Double-Crossed (7 page)

“Do you think she loves me?” Eddie asked. I looked at his face to see if he was joking around. He wasn't.

“Listen, Eddie, I don't know how things work in San Francisco Gotera,” I began carefully, “but here in Santa Monica, things don't move quite that fast. We take it pretty easy on the love thing. We tend to like people for a while before we love them.”

“But Lily, she told me she loves my smile,” he said. “She said
loves,
not likes
.
”

“Yeah, well, love is an expression we use a lot here in America. Like, I say I love strawberry frozen yogurt but that doesn't mean I'm
in love
with it. You understand? I think Lily was using love more in the strawberry frozen yogurt way.”

“I think you are wrong, Sammie.”

Maybe I was wrong. Maybe Lily had totally flipped for Eddie and was head over heels in love with him. But I felt I needed to warn Eddie against getting his feelings hurt.

“Just take things slowly,” I said to him. “There are things about those kids you don't understand.”

“That is just what I told Oscar today,” he said. “Only I said it about you.”

“About me? What could there be about me that he doesn't understand?”

“That maybe you're like those rich kids, too,” Eddie said. “Maybe you pretend to like him more than you really do.”

“No, I'm not like the kids at the beach club, Eddie. I say exactly what I feel and I always try to tell the truth. They play more games than I do.”

“Like volleyball?”

“No. I mean yes, they do play more volleyball. But I was talking about social games. Like, who's popular and who isn't. You know, which person is the flavor of the week.”

“Flavor? Are you talking about strawberry yogurt again, Sammie?”

I sighed. You don't realize how many local expressions you use until you talk to someone from another country. No wonder they say lots of stuff gets lost in translation. I heard Alicia's voice on the stairs outside, calling out to Ramon and her grandmother. She pushed open the apartment door and came in, followed by Candido. She was genuinely surprised when she saw me sitting on the couch.

“Sammie! What are you doing here?” she asked.

“I was worried.”

“About what?”

“Well, it started because I couldn't reach you on the phone, and then you weren't at school and I thought you were mad about what happened at the club yesterday.”

“I was mad,” she said. “They were the rudest people I've ever met. But that had nothing to do with you.”

“So you weren't upset that I played the match instead of coming with you guys?”

“I understood. I wouldn't want to say no to your dad, either.”

“
Hola
, Sammie!” Oscar said, coming through the apartment door a little out of breath but with a big smile on his face. It was hard work for him to climb the stairs. His left leg really couldn't handle much strain, so for him, walking up stairs was almost like having to hop the whole way.

“We have good news,” he said, still breathing hard. “Tell them, Alicia.”

“Well,” she began, “we spent the whole day at Children's Hospital. We met with Dr. Mandel and three other doctors, too. They took X-rays and even put Oscar in a giant metal doughnut to take special pictures of his bones.”

“You are taking too long,” Oscar interrupted. “The good news is, the doctor can fix my leg.”

“Wowee-kazowee!” Ramon cried, jumping up and down. “Then you'll be able to run really fast like the Flash!”

“I will be faster than the Flash.” Oscar laughed. “I will be the fastest man alive! I will have speed force!”

He hunkered down like he was going to take off on a race, and assuming a superhero pose, extended one arm out in front of him and the other behind. But he lost his balance and toppled over on his side. Ramon didn't care. He jumped right on top of him shouting, “Speed force! Speed force!” If you ask me, it was the sugar cookie that was in full force.

“Calm down, Ramon,” Alicia said. “Oscar isn't going to be fixed overnight. It's going to take a little while.”

“How long?” Eddie asked.

“Well, he'll have the operation next Tuesday,” Alicia explained. “He'll have to be in a cast for a while, and then do physical therapy. But soon, his leg will be normal and he won't have a clubfoot anymore.”

“After all these years, my nephew will be well,” Candido said. “Dr. Mandel is our angel. For all this, he charges us nothing.”

There were tears in his eyes.

I felt so happy I thought my heart was going to burst. I was proud, too. Proud of my country for allowing Oscar to come here to get the medical attention he needed so badly. Proud of my city for having a wonderful place like Children's Hospital. I even felt proud of the Sporty Forty for having a member as kind and generous as Dr. Mandel.

“When my leg is better, I'm going to buy a shirt with a big collar and come to that club and play tennis with you,” Oscar said, putting his arm out so I could help him up off the floor.

I reached out and took his hand and pulled him to his feet. But even after he was upright, he didn't let go. And I didn't take my hand away, either. We just stood there, holding hands.

“Tell me, Sammie,” Eddie whispered. “Do you think this is strawberry frozen yogurt? Or the other thing?”

I wasn't sure what it was. The only thing I knew was that Oscar's hand was strong and warm, and it felt really nice to share that amazing moment with him.

Really nice.

The Governor

Chapter 8

On the bus ride home, I was so happy for Oscar that I didn't even think about what I was going to tell my dad. That changed when I got off the bus and ran (that's right, I actually
ran
) the four blocks from the bus stop to the beach club. I considered at least ten different stories about why I hadn't come home directly from school. They ranged from the very specific, such as I went to the library to research my science project on the endangered hairy-eared dwarf lemur of Madagascar, to the very weird, such as I witnessed the landing of a neon-green alien spacecraft on the beach. In the end, I decided to tough it out and go with the truth. My dad is expert at rooting out the truth, anyway.

As I approached the whitewashed fence that borders the Sporty Forty Club, I saw two black-and-white police cars with flashing red lights in our parking lot. My mind started to race—what awful thing could have happened that required the police? I thought of that day a few months before when GoGo had gotten into a car accident and had to be rushed to the hospital.
Oh no
, I thought.
I hope everyone is okay.

I pushed open the gate and ran inside, my heart pounding. My dad was standing on the deck talking with four uniformed officers. Charlie and Ryan were there, too. I scanned their faces anxiously to see if they looked worried. Charlie looked normal, happy actually, and Ryan was eating a banana. That was reassuring. If some terrible tragedy had occurred, he probably wouldn't just be standing there shoving a banana into his face, although knowing Ryan and his bottomless appetite, it certainly wasn't out of the question.

“Ah, here comes my other daughter, Sammie,” my dad said to the officers as I slammed the gate shut. His voice turned icy. “I was expecting her some time ago.”

I glanced at Charlie to try to get some idea of what she had told him.

“Esperanza leaked that you were at her house,” she said with a shrug. “So I told him the truth.”

“Wow, imagine that,” Ryan commented, although with his mouth full of banana it sounded like “Ahmugga phat.” Our mom has been telling him since forever not to talk with his mouth full. Of course, he eats constantly, so if he waited until his mouth was empty, he'd never say anything.

“I had to check on Alicia,” I told my dad. “She took Oscar to the hospital.”

“I hear they scheduled his operation,” he said.

“How'd you know?”

“Esperanza told me that, too. I suggest, Sammie, that if you're going to break the rules, you should attempt to control your information sources more carefully.”

“So we've got ourselves a little rule breaker here,” one of the officers said, turning to me and sizing me up. “You better watch that, honey. You've got law enforcement on the premises, you know.”

I think he meant that as a joke, but even if he did, it was a pretty marginal attempt at humor. Under the circumstances, I thought the best course of action was to change the topic entirely.

“So what's going on here?” I asked. “Did Ryan rob a bank or something?”

“You're not going to believe this,” Charlie said. “The governor of California is coming here. To this very spot.”

She pointed down at her feet and I noticed that her lime-green toenail polish was half chipped off. If the governor of California was coming to that very spot, my sister was going to have to get an emergency pedicure, that's for sure.

“Why is the governor coming here? Did we forget to pay our taxes?”

The other police officer, whose badge read K
.
B
ESWICK
, gave out a hearty laugh.

“She's a funny one,” he said to my dad. “Lots of personality.”

“A little too much if you ask me,” Ryan added.

“Which we didn't,” Charlie and I both said in unison.

“Kids today,” the first officer with the crackerjack sense of humor said. I noticed that the name on his badge read C
.
P
ORTER
. “Mine squabble like that incessantly. Watch out, you three, or I'll arrest you for disturbing the peace.”

Again, he said it with a straight face, but this time I could tell he was kidding when he cracked himself up after he said it.

Note to self: Police humor leaves something to be desired.

“So what's this about the governor?” I asked quickly, before he could crack another mediocre joke.

“She's attending the event here Saturday night,” Officer Beswick said. “We're checking out security.”

“Apparently, when Governor Corday heard about Tom Ballard's fund-raiser for the schools, she decided to make an appearance,” our dad said.

“You know politicians,” Officer Beswick said. “They can sniff out a photo opportunity five hundred miles away.”

Wow, this was just like in the movies when the Secret Service comes to see if it's safe for the president's helicopter to land—only better. This was
for real
.

“Mind if we have a look in the house?” Officer Porter asked my dad. “I promise I won't lift anything.”

He cracked up again. Wow, this guy was his own best audience.

“Not at all. Let me show you around.” My dad led the way into our bungalow and both officers followed.

“Watch out for my wet suit on the bathroom floor,” Ryan called after them. “You might want to wear a gas mask. It's been known to harbor some serious mold.”

Once they were inside, Charlie grabbed both my hands and started to jump up and down.

“Do you know what this means?” she asked, practically bursting with joy.

“Yeah, that a really important person is coming to our house,” I answered. It wasn't the most creative observation, but it did seem to answer the question.

“No, you dork!” she said. “I mean yes, but no.”

“Crystal-clear thinking, as always, Charles,” Ryan commented.

“You have one of those banana stringy things hanging from your lip,” I pointed out, partly to silence him and partly because I think it's a family member's duty to point it out immediately when you have food on your face.

“Think about it, Sammie,” Charlie went on. “You heard Officer Beswick. What happens when Governor Corday goes someplace?”

“Um, she gives a long-winded speech and gets her pictures taken for the news.”

“Bingo!” she said. “This place is going to be swarming with photographers. And you know what that means?”

“Cameras?”

“Yes! And photo opportunities galore. For me. For Lauren. For the other girls. A chance to launch our modeling careers for real. Maybe we could be discovered right here. We could even get our pictures in
Teen Vogue
magazine. Maybe even the cover! And then it's just a small step to
Seventeen
and
People
.”

“Raise your hand if you've gotten totally carried away and need to be put in an insane asylum,” Ryan said, walking over to Charlie and raising her arm in the air.

“Stop it, Ryan,” she snapped. “You have no sense of the career opportunity this presents for a future top model.”

He pretended that someone had stabbed him and, clutching his chest, fell to the ground.

“Ow. You really know how to hurt a guy,” he fake moaned.

“Charlie,” I said, trying to add my own touch of reality to the situation. “Don't you think the photographers are going to be here to take pictures of the governor?”

“Yes, but we'll make sure to stand close to her,” Charlie said. “And you know how on the news they always film people commenting on what's going on? Well, that could be me.” She cleared her voice and assumed a model-like pose, pretending to be talking to an imaginary film crew. “I am so proud to host Governor Corday at our beach club. She means everything to us,” she said. “Plus, she looks great in pearls.”

“I know this is a wild and crazy idea,” I suggested, “but maybe you want your remarks to focus on arts education in the schools. After all, that is what the evening is all about.”

“Great idea, Sammie. You can tell us all about that stuff later. Right now, I'm going to call Lauren. She is going to be so blown away.”

Charlie pulled out her cell phone and flopped down on one of the chaise lounges. I could hear her chattering excitedly. Ryan went inside to inhale another armload of food, and I perched on the tabletop and looked out at the ocean, trying to process everything that had happened. My mind was churning as I watched the dark orange sun sliding down toward the horizon. It was very exciting to have the governor come to the event at the club, but not just because there would be photographers there. There would also be reporters who might stay long enough to watch our Truth Tellers performance. Maybe they would write about what we had to say. Maybe we could help raise some real money for the school arts programs.

The thought of that was so exciting, I couldn't resist. I took out my phone and called Ms. Carew to tell her the news. Her reaction surprised me. I thought she'd be all excited and screaming and everything. But instead, she got very quiet and serious.

“We have a responsibility now to be extraspecial good, Sammie,” she told me. “We're not just telling the truth about ourselves, but about what having arts programs in schools means to us. Drama, dance, painting, poetry, sculpture, ceramics. We have an opportunity to represent them all to the public.”

“Wow, that's a pretty big deal.”

“If we raise some money so that these programs can continue to exist, that will be an even bigger deal, Sammie.”

“Do you think we can do that, Ms. Carew?”

“Yes, if we work hard. We'll really dig into our rehearsals every day and try to be the best we can be.”

I felt so inspired when I got off the phone. Charlie had just gotten off her call with Lauren, and she obviously felt inspired, too.

“We're all going to meet here tomorrow,” she said excitedly. “The plan is to study the photos Tyler took to see which angles are best so we'll know what to do and how to pose on Saturday. It's going to be such a busy week.”

“For me, too,” I said.

“Why? What do you have to do?”

“The Truth Tellers are going to perform on Saturday night,” I told her.

“You're kidding. They are?”

I realized she hadn't been there when Mr. Ballard had asked us, and since we barely spoke to each other on Sunday, I hadn't mentioned it to her.

“Spencer's dad asked us to,” I explained.

Charlie did not seem happy with the news.

“But we want it to be a glamorous evening,” she complained.

“We who, Charlie? We, as in Lauren and Brooke and Jillian?”

“There's nothing wrong with us wanting to look the best that we can. Not to insult your friends, but you know, I just can't imagine
them
on a magazine cover.”

There it was again, the same conversation we'd had about Oscar and Eddie.

“Listen, Charlie, how about we do what we do, and you guys do what you do,” I said impatiently.

“Please tell me you're not going to do all those weird monologues and poetry set to music.”

“We speak from the heart, Charlie. We're going to speak about what having arts in the schools means to us. Hopefully that will raise some money to pay for new programs.”

“Well, the first thing they should pay for is some makeovers for the art teachers. I saw that gnarly ceramics teacher, Mr. LaRue, in the cafeteria the other day. I swear, he had hunks of dried clay in his beard.”

We both cracked up. As much as kids love Mr. LaRue and his ceramics program, he is known for some spectacularly bad grooming.

“What's so funny?” my dad asked, coming back outside with the officers and GoGo. I noticed the officers were eating pie-shaped slices of cheese quesadilla. Esperanza makes the best quesadillas in the world, and with GoGo's homemade salsa, it's a taste to die for. Obviously, the two of them had conspired to feed the officers.

“I think we're all set,” Officer Beswick said, wiping his mouth with a napkin. “We'll coordinate with the governor's advance people and escort her limo here.”

“Our officers will be posted in strategic positions,” Porter said. “We'll stay until the governor is back in her car to make sure there are no incidents. You hear that, Little Miss Rule Breaker?” He fixed his eyes on me. “No incidents.”

Holy cow! What is this guy thinking? That I'm going to snatch the governor's pearls and make a run for the border?

“Sammie is really very law-abiding,” GoGo said. “Both my granddaughters are.”

If you didn't know GoGo, you'd think she sounded all friendly, but I could hear the irritation in her voice. She didn't find Officer Porter any more amusing than I did.

“Now let me show you two gentlemen to your car,” she said, holding open the gate to the parking lot. “I'm sure you have lots more preparation.”

“We appreciate everything you do,” my dad said to them as they made their way to the gate. “We're looking forward to Saturday. It's a real honor.”

We all stood on the deck and waved good-bye, watching them climb into their police cars and drive away. After they were gone, my dad came over and gave Charlie and me a hug.

“I wish your mother were here to see this,” he said. “Imagine, having the governor of California at our house.”

Technically, it wasn't our house, of course. It was the Sporty Forty's house. But we did live here, and the three of us were all proud to be hosting such an important person—each for our own reasons.

“Dad,” I said, taking advantage of his great mood. “I have a favor to ask.”

“Sure,” he said. “What is it?”

“I need to get ungrounded. I have to go to Truth Teller rehearsals this week and it's really important.”

“A punishment is a punishment, Sammie,” he said. Clearly, I had miscalculated how good a mood he was in.