Dog Daze (2 page)

S
he had been terribly wrong. She was not safe. She tripped over feet to the aisle then stumbled up and onto the stage. A million nameless faces looked at her. She looked at them.

The short, round mayor beamed at the audience. “This young girl is a new citizen of the United States. She was adopted almost a year ago.” She placed a heavy hand on Aneta’s shoulder. “Go ahead and tell us your name, and as a special treat, tell us what you like best about living in America.”

Her name, her name. What was her name? The silence seemed longer than a day and only a breath shorter than forever. She heard Melissa whisper, “She doesn’t know her own name.”

“Aneta!” she blurted loudly. “I like—” What did she like about living in America? She loved The Fam. She loved Mom. She liked to eat. She loved to swim. Her mouth opened, but no words emerged. “I—I—”

She would find a phone. She would call Gram. And she would never,
never
return to the community center.

“Annette—er, Aneta?” A tall man stood in the hall, the flow of winners splitting around him. With his brown hair tied back in a ponytail, a red striped shirt over long shorts, and a tattoo covering his right forearm, he looked like a skinny pirate without a mustache. “Whoever you are. You’re in this room with Vee, Sunny, and Esther.” He jerked a thumb to the right.

Still dazed from the humiliation of being led off the stage by a smirking Melissa, Aneta looked up at him. Who was she? She wasn’t sure.

“Where is the phone?” she whispered, gazing up at him. Be in a group? Come up with a fund-raiser? She wasn’t even sure what one
was
, but it sounded quite difficult. “I call my grandmother,” she finished. That English sounded wrong. Missing words? At least he would see she wouldn’t fit in the group.

The impatience in his hazel eyes shifted to kindness. Melissa Dayton-Snipp swooped in the next moment, tugging Aneta through the kids in the hall to the drinking fountain.

“What a loser group you’re in,” Melissa said. She backed up into the final stragglers, the better to look up at Aneta. Easily five inches shorter than Aneta, she was thin and wore a summer dress. “Everyone knows Sunny’s homeschooled, and those kids are always freaks. Then you’re stuck with Vee Nguyen who bosses everyone….”

Melissa had perfected the I’m-so-much-better-than-
that
tone in her voice.

“Throw in that fat girl Esther Whoever with the loser wardrobe…like she doesn’t own anything other than a T-shirt?

Your group is toast.” She unclenched the death grip on Aneta. Melissa excelled at gathering information—Aneta remembered from school. Melissa raised her voice to a near shout. “Do you unnn-derrrr-stand?” As though Aneta had no ears and no brain instead of slower English.

On the inside, she imagined herself yanking her arm away from Melissa and saying, “I
so
don’t need your help.” She would say it, too, if she thought it would come out right. She also understood, however, that girls at school who didn’t pay attention to Melissa Dayton-Snipp found no other girls would pay attention to them either. Not that Aneta wanted a million friends, but she’d like one or two. She’d seen Melissa at work and didn’t want to become a…what was the word Mom used about her law clients?
Victim
.

Aneta glanced first at the man wearing a name tag that said F
RANK
, who was looking impatient, then at Melissa. What to do? Run into the room and face more girls like Melissa or remain in the real Melissa’s clutches?

Melissa kept right on talking as though Aneta were absorbing every word. Aneta imagined she was in the pool at home, slicing through cool water, watching the shifting blues on the bottom. The water didn’t care if she spoke good English or was accepted by other kids or if her adoptive family liked her enough to keep her. Gram said it “chilled her out.” Aneta hurled one last desperate glance up and down the hall for a phone somewhere, anywhere. Nothing.

Thankfully, Frank stepped forward. “Melissa, get going to your own conference room.” When she hurled the Death Stare at him, he
laughed
. Aneta couldn’t believe it. Then, as his gaze fell on Aneta, he tipped his head to the left. “Time to get going.”

Not her. She was going for a phone to call Gram and get out of there. She stepped away from Melissa and toward the room. As she passed him, Frank patted her shoulder with a warm hand. “Don’t ask me why they gave me a group of all girls, but
they
, in their infinite wisdom, did.”

“Oh,” Aneta said. He didn’t want to be in the group either. She entered the room. Vee and Esther, who’d already exhibited so much more confidence and courage than she, sat with pads of paper. Too many Melissas. She wished Mom hadn’t left on a business trip today. Wished Gram would hurry up and come get her and take her back to Gram’s house.

As she took the chair next to Vee, Aneta felt the heart-dropping feeling she often experienced in school. Was she supposed to have brought something for notes? Rule Three of The Endless Rules of Melissa: Never,
never
look like you don’t know what you’re doing or risk “Loser.” Her heart pounded and she checked her watch. Just after three. How long before Gram would come? She kept Aneta company and drove her around on the Pink Flamingo while Mom worked at her law office.

Frank’s gaze scanned the girls then dropped to his clipboard. “Okay, we’re missing Sunny Quinlan. I hope she gets here pronto.”

At that moment, a redheaded flash wearing an oversized white tee atop khaki cargo pants dashed into the room, flip-flops flipping. Sunny Quinlan had arrived. “Hey, gang. Sorry. I got talking to a girl from my soccer team….”

“About time,” Vee said with an exaggerated look at her cell phone and then at Sunny.

“Atti-
toood
,” Sunny replied, singing the word just loudly enough to be heard. As she dropped into a chair next to Esther, she grinned across at Aneta like they were old friends. Aneta found her mouth tugging in a half smile.

“Okay, Frank.” Vee dragged her laser look from Sunny to flick an intense gaze at the others. “We’re Junior Event Planners. I say we have a book sale to benefit the library.”

Frank nodded. “Sounds good. What do the rest of you say?”

Vee continued, “So let’s list our strengths and start working.”

No kid she’d met in her nine months in America talked like Vee.

“You guys…er, girls…work together, make it happen.” He glanced around the table. “Everybody clear on the project?”

Clear
and
want to
were two different things. Aneta clenched her hands under the table. These girls were all Melissas. One in her life was already one too many.

“Okay, everyone say what strength they bring to the group, and I’ll write it down.” Vee sat up straight and held her pen expectantly as she met each girl’s gaze.

A curl of panic, like icy fingers around a Slurpee, wrapped around Aneta’s spine. What
strength
they brought to the group? She didn’t even want to
be
in the group. She would die right here at the table.

“Hey, you’re not the boss,” Esther interrupted, her hands leaping to her hips in protest. “I already have an idea. We can paint the city fire hydrants like different little characters.”

Sunny wrinkled her nose. “Let’s come up with a rock-socko
fun
project.”

Esther ignored Sunny, her eyes fastened on Vee. “You’re not the boss,” she repeated, her tone not even a
bit
friendly.

“Okay, girls,” Frank said.

“We need organization,” Vee answered Esther in an equally cold tone. “My teachers all say I’m an organizer.”

That was the testy start to twenty minutes—Aneta timed it on her waterproof watch with the stopwatch—of Vee and Esther arguing. They both wanted to be the boss of everyone else. Aneta remained quiet.

“It could happen,” Vee said about a book sale to benefit the library, housed in another wing of the community center. “Easy.”

“Not necessarily.” Esther rolled her eyes. “That is
so
much work.”

“For pizza sake, this is supposed to be
fun
,“ Sunny said, spinning around in the chair. “I love chairs on wheels, don’t you?”

“Ladies,” Frank said, louder this time.

Before I die, I’m going to throw up
.

Mystery Woman by the Lake

A
neta crossed her arms over her stomach. As much as Aneta loved Mom, this stomachache, this
day
, was Mom’s fault. Another of the never-ending “cultural experiences” her adoptive mother thought would help her. Aneta tried to think of the word Mom used all the time…
assimee…assimilate
.

Sunny turned to Aneta. “Do you speak?”

“Who, me?” Aneta’s voice trembled. Maybe there would be an earthquake. Did they have earthquakes in Oregon?

A tap sounded on the door. Frank yelled, “Come in, if you dare!” He looked around the table. “You’re supposed to be working
together
. It’s not a contest.”

Vee’s right eyebrow shot up. Aneta wondered how she did that. She tried making hers do that and succeeded only in drawing Sunny’s amused glance.

“
Everything
is a contest,” Vee said firmly.

“Not necessarily,” Esther said.

“This is supposed to be fun, girls,” Sunny said.

Frank shook his head.

A short, stocky boy with redder hair than Sunny’s stuck his head in the room. “The mayor sent me to get your idea. Melissa already told her group what they’re doing.” His laugh—a high, croaky cackle—bounced around the room. He grinned when he saw Aneta. “Hey, Annette the—”

“Aneta,” she blurted. What was wrong with her today? Almost a year ago, before they drove to court to make her adoption official, Mom had asked her again if she liked the name Annette. She’d said yes. It didn’t seem to matter then that she would no longer be who she had been. But today, when C.P.—who was her neighbor across the back fence—had called her by her American name, “Aneta” had slipped out. Maybe that’s why she’d said her Ukrainian name with the right pronunciation—Ah-NETT-uh. It wouldn’t rhyme with the nickname “Annette the Wet” that C.P. found so screamingly funny.

“We don’t have a fund-raiser yet,” Sunny said, standing on her tiptoes and stretching her arms over her head. “And we are
not
having fun.” She glared at Frank.

“It’s not
my
fault,” Esther said. Her bottom lip shoved into a pout. “Hi, C.P.,” Esther said then pounced on Aneta as C.P. said, “Whatever,” and slammed the door behind him. “So do we call you Aneta or Annette?”

Aneta wondered how Esther knew him then forgot him as the group quieted. These girls were waiting for her to tell them her real name. This was her chance to act like a Jasper, be bold and brave. Nobody had called her Aneta since she had left the orphanage with the child aide worker. While it wasn’t uncommon for adopted kids to change their names with their new life, Aneta had yet to feel like an Annette on the inside. Moistening her lips, she said quietly, “Aneta…yes, Aneta.”

Aneta sighed. Now that C.P. knew, Aneta would have to try to explain the name issue to Mom. Not only had Mom given him permission to join The Fam “Pool Plashes,” so he would be underfoot, but C.P. lived to broadcast what he knew.