Counting Thyme (22 page)

A GOOD SIGN

THE FOLLOWING WEEK, VAL'S HAMA TEST FROM HIS SECOND
round of treatment came back negative. A good sign, according to Dr. Everett. It meant that Val could go ahead with his third round of 3F8 in a couple of weeks, and that hopefully, the medicine was doing its job. There was no way to know until Val had his scans, but first he had to finish the treatment. “One thing at a time,” Mom said, with no mention of what that meant for us.

For once, I let it go. I was happy for Val, and that was enough. Plus, I had plenty to keep me busy now that Jake and I were working together on the tornado at school.

So far, we had a train whistle and some reeds rubbing against a board. But the sound wasn't right yet. We still needed the
whoosh
of the wind. Like the howling for the flying monkeys, but different. Faking a tornado was hard, but it was easy to work with Jake. He never made fun of my ideas, and he laughed when things went wrong. Shani would have been the same way. It was hard not to think about her, and wonder what she was up to . . . or if she was going to call.

Mrs. Smith said it was okay if we didn't figure out the
perfect sound for the tornado. She had an old tape recording we could use as backup, if it came to that.

“I don't want to use a tape,” I said to Jake on Friday after we'd shown Mrs. Smith our progress at lunch. “It sounds lame.”

“I listened to it in music the other day,” he said. “It's pretty scratchy, like an old record.”

“Shoot.” I didn't want to settle for some scratchy tape that would make it sound like we couldn't figure out how to do our jobs.

“Don't worry,” Jake said. “We'll figure it out.”

Lizzie waved as she walked by. She and Emily had actually done all right in their rehearsals that week. Emily didn't look happy, but she didn't seem to be going out of her way to be mean, which was something. Rebeccah still hovered around her like a mosquito, though.

Jake bumped my sneaker with his. “Mrs. Smith asked me to play ‘Little Wing' at the dance.”

I almost said,
What dance?
Then I remembered it was February first, which meant the sixth grade Valentine's Day dance was only a couple of weeks away, and this weird, sick feeling rushed over me. Was Jake about to ask me to go with him? I couldn't tell if that was what I wanted or not.

“The thing is, I don't know if I want to play that song for the whole school,” he said, and I almost laughed at myself. I was so dumb, getting all worked up when he just needed a friend.

“You'll do a great job. You played it for me.”

“Well, you're not most people,” he said, and all those nervous feelings came right back. “You're going, right? It's during the day, so you don't have to get a ride from your parents or anything.”

I swallowed. My throat was so dry all of a sudden. “Sure,” I said, and he smiled.

I knew I should have been happy that Jake sort-of, kind-of asked me to the dance, but for the rest of the day, I got that same weird feeling every time I looked at him. I liked working with him, and joking with him, and even walking to the auditorium together every day. But the idea of dancing together on Valentine's Day? In front of everyone?

No way.

On the way home, Mrs. Ravelli and I stopped by Mr. Lipinsky's apartment. She didn't get out her key, but she did wait while I tried to talk to him through the door. “I'm working on sound production at school, but I'm really terrible at it. Do you know how to make a fake tornado? We've tried everything, but nothing works. I could sure use your help.”

I was thinking of how Mrs. Ravelli had tricked him into coming inside that day by asking for his help. I hoped maybe he'd barge into the hall and tell me exactly what I was doing wrong, but there was no reaction from inside. I hadn't seen him since the fire.

I tried a different tactic. “This theater stuff is dumb, anyway. No one cares if I get the sounds right. Everyone I know would rather watch the movie instead.”

Mrs. Ravelli shook her head at me, but I heard a shuffling noise coming from inside apartment 3B. Then, “Go away or I'll call the police!” His voice was gravelly and strained, but it still made me grin to hear it again.

“
Ay!
This is enough for today,” Mrs. Ravelli said, though she looked pretty pleased, too. She started up the stairs. “I must ask you,
bambina
. Why do you tell Mr. Lipinsky of the play, but not your mama and papa? This makes no sense.”

“I don't know. I guess I didn't want them to get the wrong idea, and anyway, they're too busy with Val and work and stuff to listen to me.”

Mrs. Ravelli stopped. “This is not true. Your mama, she tell me all the time about you. You like the turkey in three slices, like a fan. You like chocolate milk and pastries. You like to hear stories. All the time, your mama tell me these things.”

“She does?”

“Of course! How else would I know? I am not magic,
bambina
.”

I followed Mrs. Ravelli up the stairs, thinking of all the little things I'd appreciated about her, and how many of them had been because of Mom. Mom was the one thinking of me and reading my mind.

Mrs. Ravelli turned her key in our lock and pushed the door open to the sound of a fight.

“What on earth were you
thinking
?” Mom shouted. Not like she was annoyed. Like she was actually going to kill someone.

I pushed past Mrs. Ravelli and saw Cori sitting at the dining table. Dad was home, too, sitting next to Cori while Mom paced the floor, her tiny frame bursting with anger. She waved a crumpled slip of pink paper. “Ten days of detention. Ten
days
? And now three days of suspension!”

Dad lifted his hands. “Now, hon, let's—”

Mom turned on him. “You're the one who always says we need to give her space. That a little independence would go a long way. Well, boy, did it ever. It sent her all the way to a suspension!”

Dad's face turned red above his beard.
This is it,
I thought, only I didn't want Dad to fight back. I didn't want him and Mom to fight at all.

“Just give me the lecture and let me go,” Cori said.

Mom stopped in her tracks. I thought she really would kill Cori right then, but she just turned to us and said, “Thank you, Mrs. Ravelli. You can go ahead now. Have a lovely weekend.”

Mrs. Ravelli swept through the kitchen to gather her things and leave, but not before tapping my chin and whispering, “
Ti amo,
” which meant “I love you.”

As soon as the door shut, Cori rolled her eyes, which were thick with black eyeliner again. “Can I just
go
already?”

Mom pointed at her. “Don't you ever speak to me that way again.”

“Right,” Cori said. “Wouldn't want to embarrass you in front of the help.” Her voice dripped with anger, but she was blinking fast, like she was trying not to cry.

“You will not speak about Mrs. Ravelli that way,” Mom said. “She is a wonderful, decent woman whom I can never repay.”

“At least Thyme has her! You've never even been to my school!” Tears flooded down Cori's face.

That's when Val padded up to us in his Batman costume.

“Honey, I told you to wait in your room,” Mom said, but Val just went straight to Cori and wrapped his arms around her.

“I'm sorry, C,” he said as Cori gulped for air. My eyes were aching, too. Mom pressed her hand to her mouth to hold back a sob, while Dad's shoulders slumped. We were a mess.

Cori dropped to one knee and wrapped her long arms around Val. “Don't you ever,
ever
apologize,” she said, resting her cheek against his scruffy head. “You. Are. Awesome,” she whispered, and my chest caved in. I knew exactly how she felt. She was mad, but that didn't mean that she didn't love Val. She loved him the most.

“Cori.” Mom's voice was softer now. “I am sorry.” Those were the last words I expected to hear her say, but she was looking straight at Cori like she really meant them.

“Mom—” Cori said, her voice cracking.

Val saw me and came running. “T!” He wrapped his arms around me the same way he had with Cori. That hug felt like a million bucks.

Mom took Cori's face in her hands. “I see you. Do you
hear me, honey? I see you.” Cori nodded, her face streaked with tears and black eyeliner. “Good,” Mom said. “That's good. But you're still grounded.” Then they both laughed, and I wondered how something so terrible could turn so good in a single moment, with a few simple words.

YOU SHOULD TRY IT

AFTER THE FIGHT WITH MOM, CORI TURNED INTO A COMPLETELY
different person. All weekend, she made jokes that weren't mean. She laughed. Getting grounded seemed like the best thing that had ever happened to her. Technically, her suspension was only for three days, but Mom said Cori had to stay home for a week, just to make sure they had enough time to “reconnect.” After that, Cori would go back to school and it would be time for Val's third round of 3F8.

“What did you guys do all day?” I asked Cori after school on Monday. It was weird to think that while I'd been in class, she had just been home with Mom and Val.

“We rode the F train,” Val shouted as he lined his model subway cars up on the linoleum tiles in the kitchen. “We're going to ride another train tomorrow, too.”

Cori laughed. “You've ridden almost all of them now,” she said to Val. Then she leaned close. “A word of advice. If a subway car is empty, skip it. I nearly died from the smell on that F train.”

“Good to know, but I'll leave that to you and Mom.” I had zero intentions of riding the subway.

Cori was looking funny at me. “What?” I said.

“You should try it,” she said, like she was reading my mind.

“The subway? No way.”

“No, not that. You should try talking to Mom about everything. It helps.”

I shrugged, but part of me wondered if Cori was right. Shani still wasn't talking to me. I'd left her messages over the weekend, but she hadn't called me back. I wondered what Mom would think about that, if I told her. Maybe she would actually listen.

That Wednesday our production meeting finished early, so I stayed to watch Lizzie rehearse a scene with Mr. Calhoun onstage. Big pieces of the set were in place. Lizzie wasn't wearing her costume yet, but the play was starting to look real. Then, when Mr. Calhoun signaled Lizzie, she missed her cue. They started over and Lizzie messed up again.

“Let's take a quick break,” Mr. Calhoun said, and Lizzie buried her face in her hands.

“I told you she'd fall apart,” Rebeccah said to Emily. They were standing just a few feet away from me, watching. “They never should have given her the role.”

“You don't have to keep saying that,” Emily said. When she caught me looking at them, she actually moved away from Rebeccah a little bit, too. Maybe she was getting tired of all the kissing-up.

Onstage, Lizzie looked like she was about to burst into
tears. Despite Mr. Calhoun's rules about keeping off the stage during rehearsals, I walked over to her. “What's wrong? You know this part.”

It was one of the final scenes in the play. The one where Dorothy shuts her eyes and says, “There's no place like home.”

Lizzie sighed. “I'm trying to calm down, but I feel so nervous. They're all staring at me.”

I took her hand and squeezed it. “Why don't you pretend you're singing in the bathroom again? That was a piece of cake, right?”

“But I'm not.”

“That's why it's called pretending,
duh
.”

She cracked a smile, and I grabbed both her hands. “Repeat after me. ‘There's no place like home,'” I said, thinking of how Dorothy wanted to go home so badly, she left all her new friends from Oz behind.

“There's no place like home,” Lizzie said softly.

“Louder.”

“There's no place like home!” she said with just the right amount of hope and sadness.

Mr. Calhoun started clapping. He was standing at the front of the stage again, watching us. “Excellent, Lizzie! That's perfect. All right, folks, that's enough for today.”

Lizzie grabbed my arm as we walked to the wings. “That was so much easier, pretending I was in the bathroom. I can't believe I did it.”

“I wouldn't say you did it,” Rebeccah said, and Lizzie stopped in her tracks. “More like the rest of us suffered
through it. But I bet if you keep at it, you'll get some of it right in the end.”

Lizzie's face fell, and Emily frowned. Then she turned to Rebeccah. “The only people suffering around here are all of us, listening to you run your mouth all the time.”

Rebeccah stared at her. “Are you kidding me?”

“No. You're kidding yourself if you think you can say that to my best friend.”

“But she stole your part!”

“Well, that's the thing.” Emily looked at Lizzie. “She didn't.”

Rebeccah stomped off in a huff, and Lizzie and Emily just stood there. For a minute, they didn't say anything at all. Then they both said “I'm sorry” at pretty much the exact same time and hugged each other. Then they hugged me, too, which felt new and weird and good at the same time.

“I'm sorry about Dorothy,” Lizzie told Emily, wiping at her eyes. “I just wanted to be in the play, but I won't do it if it hurts your feelings too much.”

“No way,” Emily said. “I'm not letting you miss out on this. But now that we're working together, let me tell you, you have got a
lot
of practicing to do.” Lizzie laughed, and Emily looked at me. “You were right, you know. You said I had a choice. I don't know why I've been such an idiot.”

“What made you change your mind?”

She thought for a second. “I guess I just needed time to get over it.”

“Well, you didn't have to wait so long,” Lizzie said.

I thought of Shani, waiting for me to come home (assuming she still wanted me there). I told myself I just wanted to crack the tornado sound first. After that, I would leave.

Emily needed help making parols for her grandma's birthday, so we made plans to work at Lizzie's apartment on Saturday afternoon. Emily would give me a ride. She was supposed to pick me up at eleven o'clock, but our buzzer rang early.

I grabbed my book bag and threw my coat on, and when Mom tried to say something, I just said, “I know. Be back by dinner, and have a good time, and be safe. I will and I will. And I wrote Lizzie's number by the phone.”

Mom handed me a box. “I thought you might like to take some cookies?”

“Oh. Thanks.”

I took the box and rushed out, while Val shouted good-byes down the stairwell after me. Mr. Lipinsky's door was shut, so I whistled on my way by, in case he was listening.

Emily's car was standing at the curb. Her driver opened the door for me, and I climbed in.

“Thanks, Jennings,” Emily said.

The driver tipped his hat and shut the door. The inside of the car was dark, with black leather everything. Emily pressed a button on the console between our seats, and a glass partition rose between us and the driver.

“I wanted to say thanks for helping Lizzie all this time.”

“It was no big deal,” I said, but Emily shook her head.

“You don't understand. Lizzie is like . . . she's like my sister
or something. I don't know because I've never
had
a sister, but sometimes it feels like we're actually related.”

“That's probably why you fight so much. Sisters are like that.”

Emily looked at me like she was waiting for me to say more. I didn't, because talking about Cori would lead to Val. What would Emily think when she found out I had a brother and a sister I'd never mentioned once, in all the time that she'd known me?

When we got to Lizzie's building, which was four stories and redbrick just like mine, Jennings carted our supplies upstairs. Unlike us, they had the whole second floor, although with three brothers running around, it still felt cramped. Jamie frowned when he saw me, and I wondered if he remembered running into me at Emily's holiday party. It was crazy to think that was over two months ago.

Lizzie led us past her brothers, who were wrestling over a pile of toys. “Sorry about that,” she said. “My brothers are crazy. You know what Eric says when my mom asks him to help fix dinner?”

“What?”

“‘Why? Is it broken?'” We laughed, and I thought of how much happier Lizzie was now that she and Emily weren't fighting. “And the best part?” Lizzie said. “I get stuck helping instead, because my mom thinks he's just hi-
lar
-ious.”

Lizzie's room was a little smaller than mine and Cori's, but all her own. The walls were a soft shade of yellow, with brightly checked curtains and a bookcase loaded with
Playbills and picture frames. Just like at Emily's, most of Lizzie's pictures were of the two of them.

Emily had ordered rolls of beautiful, sparkly paper in every color. We spread them out on Lizzie's floor and spent the afternoon cutting and stapling, creating beautiful stars in every color of the rainbow.

“You should be in charge of decorations for the Valentine's dance,” Lizzie told Emily.

“Like I need another party to plan for.” Emily looked at me. “You're going to the dance, right? Don't say no! You're stuck with us now.”

“Sure,” I said. Going with Emily and Lizzie sounded like it would be all right. Right?

“I know who Thyme's going to dance with,” Lizzie said. “He's got crazy hair, and he listens to music all the time—”

I wanted to crawl under her bed and hide. “Cut it out!” I shouted, and Lizzie broke into giggles, while Emily shook her head at us like we were crazy.

“What? You said he was cute,” Lizzie said, and Emily blushed. I wondered if this was when she'd say that she liked Jake, too.

But she just shrugged Lizzie off. “Yeah, he's okay. But it's so weird how he wears those headphones all the time.”

“I think it's kind of cool,” I said. It just slipped out.

Emily tilted her head. “Then you're just as weird as he is. Which means you're a perfect match.”

I groaned, and Emily and Lizzie laughed. It was almost like we were friends.