Sprinkles and Secrets (7 page)

I raise my eyebrows at him. “I hope you're joking.”

Margie hands me the plate of cookies, then turns to Dennis. “You two can use the kitchen table for your homework. I have laundry to put away. Just holler if you need anything, okay?”

“Thanks, Mom.”

“Thanks,” I echo.

She leaves and we go to the kitchen table. We set the cookies and milk down and drop our backpacks onto the floor. “Let's eat first,” Dennis says. “I'm starving.”

I take a bite of a cookie. “These are really good.”

“Whenever I have someone come over, which isn't very often, Mom makes them. I think it's because they were Michael's favorite.”

“Michael O'Reilly?” I ask.

“Yeah. You know we used to be best friends in elementary school, right?”

“You're not friends anymore?” I ask as I reach for my glass of milk.

“Nah. I don't know if you can tell, but I'm not really the athletic type. I tried. I played soccer and baseball through fifth grade. But I just wasn't good enough. It stops being fun when you feel horrible about how you play all the time.”

“What does that have to do with being Michael's friend, though?”

He shrugs. “Sports are his life. Things changed. I don't know. Now he hangs out with his friends he sees all the time at games and practices.”

He sounds kind of sad. I don't know what to say. He keeps talking. “You and Isabel, you've been friends for a long time, right?”

“Yeah.”

He reaches for another cookie. “That's cool. Does she want to be an actress too?”

“No. Flight attendant. Travel the world and all that stuff.”

“It's weird,” he says. “I always thought girls were the ones who had problems with friends. And here I am, the one with the problems.”

I think of the audition and Isabel. I swallow hard. I don't want to go there. “Well, Dennis, maybe if you wouldn't do odd things, like ask people if they want to see a dead bird's foot, you'd have more friends.”

His face turns red. “Can I tell you something?”

“Sure.”

“I never really had a dead bird's foot.”

“You didn't? Then why'd you say you did? Just to freak me out?”

He shrugs. “I don't know. Sometimes I don't know what to say. There was a dead bird on my porch that morning. It just popped into my brain and before I knew it, I was talking crazy-bird-feet talk.”

“Well, I guess sometimes I don't know what to say either.” I think of the conversation I need to have with Isabel someday about the audition. It makes my stomach hurt just thinking about it. I'm not sure I'll ever figure out what to say for that conversation.

Dennis stands up and takes the empty plate and glasses to the counter. “We should come up with
a saying we automatically go to when we're having a hard time. So we don't say something stupid. Like my dad, he always talks about the weather. And he's always so excited about it. Doesn't matter what it is; it can be forty-five degrees and raining, like it is almost every single day in Oregon, and he'll still want to talk about the weather.”

“My dad loves the weather too. The Weather Channel is his favorite channel. What is up with that? Look outside, Dad. There's the weather.”

Dennis laughs. “I know, it's the truth.”

It's quiet for a minute. “We should get to work,” I say.

“What's your all-time favorite movie?” he asks.

“I think I'd have to go with
The Wizard of Oz.
Why?”

“No, see, that should be our question. When we don't know what to say. Movies are a safe topic.”

“What's wrong with the standard 'How's it going?'”

“Because all you get is an 'Okay' or 'Fine,' and then what? You're right back where you started. It's a useless question. Like anyone is going to tell you how it's really going. ‘Hey, thanks for asking. Man, things are terrible. My grandma's sick, my dog just
died, and I didn't have any clean underwear this morning.'”

I'm trying hard not to laugh. He's right. It's true. “Come on. Let's get our write-up done. Tell me what you've got for the hypothesis.”

He points his pencil at me. “Aren't you going to ask me what my favorite movie is?”

I look at him and smile. “Power Rangers, right?”

He laughs and shakes his head. “You are never going to let me live that down, are you?”

“Nope. Never.”

Chapter 11

I
t's Friday, and the audition is still over a week away. As I peek around the corner, waiting for Isabel to leave her locker, I realize I'm being ridiculous. There is no way I can hide from her for an entire week. I'm going to have to tell her. I decide I'll do it at lunch. When she asks me about it, I'll just tell her. Straight out, fast as I can, and it'll be over with. Like
ripping off a Band-Aid. She'll be mad. Furious, probably. But I'm going to have to live with it.

I take a deep breath and walk over to our locker.

“There you are,” Isabel says. “How's it going?”

I think of Dennis. How he hates that question. And here I am, proof that the question really is useless. Because I can't tell her I'm a mess over this audition thing. Not right now. So I say what I usually say. “Okay. How about you?”

“Dreading that social studies test today. Did you study some more last night?”

“A little bit. I was busy with a science project, though.”

She grabs the locker door as I'm about to close it, then takes her lip gloss out of her pocket. She looks in the little mirror we have stuck on the door and moves the wand over her lips.

She turns and smiles. “That's better. Yeah, so I saw you with Dennis Holt yesterday after school. You guys working on something together?”

“Yeah. We have a write-up due today. We got it done yesterday. It actually turned out really good.”

“He's kind of different, isn't he?”

“I don't know. I think he's all right. Once you get to know him.”

The warning bell rings. “Let's have lunch together, okay?” she says. “I missed you yesterday.”

I try to smile. “Yeah, sure. See ya later.”

In science, Mr. Leonard gives us a few minutes at the beginning of class to check over our write-ups. We split up into pairs again, and I meet Dennis at his desk this time.

“You want to look it over again?” he asks.

“Not really. But I will.”

I take it from him and start reading. “So, big plans for the weekend?” he asks.

“I think I'm watching
Star Wars
with my brother tonight. His first time.”

“That is awesome. I still remember the first time I saw the movie. Most amazing thing that's ever happened to me.”

I give him a funny look. “You need to get a life, Dennis.”

He nods. “I know! You want to help me?”

I look around, wondering if anyone heard him say that to me. “I don't think I can. I have my own
problems. Now be quiet so I can read this thing.”

He scribbles in his notebook as I finish looking it over. I find one spelling error and make the correction.

“I think it's ready,” I tell him. “We did a good job.”

“I need a new hobby,” he says, still scribbling. “Something fun. I haven't tried anything new since I gave up sports.”

“Music?” I ask him.

He shakes his head.

“Martial arts?”

He shakes his head again. “I was thinking something like photography.”

“That'd be good.”

“I just need a camera.”

I sit back in my chair. “Yeah, I'd say that's pretty important if you want to take up photography. Maybe for Christmas?”

He nods. “Yeah. I'll put it on my list.”

“Along with your Power Rangers pajamas?”

He gives me an evil grin. “I'm gonna get you one of these days, Sophie. Just you wait.”

At lunch, Isabel and I find a spot at a table in the corner of the cafeteria. I haven't even sat down and I'm already sweating. My stomach hurts so bad, I didn't take anything from the hot food line. I just grabbed a carton of milk and a bowl of chocolate pudding.

As I sit down, I notice Dennis at a table off to the side, by himself. Does he always sit by himself? I've never noticed before.

“Sophie, what are you doing?” Isabel asks. “You need more than that to eat. You're not on some crazy diet for your audition, are you?”

“No. Just not hungry.”

She opens her milk carton, and then pours some dressing on her salad. “Okay, so tell me. Tell me all about the audition. I'm not letting you keep it to yourself one minute longer. I don't care if your agent said you aren't supposed to tell anyone, I am your best friend, and I have to know.”

I look over at Dennis. He's reading a book. A book. At lunch! Who does that? The boys down the table from him laugh at someone's joke. Somebody
throws a carrot stick across the table. He should be sitting there, having fun. Not alone. What would I do if I didn't have anyone to sit with? If all of a sudden Isabel didn't want to be my friend anymore? Would I be brave enough to go up to a table of girls I don't know very well and ask if I could sit with them? What would I do?

“Sophie?” Isabel says, shaking my arm. “Are you okay? You don't look so good.”

I'm breathing fast. I can feel my heart racing. “Um, I don't know.”

All I know is I don't want to eat alone. I can't lose Isabel. I just can't.

“The audition is for this new bran cereal,” I blurt out. “They want to try to sell it to kids, so they're looking for kids to cast in the commercials. Isn't that the craziest thing you've ever heard? I have to try to get kids to want to eat bran cereal.”

She laughs. “Seriously? Bran cereal? Yuck. But if anyone can do it, you can!”

My breathing slows down. I take a bite of my pudding. It tastes good. I take another bite. My stomach feels better. I keep eating.

“So when's the audition?” she asks.

“Monday after Thanksgiving weekend.”

“Oh! That's a teacher workday so you won't have to miss school. Too had, huh?”

I smile and keep eating. I want to dive into this pudding and live there. It reminds me of being little, when a bowl of chocolate pudding made everything better.

Isabel changes the subject then, and starts telling me a funny story about her neighbor, Lana, who's an artist. I'm only half-listening, though, as I watch Dennis get up from the table and leave the cafeteria. Alone.

Chapter 12

D
ad went all-out on snacks for the big movie night. There's popcorn, lemonade, and various candy bars all laid out on the kitchen counter. Hayden barely eats any of his dinner, he's so excited.