Monkey Business (13 page)

Suddenly he raced straight down, and when there were only a few feet between him and the street, he
veered left, bent down to catch the edge of his board, and hopped off the curb.

It was amazing and totally impressive for about two seconds. Then he lost control and wobbled, yelling with his arms flailing, before face-planting on the street.

I scrambled to my feet and ran over. “Are you okay?” I asked.

He stood up quickly and bent down to check out his knee, which was bleeding. “Ow!” he said. His chin was scraped up too, but not as badly.

“That was an awesome attempt,” I said.

“I did it perfectly this morning—five times in a row.”

“Sorry I missed it,” I said.

“Your driveway must be different from mine,” Oliver said, standing up straighter. “Let me try again.”

“But you're bleeding.”

“It's not so bad,” he said, wiping his knee with the back of his hand and then wiping his hand on his shorts. He picked up his board and hurried to the top of the driveway. And I sat back down again, watching him repeat the entire trick. This time he pulled it off flawlessly, landing on the board and coasting down the street.

“Yay!” I said, clapping.

Oliver turned around and skated back to me with the biggest grin on his face. “Want to see it again?” he asked.

I glanced at his bloody knee. “Um, why don't you quit while you're ahead?”

“I'm actually tied—one fall and one jump,” he said.

“And you still have one unbruised knee,” I pointed out.

Oliver looked down at his knees. “Oh, this is nothing,” he said. “You should've seen me last summer when I first got this thing.”

Except before Oliver could jump again, Ted called to me from the front door. “Annabelle, your mom wants you inside now.”

I stood up and brushed the grass off my shorts. “How come?” I asked.

“Something about it being a school night,” he said. “And the sun going down.”

“It's okay,” said Oliver, standing up and tucking his skateboard under one arm. “I should get home too.”

“See you tomorrow,” I said.

“Want to walk to school together?”

“Sure,” I said, smiling. As soon as I found out I was moving onto Oliver's street, I was hoping we'd get to walk to school together. But so far I'd been too shy to bring it up myself.

“I'll come by at seven thirty-five,” he said.

“And I'll be ready. See you then.”

We waved good-bye, and I walked over to where Ted was still standing by the front door. “I can't stay
out after dark, even if I'm on my own front lawn?” I asked.

“Apparently not,” said Ted with a shrug. “I don't make the rules around here—I just follow them. You know that.”

“Huh,” I said. “I'll have to talk to my mom about that. It's not like I'm going to turn into a pumpkin when the sun goes down.”

“Maybe your mom's afraid of vampires.”

“Oh, Ted,” I said. “Vampires are so five years ago.”

“Werewolves, then,” said Ted.

“Vampires and werewolves went out of fashion at the same time.”

“Okay, how about zombies?” asked Ted.

I yawned, bored with the conversation. “That's last year.”

“Then what's the new evil monster out to get you?” he asked.

“I don't even know yet,” I said, although I actually did: the new evil monster out to get me was my very best friend.

Or should I now refer to Rachel as my former best friend?

Two days later I was curled up in bed with Pepper at my feet, finishing up my lab report and about to crack open my history book when Ted knocked on my door.

“Come in,” I said.

“Hey, how's it going?” he asked. “Guess what? I have a surprise for you.”

“Is the trampoline up?” I asked, looking out my window. Scanning the backyard, I saw only the green grass, the sparkling blue pool, and the raised beds my mom had bought for her future vegetable garden. I wondered if maybe the new trampoline was in the front yard and Ted hadn't set it up yet.

“Nope, the trampoline is on back order, but it'll be here in ten days. I have something else.”

He reached into his back pocket and pulled out his iPhone. “This is for you.”

“Really?” I asked. “This is awesome! But wait. Don't you need it?”

“I upgraded to the new one,” said Ted. “And I was
all ready to trade this one in, but then I realized you could use it.”

I'd seen iPhones before. My mom and Ted had them and so did my uncle Steve.

Come to think of it, Oliver had one, as did a few other kids at my school, but it definitely wasn't the norm. Like, just the fact that I could name all the kids who had iPhones said something about owning one. Namely, the phones are super-fancy. They were a cool shape—thin and rectangular—and the screen was in color. I could text and listen to music and take and store pictures. Some of that stuff my old phone did, but I knew the iPhone did it all better. Plus, I could now e-mail from my phone. Not that I e-mail very often or anything. The only people who e-mail me are my grandma and my uncle. But still, it was good to have the capability. I'd never had it before.

“Want me to show you how to use it?” asked Ted.

“Oh, I know how,” I said. “My friend has this phone.”

I could've said, “My boyfriend has this phone,” but it felt strange talking about my boyfriend in front of Ted or any grown-up for that matter. Even though it was no secret that I had a boyfriend, I was still getting used to the fact, and talking about him casually felt too weird. Good weird, usually, but still weird, and best to be avoided when grown-ups were around.

“Good,” said Ted. “Let me transfer your data for you. Also, since you can now listen to music from this, I'll give you my old speakers.”

“You don't need them?” I asked.

“I can't use them with the new version of the phone, so I had to upgrade those, too.”

“Oh,” I said. It was sweet and super-generous and thoughtful of Ted to give me his old stuff. Which wasn't even that old. It was pretty new and nicer than what my friends had. And there was the problem right there.

I thought about what this would mean, what would happen if I showed up to school tomorrow with a brand-new phone. It would be fun and exciting probably, showing it to everyone. But was it also too showy? Would Rachel give me a hard time? Only this morning she had asked me if my shirt was new. It wasn't at all—I'd worn it before in front of her. But she seemed to be looking for things to fight about. She'd convinced herself I'd changed since my move, so everything I did, no matter what it was, somehow became evidence to prove I was a different person now.

Did other kids feel this way too? Did I seem rich, and did that therefore make me a snob? Did simply living in Canyon Ranch change things? I didn't want to be seen as a shallow snob or as materialistic. If I was getting my stepdad's old, used phone, why was I even worried about this? It wasn't like I had even asked for it.

I guess I'd been pretty quiet for a while because
all of a sudden Ted asked, “Everything okay, Anna-banana?”

“Fine,” I said. “Thanks for the phone. It's awesome!”

“And guess what? I downloaded the new Lobster Lips album for you. I know you're excited about seeing them at the Panda Parade.”

“Ha! If we get to go,” I said. “You heard about the car wash disaster?”

“I wouldn't call it a disaster,” said Ted. “But yes, I heard it was a bit of a disappointment.”

“We tried really hard to raise the money,” I said. “Some of my friends are hoping all our parents will see that and spring for the tickets. You know, kind of like giving us an A for effort?”

“Well, you definitely get an A for effort,” said Ted. “But we're not backing down, and I know you girls will figure something out. The concert is still six weeks away.”

As soon as Ted plugged in the iPhone and put on the new song, I got a text on my old phone. It was from Claire.

I am brilliant!
she wrote.

And so modest
, I replied.

Drop everything you are doing, find some old socks, and come over IMMEDIATELY!!!

Huh?
I asked.

Three words: sock puppet monkeys!!!

I texted back two rows of question marks.

Just come
, Claire wrote back.
I'll explain in person
.

“Mind if you transfer the phone data later? I need to go to Claire's for a little while. It's kind of an emergency.”

Ted laughed as he looked at his watch. “What kind of emergency?”

I glanced back down at my phone. “I'm not really sure, but it's important.”

“Okay, but make sure you're home before dark. You know—so the vampires don't get you.”

I smiled at Ted, asking, “Haven't we been over this already?”

I threw a few pairs of old socks into my backpack, hopped on my trusty red ten-speed, and biked over to Claire's house. By the time I got there, she and Yumi were waiting on the front lawn.

“So what's the big plan?” I asked as I skidded to a stop, climbed off my bike, and carefully placed it on its side, since my kickstand was busted.

Claire's cheeks were flushed and her blue eyes sparkled with excitement. “We've got to wait until everyone else gets here,” she said.

“I can hardly stand the suspense,” said Yumi.

“Did you bring your old mismatched socks?” asked Claire.

“Of course,” I said, pulling them out of my bag to show her. “I wasn't sure of how many to bring so I grabbed all the ones I could find.”

“See,” Claire said to Yumi. “My text was perfectly clear.”

“I thought she was kidding,” Yumi explained to me.

“Well, I wasn't sure,” I admitted. “But I figured it's better to be safe than sockless.”

“Hey, I learned my lesson. That's totally going to be my new motto in life,” Yumi said.

“Don't worry—I've got plenty to spare,” Claire assured her.

Yumi adjusted her baseball cap and asked, “How many do we need?”

“A bunch,” Claire said mysteriously.

“Are we making some kind of giant rope out of old socks?” asked Yumi, tilting her head to the side and squinting at Claire as if trying to figure out a puzzle.

Claire laughed. “How would that get us to the Panda Parade?”

Yumi shrugged. “Honestly, I have no idea.”

This was getting more intriguing by the second. Luckily, Rachel and Emma arrived a minute later so Claire could finally reveal her big plan.

Wearing the most sparkling smile I've ever seen, she stood up, placed her hands on her hips and announced, “We are going to make and sell sock puppet monkeys.”

Claire's declaration was met with silence. I could tell she was expecting some kind of humungous reaction, but none of us knew what to say. All we could do was stare at her and then at one another, at least at first.

Finally Rachel coughed and asked, “Um, what's a sock puppet monkey?”

“You know,” said Claire. “It's a puppet made out of a sock.”

Claire seemed way enthusiastic, but the rest of us were still pretty confused.

“So you think we're going to pay for the Panda Parade trip by selling old socks?” asked Rachel.

“I told you they're not just socks,” Claire explained, somewhat frustrated. “They're totally tricked-out socks. Or they will be. All we've got to do is add eyes and a nose and hair and maybe some cute clothes. We'll decorate them and make them super-cute. They don't all have to be monkeys, either. We can make sock puppet puppies and bunnies and elephants—even sock-puppet people. I've got a ton of old buttons we can use for eyes, and yarn for hair. Also, they don't have to be puppets. We can just stuff them with a lot of cotton and sell them as custom-made, one-of-a-kind dolls. That might be better, actually. We can experiment—make them whatever we want them to be. It'll be fun!”