Always, Abigail (12 page)

“Anything interesting happen at school today?”

Shrugged my shoulders and said, “Not really,” before I shoved a huge spoonful of mashed potatoes in my mouth.

Abigail,

Yesterday was hilarious! When you tackled me, it probably looked like we planned it as a prank. I think Old Hawk was ready to have a heart attack.

I didn't mean to make you mad, but I meant it when I said, “It's not the end of the world.” My mom always used to say that to me. And she was right. She always said that thing about making lemonade from lemons too.

That's why I made the cards—to give them to people who seem like they have a lot of lemons and don't know what to do. Seems like you have a bunch.

Sincerely,

Gabby

Where
was
Gabby's mom?

Gabby,

Where is your mom anyway?

Abigail

She died when I was in third grade.

Awful.

Knowing Gabby didn't live with her parents didn't seem like a big deal, but knowing her mom was dead made me feel
horrible
.

1.
How had Gabby's mom died?

2.
Where was Gabby's dad?

3.
What did it feel like to be Gabby?

When I got on the bus, I saw kids crowded around a seat in the middle of the bus, talking and laughing. It looked like they were standing by the seat where Gabby usually sat. When I got closer, I realized it
was
Gabby's usual seat, and I saw the words SUMO WRESTLER written on a big piece of construction paper taped to the seat. Even before I spotted Jackson “the idiot boy” Dawber sitting in the back of the bus grinning, I knew who'd done it. I wished I had the guts to slap that grin right off his face.

A minute later, Gabby got on the bus. Everyone froze.

No one said a word until Jackson yelled from the back of the bus, “Introducing Crestdale Heights' homegrown sumo wrestler, better known as Babe the Blue Ox!”

Kids laughed like the audience of a live sitcom. Gabby didn't move. I didn't either. I don't even think I breathed. I was worried that Jackson might come up with a sumo name for me. After all, I was the one who wrestled Gabby to the ground. And if I kept chowing down on those snack bags every day after school, pretty soon, I might actually be sumo size.

Gabby closed her eyes, pressed her lips together, and took a deep breath. Then thankfully the bus driver came up the steps behind Gabby. Everyone scurried to find seats. Jackson's friend Brent tore off the sumo sign and crumpled it into a ball. Gabby sat in the seat behind the driver, and I sat down next to some fourth-graders a few rows back.

I wondered if Gabby was sorry she had covered for me with Old Hawk. I knew I was sorry that I had found out about Gabby's mom because it only made me feel worse about everything.

Dear Mom,

Thanks for working on my shoebox-mailbox with me.

It never would've turned out so cute without your help.

It was fun!

Abigail

Good: because making the mailbox with my mom had been fun, and I hadn't remembered to thank her.

Bad: because it made me think about how Gabby's mom wasn't even around to help her with her lemonade carton mailbox.

I was barely awake when we got to Gabby's stop the next morning, but I woke up quickly when Gabby's brother, aka Paul Bunyan, was waiting for the bus with her. He was all scruffy looking with sort of a beard. He wore old work clothes that looked dirty. But nobody paid too much attention to what he looked like because he screamed at all of us, “IF ANYONE
EVER
MAKES FUN OF MY SISTER AGAIN, I'LL SNAP YOU LIKE TWIGS!! YOU BUNCH OF SPOILED LITTLE BRATS!”

He reached down and picked up a stick lying in the grass, held it up, and cracked it in half, then turned and walked up the driveway. The stick was small enough even I could've broken it, but I don't think that mattered. Gabby's brother had made his point.

Gabby got on the bus and sat in the seat behind the driver. (I had a feeling this was going to be her new usual seat.) The bus driver radioed to the bus garage at school to tell them what happened.

I couldn't hear what she said because as she pulled away from the curb, King of the Jerks Jackson yelled, “Is that guy nuts or what?! He spends so much time in the trees, he's gone squirrelly.”

And everyone on the bus laughed. Everyone except Gabby. And me.

1.
I NEVER see AlliCam anymore; and when I do, all I hear is pom-pom politics. Stuff like Alicia's mad at McKenzie because she said one of the moves Alicia suggested looked like something you'd see in an X-rated movie. Then Alicia said, “Whatever. Like
you've
even seen one.” And then McKenzie threw a pom-pom at her.

Audra, the eighth-grade captain, isn't talking to Jackie Swanson because she says she's the biggest flirt at Crestdale Heights, and she says if Jackie even
thinks
of stealing her boyfriend, she'll make her life so miserable she'll wish she was never born.

And Ms. Jenson's mad at the whole squad because one day when they were supposed to run the track for a warm-up, all the girls sat behind the bleachers and talked. (The equipment boy for the football team told on them. Now they're planning to write fake secret admirer notes to him for revenge.)

The whole thing is worse than a soap opera, and since I don't have a starring role, all I want to do is scream at the top of my lungs, “WHO CARES?!!!”

2.
I have nothing to do after school. I have nothing to do on the weekends. I have no one to call. I have no one to e-mail. I have no one to text message. I have no one to hang out with. Did I mention I have nothing to do?

3.
I've come down with a strange sickness: “Gabby Guilt.” Ever since I found out about Gabby's mom, I feel responsible for the misery of Gabby Marco. This is crazy because Gabby has been Crestdale Heights' biggest outcast since fourth grade. How could I possibly be responsible for that? I wasn't the one to call her “flabby.” I wasn't the one to make fun of her house. I'm not the one who makes her laugh out loud for no reason at all. (She does that all by herself.)

So why do I feel like I've done something wrong? I can't change what everyone thinks. I can't make the other kids stop laughing. And I certainly can't stop Jackson Dawber from being his usual stupid self. (I'm pretty sure nobody can do that.) But even so, my Gabby Guilt is like a bad mosquito bite. I scratch it and scratch it, but the more I scratch it, the more it itches. And it just won't go away.