m afraid Grammers isn’t the surprise.”
“Oh.” My heart lurched. Grammers always makes things better, and this school year hadn’t been stellar. It had been a-bys-mal, meaning extremely bad, horrible, awful, and terrible. The exact opposite of stellar. And Grammers not coming to visit was a terrible, awful five-dollar-word feeling.
Mom slid the towel off the mystery box as she plunked it onto the table. She tapped the top.
I stared at it, feeling abysmal. “Your good news is in an old box?”
“Come look.”
I stood. Mom swiveled the box, so the writing faced me. Messy, scrawled handwriting. It might as well have been another language. “Huh?”
“It says ‘Pregnancy.’” She pointed at two more neatly printed, big black words.
I read them slowly. “Fav…or…ite Outfits.” I looked at Mom. “Okay.”
“I wore these when I was pregnant with you, and I had a perfect pregnancy. And a perfect baby.” Mom tore the box open and pulled out a bunch of giant shirts. “They brought me good luck.”
I was far from perfect, but okay. She looked like she wanted me to say something. “Uhm, yay! Good luck’s…good!”
She shook her head, laughing. Her weirdness was increasing by the second. “Lou,” she said. “You’re finally going to be a big sister.”
“Really?” A big sister. I never thought that would happen. Excitement raced through me. My legs jiggled like Lexie’s grape Jell-O. “I’m really and truly going to be a big sister?” I’ve wanted that all my life. “You’re pulling some sort of prank on me, right?”
“No pranks.” Her eyes got all watery. She sat next to me and held my hand.
“But you said you couldn’t have any more kids.”
“I didn’t think I could. I thought you were our one and only miracle.”
Finally, I was going to be a big sister!
“Now we’ll be a two-miracle family. What do you think?” She squeezed my hand.
A smile swallowed my face. “Are we going to find out if it’s a boy or a girl? When’s it going to be born?” I glanced at Mom’s stomach. “That’s why your tummy’s been getting bigger!”
“Yes.” Mom laughed. “But I thought I’d done a good job hiding it.”
“Can I name it? What about—wait! Does Dad know?”
“Oh, Louisa Elizabeth.” She laughed, pulling me in for a hug. “How I love you.”
Chapter 9
The Four
Musketeers
I stared at my computer screen. Lexie and Nakessa stared back at me from their own bedrooms. We’d been video chatting for the past hour to work on the play. I had been tempted to tell them about becoming a big sister, but I wanted to tell them in person.
“I think I’ve got it all down,” I said. “Tomorrow you can look it over and see if I missed anything.”
“Okay.” Lexie moved closer to her computer’s camera with her arms outstretched. “Sending virtual hugs. See you at our tree.”
“Tomorrow, tomorrow, there’s always tomorrow…” sang Nakessa as she blew us kisses.
“Later, gators,” I said as their faces blinked off the screen.
I clicked on The Haunting at Lakeside School document. The large Helvetica font made it way easier for me to read. Last year, my dyslexia tutor suggested I use a software program to help me type out my plays. It’s so simple. I talk into the microphone on my laptop, and the program types my words. It works really well, most of the time. One time I said, “She raced down the stairs.” The program typed it out as, “Sweet-faced, proud neck bears.” What the heck is a proud neck bear? It still makes me laugh. It may not be perfect, but I’d like to personally thank the genius who invented the software. Now, spelling and printing don’t hold me back—at least not with my plays.
My bedroom door creaked open. Dad stepped inside, sliding his glasses off. He pinched the bridge of his nose near his eyes, which he always does when he’s tired. “Time for bed, Bugaboo.”
That’s Dad’s nickname for me. He likes to change things up—Bug, Buggie, Bug-eyes—so my list of nicknames keeps growing.
“I just have to print this next section for tomorrow. We wrote a whole new scene tonight.” The printer churned as I turned off the computer.
“Awesome.” Dad picked up a pair of dirty socks and tossed them, basketball-style, into the laundry basket in the corner. “Swish! Just like the glory days.” Even though Dad’s not very tall, he became the star player on his high-school team. He reminds us whenever possible. “Any proud neck bears in this play?”
I laughed. “Never.”
“Can you believe Mom went to sleep before you again?” Dad asked.
“Yeah, she’s been doing that a lot lately.” I yawned and climbed into bed.
“Growing a baby is tiring business.” He pulled my comforter up to my chin, then folded the edge over so the cool slippery side wouldn’t touch my face.
“Guess we won’t be The Three Musketeers anymore,” I said.
“Nope, in a few months we’ll be even better—The Four Musketeers!”
“Is that even a thing?” My pillow puffed around my head like a giant marshmallow.
“Actually, it is. The baby can be d’Artagnan. In The Three Musketeers novel, d’Artagnan arrives later in the story. Just like our baby’s arriving later in our family. Huh. D’Artagnan Fitzhenry-O’Shaughnessy. It has kind of a nice—”
“No! Dad, please no. I don’t want my little brother to be teased his entire life.”
“D’Artagnan could be a girl.”
“Absolutely not.”
Dad chuckled. “Kidding. Pretty sure Mom wouldn’t be too happy with it either.” He tucked my stuffed purple pig, Pearl, under the covers next to me. Pearl’s squashed snout brushed my cheek. She was my very first stuffed animal. Grammers gave her to me at the hospital just hours after I was born.
“You never got to tell us about your day,” said Dad. “Sorry about that.”
“It’s okay. Talking about the baby is more fun than talking about my crummy day.”
“More run-ins with Mrs. Snyder?”
“Yup. She’s some sort of Shadow Phantom. She hears everything. She sees everything. She’s everywhere all at once!”
Dad smiled. “That would be unsettling. Tell me what happened.”
My stomach twisted with anger. “She’s totally out to get me.”
Dad looked over his glasses at me. “Really? A teacher, whose profession is to help kids, is out to get the most adorable ten-year-old in her class? No!” Dad raised his hand, as if to stop me from interrupting and shook his head dramatically. Hair, the exact shade of mine, flopped across his forehead.
I tried hard not to smile.
“No, no, no! I should’ve said, the most adorable ten-year-old she has ever taught in her very, very long career.”
My anger flickered and died. “Dad, stop it.” I laughed. “I’m serious.”
“Sorry. Yes. Carry on.” He looked at my stuffie. “And that’s enough out of you, Pearl.”
“Dad!”
“Right. Listening.”
“Okay. First Mrs. Snyder picked on me about my spelling, then she picked on me about daydreaming, then she made me stay in at recess.”
“That sounds pretty rough.”
“It was. She’s always after me. It isn’t fair. She never picks on anyone else.”
“Never is a very long time.”
“Okay, she hardly ever picks on anyone else.” I clenched my covers. “You’re supposed to be on my side.”
“I am, but Louisa, were you daydreaming?” Dad slid his glasses off and cleaned them on his T-shirt.
I shrugged. “A little bit, maybe.”
He put his glasses back on and waggled his bushy eyebrows at me. “Anything else you want to share?”
“Uhm…” I looked away. Did I have to tell him about screaming at Mrs. Snyder? Couldn’t I just pretend it didn’t happen? And that’s when I lied to Dad for the first time ever. “There’s nothing else to share.”
Dad tilted his head. His brown eyes looked right into mine. “Alrighty, if you say so.”
“I do.”
He kissed my forehead, just like always. And his stubbly whiskers tickled my face. As usual.
“Just remember, Bugaboo. You can tell me anything.”
“I know.”
“Goodnight, sleep tight, don’t let the bed bugs bite,” Dad said, as he does every night. It’s our Dad/Daughter MO.
And just like I always do, I replied, “But they can’t get me, and they can’t get you, because I’m the Mighty Bugaboo!”
Dad flicked off my light.
“Oh, Dad!” I bolted upright. “I forgot to ask Mom to find some old sheets. I need them tomorrow for ghost costumes in our play.”
“Leave it with me. I’ll take care of it.” He left the room and closed my door.
Within a few seconds, the solar system glow-in-the-dark stickers brightened on my ceiling. Dad had stuck them there after we went to the planetarium when I was seven. For a full year all my plays had been set on different planets; Mars, Jupiter, Pluto, and of course I invented a new planet: Louturn.
I lay still. After a few seconds, I whispered to the tiny universe what I should have admitted to Dad. “I told my teacher I wished she was dead.” I knew I’d been cruel, but she hated me. I’d only been getting back at her. The problem was, being mean didn’t feel very good. My eyes burned. Tears trickled out the corners of my eyes toward my ears. Swiping them away, I rolled onto my side. I’d have to try harder to stay calm. I’d have to be better. I needed to stop getting into trouble.
Chapter 10
Lies
and More Lies
Dad slipped on his shoes as I swung my backpack over my shoulder. Yawning, I sat at the bottom of the staircase that led to the second floor.
“No, Paul. Not that bow tie,” Mom said.
“Nadine! How dare you?” Dad’s eyes went wide, one hand on his chest, as he pretended to be offended. “It’s my favorite.”
Mom laughed. “SpongeBob clothing is no grown adult’s favorite anything.”
Dad looked at his watch. “I don’t have time to find another.”
“That’s fine. Sometimes, like in art, less is more.” Mom kissed him on the cheek, then slid off the bow tie.
“Let’s go.” Dad pulled me up.
I slouched under the weight of my backpack. “Why couldn’t school start at noon?”
“That would suit me just fine.” Mom passed me my lunch. “White bread again.” Mom had explained over breakfast that pregnant women often crave certain foods. So far for Mom her cravings were mayonnaise, white bread, and store-bought cookies.
I laughed. “Maybe you could start craving fast food.”
Mom grimaced. All color rushed from her face. “Oh, no.” She covered her mouth with one hand and pushed Dad out of the way with the other. Down the hallway, the bathroom door slammed behind her.
“I don’t think we’re having burgers anytime soon,” Dad said.
“I didn’t mean to make her sick.”
“As I said last night, growing a baby is hard work.” Dad grabbed a cloth bag from the staircase banister. “Don’t forget the sheets. Turn.”
I spun around. Dad stuffed the bag into my backpack and zipped it up. “Turn back.”
As I spun to face Dad, I shot my arms out to my sides, pretending to lose my balance. “I’m going to be puking next.”
“Funny and gross. You are the perfect daughter.” Dad kissed me on the forehead. “Now get to school.” He opened the door for me. “And no dawdling.”
“See ya, Dad.” No way would I be late today. No way would I even take a second look at Mr. Popowich’s gnomes. I had way too much to tell Lexie and Nakessa.
* * *
As soon as I spotted my friends under our oak tree, I picked up speed. My backpack thumped against me as I raced across the grass. Cool wind blew my hair off my face, and puffy clouds cast long shadows across the field.
“Lou!” Lexie ran up and gave me a big hug.
We linked arms as we walked to Nakessa, who hung upside down from the lowest tree branch. Her braids nearly touched the ground. Her cheeks were bright red.
“I have the biggest news.” I said, dropping my bag on the ground. “I’ll tell you while I stretch.”
With my back against the oak tree, I kicked my right leg high.
Lexie grabbed it and pushed up. “You’re not grounded again, are you?”
“No, why would I be?”
“Because of yesterday—with Mrs. Snyder.” She shoved my leg higher.
The back of my thigh burned. “Uhm-no, it wasn’t a big deal.”
Lexie took one hand away from my leg to tug on her ear. “Really?”
“Yeah,” I exhaled. Flexibility’s no joke. “My parents were…fine about it.” Which wasn’t technically a lie. Technically.
“Huh. Your parents aren’t usually so fine about you getting into trouble at school.” She frowned, returning both hands to my leg stretch.
“They were…this time.”
Lexie applied more pressure. I winced.
“My parents would’ve killed me dead,” Nakessa said, still hanging upside down from the tree. She rocked back and forth, reached up, grasped the branch, and pulled her legs free, dropping to the ground.
“Well, my parents…are nice.” I pushed against Lexie’s hands. “I gotta…stop.”
She dropped my leg, and my foot smacked the ground.
“Hey.” Nakessa’s face reddened. “My parents are nice, too!”
“That’s not what I meant. I meant…they’re on my side.” I stumbled over my lie. My second in two days. I’d never lied to the Bendables before. My hands began to sweat. “They totally think Mrs. Snyder is mean. In fact, they’re going to e-mail her.”
“Wow,” Lexie said.
The longer I kept talking, the bigger the lie grew. Like Grammers says, “Go big or go home.” I went e-nor-mous—bigger than big. “Yup and my dad’s going to talk to the principal.”
Nakessa stepped back, shaking her head. “Wowzers. Remind me not to mess with Lou, Lou-ba-doo, Lou-ba-doo, ba-doo ba-doo!” Then she stretched her arms out to the sides and bowed.
I forced a smile to my face. My lips quivered as I wiped my sweaty hands on my jeans.
“Didn’t you have some big news?” Lexie asked, popping a candy in her mouth.
“Yeah, I do!” Relieved she’d changed the subject, I pushed the lie away. “I’m going to have a little baby brother or sister.”
Nakessa threw her arms in the air. “Wooohooo! You’re going to love being a big sister.” Nakessa had two little sisters and an older brother.
“Group hug!” Lexie said. “You’re going to be the world’s best big sister.”
