Going Wild (4 page)

A
fter school Charlie collapsed on her bed and called Amari. She told her about all the things that were strange and different and unsettling about her new school. And how Kelly had talked about her behind her back already.

Amari was sympathetic. “I'm so sorry you got stuck with that gossipy tour guide,” she said. “She sounds kinda sneaky. Maybe you can avoid her.”

“I'd like to, but she's in all my classes,” Charlie said glumly. “And she plays soccer, too.”

“It figures,” said Amari. “Did anything good happen?”

Charlie tried to pull herself out of her gloomy mood. “I guess theater class was all right.”

“That's great! Well, it's a good start, at least. Right?”

There was a tiny edge to Amari's voice that puzzled Charlie at first, but then she realized Amari was probably getting tired of hearing her complain all the time. Charlie didn't blame her. “Yeah, for sure,” she said sheepishly.

Soon Amari had to go, and Charlie reluctantly turned to
the piles of homework she had racked up throughout the day. Luckily all but one of her teachers had been lenient on due dates and said she could have extra time if she needed it. That was a relief, but with soccer coming up, Charlie wanted to get as much work out of the way as possible. Besides, what else was she going to do?

Charlie's mom came home from work and popped her head in right as Charlie was climbing into bed. “Hey, kiddo!” she said. She put her hand up to cover her yawn. “How was your first day? Everything go okay?”

“I don't want to talk about it,” said Charlie grumpily, ignoring the part of herself that did. She wanted to stay mad at her mom for making them move here.

“Sounds pretty rough. Are you sure you don't want to talk it through?” She entered the room and sat down on the edge of Charlie's bed.

“I already called Amari about everything, and I'm tired. Have you found my soccer stuff?”

“Um . . . when do you need it again?”

“Thursday.”

“I'll look for it,” promised Charlie's mom. “Want me to tuck you in?”

Charlie frowned. Her parents rarely did that anymore. “No, that's okay.”

“Aw, come on,” said Mom. “These hands were made for it.” She wiggled her fingers.

“I thought they were made for emergency surgery,” said Charlie drily.

“That too,” agreed Mom. She straightened the comforter and gave Charlie a questioning look.

“Oh, all right,” Charlie said reluctantly. It made her feel like a little kid, but she kind of loved it, too.

Dr. Wilde smiled. She reached over Charlie to tuck the blankets in on the far side, then secured them on the near side, so she was nice and snug. It made her feel warm and safe.

When her mom turned out the bedside lamp and kissed Charlie on the forehead and said “I love you, little bunny” like she always used to, Charlie balked. “Mom,” she said. “Enough.”

Charlie's mom laughed softly and hugged her through the blankets. “Okay. Good night. Tomorrow will be better.”

“Night, Mom.”

Mom got up and left the bedroom, closing the door softly behind her. Charlie stared into the darkness after her.

The next day Charlie navigated her own way to first period. She got there early and found Kelly talking to Maria about soccer tryouts. She joined them.

“Charlotte plays soccer, too,” Kelly said to Maria, raising an eyebrow.

“Yep,” said Charlie. She wasn't sure why Kelly was calling her Charlotte all of a sudden, but it was just one more thing that bothered her about Kelly.

“That's fantastic!” said Maria. “We'll have fun at tryouts.” It looked like she really meant it.

“Thanks,” said Charlie with a cautious smile. Maria seemed like a cool person. And Kelly didn't have anything bad to say about her. That had to mean something, though Charlie wasn't really sure what.

Charlie made it through the morning on her own, though sometimes she naturally fell in step with Kelly since they were always going in the same direction. She joined Kelly for lunch again and sat quietly like she'd done the previous day, content to observe and try to find people who might be better friends for her. But the others at the table all seemed to have their own best friends already, which wasn't surprising. Several of them politely asked Charlie a question or two, but then went back to conversations with their friends about horse shows or various clubs they belonged to, which Charlie wasn't really into.

Kelly was superpopular, and she reveled in attention, but she didn't actually seem to have any close friends. Charlie was sure she was not going be one either. Halfway through lunch, she began to scout out the rest of the cafeteria to see where she might sit in the future, because she really didn't see herself fitting in with these students. Just as she shoved the last of her food into her mouth,
she spied Maria a few tables away, sitting with a boy who was constantly messing around on his phone while they talked a little now and then. And there were open seats at their table. Charlie smiled to herself. She'd look for Maria tomorrow.

On Wednesday Charlie stopped shadowing Kelly and went to her classes on her own. She strode more confidently through the buildings and across the courtyard, saying hi to a few familiar-looking people now and then. At lunch she stopped short of Kelly's table and went to the one where Maria was sitting across from the boy.

“Hi, Maria,” said Charlie, eyeing the open chair next to her.

“Hey, Charlie,” said Maria. “You want to sit?”

“Sure,” Charlie replied, relieved. “That would be great.” She set down her tray, glanced at the boy, who was furiously typing on his phone, and sat in the chair next to Maria.

Maria wore her hair in a ponytail. The corners of her mouth turned up naturally, which made her look like a very pleasant person even when she wasn't smiling. But she was smiling now. “That's Mac Barnes,” she said, pointing to the kid across from her.

The boy, who had braces and an impeccably perfect squared-off Afro, leaned forward on one elbow and looked up. “Hey. How's it going so far?”

“Pretty good,” said Charlie. “You're in my first class too, aren't you? You sit near me.”

“Yep,” he said. “One row over.” He went back to his phone.

Maria butted in. “Are you excited for tryouts tomorrow?”

Charlie perked up. “Yeah! But where do we go? My mom got an email about it when I signed up, but I forgot to ask her about that.”

“Behind the school,” Mac said, still typing. “The field inside the track. The goalposts aren't up yet, but they should be soon.”

“Do you play too?” Charlie asked him, surprised. “I thought it was a girl's team.”

“No,” said Mac, glancing at her. “I just come to watch Maria once in a while.”

“That's really cool,” Charlie said with a grin, and then she looked slyly at Maria and back at Mac. “Are you two . . .”

“No,” they both replied, a little hastily.

“We're just friends,” Maria told Charlie. “We've been friends since we were really little.” She frowned at Mac. “Anyway, for soccer we'll all go to the locker rooms to change first—just like for PE class.”

“Cool. I know where that is.”

“And be prepared—Coach Candy is tough, and she works us really hard. Our team was undefeated in the fall, so we want to keep up the perfect record.”

“Okay,” said Charlie. A shadow of doubt entered her mind. Maybe tryouts would be tougher than she expected.

Mac took a bite of his salad, then turned his attention to his cinnamon roll and started painstakingly picking the raisins off it.
Charlie resumed eating and watched him curiously.

Mac glanced up at her. “The raisins look like bugs,” he said. When he'd gotten them all, he shoved half of the roll into his mouth. “Arfopaws ow isgussee.”

Charlie frowned. “Arfopaws? What?” She laughed.

Maria rolled her eyes as Mac chewed. “He said arthropods are disgusting.”

“What's an ‘arthropod' again?” asked Charlie. It sounded familiar.

“Bugs, lobsters, junk like that,” said Maria dismissively. “It's a word on our science vocab list this week.”

“Ah, that's where I saw it,” said Charlie.

Mac swallowed. “I mostly just hate bugs.”

“He's terrified of them,” Maria said.

Mac shrugged, unapologetic. “I like snakes, though. Go figure.”

“I can't stand snakes,” said Maria. She shuddered. “Give me a bug any day.” She hesitated. “I mean, don't
actually
give me a bug. . . .”

“I won't,” Charlie said, laughing.

Maria picked up her last bite of cinnamon roll and smashed it on top of Mac's raisins, then shoved the whole sticky mass into her mouth. “'hanks!” she said, chewing.

He wrinkled his nose and sighed. “I seriously hate raisins. They're almost as bad as peas.”

“Raisins are okay,” said Charlie, “but I agree, peas are disgusting.”

“Right?” said Mac. “They're literally the worst.”

“They squeak between your teeth.”

“I hate that.” Mac shuddered. “Peas are
estúpida
.”

“
Estúpid
o,” Maria corrected. “
Peas
are masculine. Own the peas, Mr. Man.”

“Whatever,” Mac muttered. He glanced around the cafeteria, then said abruptly, “I gotta go.” He stood up and shoved his chair under the table, and with a nod, he was off to return his tray and join a group of boys who were leaving the cafeteria.

Maria frowned and licked the frosting off her fingers. If she was bothered by Mac's brisk departure, she appeared to get over it quickly. “Anyway,” she said, “are you coming to practice after school?”

Charlie looked confused. “What?”

“Some of us are getting together to practice in the field after school today—didn't Kelly invite you?”

“Um, no,” said Charlie. Her face grew warm.

“Oh,” said Maria. “Well, can you stay after school? It'll only be for an hour or so.”

“I—I don't have my gear with me.” Charlie desperately wished someone had told her. “Maybe I can have my dad bring it,” she said automatically, like she'd always done back in Chicago. But then she remembered her dad had a job now, and neither parent was
around to help her out. She'd have to run all the way home to get her stuff, then come all the way back. And, if her mom hadn't, she'd have to find it all first. She chided herself for not looking for her gear before. “Actually, never mind,” she said, disappointed. “I can't make it.”

“No worries,” said Maria, standing up. “It's not a big deal.” She smiled reassuringly and gathered her tray and utensils.

Charlie wasn't sure what to do. Was she invited to hang around with Maria? She hastily downed her milk as Maria started walking away.

Maria looked over her shoulder. “You coming, Chuck?” she asked.

Charlie grinned at the nickname and jumped to her feet. “On it.”

Things were looking up. Now all Charlie had to do was make the soccer team. And from the way Maria spoke about it, it might not be easy. Tonight was definitely going to be a practice night, even if she had to practice solo.

“M
om!” Charlie yelled when she walked in the house after school. “Have you found my soccer stuff yet?” Jessie bounded over and jumped up to lick her face. Charlie pet the dog's neck distractedly, then gently pushed her to the floor.

Mom didn't answer. Charlie set her empty water bottle on the kitchen counter next to a long to-do list, with very few items crossed off. Charlie noticed “find Charlie's soccer stuff for Thurs” was penciled at the bottom in her mom's handwriting. But it wasn't crossed off. Charlie sighed and went upstairs to her room. Fat Princess was curled up and sleeping soundly on her bed. Big Kitty, who'd come out from behind the stove days ago, slunk down the hallway ready to jump at any noise.

“Mom?” she called again.

“She's still at the hospital!” Andy hollered from his bedroom. “She called and said she had to stay late again.”

“It figures,” muttered Charlie. She tossed her backpack on her bed and, remembering the science vocab she needed to brush up on, considered doing her homework. But she went down to the garage instead.

Jessie followed her out the door, eager to nose around. Charlie flipped on the light, revealing stacks of boxes everywhere. They couldn't even fit their car in there yet. The family was planning on tackling it all this weekend, since Mom and Dad were too busy with work to do anything else these days. But Charlie was nervous. She needed her stuff. She hadn't kicked a ball around in months. Why had she waited until now to prepare for tryouts?

She started pawing through boxes, looking inside them and closing them again. “Welp, I found the kitchen,” she said to nobody in particular. “Not that Mom and Dad have time to cook anything anymore.” She glanced up and scanned the garage. There had to be a better way to find what she needed.

Andy appeared in the doorway. “What are you doing?”

“I need my soccer gear. Tryouts tomorrow.”

“Most of your stuff is in the back corner. Me and Dad separated the boxes when we unloaded the truck.”

“Dad and I.”

“No, it was Dad and
me
,” Andy said. “I should know. All your books were really heavy.”

“I meant— Aw, forget it.” Charlie scratched her head and wove through the stacks to the back corner. “Thanks.”

“I have a couple of friends coming over,” Andy said, “so if you see them, let them in.”

Charlie scowled. Andy already had friends at the coming-over-to-the-house stage? Whatever. “Let them in yourself,” she said.

“Okay, cranky butt. Sheesh.” Andy disappeared, and Jessie bounded into the house after him.

Charlie started peeking inside boxes again. She and her mom had packed the soccer stuff all together with other sports equipment, she remembered. She started moving things around, finding all her summer clothes, three crates of books, a container with FRAGILE written all over it that contained some of her electronics, and a big lightweight box of Halloween costumes. As she tossed the costume box onto another pile, a small package slipped to the floor at Charlie's feet.

She bent down and picked it up, then turned it over and saw her name, Charlie Wilde, and her old address. There was no return address and no stamp on it. Was this the package that she saw by the door when they were getting ready to leave the old house?

“Hmm,” she said. She worked at the flap, trying to rip off the tape, and finally managed to get it started with her teeth. She tore it open the rest of the way and looked inside, then held her breath and carefully slid the contents onto the top of a box. Out came something encased in bubble wrap, and a folded piece of paper. Charlie unrolled the bubble wrap and pulled out a bracelet.

“Sweet!” Charlie turned the bracelet over in her hand. It had a solid, silvery-metallic band with a small, square, black screen. Tiny buttons protruded from both sides. It kind of looked like one of those expensive health-monitoring bracelets that athletes wear.

She pressed a button, and then another, but nothing happened.
Probably needs a battery
, she thought. The bracelet was cool but not flashy, and it might even make Charlie look like a more serious soccer player at tryouts tomorrow, which wouldn't hurt. She turned it over again. It had a metal clasp with a release button. She pressed it. The clasp separated, but it immediately tried to stick together again, as if the two pieces were magnetic. “Ooh, cool,” she breathed.

Charlie slipped the bracelet on her wrist, securing the clasp. It fit just a little bit loosely. If she wore it partway up her forearm, it was snug enough that it wouldn't bounce around.

“I bet the magnetic clasp is for balance or something scientific like that,” she mused, twisting her wrist this way and that, admiring it, then held her arm out. She liked the bracelet a lot, probably even more because it was so professional looking. It was the kind of thing Charlie's soccer hero, Alex Morgan, would wear. Or Jessie Graff from
American Ninja Warrior
. She picked up the folded piece of paper and opened it.

Charlie, it's time. You know what to do.

There was no signature.

The handwriting kind of looked like Charlie's grandma's.

Charlie's grandma was sciency like Dad, so she might think a bracelet like this was interesting. But why would Grandma leave a gift on the doorstep like that without coming in or saying something?

Maybe it was a going-away present from Amari and her other
soccer friends in Chicago, and they tried to disguise their handwriting so she'd be surprised. Charlie pulled out her phone and texted Amari. “Did you leave a sports bracelet at my house as a gift?” She took a quick photo of it and sent that to Amari too.

“Nope!” came the quick reply. “But I wish I had—that's cool! Just pretend it's from me, haha. Are you doing better?”

“A little. I miss you, though.”

“Me too,” Amari replied, with four rows of crying emojis.

“I've got soccer tryouts tomorrow,” wrote Charlie. “Wish me luck!”

“LUCK!!” replied Amari. “Don't worry. You're a superstar! You know what to do.”

Charlie smiled forlornly.
You know what to do.
Amari had written the same words that were in the note. Maybe the mysterious gift was a sign that she'd do well.

But not if she didn't find her gear. Reluctantly she replied to Amari with a variety of hearts and put her phone away. It was almost easier to handle the loneliness when she didn't talk to Amari. Then she could pretend her life in Chicago never really existed.

Charlie turned back to the bracelet and examined it more closely, studying some etchings near the clasp. “Well, thank you very much, whoever you are,” Charlie said, and shoved the paper and bubble wrap back into the package. With the recycle bin already overflowing, she left it on top of a stack of boxes to
take care of on the weekend. “That's one emptied,” she said, looking over the piles of boxes filling the garage. She pulled her sleeve down over the bracelet in the chilly garage. “Only forty thousand more to go.”

With renewed energy Charlie began her search once more, tossing boxes left and right with little effort, even the ones full of books. “And Andy said these were heavy,” she scoffed. “Weakling.” She made it all the way to the bottom of the second stack before she found what she was after. “Finally!” she exclaimed, tearing open the box. In her excitement, the flap ripped off in her hand as easy as a piece of paper. She tossed the hunk of cardboard aside and pulled out her favorite soccer ball, her shin guards, and the brand-new cleats her parents had bought right before the move because her old ones were too small. She didn't have much time to break them in.

With her gear in hand and the new bracelet on her arm, Charlie left the wreckage and went to the grassy area in the neighborhood to practice dribbling. She wished doubly hard now that Kelly had invited her to the after-school practice on the field, and wondered why she hadn't. Maybe she'd forgotten. And maybe Kelly was just being Kelly.

Charlie shook her head as she missed a shot in her imaginary goal, trying to get the negative thoughts out of her brain. She focused on the bracelet and reminded herself that she was an excellent player. And that she
did
know what to do. And even if she had
butterflies inside, the bracelet made her look like a pro. “Okay,” she said under her breath. “Let's do this.”

“How'd today go?” Charlie's dad asked the kids as they sat at the table to eat. His voice had taken on a hint of anxiety since the move. He loosened his necktie and rolled up his sleeves. “I told my students you were settling in.”

“What?” moaned Charlie. She still wasn't used to her dad having students, and now he was talking to them about her. “Please don't do that.”

“Where's Mom?” asked Andy, eyeing the take-out pizza on the table. “She said she was going to be home for dinner.” It was the third pizza night they'd had since they'd gotten here.

“She's on the way,” their dad explained, “but said to start without her.”

“Good. I'm starving,” Andy said. He grabbed a slice. “My day was great. Juan and Zach came over to play video games for a while.”

“That's cool,” Dad said. “How was school?”

“Fine.”

“And how about you, Charlie?” he asked cautiously.

Charlie looked at her mom's empty chair and sighed. “Feeling guilty again, Dad?” She reached for a slice.

“No-o-o,” he said, making a face.

“My day was okay,” she said.

Dad's face cleared. “Good! How are things with, um . . . Katie?”

Charlie glanced at him. “Who? You mean Kelly?”

“Sorry. Yes.”

“She's fine, I guess. I didn't hang out with her much today.”

“Oh.” He pressed his lips together and spread a napkin on his lap. “Have you found any other friends yet?”

“Dad, please.” Charlie took a bite of her pizza and wrinkled her nose. The crust tasted like the desert itself. Arizona pizza makers could sure stand to learn a lesson from Lou Malnati's or Connie's.

“Please what? I'm just wondering about your life.”

Charlie chewed and swallowed, and gave her father a bored look. “Yeah, okay, I met a girl named Maria and her friend Mac. Maria plays soccer, too.”

“Wonderful!” said her father.

“Oh, and after school I found my soccer stuff, so you can cross that off the to-do list—I saw it on the counter.”

“Great job handling that one on your own!” Dad exclaimed as Charlie's mom came walking up the driveway from the bus stop. “And look, Mom's home.” He paused, and his voice softened. “I'm very glad you found a friend, Charlie.”

Charlie rolled her eyes. “Yeah, yeah, you make it sound like I'm in first grade, Dad.” They all looked up when they heard the door open, then Charlie continued. “You'd better not go around telling your students that you're so glad your kid finally found a
friend. That's embarrassing.”

“What's embarrassing?” asked Mom, walking into the kitchen.

“Dad is,” Andy piped up. “He needs to stop talking about us in class. It's weird.”

Charlie's mom laughed. “You just aren't used to your dad talking to anybody but you kids. But I talk about you all the time at the hospital—I always have. Back in Chicago, too. Just today I was telling the mom of a young patient about the awful diaper rash Andy had as a baby.”

“Mom!” Charlie and Andy said together. Andy covered his face with his hands and fell dramatically back in his chair. Charlie shook her head.

“What?” their mom asked innocently. She joined them at the table. “I only do it if it helps me connect with a patient. Besides, every baby has a diaper rash once in a while. Andy's was just . . . exceptional.” She grabbed a slice of pizza and winked at her husband across the table. “Wasn't it, honey?”

“Mother, stop!” Charlie said. Andy pretended to faint off the chair. He crawled under the table.

“It won first prize in the diaper rash contest,” Dad said, chuckling.

Reluctantly Charlie laughed too. She had to admit, diaper rash was kind of funny—unless you're the baby who has it. And when your mom is a doctor in the emergency room, you end up talking about embarrassing stuff like that a whole lot.