You May Already Be a Winner Page 6

  “You’re not homeschooled,” she said.

  She was picking at something below her nose.

  “You can say I’m homeschooled. Lots of people are homeschooled.”

  “You’re not homeschooled,” she said again. “We’re a regular family. I go to work. You go to school. Your sister goes to day care.”

  I felt something hot start to burn in my stomach.

  We were not a regular family.

  Not.

  A regular.

  Family.

  At all.

  She got out her lipstick. Pink this time. Why was she doing this to me?

  “School is out in, like, two months,” I said. “I won’t have time to catch up. I don’t think I should go back,” I said.

  She leaned into the mirror.

  “Mom.”

  ~

  “I don’t want to go back.”

  ~

  She leaned closer.

  ~

  “Mom.”

  ~

  “Mom.”

  ~

  “Mom.”

  “Mom?”

  “Mom!”

  “What?!” She slammed down the eyeliner. I took a step back, her voice so loud. “What? Why are you shouting? I can’t stand shouting.” She was breathing hard. “Go sit in time-out.”

  ~

  I stood there. My heart thumping.

  ~

  “Go,” she said.

  “What?”

  “GO SIT IN TIME-OUT.”

  She was serious.

  She was putting me in time-out.

  “GO!”

  I tried to be okay. I tried to just be normal. I tried to turn around and sit in time-out, which I guess was the corner where she put Berkeley sometimes.

  I tried to do that but I felt like I couldn’t breathe and I couldn’t look at her and I tried to do what she said and I thought, I can’t do this.

  Then I went and sat in the corner in time-out.

  I wish Bart would have at least left me his phone number or email.

  I wish I could tell him please come to my house.

  Please.

  I will run a hundred miles.

  I will cut my hair into a Mohawk.

  I will eat hard candy all day.

  I will do anything.

  I will go anywhere.

  Please.

  She dropped me off at school.

  In the front.

  Like it was normal.

  She gave me two bucks for lunch.

  Told me to walk home.

  “Walk home?”

  “It’s only a few miles,” she said.

  She was not looking at me.

  She used to pick me up from school. Everyone got picked up from school.

  “A few miles,” I whispered. “Okay.”

  And then as I was getting out, she grabbed my arm and said, “Olivia?”

  I tried not to cry.

  “I’m sorry.”

  Right then I thought maybe she’d change her mind. Maybe I could get back in the car and we could all go to McDonald’s and then she could go to work and me and Berkeley could go home and everything would be normal.

  But then she said, “You know where the key is.”

  My lip trembled.

  She gave me a hard look. “Don’t get any ideas. Don’t skip. You have to do this or they’re going to make me go to court.”

  I stared at her. “Court?”

  She nodded. “Court. And maybe jail.”

  My heart thumped. They wouldn’t put her in jail would they? Not really.

  “Do this for me, baby girl. Okay?”

  I nodded.

  And then she waved me away and she and Berkeley took off down the road, leaving me in front of Dixon Middle School.

  Just then a spaceship landed.

  I got in.

  I flew away.

  I never came back.

  I have been to four states including Utah.

  Colorado, Arizona, and Idaho.

  My goal is to go to every state in the country.

  That was another reason why I really wanted to go to Las Vegas with Carlene.

  One time I heard on TV that you could be an exchange student in the United States. Like if you wanted to go to school in Texas or Minnesota or even Hawaii and you were from stupid Utah, all you had to do was apply and then go live with a family and be their kid for the year and go to a whole new school and eat lobsters if you were in Maine.

  I thought Maine might be good.

  I told Berkeley that and she said, “They have lobsters in Maine?”

  And then she asked me, “Why would you want lobsters?”

  I had to explain and then she said she thought that was a good idea but she wouldn’t want to eat lobsters.

  And I said, “I think you’d like them,” even though I’d never eaten one or even a shrimp in my life.

  Next time I got to the library I was going to apply.

  ..............

  Dear Dad,

  I went back to school today. It was really fun to see all my friends. I’ve been staying home a little bit because of Berkeley’s cough but now I’m back.

  We only have two more months left so I have a lot of things to finish. One is a report on an animal native to Utah. I wondered if you had a good idea for that? I was thinking an animal you encounter a lot at Bryce? Wolves? Skunks? Bears?

  Also, I might be coming to summer school to help some of the other students. I’m excited! I wanted to know what dates we might come visit you or if you’re coming here, when that is so that I can make sure summer school isn’t at the same time.

  Do you think you’ll go to Monster Jam in Las Vegas? I haven’t talked to Carlene about it in a while. Do you ever talk to Chip? Maybe you could see if it’s still okay if I go?

  Also, that boy Bart may have been abducted.

  I hope you get back to your ranger station or whatever it is soon to get this letter. Am I sending them to the right place?

  Love, Olivia

  ..............

  When I got home from school that day, no one was home.

  I’d walked by myself on the river trail even though I thought maybe I could walk with Carlene but I couldn’t find her.

  I did see dumb-bum Bonnie out waiting for her ride but who cares about that.

  I walked and I watched the river moving fast and suddenly I fell in it.

  I was screaming and I was going to die, the water choking me and every time I tried to swim, an undercurrent would pull me farther.

  There were people on the bank. Hugging and crying.

  “Help me,” I cried.

  But no one dared because the water was ice cold and the current swift.

  More people showed up.

  And I thought this is how I’m going to die.

  Then I thought: I almost died in the pool before.

  And then I thought: I am going to die in water.

  And then I thought: What if I died in the bathtub?

  And then there were voices.

  “Somebody save her!”

  “Somebody jump in!”

  But nobody jumped in.

  And I said, “Dear God. Thanks for the good times. At least it’s not the tub.”

  But then, right before I went under, right before a huge news helicopter spun overhead, right then, I got a surge of energy.

  I swam across the rushing water, my body almost like a fish. People cheering. Bart yelling.

  Bart?

  Bart was there.

  He was there and he held a big towel that said, GO OLIVIA!!

  And Berkeley was jumping up and down. Dad was giving Mom a piggyback, which was w
eird but kind of romantic.

  And Carlene and Lala and dumb-bum Bonnie and Chip and Tandi and even Delilah were sitting on Chip’s monster truck cheering.

  And this time, when I got out, nobody had to give me CPR. But Bart kissed me. Again.

  In front of everyone.

  Again.

  Even Troy the lifeguard was there and he looked on in jealousy.

  Then I tripped on a rock and fell down and scraped my knee.

  My first day back where no one talked to me and where I knew I was never going to pass sixth grade and where I tried to pretend like I didn’t care.

  When I got home, there was a huge sign out in the quad that said HOME OWNERS ASSOCIATION MEETING TONIGHT and there was a picture of a duck on it, which is a long story.

  ~

  For some reason, this cheered me up almost as much as drowning in the river.

  One time right after Dad left, the Home Owners Association, which is now run by Mrs. Sydney Gunnerson, sent out a satisfaction survey.

  Mom said who cares and threw it in the garbage. This made me feel bad because Mom used to be the HOA president and in charge of the whole thing.

  She used to make sure there was a potluck on Labor Day.

  She organized fish fries when Dad got back from his trips with his buddies.

  She even had a luau one year.

  But now she wasn’t president and when the survey came asking what activities we wanted to do and how we hoped the year would go, she threw it way.

  Who cares.

  Who cares.

  Who cares.

  Berkeley and I sat there as Mom put on her jacket, looked at herself in the mirror, and went out. Again.

  I got the survey out of the garbage. Found a pen.

  “What are you doing?” Berk asked.

  I said, “What are you doing?”

  And she said, “Watching you.”

  And I said, “I’m making our life better.”

  And she said, “That’s good,” and went back to her dolls.

  I opened the pen and answered the questions. Yes, we wanted more activities. Yes, we wanted better flowers. Yes, we were willing to contribute to the birthday pot. And no, we did not feel that time and money was better spent on putting in a new septic tank whatever that was.

  ~

  At the end I wrote: I would like to have some parties. I am very busy at my work so I can’t organize them anymore. However, my daughters can help. Please include them in any planning. I will make sure they don’t disappoint the board.

  Sincerely,

  LeAnn Hales

  ~

  Berkeley said, “What did you write?”

  And I said, “That we should have parties.”

  She said, “Yes. And Popsicles.”

  So I put, “And Popsicles.”

  I went to the HOA meeting that night. The night of my first time back to school.

  I hoped they were going to talk about possible festivals and decorating ideas and whether it was a good idea to get a pool.

  Instead they talked about taxes and how no one is doing their garbage time right and also about sewage.

  It was boring.

  Everything in life was boring.

  That night, Berk whispered up to me from the bunk below, “Did you have a good day.”

  The stars were out bright and I’d been watching for planes.

  I didn’t think she was awake.

  Did I have a good day? I’d been trying not to think about it.

  My eyes started to water. “It was okay,” I said.

  She was quiet.

  Then she said, “I hate day care.”

  I nodded to myself. I’d hate it, too.

  “They don’t have art like we do,” she said. “Just stupid coloring books.”

  I nodded again, a tear slipping down my cheek.

  “And the lady told me that no one puts chips in their tuna sandwiches so I wasn’t allowed.”

  “Just a plain sandwich then?”

  “I put some in anyway,” she said. “It felt more like home.”

  I laughed.

  Then she said, “How long do I have to go?”

  “I don’t know,” I said.

  She was quiet then.

  For a long time.

  People were laughing outside. Someone yelled. A truck drove by. The usual.

  She said, “Did the HOA say they were doing any parties for the neighborhood?”

  I sighed. Ugh. Blah. No.

  But instead I said, “Yes. They want us to plan a summer bash.”

  “Really?” she said. “Us?”

  I closed my eyes. Tight. “Really.”

  “What kind of bash?”

  What kind what kind what kind what kind?

  “Uh, they want like a circus.”

  She gasped. “A circus?”

  I smiled. “Not a real circus, you know, but like entertainment and popcorn and lemonade.”

  “And cotton candy,” she said. “Sadie and Jane have been to Ringling Brothers and she said they got cotton candy.”

  “For sure,” I said. “Maybe we could rent one of those machines,” and even as I said it, I knew I should stop. Say, “Just kidding.” Say, “Ha-ha.” Say, say, anything but tell her no. There would be no circus.

  None.

  Nope.

  But then I didn’t and Berkeley she kept going. “I bet I could tightrope.” There were people over at the softball park lately who put up a kind of rope between two trees and practiced walking and doing tricks on it. Berkeley and I had watched them for hours one day.

  “You could.”

  “And you can juggle.”

  “Not really,” I said. I’d tried a few times with oranges.

  She got quiet then and I got quiet then.

  The night filled our room and I suddenly felt alone. And cold. And no one.

  Like who cares?

  Who cares?

  No one cares.

  Just me and Berk.

  Alone.

  Then out of the darkness she whispered, “I love you, Livy.”

  I really started crying then. We never said things like that and I don’t know why but we never did.

  “Liv?” she said, because I was taking too long to try not to sob. “Are you still awake?”

  I took a long breath, wiped my nose and my eyes. Then I said to my sweet little sister, “I love you, too,” I said.

  Then she said, “What if we pray.”

  “What if we what?” I said.

  “What if we pray that it will work out?”

  What will work out? I wondered. What did she want to work out? No more school for me? No more day care for her? Mom and Dad? Our family? What did she want?

  What did I want?

  Then she said, “What if we pray that we really can have a circus.”

  I laughed. “I think that’s a good idea.”

  And she said, “I’ll start now.”

  ..............

  Dear Dad,

  There is a man named Steve Fossett. He disappeared. And then they found out he was dead.

  I still want to go get waffles with you. Berk and I and Mom miss you. Please come back.

  We might be doing a circus. Maybe you could come help us.

  Love,

  Olivia

  P.S. If you are not getting these letters, I wish I knew.

  ..............

  Each day, Mom and Berkeley dropping me off, Berk giving me a secret look, and me winking back. I knew she was praying because I could hear her each night.

  Please let us have a real circus.

  Please let there be cotton candy.

  Please let there be a tiger.

  I also
knew she was practicing her tightrope on a jump rope on our floor and that she’d already told Sadie and Jane who said they could help.

  “They know a lot about circuses,” she told me.

  “I’m sure they do,” I said.

  Then she’d make me practice juggling, which I was getting pretty good at.

  Those were the best parts of the day.

  The worst part of the day were the mornings.

  Mom and Berk would drop me off and I had to face a whole day stretched out in front of me.

  Alone.

  Class.

  Class.

  Fifteen-minute break-sit in the library.

  Class.

  Lunch.

  Class.

  Class.

  Class.

  Every. Single. Day.

  I didn’t talk to people much because I didn’t feel like it.

  In some ways, I just blended in. No worries.

  But then I won a major award.

  It happened when I was at lunch and I was sitting by myself and then all these girls like Carlene and Bonnie and Chrissie Tolman, who is the new student body president for next year I just found out, and who learned my name my first day back, which made me excited, and then a boy said, “She knows everyone’s name. That’s what she does,” and I said, “Oh.”

  Anyway, all of the girls I know and lots of girls I didn’t know came to my table.

  “You’ve won a major award,” Chrissie said.

  One girl, a redhead named Sasha, she started to cry.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked the others.

  “She was up for the award but you got the most votes.”

  I was going to ask what it was for but then the principal was on the loudspeaker and said she had a special announcement. “One of our very own students has been picked to live in Portland, Maine!”

  Everyone gasped.

  “This only happens to one out of every 345,908 sixth graders.”

  Chrissie and Carlene and Bonnie and all the girls around me started patting me on the back and I was nodding and thanking them and I felt bad for Sasha and I said, “I’m so sorry.” And she said, “You deserve it.”

  And then the principal said, “Instead of announcing it myself, I have invited someone very special to do the honors for me.”