Colonial Madness (11 page)

“Congratulations,” Aunt Zoe told us as Mom shifted the
weight of the food basket Eli had just handed her.

“Thanks,” we both said.

“Do you want help carrying that?” I asked Mom. We were walking back to the manor. “It looks heavy.”

“I think I can manage,” she said. “You weighed a little more as a baby, and I carried you just fine.”

“Gee, thanks,” I said drily. But I couldn't be upset with our recent success. Just when I'd been starting to lose hope, Mom and I pulled it off.

“I don't think anyone expected us to do so well,” I told her. “Not even me.”

“Never doubt your mother,” said Mom. “Who was the one who told you butter could get you unstuck from the heating duct?”

“Who was the one who got me stuck there in the first place?” I countered.

“Was it not the perfect hiding space for hide-and-seek?”

I was silent for a moment. “It was.”

Mom grinned and bumped me with her shoulder. “So what do you say we eat dinner and then play a game I invented?” She held up a finger. “I promise it's not Yarn.”

I smiled. “Actually, I have plans with Angel tonight. We're going to do something with that watermelon.”

Mom nodded. “Okay, that sounds like fun.”

After dinner, I snuck into the bathroom and slathered the vinegar and mint under my arms, even rubbing some into the fabric of my dress. I said good-bye to Mom and sprinted down the hall before she could see that I wasn't stopping at Angel's room.

Once I was sure the coast was clear, I crept from shadow to shadow down to the craft hut. Caleb opened the door before I even knocked. And he didn't look happy to see me.

“What's wrong?” I asked.

“My dad said it's against the rules for any of the contestants to hang out with us.” He frowned and dropped his shoulders.

“I know,” I said. “But . . . I still want to.”

He perked up a bit. “Really? With me?”

“Well . . . yeah,” I said, smiling. “But I'll leave if it'll get you in trouble.”

Caleb took a step closer. “I won't say anything if you won't.” He glanced around and gestured for me to come in.

I slipped through the doorway, feeling equal parts guilty and excited.

We didn't talk any about his family's financial situation or mine. Instead, he told me about his regular life outside the 1600s, and I told him about life in my town. We quizzed
each other on interests and likes and dislikes and teased each other about them.

“You don't like hummus?” I asked.

“I don't like the texture,” he said. “It's like eating that white paste from kindergarten.”

“You don't like the white paste from kindergarten?!”

Caleb laughed and placed a sheet of paper on the table beside us. “Tell me what kind of earrings you want.”

“Ones that will give me superpowers.”

“Cute.” He tapped me on the nose with his pencil. “But something more realistic.”

I thought a moment. “Can we make flower earrings?”

Caleb began sketching. “How many petals? Round or pointed?”

“Five round ones.” I watched while he drew. “Perfect.”

Caleb picked up a piece of sheet metal and got to work on the real thing. I wanted to stay and watch the whole process, but the hour passed quicker than I expected and I had to say good-bye.

“Sorry, but my cousin will only cover for me for so long.”

“Your cousin knows you're here?” he asked, wide-eyed.

“Angel,” I told him. “And don't worry, she'll keep it a secret.”

Caleb nodded. “I should have these done for you by tomorrow, but I don't
know how I can get them to you.” He ran a hand over his hair. “Unless you want to hang out again?”

My stomach did a flip-flop. “Sure!” I blurted. “I mean . . . whatever, yeah.”

“Way to play it cool,” Caleb said with a smile.

I laughed and we hugged good-bye, me praying the whole time that he wouldn't smell me and change his mind.

Before I left, he stepped outside and checked for signs of life. Then he turned and beckoned me forward. With one last wave, I darted from shadow to shadow again, all the way to the back door.

Which was locked.

“Shoot!” I whispered.

There was no doubt in my mind who did it, but at the moment I had more important things to worry about . . . like getting back inside. I prowled the length of windows until I found the one for Angel's room. Then I picked up a rock and threw it. It clicked loud against the glass and I ducked into the bushes. No movement from above.

I picked up another rock and threw it, pressing my back against the building. The curtains over Angel's window rustled.

I jumped out and started waving my arms but froze.

Mom was looking down at me.

She drew open the window and leaned out. “Tori? Well . . .
what on earth are you doing out there?” The confusion in her voice dripped with sarcasm. “I thought for
sure
you'd be here in Angel's room. Isn't that the strangest thing?”

And that's when I realized Dylan hadn't locked me out. Mom had.

“Please please please let me in!” I whispered as loud as I dared.

“Gee.” Mom scratched her head. “I really wish I could, but since I'm not smart enough to figure out your plan, I'm probably not smart enough to unlock a door either.” She shrugged. “Sorry! Have fun sleeping in the barn!”

And with that, she closed the window and shut the curtains.

As I sulked down the path to the barn and tried to find a patch of ground not covered in poop, I realized I didn't feel one bit guilty for what I did. If anything, Mom had brought it on herself for screwing up challenges and being a screwup in general.

Nope, I decided, settling down against a hay bale.
She
was the problem, not me.

A
ngel didn't share my opinion. We talked over breakfast, since I was in no mood to eat with Mom. Two cows had licked me during the night.

“Honestly, I can't blame her,” said Angel. “I would never trick my parents like that.”

I gawked at her as if she'd just declared hot dogs wholesome.

“You trick your parents every day!” I exclaimed. “Pretending to embrace their lifestyle and then borrowing perfume from me!”

“That's not the same,” she said, scooping up porridge.

“How is it not?”

“It's not because it's not,” replied Angel.

“Strong argument.”

Angel put down her spoon. “Look. You and your mom have a bond most people would kill for. And when you lie to her, you break that bond and become just like . . .” She pointed to Dylan and his dad.

I scowled. “I am nothing like Dylan. You take that back.”

“Okay, okay. But you still shouldn't trick your mom. You guys are supposed to be a team in this thing.”

Angel was right. Mom and I needed to work like a team, and that meant apologizing, even if it was the last thing I wanted to do. Gritting my teeth, I approached the table where Mom was sitting with Aunt Zoe and Uncle Deke.

“Morning, honey!” chirped Mom. “Sleep well?”

“Two cows licked me,” I told her.

Aunt Zoe and Uncle Deke exchanged mystified looks.

“Well, that's just because you're so sweet,” said Mom with a sunny smile. “Did you need something?”

“I wanted to . . . apologize,” I said through clenched teeth.

Mom cocked her head to one side. “That doesn't sound very genuine. Are you lying . . . again?”

Aunt Zoe cleared her throat at Uncle Deke, and the two of them got up from the table.

“No, I'm not lying,” I said.

Mom leaned closer. “Are you lying about not lying?”

“No.”

Mom leaned back. “Are you lying about not lying about not lying?”

“No!” I said, but a laugh escaped. It was hard to stay mad at my mom. “Okay, I really am sorry I upset you.”

“That's better.” She smiled and held her arms open. I sat down next to her and let her squish me. “Who's my favorite girl?”

I rolled my eyes. “Me.”

“Who's your favorite mom?”

“You are.”

“Darn right. And never forget it.”

But an hour later, when the morning challenge came, I kind of did. Each family had to build a chair. A simple chair. Four legs, a seat, and a back.

Instead, Mom and I built the lovechild of stilts and a bookshelf.

“Did they have giraffes in America during colonial times?” I asked as we stood back to inspect our handiwork. “Because I feel that's the only creature who would benefit from this monstrosity.”

“It's not
that
tall,” said Mom, reaching up to pat one of the seats.

I frowned. “And how did we end up with that seat . . . and then another two feet above it?”

“I think one of the seats was supposed to be the back,” said Mom. “But that's okay! The extra seat underneath just means you and a friend can both enjoy.”

“None of my friends are two feet tall,” I said.

“People were a lot shorter in colonial times,” Mom said solemnly.

I shook my head and looked at the other teams' chairs. And then I looked at ours again. “We should've followed the instructions better,” I said. “Why did you say you knew what you were doing?”

Mom sighed and ran her fingers through her hair. “I don't know, Tori. I built your crib without any instructions.”

“It was a nylon pop-up crib,” I told her. “All you had to do was unfold it. This”—I patted our so-called chair—“was a little more complicated. We should've followed the instructions.”

“I heard you the first time,” said Mom, sounding a little testy. “What do you want me to do?”

“Take things more seriously!” I said. “I want to win!”

Eli started making the rounds and declared the family with the baby as winners. We, of course, came in last.

“Though there is one overall winner, you are all winners
since you now have a creation of your own to take with you.”

“Or use as firewood to burn designer dresses that
somebody
can't make money selling,” said Dylan, laughing at me and Mom.

That
was a low blow.

“Dylan . . .” said his dad in a warning tone.

“Why do you even pretend to threaten him?” I exploded. “We both know you're going to give Dylan whatever he wants.”

Furious, I turned to Dylan. “Wah wah! Counting all my allowance money takes
so
long.”

They both just stared at me, speechless.

Mom was on me in a flash, fingers gripping my arm so tight that if I tried to leave, I'd have been doing it minus a limb.

“Victoria,” she said in a soft voice, “apologize now.”

“Sorry,” I said without an ounce of feeling.

Mom's face darkened, and she dragged me tripping and stumbling away from the others, including Caleb who was cleaning up after the chair building.

“
What
has gotten into you?” Mom asked, letting me go.

“Gee, I guess I woke up on the wrong side of the bed.” I snapped my fingers. “Oh, no—wait. I
didn't
.”

I twisted on my heel and left.

“Where are you going?” Mom called after me.

I pointed at the barn. “To my room!”

Mom was smart enough not to follow, and the cows inside were smart enough to stay out of my way. I kicked a bucket and sent it flying across the barn before I plopped down on the ground and quietly seethed. And then I fell asleep.

Someone shook my shoulder, and I woke up swinging.

“It's me! It's me!” said Caleb, holding up his hands.

I struggled to a sitting position and ran my fingers through my snarled hair. “What . . . what are you doing here?”

“I saw you get a little upset earlier,” he said. “I just wanted to see if you're okay.”

“Well, thanks,” I said. “But . . . I probably won't be until this contest is over.”

“That bad, huh?” Caleb settled on the ground next to me.

“My mom is normally great,” I said. “But she doesn't seem to get how much is riding on this contest. And that what she does affects
both
of us.” I shrugged. “But I probably shouldn't have taken it out on Uncle Max. I'm sure he already knows how bad Dylan is without me telling him.”

Caleb grew quiet. “I'm sorry you got in trouble for seeing me.”

I shrugged. “It wasn't so bad.”

“Tori, you slept in the barn.” He gestured around us. “I don't want that to happen again.”

I knew the right response. I knew what I should have said. I knew I should have ended things right then.

But . . .

“Maybe we could meet during the day instead,” I said.

This experience was a major suckfest. I should at least get
some
happiness out of it.