Friend Or Fiend? (2 page)

William pointed at the Pain and me. “What are they . . . useless?”

Before I could say anything, before I could tell him Useless is as useless does or something like that, Sierra laughed. “Yeah,” she said. “They can help us carry everything home.”

I didn't want to go anywhere with William and Sierra.

“Jake and Abigail don't know their way around New York,” Mom said.

[Image: Jake and Abigail]

“You think we do?” Sierra said. “This is the first time we're visiting our dad since he moved here.”

“Why don't I come with you?” Mom said.

“If you re going, you don't need William and me,” Sierra said to Mom. “Besides, I have a lot to do.”

“Like what?” William asked.

“None of your business,” Sierra told him.

“None of your business ” William sang, mocking his sister.

Sierra looked like she wanted to slug him.

The Pain looked at me. I knew what he was thinking--William and Sierra are worse than us. Much worse.

“You kids are going,” Uncle Phil told William and Sierra, “and that's that!”

“Fine,” Sierra said. And she grabbed the list out of Uncle Phil's hand.

Mom said, “Abigail and Jake will come with us. That will give Uncle Phil and Dad some time alone.”

Why would Dad want to be alone with Uncle Phil? I wondered. Uncle Phil isn't a fun uncle. He's nothing like Uncle Mitch. Uncle Mitch taught me to ride my bike. I don't think Uncle Phil likes kids. I'm not

sure he likes anyone, not even William and Sierra. He and Dad are complete opposites. I don't see how they can be brothers.

The deli was huge. It took up a whole block. It was busy, too. There were lines everywhere. Mom took charge. “William, get on the bread line.” “Do I have to?”

“Yes,” Mom said, “if you ever want to have lunch.” Then she told Sierra to get a number and wait on line at the deli meats counter.

“No way,” Sierra said. “I'm a veggie. I don't go near that stuff.”

“Okay . . .” Mom said. “You can pick up the cheese and the rest of what's on the list. I'll wait on line here.”

“She has to help me,” Sierra said, pointing at me.

“My name is Abigail,” I told her.

“Whatever,” Sierra said.

Sierra used to be nice. One time when I was little we baked cupcakes together.

I followed her through the deli. “I hate this city,” she said, loud enough for anyone to hear. A couple of people turned to look at her. “You can't ride your horse or anything.”

“You have a horse?” I asked.

Sierra said, “We have six horses. You probably don't know, but we moved to Montana with our mom. You probably don't even know where Montana is.”

“Yes, I do,” I told her. I tried to picture the map of the states on the wall in my classroom. Montana . . . Montana . . . which state was Montana?

“It's out west,” Sierra told me.

“I know that,” I said.

“I ride my horse to school.”

“That sounds so cool.”

“You know what's not cool?” she asked.

“What?”

“You and your family. And that includes my dad.”

“That's rude,” I told her.

She laughed and shoved the list in my face. “Get this stuff. I've got to text my boyfriend.” She pushed a basket at me, then took off.

I didn't know what to get. I mean, I could read the list, but there were about fifty kinds

of mustard. I threw in the one with the fanciest label. Next on the list was olive oil. There were rows and rows of olive oil. I chose the one in the prettiest bottle. But

what kind of cheese was I supposed to get? I stood in front of the cheese counter. There were so many! A hundred, at least. I didn't recognize any of the names.

“Do you need some help?” a woman asked.

“I need cheese,” I told her. “What kind?”

“I don't know. For lunch.”

“How about cheddar?” she said.

“Is it white? My brother only eats white food.”

She reached for a chunk of cheese and handed it to me. “I think this will do the trick,” she said.

I thanked her, then looked around for Sierra. I didn't see her anywhere, so I ran through the store looking for Mom. I kept going down the wrong aisles. Once I

passed William. “Hey,” he called. “Cousin ...” Like he couldn't remember my name.

Finally, I found Mom and the Pain. Mom was still waiting for her number to be called. “Where's Sierra?” she asked.

I shrugged.

“Why didn't you stay with her?” I shrugged again.

Mom took my basket. “I didn't know which kind of mustard to get... or olive oil. . . or cheese . . .”

“You did a good job,” Mom said.

“Did you get something for me?” the Pain asked.

“White cheese,” I told him.

He nodded. “Good.”

When all our shopping was done, Mom found Sierra outside the store, yakking on her cell. Mom handed each of us a bag to carry, and she carried two.

We were almost back at Uncle Phil's when I tripped on the curb and fell. The bag

I was carrying flew out of my hand. Lemons rolled down the sidewalk, packages of deli meat flew out, and a bag of sandwich rolls landed with a thud.

“Oh, honey.. .” Mom said, helping me up. “Are you okay?”

I looked down at my knees. They were scraped and bloody and one of them had pebbles stuck to it. I definitely wasn't okay.

“Jake,” Mom called, “get those lemons! William, pick up the rolls and the deli meats.”

Sierra shook her head. “Useless . . .” she said, looking at my knees.

“Really, Sierra . ..” Mom said. “Surely you can be kinder than that.”

“I don't think so,” Sierra muttered.

Mom handed Sierra money and asked her to go to the closest drugstore. “We need alcohol and Band-Aids,” Mom told her. “Unless your dad has them at the apartment.”

“How would I know?” Sierra said.

“Let's not take a chance,” Mom said. “Just go and get them. There's a drugstore on almost every block. Then come back to the apartment.”

“You expect a lot,” Sierra told Mom.

Mom muttered something to herself.

While the Pain chased lemons, William opened the package of sandwich rolls and shoved one in his mouth.

“William ...” Mom said.

“I'm hungry,” William told her.

“We're all hungry,” Mom said.

“And some of us are injured,” I added, in case he didn't know. Blood trickled down one of my legs and my knees burned like crazy.

When we got back to the apartment, Dad met us at the door. Mom shoved the shopping bags at him and said, “Don't ask....” Then she took me to the bathroom and washed off my knees.

“Ouch...” I kept saying. But when Sierra got back with the alcohol they burned even worse. Mom kept saying she was sorry but she had to make sure they were clean.

At last we sat down to lunch. Dad was the only one still in a good mood. He tried to get Sierra and William to talk. He asked them questions about school. They didn't

answer. He tried riddles, but only the Pain laughed at the answers.

Then he tried to get Uncle Phil to talk about when they were growing up. That was a big mistake.

“Let me tell you what it was like back then,” Uncle Phil said to the rest of us, and I didn't like the way he smiled. “Little Andy could do no wrong.” Andy is Dad's name. “Little Andy was everyone's favorite. Just ask him.”

“Come on, Phil....” Dad said. “We're grown-ups now . . . it's time to let that go.”

But Sierra jumped in. “I know just how you feel, Dad,” she said. “Because William is the favorite in our family and I'm less than zero. Isn't that right?”

“I like being the favorite,” William said.

“I'm sure I'd like being the favorite too,” Sierra said.

The Pain looked over at me.

“What are you kids talking about?” Uncle Phil finally asked. “I don't play favorites.”

It got really quiet. So I said, “Did you know Sierra rides her horse to school in Montana? Isn't that cool?”

William snorted. He sounded like a horse.

“Montana?” Uncle Phil said. Then his voice boomed. “Her horse?”

“She has six horses.” I knew I should stop, but I couldn't help myself.

“Six horses?” Uncle Phil repeated.

Sierra shouted, “Yes, six horses! That's how it could be if you and Mom--”

Uncle Phil didn't wait for her to finish. “That's enough, Sierra!” Sierra's face turned red. She shoved back her chair and ran for the bathroom. The door slammed.

“This is a fun lunch,” William said.

That's when the Pain spilled his milk all over William. “Useless!” William shouted at him. “Look at this . . . I'm soaked.”

Mom jumped up to get kitchen towels. I could tell the Pain wanted to cry. He got out of his seat, went over to Dad, and rested his

head against Dad's shoulder. “Can we go now?” he whispered.

“Soon,” Dad said. Then he looked at Uncle Phil. “Phil, I think . . .”

“I don't give a hooey what you think, Andy! So keep it to yourself for once.”

We left Uncle Phil's right after lunch. Dad was really upset. Usually nothing bothers him, but this time was different. “My brother and those kids ...” he said so quietly I could hardly hear him.

“They're teenagers,” Mom reminded him. “They're going through a lot.”

“Don't worry, Dad,” I said. “We're never going to be like William and Sierra. Right, Jake?”

“They're fiends,” the Pain said.

“They behaved badly,” Mom said. “I won't argue with that.”

“They called us uselessl” I said.

“The divorce has been hard on them,” Mom said.

“They have their own horses,” I said.

Mom and Dad looked at each other. “Sierra probably wishes they had horses,” Mom said.

“You mean she doesn't have her own horse?”

Dad shook his head.

“But how do you know? They live in Montana.”

Mom and Dad looked at each other again. “Actually, they live in Cincinnati,” Mom said.

“Is that in Montana?” I asked.

“No, it's a city in Ohio,” Dad said.

“You mean Sierra was lying?” I asked.

“Sometimes there's a fine line between lying and wishing,” Mom said.

“That's just a nice way to say she was lying,” I said. And then I remembered the time I told my friends I could ride a bike when I couldn't. Did that mean

I was like Sierra?

“Where's Ohio?” the Pain asked.

“When we get home I'll show you on a map,” Dad said.

Mom looked around. “It's such a beautiful day. It's a shame to waste it. How about a quick trip to the zoo in Central Park?”

Mom always comes up with good ideas.

So we went to the zoo and watched the penguins. And all the way home the Pain and I were really nice to each other, even going through the tunnel.

When we got home Dad spread out the atlas on the floor. An atlas is a big book of maps. Dad's is very old. He got it when he

graduated from high school. He showed us Cincinnati on the map of Ohio.

The Pain said, “I'm glad Sierra's not my sister.”

And I said, “I'm glad William's not my brother.”

Then we both jumped on Dad. “And we're really, really glad Uncle Phil's not our dad.”

Dad hugged us and said, “And I'm really glad you two are my kids.”

I told Sasha about Sunday at Uncle Phil's. I told her how William and Sierra called us useless. Then I made her promise never to tell anyone, not even Emily or Kay lee.

That afternoon our teacher, Mr. Gee, said, “Today we're going to write a story in class.”

“Is it a never take your pencil off the paper story?” Lucas asked.

“Yes,” Mr. Gee said. “From the time I say go to the time I say stop, just write, write, write.”

“About what?” Emily asked.

“Something that happened to you,” Mr. Gee said. “This time let's make it about something you didn't like.”

When Mr. Gee said, “Go!” I started writ-ing. I wrote about the time we visited a farm and a goose chased me. He honked and snapped at my behind. I screamed until Dad rescued me.

I kept writing, writing, writing until Mr. Gee called, “Pencils down!” Then he asked who would like to read a story to the class. Half the class raised their hands, including me. Mr. Gee called on Sasha.

Sasha went to the front of the room. “The name of my story is 'Useless,' ” she said.

I looked up.

Then she started to read. And the story she started to read was my story--the story I'd told her about visiting Uncle Phil. Only she wrote it like it happened to her instead of to me. I couldn't believe it. I trusted her when she promised she'd never ever tell, and now she was telling the whole world. My heart started beating really fast. I felt like grabbing her paper and ripping it to shreds.

When she finished Mr. Gee said, “Good work, Sasha.” Sasha smiled.

As soon as I could, I went over to her desk. “You stole my story!”

[Image: Sasha and Mr. Gee]

“So, we're supposed to be friends. And friends don't steal from each other.”

“I didn't think you'd mind,” Sasha said. “I thought you'd like the idea.”

“You what?”

“You heard me, Abigail,” she said. “I thought you'd like the idea.”

“Liar!” I shouted. Our class got very quiet. Everyone was listening. But I didn't care.

“You have no right to call me names,” Sasha said, very quietly.

“I'm never speaking to you again,” I told

her.

“Fine, then I'm never speaking to you, either.”

“I said it first,” I told her.

“I thought it first,” she said.

“You copy everything,” I told her. “Even my thoughts!”

“Copying is the highest form of flattery,” she said.

“Who told you that?” I asked.

“My mother,” she said.

“Then maybe your mother is a copycat too. Maybe your mother steals from her friends, just like you!”

“Abigail!” Mr. Gee said sharply. “Sasha!”

I went up to Mr. Gee. But before I could say She stole my story, the bell rang and the school day was over.

I didn't sit near Sasha on the bus going home. I sat with Emily. I told her the whole story. “No wonder you're mad,” she said.

That night, before dinner, Mom asked if I was feeling okay. “I hate Sasha!” I said.