Ava and Pip (11 page)

IN THE LIBRARY

DEAR DIARY,

I'm at a desk in the library looking over bonus spelling words like “nuisance,” “stomachache,” and “invisible.”

Some kids think bonus words are a “nuisance” that give them “stomachaches.” But I love bonus words. What I hate is feeling “invisible.”

Oh! Pip just walked in! She's sitting near the water fountain with Nadifa.

Ben is three tables away. I wonder if he noticed her.

Whoa! He did! He's staring at her!

I don't think she sees him though.

Wait! She definitely sees him!!

I can tell because she looked right at him then turned away and started looking everywhere
except
back in his direction.

Oh! Oh! He's getting up! He's walking toward her! He's a few feet away! He's at her table! He's sitting down!!

OMG!! I have to check this out close-up!!

***

I'm back. I went to get a sip of water so I could eavesdrop. Here's what I heard:

Ben said hi. And Pip said hi back. Then Pip said, “I like your sweater.”

Well, I couldn't believe it. And I
didn't
believe it. Because I don't think Pip likes his sweater. I think she likes
him
!!

AVA WREN, SPYING AGAIN

AFTERNOON

DEAR DIARY,

Bea came by and asked, “How was Thanksgiving?”

I was about to grumble a bit, but Pip chimed, “Great,” and offered her a slice of leftover pie.

“Pip's Pumpkin Pie,” I said, because last week Mrs. Lemons said alliterations are when a bunch of words start with the same sound.

Bea got a funny look, and then Pip said, “‘
Desserts
,' I stressed,” (D-E-S-S-E-R-T-S-I-S-T-R-E-S-S-E-D), which is a palindrome. I could tell she was about to launch into our parents' peculiar passion for palindromes, but fortunately Bea complimented Pip's pie and asked, “So how'd it go? Did you compliment people this week?”

“I complimented my dad's turkey,” Pip said, “and my uncle Patrick's jokes and my aunt Jen's earrings. And it all went really well.”

“Just fantastic,” I mumbled and tried to remember the last time anyone complimented me.

“How about in school?” Bea asked.

“I complimented Mr. Ramirez's holiday book display. And a boy's sweater.”

“A boy?” Bea asked, eyes wide.

“A boy!” Pip giggled.

Was she going to name names?

Pip turned to Bea, “Should I tell him I like him?”

Bea considered the question. “It's usually better to
show
not
tell
. At least that's what real advice columnists say.”

“
Show
not
tel
l
? How do I do that?” Pip asked.

Bea said, “Just talk to him and smile and stuff. He'll figure it out. He'll be able to guess, and you won't have to spell it out.”

“Our family likes to s-p-e-l-l stuff out,” I was thinking. But I didn't say that. I didn't say anything. Just call me Ava the Absent.

“The problem,” Bea pointed out, “is that once you put stuff in words, you can't take it back.”

“I guess,” Pip said.

“I know,” I almost added because, well, duh!

“Pip,” Bea said, “I was going to say that you've come out of your shell like a snail or a turtle. But I think you've come out of your cocoon like a butterfly.”

“Me?” Pip asked.

“You!” Bea answered.

I sat there trying not to feel jealous of Pip Hannah Wren, Center of the Known Universe.

“What's my next assignment?” Pip asked.

“To ask people questions, at least one per day. And to listen to their answers.”

“I can do that.”

“Good. Because it's your last assignment.” Bea handed over the final strip of yellow paper. “Ava came up with this one,” she added.

I wasn't sure if I even wanted credit or not. I mean, I know I'm supposed to be happy for Pip the Butterfly, but I'm also frustrated for—

AVA THE ANT

BEDTIME

DEAR DIARY,

Over 2,500 years ago, Aesop wrote a fable called “The Ant and the Chrysalis.” “Chrysalis” is an excellent spelling word and the story goes like this:

One hot day, an ant came across a chrysalis that was near its time of change. The ant felt sorry for it because it was imprisoned in its shell. The ant thought, “Poor you. I can scurry anywhere and you can hardly even wriggle!” Later, the ant came back to the same spot, and the chrysalis was gone. The ant was puzzled, but suddenly he saw that he was being shaded and fanned by the gorgeous wings of a beautiful butterfly. The butterfly called down, “No need to pity me, little ant!” And with that, he flew far, far away.

The moral: “Appearances can be deceiving.”

Question: Is Pip nearing her “time of change”? And did she really become a butterfly while I'm still a bug?

AVA (AND AESOP)

IN THE LIBRARY

DEAR DIARY,

After lunch, which was chicken fingers, I saw Bea at her locker, so I went over to say hi. The taller Squeaky Boy stopped by and also said hi. I looked up at him, and he looked down at me, and then he said, “Hey, kid,” in a not-mean way. When he left, Bea said, “You know Josh?” So I spilled the story about Lacey and the Squeaky Boys, which, come to think of it, sounds like the name of a terrible band.

“Wow,” Bea said. “You're braver than I thought.”

“Or dumber?”

“No, Ava. Braver. You're a risk-taker.”

“Me?”

“You,” Bea said, and suddenly I did feel a little extra brave.

AVA WREN, RISK-TAKER

BEDTIME

DEAR DIARY,

I like thinking of myself as a risk-taker, so I decided to take a risk. I mean, it always helps to pour my thoughts out into you, but somehow I knew I had to talk to Mom directly. So I went to see her, my insides as fluttery as if they were crawling with ladybugs. (Gross simile.)

When I got to Dr. Gross's, Mom was busy as usual. At least Butterscotch was thrilled to see me. So was a
sh
aggy
sh
eepdog named
Sh
ep who just got
sh
ampooed for fleas. And so was a calico cat named Fever whose owner is always dropping him off for “observation” even though Dr. Gross keeps telling her that Fever is fine. (Fever once got his tail caught in a drawer, so now he has just a short nub because cat tails don't grow back; only chameleon tails grow back. Mom says Fever's owner feels guilty because it was her fault the file drawer was open.)

Anyway, I waited as patiently as I could, but at 5:05, I passed Mom a note. It said, “Mom, we have to talk now.”

I knew the conversation would be awkward, but as Bea once told Pip, no one ever died of awkwardness.

Mom glanced up, and from her expression, I swear, I think she was afraid I was going to ask her to explain puberty. (
Hellllo!
I'm a kid. I don't even have B-O-O-Bs!)

“What is it?” she asked.

When Pip and I were little, whenever we got fussy, Mom would say, “Use your words.” Well, as Wilbur found out in
Charlotte's Web
, even a few words can make a giant difference. And I'd been saving up a humongous pile of words—so it was time for me to let them out.

“It's me!” I said. “Me! I'm here and I matter!” Next thing you know, it was like a dam inside m had broken. I couldn't stop talking. “Mom, you pay way more attention to Pip than to me. You can't even deny it!”

Mom sat there as silent as the Old Pip. “It's true!” I said. “You favor her! You always have! Sometimes you act like she's as fragile as an old canary. Other times you act like she can walk on water, like that dumb lizard. Maybe it's the whole getting born early thing, but that was a long time ago, and Pip is a big girl now!”

“You're taller.”

“Oh, Mom, that is
so
not the point! She's thirteen! She's a teenager! And she's not as small as she used to be. Not as quiet either—in case you haven't noticed.”

“I have noticed. I'm proud of her.”

I took a deep breath so I wouldn't explode into a billion boiling lava bubbles all over the walls and ceiling. “You should be proud of me too because I've been helping her. And I am
totally
awesome
!” It came out much louder than I meant, so I was glad the waiting room was end-of-the-day empty. No dogs on leashes or cats in boxes or upset pet owners.

“I
am
proud of you, Ava.”

“You don't even know what I'm going to say!”

“Okay, go on.” For once, I had Mom's full attention.

“First of all, will you admit that you favor Pip?”

“No. I love you both equally!”

“I didn't say ‘love,' I said ‘favor.'” Mom stayed quiet, so I did too.

Finally she said, “If it sometimes seems that I favor Pip—and I'm not saying I do—I suppose it may be because I worry more about her. She's older, but she struggles more than you do. She's our Early Bird, and she still doesn't really fly.” She met my eyes. “Can you keep that to yourself?”

“Yes,” I said, because it doesn't count that I'm telling you, my diary.

“I can see how this might have felt unfair, and I'm sorry,” Mom continued. “Maybe you and I should have talked about it sooner. But I never meant to favor her, just protect her, encourage her. I wish she could be more like you: friendly and fearless.” She looked up. “Is there any chance you could take it as a compliment that I
don't
worry about you as much as I worry about her?”

“Depends,” I replied. “Is there any chance you could start noticing me more?”

“Absolutely.” Mom smiled softly. “What's ‘second of all'? And what did you want to say?”

I liked that she'd been listening and that she thought of me as friendly and fearless. “Well, you know my story about the new girl—”

“Yes, I tried to e-mail it to Nana Ethel today, but for some reason, it wasn't online anymore…”

I told Mom that the girl who gave the party turned out to be a very nice person, and that appearances can be deceiving. I also told her that I had to apologize to the girl's mother, and the principal took the story off the school website.

My voice caught a little when I said all this, because I was remembering that in Principal Gupta's office, first I wished my parents were there and then I was glad they weren't.

Since Mom was looking right at me, I added, “Pip has her struggles, but I have mine too.”

Mom's eyes got a little shiny when I said that.

“If I tell you something else, will you keep it to yourself?” I asked.

She nodded, so I told her about the five assignments and how when Bea started
coming
over
, Pip started
overcoming
her shyness. I didn't tell her about Pip's crush, but I did tell her about Loudmouth Lacey and the Squeaky Boys. Mom looked pained during that part, but I said I stood up to them.

“C'mere, Ava,” she said. “You've been a super S-I-S, haven't you?” She gave me a big hug, and I pictured myself as a hero in a book: Ava Wren to the rescue! “And Pip
has
been more extroverted lately,” she added.

I didn't want the subject to switch back to Pip quite so fast, but I said, “Extra what?”

“Extroverted. Outgoing. Talkative. Last week, she told me she participated in class.”

Mom said Pip had told her that a substitute teacher called on her and she'd answered. “A lot of the regular teachers have stopped trying to call on her,” Mom admitted.

“She participated? That's incredible,” I said.

“Ava,
you're
incredible!” Mom said and looked right at me. “Thank you for what you're doing. And for telling me about it. I'm sorry I let work and other things get me so distracted.”

“Thank you for listening,” I answered. Then I think we both felt a little embarrassed about all the thank-yous, even though it's nice to be thanked and Thanksgiving wasn't that long ago. “Mom, can you
not
tell Pip that I told you about Bea? She'll probably tell you herself sometime. And don't mention the Squeaky People either. It would just hurt her feelings. Plus, one of the boys might not be as bad as the other.”

“I hear you,” Mom said, and I felt like she really did hear me. “We'll both keep quiet. Mum's the word.”

“M-U-M,” I said.

Mom looked up and stroked my hair. “Hey, you could use a haircut, don't you think?”

“Sure,” I said, like it was no big deal.

AVA THE ASTOUNDED

AFTER DINNER

DEAR DIARY,

It snowed today! Big fluffy flakes that didn't stick.

Three weeks till Christmas. Four till my birthday.

January 1st is a new year
and
a number palindrome (1-1)
and
the day I turn eleven (also a number palindrome).

I was thinking about what to give my family and I thought: maybe I've already given them pretty good gifts. Pip needed to get a life, and I helped her get one. And now, not only is Pip happier, but Mom and Dad seem happier too.

Dad's in the next room humming.

Is “hum” an onomatopoeia? Mrs. Lemons says those are words that are spelled the way they sound. Comic book examples are “pow,” “bang,” and “wham.” Animal examples are “meow,” “buzz,” and “quack.” A cereal example might be “snap,” “crackle,” and “P-O-P.”

I went into Pip's room and asked, “Pip, do you think you and I are word nerds, like Mom and Dad?”

“Yeah, we can't help it,” Pip said. Then she told me that in Spanish, she learned that “
Yo
soy
” (Y-O-S-O-Y) means “I am”—which means other languages have palindromes too.

I told her that I knew a word that was eight letters and had only one vowel.

“In English?”

“Of course in English.”

“How can that be?”

“It just is.”

“Give me a clue.”

I made a fist and pointed right at my bicep, but she didn't get it. So I said, “It's hard to guess. It's STRENGTH.”

She nodded like she was impressed.

I told her that in the library, Mr. Ramirez lectured everyone about the Internet. He said we should
not
give out personal info,
not
believe everything we read online, and
always
be respectful of others. “Think before you click,” he kept saying. “Fortunately,” I said, “he did
not
say what inspired him.”

AVA THE INSPIRING