Class Favorite (23 page)

“Did you promise you'd help your sister out?” Mom asked.

“Well, yes, ma'am, but I didn't say I'd do
any
thing,
any
time. Mom, I have plans. It's not fair. I could do it any other night but this night. Besides, we're not the only babysitters in town. They can find someone else.”

“They like us,” Elisabeth hissed.

“They like
you
.”

“Girls, please.” She thought for a moment, then said, “You know I don't like you going back on promises. That includes you,” she said to Elisabeth, “backing out of your obligation to the Medinas.”

“But there's nothing I can do,” she pleaded.

She turned to me and said, “Sara, you haven't even asked me if you could go to this party. I don't know anything about it. Will Jason's parents be there? Who else is going? You haven't told me anything. . . .”

“I just found out about it!” I tried.

“That's not the point. You know the rules about parties. And you can't just decide to go out to a party without asking permission. I'd want to talk to his mother beforehand.”

“How was I supposed to know you had this rule if I've never been to parties except for Arlene's?” I cried. Elisabeth smirked at that, but I almost didn't care—that's how desperate I was.

Mom turned her back to Elisabeth and looked me in the eyes. “Sara, honey. What do you think we should do?”

“I don't know! She already said she'd babysit!” I knew I was losing control, but it was too hard to pull myself back.

Mom said, “Sara. I'm asking you again. What do you think we should do?”

I realized this was a moment, a lesson my mom was trying to teach me. I was going to have to play along. I thought for a moment—telling Elisabeth to miss regionals wasn't the answer; neither was my giving in and missing Jason's party. “There are other babysitters around,” I said. “Maybe I can call the Medinas, tell them what's going on, and tell them I'm going to call around for other sitters if it's okay with them.”

Mom nodded. “That's a good idea. Maybe they have someone they can call on too.”

“Good luck with that,” Elisabeth piped in. “They never go out, and when they do, it's me they call.”

“Thank you, Elisabeth.” Mom sighed. She looked back to me and said, “If you give me the number to the Andersens', I'll call about the party. If everything is in order, then you can go. But only on the condition that you find a replacement for the Medinas that's to their satisfaction. If not, then you need to do this favor for your sister.”

I couldn't believe she was choosing
now
to teach me some
life lesson. The party was too important to me. Still, there was hope, and it was all in my hands.

As I stood in my room, looking at the two of them—my own flesh and blood, the only people in the world besides Dad who were legally obligated to like me—I felt like they were against me. “Well, can you at least tell Elisabeth to stop smirking at me?” She looked like she'd just won the Universe Cup or something, she was looking so pleased with herself.

“Elisabeth,” Mom said wearily. “Behave yourself.”

“And get out of my room while you're at it,” I added, giving her a little shove.

“Mom!” Elisabeth whined.

“Sara, I said that's enough. Now I suggest you get to work on this.”

Before they shut my door, Elisabeth turned back, smiling, and said, “And don't forget: It's your night to do the dishes.”

I stood staring at the closed door and squared my shoulders. It was up to me to get myself out of this mess. I decided to call the Medinas first—maybe they knew of another neighborhood kid who could cover for me. I decided to be up front and honest with them about the whole situation, since honesty was supposed to be the best policy.

“Normally we'd ask our niece,” Mrs. Medina said. “But she's got a track meet. Sounds like it's the same one as Elisabeth's.”

“Oh,” I said.

“So you will be here on Saturday, right?”

“I promise, someone will be there. Don't worry.”

I picked up my Bowie Junior High phone directory and started flipping through the names, trying to figure out who I could call without it seeming totally random. With my heart pounding, I called a girl from my gym class named Heidi who I knew loved kids because she always talked about what she was going to name her future children (Michael, Samantha, and Lola, in that order).

“What's your name again?” she asked. When I told her, she said, “Oh! The girl who blew up The Ball!”

I had the exact same conversation with three other girls, but all of them had other plans. I thought of taking an ad out in the Ladel
Pennysaver
, but it was an outrageous idea, and besides, there wasn't enough time to do it before Saturday. There was only one person left who I could call, and I couldn't call her asking for a favor. If I called Arlene at all, it had to be to talk things out. And that was still one call I was avoiding.

Later, after I'd slaved over the dishes (that chipped beef sauce was especially hard to scrape off), I slumped back to my room. I closed my closet door and stacked my magazines on the corner of my desk and tucked my CF list into my desk drawer. I no longer needed to worry about finding the right clothes and attitude for the party. There would be no great
conversations with Jason, no giggling with Rosemary. Come Monday morning I'd still be a nobody, some girl in their class, the one who blew up The Ball that one time. I stared at the Class Favorite pictures I had taped up beside the pictures of Haden Prescott triumphing on the Oscars red carpet. I looked down at my hands and thought of the events of the last few weeks and, before I could tell myself to stop feeling sorry for myself, I started to cry.

18

Are You Really Best Friends Forever?

True or False: I know that I can trust my best friend with anything I tell her.

 

The morning of the party I stayed in bed until 11:30, and the only reason I got up at all was because there was a phone call for me.

“Are you so excited about tonight you're ready to vomit?” Kirstie asked. I could hear a blender in the background and wondered what she was mixing. Smoothies? I had seriously thought of just not showing up at the Medinas, but in the end I decided that I couldn't do that. It was a way too mean thing to do.

“No,” I said flatly. “I'm miserable. I'm not going.”

“What, got cold feet? Sara, it's just a party.”

I sat up in bed, pulled the comforter up to my waist, and realized my eyes were swollen from crying. “Seriously, Kirstie. I can't go.”

“Did you get grounded again?” she asked. I could now hear a television in the background. She must have moved rooms, and I had an image of her sitting on the puffy off-white couch, flipping through the channels as I told her my latest heart-crushing moment.

“No. I have to babysit for my sister. She has some stupid track thing tonight, and I have to cover.”

“Wait a minute,” she started. “How can you not be going to the one thing you've been waiting forever to go to?”

“I haven't been waiting forever to go to his party.”

“But you've been drooling over this guy since, what, puberty?”

I wanted to bury myself at the reminder of anything related to my period. “I know,” I said miserably.

“But tonight could be your
Silent Widow
,” she miserably said, referring to Haden Prescott's Academy Award–nominated role. “How old are the little monsters, anyway?”

“Six.” I slid back under the covers.

“At least there's just one.”

“No, they're
both
six.”

“What, twins? Oh man, that totally sucks, Sara.”

“Thanks. I know,” I moaned.

“Well,” she said, taking a gulp of something. The smoothie? “Do you mind if I still go?”

“No,” I said. “Of course not.”

“Cool. I've actually been looking forward to it. Make some new friends and all.”

I swallowed, wondering if she was already over me. She acted so self-assured, talking about showing up at a party by herself—something I'd never do. Kirstie was cute, nice, and bold at times, and I wondered again why a former Most Popular hadn't made more friends at our school. Maybe I was toxic?

“Want me to give Jason a message or anything? A big fat sloppy kiss from you?” When I didn't say anything, Kirstie said, “Kidding! Sara, I was totally kidding.”

To say that the thought of Kirstie taking my much-dreamed-of night with Jason for herself made me nauseated would be the biggest understatement in the history of humankind. When I got off the phone with her, I lay in bed a while longer, staring across the room.

I wondered if I should call Jason or maybe e-mail him to tell him I wasn't coming. Then again, it wasn't like he was having the party for me. If I didn't show up, no one would even notice. No one understood the importance of this party. I really liked Jason—he was sweet and totally cute and he seemed to genuinely like me. I thought the party would take us to the next level. Not to mention all the work I'd done on my CF goal and how close I was to getting people to like me for more than making a fool of myself. Now, I thought, come Monday morning, everything would just be the same.

I managed to drag myself out of bed, pull on a pair of almost-clean socks I found in the corner by my desk and barbeque-stained jeans from the back of my chair, and wiped the sleep out of my eyes in lieu of washing my face. Today, I would do the minimum of everything.

The house was quiet. I peeked in Elisabeth's room on my way to the kitchen and saw that her bed was made and she was nowhere in sight. She was probably out running. Elisabeth ran even on the days she ran. I wondered if she ever got frustrated that, despite all that running and all that distance, the only place she ever got was back to where she had started. She was like a fish in a bowl—always in motion but never really getting anywhere.

In the kitchen I decided to make a peanut butter and jelly sandwich for my breakfast/lunch, then got lazy and decided on a simple peanut butter sandwich. I poured the last of the milk into a glass and ate standing at the counter. I thought about Jason and what could have been.

Mom's car pulled up outside, and when she came in carrying grocery bags, she asked, “Did you just get up?”

“No,” I lied.

“Why don't you put on some cleaner clothes?” She rested the bags on the counter near my milk and dropped her keys and purse beside them.

“I don't know. I will.”

Mom rested her hand on the counter and gave me her worried look. “Oh, honey,” she began. “I'm sorry about the party. I know it doesn't seem fair, and I know it seems like there won't be any other parties, but trust me: There will be. Running is important to Elisabeth—it could mean a college scholarship for her in a couple of years. There are worse things that could happen than not being able to go to one party.”

“Mom, I
know
.” How could I explain to her that this wasn't just one party—it was
the
party? “But that doesn't make me feel better, okay? Look, I don't even care anymore. I'm babysitting, and that's that. I can use the money, anyway.”

“At least you did everything you could to remedy the situation, right?”

“I guess.”

I took my sandwich and milk and sat at the table. It was sunny out, and the trees were waving at me in their light breeze.
A perfect day for a party
, I thought miserably.

“Oh, shoot,” Mom said, looking in the fridge. “I didn't realize we were out of milk.” She gave a huge sigh, like this was the worst that could happen. Talk about not listening to your own advice.

She turned her attention to me and, apparently noticing again how I had obviously just rolled out of bed, said, “Run to Jim's for me and get some, will you?” She dug some money out of her purse and handed it over to me. “You look like you
could use a nice walk. It's beautiful out, you know.” She smiled at me in a way that made me not want to argue. She was trying so hard.