Bingo Summer, page 8
“What is that smell?” I said, wiping my nose.
“I love that smell,” Kate cooed. “It smells like cookies baking.”
Suri plucked a bottle from a display near the entrance. “It’s the signature Wishes scent. Here.” She grabbed my wrist and spritzed me.
I sneezed violently into a rack of purple skirts.
“Maybe you’re allergic?” Suri lifted her eyebrows apologetically.
I wiped the back of my hand across my nose. “Maybe I should find something to wear, so I can leave.”
“Good idea.”
Suri darted from rack to rack, moving through the store like a bloodhound after its quarry. She stopped to touch something, lifted it off the rack, and held it up to me before she made a face and slipped it back into place. Slowly, a pile of clothes hung over her arm. My sneezing got so bad I could barely see. Suri steered me into a dressing room. The door clicked shut.
“Let me see everything you try on,” Suri said outside the door.
I stared at the clothes: a black pair of leggings; a denim miniskirt with rhinestone swirls on the pockets; and shirts with fat flower appliqués, sequins, and fringe. They were clothes I’d never pick for myself in a million years. All the girls dressed like this, though. Maybe since this outfit would be just for the election, it wouldn’t be so bad. After all, I wanted to look like I belonged on student council, didn’t I?
I slipped on the skirt with one of the shirts. “Suri?”
“We’re here,” she said on the other side of the door.
I tugged the skirt’s hem down, but it wouldn’t budge. No way was I wearing this. Maybe I needed a bigger size. I opened the door.
Kate giggled when she saw me. Suri shook her head. “You’re supposed to wear the leggings with that. Unless you want to give everyone a show.”
“Oh…”
Suri sorted through the other clothes. “The shirt is kind of boring. Try on the pink one with sequins,” she said, handing it to me.
I sighed and closed the door. After tugging the leggings on, I looked at my reflection. The outfit looked better, much better. I squinted in the mirror and saw the blurred image of a girl who dressed like Suri and Kate and the other popular girls at Dorrance Junior High, a girl who wore the right clothes and didn’t look out of place in her team jerseys and jeans.
When I opened the door, Kate and Suri took one look at me and squealed their approval. I squealed back, but it came out sounding like a car horn. They exchanged glances with each other. Then they frowned at me, like I was making fun of them.
Note to self: wear leggings with miniskirts. And don’t try squealing ever again.
CHAPTER 15
On Friday, Suri, Kate, Mara, and I stood in the wings of the stage in the gigantic auditorium. Seventeen folding chairs were set up on the stage. One had my name on it, like my own personal invitation to the electric chair.
“Remember — shoulders back, head up, project your voice,” said Suri with her perfect posture. Her glossy hair swung back and forth as she demonstrated for us. “You want to give everyone a good impression before you even start talking.” She was a natural for the stage. My back felt like it would splinter when I pulled myself up to copy her. I fussed with the sequins on my shirt.
“That’s easy for you to say. She’s not as theatrical as you,” Mara said. She pointed her camera at me. “Smile.” The camera whrrred. Mara giggled.
“Thanks for that,” I said, blinking away the spots from the flash.
“So you want to be on student council, but you don’t want the publicity? That’s not a very good combination.” Mara slinked around to my other side, clicking away.
“What are you doing anyway?” I asked. “Would you put that away?” I ran my fingers through my hair, through the knots. I should have brushed it one last time. Mara made me feel extra self-conscious.
Mara shook her head, like I was acting babyish, and took another picture. Click.
“I’m taking election day photos for the school newspaper,” Mara said.
“You work for the newspaper?” I remembered Anna asking if I wanted to write for the Banner. Even if I had given it a second’s worth of thought, Mara made my mind up for me. No way.
“What is this?” Kate asked, lifting my arm up to get a closer look at my bracelet, the one with the baseball charms. It was my birthday present from Mom.
“It’s a good luck bracelet,” I said, feeling defensive.
“It looks like a five-year-old made it,” said Mara.
My stomach twisted. “My mom made it for me,” I snapped.
“Sorry,” Mara said, not sounding sorry at all.
“I thought you said your mom was a designer?” said Suri.
Mara laughed at that, and my eyes started to sting. Touching the charms, I remembered that day in the kitchen, the hot June afternoon spent scratching the lottery ticket, my bracelet clinking on the tabletop. My head buzzed. Maybe it was from lack of sleep. I clenched my fists tight at my sides to keep from telling Mara to stop.
Candidates walked onto the stage and took their seats.
Suri nudged me. “We’re up.”
“One more,” said Mara, holding the camera three inches from my face. Click.
Fury burned bright behind my eyes. Did she hate me this much only because I played third base, too? What else had I done? I couldn’t look at her or I’d…I…I couldn’t think about Mara right now. I had to focus, so I could get through this.
The stage seemed as huge as a football field, as I walked to my seat. I was shaking so bad that my chair clattered against the one next to me after I sat down. Two hundred fifty-seven eighth-graders were watching our speeches. I couldn’t think about all those eyeballs on me, or I’d pass out.
Suri was first. When she started her speech, I panicked. She’d memorized it! Had the other candidates memorized their speeches, too? My own speech was handwritten with lots of cross outs and erasures. I planned to read mine straight from the paper because I couldn’t look up without losing my place.
The gym felt like an oven, even though ceiling fans whirled above us. I shifted in my seat and felt my shirt sticking to the sweat on my back. Of course, the vice president and president speeches came last, which gave more time for my goosebumps to multiply.
Then I was next. I prayed to get across the stage to the podium, even though my legs felt like noodles. My stomach churned. The last secretary candidate walked past me to her seat, and the breeze lifted the hair away from my face.
At the podium, the papers in my hands shook like leaves. But I was breathing at least, and then I started reading.
“Hello, my name is Summer Haas, and I would like your vote for class vice president. As vice president, I plan to—”
I was vaguely aware of the whirring sound of the fans, of a car honking outside. I was also aware of how generic my speech sounded as I read it. My voice wavered, and I tried to breathe deeply to control it, like Suri said.
What did I stand for? Nothing. But I couldn’t say that, so instead I said, “I would be the collective mind of all eighth-graders.” Huh?
What could I promise the student body? Not a thing. I couldn’t say that either, so what came out was a half-hearted pledge to: “Listen and bring your ideas and problems to the student council.”
Maybe I should have been honest and told them I had no platform. Brianna stood for something. Brill’s platform was to start a school-wide recycling program. Brianna probably wanted to do something noble, like sponsor a carnival for a children’s hospital or lengthen the lunch periods by five minutes.
What did I want? I wanted to go back to bed.
It was slightly funny that those thoughts floated around in my brain while I read my speech. But when I got to the last paragraph, my stomach rolled like a tidal wave. I inhaled and read quickly through the last sentence, slurring the words together. Instead of taking my seat, I darted off the stage.
While Brianna introduced herself, I lurched toward the exit door, holding my stomach. When Dink poked his head out of a tiny room close by, I turned the other way, hoping he’d get the hint. He didn’t and strolled toward me with a half-smile on his face.
“Hey, Summer.”
My stomach lurched. “I need a garbage can. Get out of my way.”
“Way to deliver a speech.” He gave me two thumbs up.
“What are you doing back here?” I turned in circles, looking for something. Anything.
“Working the sound system. Hey, you’re looking pretty green—”
Just then, I barfed into the nearest container, which happened to be a barrel of basketballs. Next to me, Dink nodded and grinned. I came up for air, wiping spit from my lips. Had my lunch not been making a repeat appearance, I would have smacked him.
“The basketball team won’t like that, you know,” he said.
I’d never felt so humiliated. I barely made it away from Dink and into the girl’s bathroom down the hall, before I threw up again.
After the assembly, we went back to our homerooms to vote. I put an “x” in the box next to Summer Haas on the ballot. Surely, it would be my only vote. I felt so sure I’d lose to Brianna that I didn’t even blink when the names of the new class officers and representatives were read over the intercom at the end of the day, and I wasn’t one of them.
The bus hitched to a stop by our driveway. I was so tired that I tripped over my own feet as I got off. As it lurched away, it left me in a cloud of gravel dust. All I wanted was my bed, to pull the comforter over my head, and sleep September away.
But there was a pickup truck in the driveway. That meant I couldn’t disappear upstairs. I had expected a Harley, but he changed vehicles as often as people changed underwear. And the crystal horseshoe dangling from his rear view mirror was a dead giveaway. Mom had given it to him shortly after J.C. was born.
Frank was here.
Just perfect.
CHAPTER 16
Frank stood on the front steps, bent forward, hands on his knees, like he was calling a dog. When I got close, he hugged me, pressing my face into his shoulder the way a python might suffocate his prey.
“Summer! Baby! How you doin’?” He gave me a few hearty pats on the back.
“I’m good,” I said, stepping back. Mom hung off to the side, wearing a tight smile.
“You still growin’, kid?” He held the door open for me. “Last time I saw you, you were just tipping my shoulder.”
Mom clucked her tongue. “It’s been awhile, Frank, but not quite that long.”
“Still. Look at her,” he said, crossing his arms. He sized me up and down again. “She’s still sprouting up.”
Frank was tall and lean himself, just like J.C. He had a little mustache above his lip and black hair, combed back over a thin patch on the top of his head. His flashy gold chain was just as much a part of his usual outfit as the black cowboy boots with their fancy red stitching.
“Your mom tells me that you had a big election today. How’d it go?” He plopped onto the couch and spread out, taking up the whole space.
Mom came back from the kitchen with sodas. When I made a face, she drooped.
“Sorry you lost, Sugar Pie. Or maybe that’s not so bad?” She handed me a pink cone-shaped foil hat and a party blower.
“Not so bad,” I said.
I popped my can open on my way to the front window and curled up in the armchair. J.C.’s bus stopped at the end of the drive, and she hopped off. She tore up the driveway but put on the brakes when she saw the truck. I knew she was thinking of taking off by the way she kept stopping and looking toward the Burlingame’s house.
“J.C’s home,” I announced, so she couldn’t pull a disappearing act.
Mom looked at her watch. “It’s about time.”
Frank rubbed his hands together. “Where’s the birthday girl?”
We met her at the door, wearing the party hats and toot-tooting the blowers. She loved being celebrated. But J.C.’s smile turned into a grimace during Frank’s cologne-soaked hug until he let her loose.
“Tomorrow’s my real birthday,” she said, looking sideways at him as we let her into the house. “In case you forgot.”
“Have I ever forgotten?” Frank faked a pout.
“Once you did. No card. No call,” she said.
“J.C.,” Mom said in a warning tone. “Your father is here now.”
Mom had hung streamers and balloons from the ceiling fan. There was a balloon bouquet and a stack of presents on the dining room table. She’d whipped up an angel food cake, too, and drizzled it with pink icing on a glass cake plate.
Frank found his spot on the couch again, this time lying back and propping his boots on the arm. He chewed on his fingernails and spit the bits onto the front of his shirt. No one noticed but me. He grossed me out.
“Frank’s taking us out for a birthday dinner,” Mom said. “Where should we go?”
J.C. and I both looked at each other, then at Mom, as if we hadn’t heard right. Frank never took us places.
“Mr. Bain knows some places. He said we could ask him,” said J.C.
“Good idea. I’ll give him a call.” Mom headed to the kitchen for the phone book.
Frank’s eyebrows lifted. “Mr. Bain?”
J.C. poked the cake icing with her finger. “He’s our neighbor.”
“And my school principal,” I said.
“Pretty fancy digs around here for a principal.”
“We think he married into money,” J.C. piped in. “So, you know, ka-ching, ka-ching.”
Frank winked at J.C. “Gotcha.”
Mom handed me the phone book. “That’s not our business.”
Frank shrugged and went back to harvesting his fingernails.
I punched the numbers into the phone for Mom and then gave it back to her.
“So how often do you see this Mr. Bain?” Frank asked.
Mom shot him a look before turning her back to talk into the phone.
“A few times a week,” I said.
“He and Mom share cooking tips,” J.C. offered. “He makes great cookies.”
“I’ll bet he does,” Frank said, as he worked his pinky nail between his teeth.
Mom set the phone on the end table. “He says the Sacramento Grill and Brew Pub on Lorraine is the place to go. They have chicken tostadas as big as a Frisbee.”
“Yes!” cried J.C.
I was starving despite seeing Frank dust the fingernails off his shirt onto our rug.
We found the restaurant on a side street downtown. Mom wanted to show Frank Main Street, so we took the long route before we circled back to the restaurant. J.C. and I led the way past shop windows decorated for fall, past an open air market with baskets of apples and pumpkins and mums sitting on a pyramid of hay bales.
Inside the restaurant, a waiter led us to a table near the front window. Frank whispered something to him on the way to our spot. Then J.C. blushed when Eric pulled her chair out for her. “Enjoy your birthday,” he said.
Mom scooted closer to me, so I could go over the menu with her.
“So tell me how you ended up here of all places?” Frank asked after we’d ordered. I sipped on raspberry lemonade, all ears.
“Oh, well, you know me. I just kind of closed my eyes and pointed at the map.” Mom joked. It was so close to the truth that I almost sprayed lemonade out of my nose.
“You never liked making plans, did you?” Frank said, shaking his head. He stroked his little mustache. “So…lucky you.”
“Lucky me?” Mom said.
“Yeah, that was some surprise you had.”
“I assume you’re talking about the money we won?” she said, cool as a cucumber.
“That’s wild! I actually know somebody who won the lottery.”
“A lot of people bugged us,” she said, sipping her iced tea. “Winning isn’t all fun.”
Frank glanced around the restaurant. “I hear some people lose it when they win.”
“Lose it?” Mom’s voice sounded edgy.
“Yeah, I mean, they go crazy. Spend it all, forget about their friends and relatives, become recluses in houses with iron bars. Nut cases.”
Mom relaxed a bit. “Well, we’re in no danger of ‘losing it’, Frank.”
“And Summer did research on the Internet, too, for what to do if you win the lottery,” J.C. crowed. “Like not blowing it on expensive stuff and being careful of new friends,” she said. “They might try to leech it away like bloodsuckers.”
I looked around to see if anyone was listening, then pinched her under the table. “You’re so loud. Hush up or the whole place will know.” It could be all over town by morning, thanks to J.C. Everyone would know we got our money from gambling.
“Quit worrying what everyone thinks,” she said.
Frank ignored us. “So you haven’t spent it all? I mean that house. That must have cost you a few pennies.” He was fishing for information.
“We’re fine, Frank,” she said, waving him off.
The conversation shifted to school and J.C making it into a gifted program. I looked around the restaurant and spotted someone with glossy black hair. Before I realized it was her, Suri turned around. It was too late to duck or escape to the bathroom. She waved frantically and left her table, heading toward ours.
“Summer, what are you doing here?” She looked from me to Mom to Frank to my sister. J.C. smiled and gave her the up-down, zeroing in on Suri’s green patent-leathered shoes. J.C. drooled over anything green.
“It’s my sister’s birthday,” I said, feeling my face burning. My election day defeat was only hours old. I’d embarrassed myself and probably Suri, too. I was surprised she was even talking to me.
J.C. sat up straight and stuck out her hand, almost wiping out my lemonade. “I’m J.C.”
Suri flashed her usual brilliant smile. “Happy birthday! It’s nice to meet you.”
Then Suri eyed Frank and Mom, and dumb me realized she was waiting for an introduction, but not before Mom nudged me under the table. “Introduce your friend to the rest of us,” Mom said out of the corner of her mouth, loud enough for everyone to hear.
“Mom,” I whispered under my breath. My face flushed.
