Prairie wanted to meet after school, so we rendezvoused at the third-base dugout to walk to Max’s house together. Everyone
was quieter than usual. I don’t know what they were thinking, but I was wondering how I’d made it through the day. The whole
six and a half hours was one big blur. I didn’t even remember what I ate for lunch, which is scary. It might indicate brain
damage. Mostly I was trying
not
to think what I was thinking, except every time I started to zone out, this gold chain burned another notch in my neck.
As we scrambled up into the Peacemobile and took our seats, Prairie said, “It was really rotten to steal from Ms. Milner.
She’s my favorite teacher.”
“Yeah, she’s cool,” Max said. “You got anything to eat, Solano?”
“How can you think about food at a time like this?”
Max arched eyebrows at me. Everyone did. Proof. Brain damage.
I dug in my pack. The only thing in there was half an Oreo left over from who knows when. Might’ve been last year. “Sorry,”
I said. “The cupboard is bare.” As I pulled my hand out, it caught on something. The something flipped out and landed on the
floor.
Prairie picked it up. “What’s this?” she said.
Lydia replied, “Kevie-poo gave Jenny another present.”
They all
ooh
ed. Instinctively my hand reached up to cover my throat.
“I saw it,” Lydia said. “It’s a gold necklace with a little
J
. Show them, Jenny.”
My cheeks sizzled. I wished I had a Hostess Cupcake to dam up Lydia’s big mouth. “It’s probably not real gold,” I muttered.
Max pushed up from her beanbag chair and clomped over. She ran the chain through her fingers and whistled. “Nice.”
Prairie studied the box. “For ninety-five dollars and ninety-nine cents, it b-better be.”
I snatched the box back.
Lydia said, “Touch-ee.”
“Shut up, Lydia,” I snapped.
She flinched. At any moment she was going to burst into tears and I’d have to slit my throat. But when they buried me, the
necklace was going, too. “I didn’t mean that the way it sounded,” I said. “It hasn’t been a very good day.”
“It sure h-hasn’t,” Prairie said. “I also found out that the stolen money was from our S-Save the Starving Orphans in India
fund.”
All eyes widened at Prairie.
She went on, “All this year we’ve been raising money to send to India. I’m sure I told you that.”
“No, you didn’t,” Lydia barked.
I frowned at her. Don’t take it out on Prairie, I thought. Hooboy. Stealing from a teacher was one thing; stealing food from
starving children was another.
The Peacemobile grew somber. We all stared at the rusty floor. Except Lydia. I noticed her eyes were glommed on my neck. Instinctively
I shoved the necklace back inside my blouse and said, “Didn’t Hugh give you a necklace, too, Prairie?” Maybe they were two
for the price of one, like the earrings.
“No,” she said. “Like I told you, he d-doesn’t have much money.”
“Well, Kevin must be loaded,” Lydia said.
Why couldn’t she just drop it?
Prairie stood up. “Somehow we’ve got to get Ms. Milner’s money back.”
“How?” Lydia said to my face. “Looks to me like it’s already been spent.”
That did it! I stood to leave. Prairie caught my arm. “We don’t really know who took it,” she said. “And we probably n-never
will unless they confess, which would be the Christian thing to do.”
My eyes strayed out the cracked front window. A magpie swooped over the junkyard and screamed. I knew how it felt. As my eyes
grazed down the dusty dashboard, they caught on the cracked vinyl driver’s seat. And what was sitting on it. “Hey, is this
new?” I lumbered over. “Let’s play some music.”
“What is it?” Lydia peered over her glasses.
Max got up and grabbed it from me. “What’s it look like?” She shoved it in Lydia’s face.
“A CD player,” Lydia said. “I got one just like it for my birthday.”
“Well, whoop-dee-do,” Max said. “I had to buy mine.”
“Or steal it,” Lydia snorted. The rest of us didn’t think that was so funny at the moment.
Max spun around and said, “I know how we can get Ms. Milner’s money back. I could sell this.”
We all stared at her. Was she serious?
“It cost fifty-six bucks, but if I threw in some CDs, I bet I could get seventy-five or eighty at the flea market.”
“No way,” Prairie said. “But…” She paused. “That isn’t such a bad idea. Does anybody else have s-stuff to sell?” Prairie looked
at me.
“Don’t look at me,” I said. “My CD player’s about a hundred years old. We’d be lucky to get fifty cents.”
Lydia said, “You and Prairie could sell your earrings.”
We both reached up at the same time to protect our treasures. Lydia added, “Or that necklace.”
Prairie cut off my lunge for Lydia’s throat. “What would I tell Hugh? He probably spent his life savings on these earrings.”
To Lydia, I said, “You must have something to sell. You’re rich.”
All the blood rushed to her face. “No, I’m not,” she mumbled, adding in a small voice, “not that rich. Anyway, my mom would
kill me if I sold the birthday present she gave me.”
“Why? It’s yours now. You know what, Lydia? You let your mother make all your decisions for you,” I told her.
“I do not!” Lydia cried.
“Cut it out,” Max interrupted before fisticuffs broke out. “This is stupid.” She wrapped the electrical cord around her CD
player and added, “The flea market’s Saturday. Case closed.”
I felt all eyes on me. Prairie, especially, was glaring daggers. “What?” I said.
“Are you going to let her d-do that?” she asked.
“No,” I said, just to say something. “I mean, Max.” I turned to her. “You don’t have to. Not unless you… think you should.”
Prairie stormed over to the door and wrenched it open. “I’m going home,” she said.
Max growled at me.
“What?”
She stomped across the van and followed Prairie out. Sticking her head back in, she snarled, “If you want my brother to take
you home, you better get your rear in gear. He doesn’t have all day.”
When they were gone, the Peacemobile closed in like a tomb. “Geez,” I said, more to myself than Lydia. “What’s with them?
What’s with everybody?”
She scoffed. “As if you didn’t know.” She got up and left, too.
Outside, the magpie screeched. Inside, I did a perfect imitation.
Dear Fickle Friends and Fried Food Diary
,
I don’t remember what I ate for lunch. Or breakfast. Just add a thousand calories. For dinner I had mashed potatoes, a buttermilk
biscuit, and two of the Colonel’s extra crispy, extra spicy chicken wings. Add three thousand more calories. Afterward I still
felt hungry. Or empty
.
What am I going to do? My life is a soap opera. Which wouldn’t be so tragic if I was getting paid to star in it. But this
is no act. Someone close to me is a thief. I’d like to believe it’s Ashley Krupps, but to tell you the truth, there’s no more
evidence against her than either Max or Kevin. The only person I can eliminate at the moment is me. So how come I’m feeling
so guilty?
I’ll tell you why. Because it’s really crummy to suspect your friends, like you don’t even trust them. Especially your sort-of
boyfriend. What if he’s a crook? What if he isn’t? That would mean Max is. Know what’s double crummy? If I had to choose,
I’d rather Max was guilty so I could still love Kevin. Isn’t that awful?
A knock sounded on my door. “Don’t come in,” I hollered. There was one last line I had to add.
Nothing I could eat would make me feel better
.
“You have a phone call,” Vanessa said through my door. “It’s Kevin. Or Max. They sound a lot alike.”
Another wave of guilt washed over me. “I can’t come to the phone right now. I’m… sick.” At heart.
Vanessa opened the door.
“Hey!” I covered my chest with a pillow, even though I wasn’t naked or anything. Just felt that way.
“You okay?” she said.
I shrugged.
“You want to talk about it?”
“No.” Tears welled in my eyes. “I don’t think I can.”
She studied me. “I’m here if you need me.”
All I could do was nod.
There was a welcoming committee to greet me as I stumbled off the bus the next morning. Kevin, Lydia, Max, Prairie, Hugh.
They all had the same sappy smiles on their faces, as if I’d just won the Powerball and they were my nearest and dearest friends.
Which they were.
Kevin moved up beside me. “Want me to carry your backpack?” He reached for it.
“No, that’s okay.” I yanked it back. “I don’t want to give you a hernia.”
He chuckled and wrenched it away from me. No kidding, we had a tug of war. Don’t ask me why I didn’t want him to carry it.
Maybe because I hadn’t had a chance to write down breakfast in my food diary, so I’d tossed the notebook into my pack to update
during language. Which, I realized too late, was a huge mistake. The memory of what happened last time someone saw my food
diary still mortified me. If anyone saw
this
stuff…
Prairie scurried by and whispered, “I don’t know when you did it, but th-thanks.”
I frowned. “Did what?”
She smiled and elbowed me.
On the way in we passed Ashley and Melanie, gossiping outside the door. Ashley clutched her purse closer to her chest. Double
weird. She still had my vote as most likely to be committed.
Mrs. Jonas hadn’t even finished the hot lunch count before the door flew open and the stench of Old Spice hit my nose. Mr.
Krupps’s beady eyes bounced around the room. “I have an announcement,” he said.
Everyone dummied up.
He pursed his lips and stared over our heads. I turned to see what he was staring at. The only things back there were the
restroom and drinking fountain. My gaze met Max’s and she rolled her eyeballs back into her head. It made me giggle, which
reverberated in the silent space. Krupps said, “Yesterday, Ms. Milner’s money magically reappeared in her desk.”
That shot my head back around. I glanced over at Prairie. She bit her lip and dropped her eyes. On the other side of her,
Hugh was nodding his head. Kevin leaned around him and smiled at me. Instinctively my hands came together. Then again. I clapped.
From the front row Ashley turned around and glared. I proffered her a hand gesture I’d learned from Max.
“That’s not all,” Mr. Krupps said. “This morning she found even more money in her desk. About twice as much as was stolen
in the first place.”
I gasped. I wasn’t the only one.
He added, “And there was another envelope with twenty dollars and an IOU for the rest.”
My eyes zoomed in on Prairie again. This time she was staring back at me. Lydia twisted around from her desk in front to widen
her eyes at us. I spun around to catch Max’s reaction. She sat sprawled in her desk, sucking sunflower seeds.
“So,” Mr. Krupps went on, “I find this all very interesting. Fascinating, in fact. Apparently we’re having a run on Good Samaritans.
Now, if one of you is the thief, I’m sure we’d all be eternally grateful if you’d return Mrs. Jonas’s money, too. Wouldn’t
we, Mrs. Jonas?”
Her cheeks lit up like lanterns.
“In fact,” Krupps said, “I might even consider forgetting the whole ugly business. This time.” His eyes zeroed in on Max,
who choked on a sunflower shell. “Think about it,” he barked and headed for the door.
“Mr. Krupps?” Lydia’s voice stopped him.
He pivoted in place. “Yes?”
“Why don’t you give the extra money to Mrs. Jonas? That seems fair.”
He blinked, like the thought hadn’t occurred to him. “I’ll think about that,” he said. “Thank you for the suggestion. This
still doesn’t clear you.”
You
, as in Max. He stalked out.
General mayhem ensued. It took the threat of rescinding recess for the rest of the school year to get us under control. I
don’t know about anyone else, but I felt fantastic. This was great. Problem solved. Now I could forget I ever suspected my
friends.
It was Lydia who had to bring up the one annoying little loose end. We were at lunch, spreading out to eat and share, when
she said, “Wow, Ms. Milner must’ve gotten back an extra three hundred dollars. Or will with the IOU.” She shook her head.
“I can’t believe people who didn’t even take the money are returning it.”
Prairie said, “Maybe they’re trying to protect the real thief.”
“I doubt it.” Lydia opened her pudding cup.
“Why?” Prairie said. “Wouldn’t you do that for a friend?”
Lydia snorted. “It’d have to be a really good friend.”
It grew quiet, except for the chewing. I guess we were thinking about that. Me especially. Would I cover for a friend? Yes,
on one condition. I’d have to know which friend it was.
Dear Forever Fat Unless I Fast Forever Diary
,
I’m giving up food. It’s the only way I’ll ever lose weight. I hate my body. If you could see me in shorts, you’d hate my
body, too. I hate myself more. Especially when I cheat, the way I did after school when I ate a supersize Snickers bar without
blinking. Why can’t I control myself?
Minnette says I don’t have to give up all my favorite foods, just eat in moderation. I say she’s whacked, except that’s how
she lost about a hundred pounds and became a registered dietician. Registered dietician does not even make my list of top
one hundred career possibilities
.
Minnette says I have to learn how to control my appetite. But once I start eating, I can’t stop. It’s depressing
.
That’s not the only thing I’m depressed about. It’s summer and I want to wear shorts. Everyone is, even Ashley. But if Kevin
Rooney ever saw my thunder thighs, he’d run so far so fast. He might figure out the
J
in my name stands for Jumbo
.
You’d think keeping Kevin as my boyfriend would be motivation enough to make me stop eating. More than anything in the whole
wide world I want to be tall and thin and gorgeous. I already failed tall. Vanessa got those genes. And as for gorgeous, I
can’t even get close with a glamour photo. Even Kevin said I looked better in my natural state. Which is why I really like
him. Really really. I might even love him. For real
.