When Life Gives You O.J. (12 page)

When I woke up the next day, I couldn’t help wondering if I had dreamed the whole thing. My stomach felt jumpy, though. Maybe because I knew it was no dream. Telling my mom what had happened at the tennis courts crossed my mind, but I squashed the idea just as fast. She’d probably call Jeremy’s parents—and Nicky’s, for that matter—so not only would we be dead meat when school rolled around, we wouldn’t be allowed outside the rest of the summer.

Besides, my stomach was probably nervous for another reason. Today was the day Allie was coming home, at long last. Before Allie had left, her mom had promised her that I could go with her and Allie’s dad to pick her up at camp. But now, after three whole weeks and not a single letter, I wondered if she would even still recognize me, much less care if I was there.

I thought about taking O.J. out for his morning walk, but the night before had made me nervous about running into Nicky again. Plus my mom’s last word on the subject had been clear: O.J. wasn’t getting me one millimeter closer to having a real dog. So I just left O.J. in my room and didn’t feed him breakfast or anything. I knew if I saw Ace, he’d ask, so I went out back and climbed the big dogwood tree and tried to read a book in it while checking my watch every three minutes. At ten-thirty, I gave up trying to be patient and left for Allie’s house, even though it’s only about a five-minute walk from mine.

Allie’s mom, Mrs. Schmidt, didn’t seem surprised to see me early. She gave me a big hug, even though she’s not a particularly huggy person. I guess she was missing Julia and Allie. We all got in the car, and Allie’s dad drove us to the camp. The road was bumpy, and I was glad I hadn’t eaten because my stomach flip-flopped the whole way there.

But as soon as I saw Allie, I knew everything was going to be okay. Her nose and the tops of her cheeks were pink with sunburn, but otherwise she looked like the same old Allie. She ran right over, yelling, “Zelly!!! Ahhhhh!!!! I missed you so much!” and jumping on me. Then, before I could even say the same thing back to her, she was talking a mile a minute about all sorts of things: some Noah’s Ark play she had been in, the candle-lighting ceremony on the last night of camp, the totally cute boy over there (“Don’t look! Okay, now look!”), and a girl named Krystal Wilton, who seemed super-mean at first but turned out to be super-nice once you got to know her.

When Allie’s parents finally left us alone to get her stuff out of her bunk, I couldn’t hold back anymore. “How come you didn’t write to me?” I asked, swatting Allie on the arm, play-mad.

“Ow!” said Allie, pretend-hurt. “How come
you
didn’t write to
me
?”

I looked at her, startled. “I, uh, I don’t know. You were the one who got to go to camp. I figured you’d write and I’d write back to you.”

Allie rolled her eyes and flopped onto her bunk dramatically. “Ugh, they made us write to our parents, like, every single day,” she said. “After all those ‘Dear-Mom-and-Dad’s,’ I guess I was just kind of lettered out. I’m sorry!”

I pretended to sulk for about a second. Then I picked up Allie’s stuffed mouse off the top of her trunk and swacked her with it. “Just don’t do it again,” I growled. “Or Mousie gets it.”

“Mousie!” Allie grabbed Mousie back and hugged her protectively. “I won’t,” she promised. “Anyway, next summer I’m not going to camp without you, and that’s all there is to it.”

Allie must have hugged about a million kids before we finally got into the car, Julia on one side, me in the middle, and Allie on the other. Allie rolled her window all the way down, leaning out and yelling, “Bye! Bye!!!” to everyone we passed. “Bye, Allison!” they all called back to her.

“Allison?”
I repeated as the car pulled out of the camp driveway and Allie finally settled into her seat.

She smiled shyly. “What do you think? It sounds more grown-up than ‘Allie,’ doesn’t it?”

“I like ‘Allie,’ ” I said.
Did “Zelly” seem babyish too?

“You can still call me Allie, okay?”

“Well, not if you don’t
like
it.”

“Oh, and don’t be mad, Zelly,” Allie added. “But I don’t have any fudge for you. We didn’t make fudge once the whole entire time.”

“Who said you were going to make fudge?” asked Julia.

“Zelly’s grandpa,” Allie told her.

“Where’d he get that idea?” scoffed Julia.

In the front seat, Allie’s mom and dad laughed. “Maybe he went to a different camp,” suggested Allie’s mom. “I don’t recall ever making fudge at camp.”

I guess Ace doesn’t know everything
, I said to myself. Usually, that thought would make me happy, but this time it didn’t. It reminded me of just how wrong Ace had been about the whole O.J. business.

“Lanyards, yes,” said Mr. Schmidt. “I made a lot of lanyards in my day. Some called me the king of lanyards.”

“Look, Dad,” said Allie, pulling out a long pink-and-yellow braided plastic chain.

“That’s my girl!” said her dad, smiling in the rearview mirror.

“It’s for you,” Allie said, handing the chain to me.

I smiled and lifted my hair out of the way so she could tie it around my neck. I couldn’t help thinking to myself,
This is way better than fudge
.

When we got home, Allie came over to my house and we went straight up to my room.

“What’s that?” asked Allie, pointing at my bed.

I looked and there was O.J., sitting smack in the middle of my rainbow comforter, a note rubber-banded to his neck, completely covering his face. It said:

I groaned and tossed O.J., note and all, off the bed.

“It’s nothing. You know how I’ve been begging my parents to let me get a dog? Well, my grandpa had this crazy idea about what I could do to convince them.”

I stretched out on the bed where O.J. had been, and Allie sat down cross-legged next to me. She giggled. “Did I tell you about the dogs? At camp?” I shook my head. “Well, we were rehearsing for the play and there were these two boys who were supposed to be playing the dogs? You know, on the ark?”

I listened for a while, but to be honest, it was kind of hard. After going to camp to pick up Allie—I mean
Allison
—and having to watch her with all her new camp friends, I was ready for camp to be over and our summer together to finally begin. After waiting as long as I could so as not to seem rude, I said, “Allie? Can we please talk about something other than camp?”

“Sure,” said Allie, looking startled. “I’m sorry.”

“No, I’m sorry,” I said quickly. “I mean, I just … It sounds fun and everything.…”

“No, Zelly, that’s okay. What’s up with you?”

“Not a lot,” I admitted. “I’ve been, uh, playing tennis, I guess.”

“Tennis? Like at a tennis camp?”

“No. Just, you know, playing.”

“With who?”

“Nobody. Just this kid who moved here. From Brookline. His name’s Jeremy.”

“Did you know him there?”

“That’s BrookLYN,” I informed her. “He moved here from BrookLINE. It’s in Massachusetts.”

“Is he cute?” she asked.

“No!”

“Tennis players are cute.”

“Yeah, well, Jeremy’s
not
cute. I mean, he’s not disgusting-looking. He’s just regular.”

“Why? What does he look like?” asked Allie.

“I dunno. He’s got glasses.”

“Uh-huh. What color hair?”

“Dark brown.”

“So, he looks like you?”

“No,” I said.

Allie covered her mouth with one hand and pointed at me with the other. “You’re blushing!”

“I am not!”

“Are too!”

“Can we please talk about something other than boys … or camp … for five minutes?” I asked.

“Yes!” she said, but I could tell she didn’t want to. Still, to prove it, she said, “Do you want to sleep over tomorrow night?”

“Are you kidding? Of course!”

“Great. I mean, let me know if you can, because if you can’t, I might ask someone else.”

“What do you mean, you might ask someone else?”

“It’s just that my mom said I can have three girls sleep over, and I definitely want to have you. But if you can’t come, I might ask someone else.”

“Someone from camp?”

“Maybe. What’s the big deal? You’re still my best friend.”

“You sure?”

“Yes,”
insisted Allie.

But I wasn’t so sure.

Just then, there was a knock on my door.

“Come in,” I said.

“Hi, Allie. Welcome home!” said my mom.

“Thanks, Mrs. Fried,” said Allie, whose parents don’t let her call other people’s parents by their first names, even if they say it’s okay like my parents do.

“Zelly, Jeremy called while you were out.”

“Okay,” I said. Allie gave me a look that said
Jer-e-my
.

“Also, have you taken care of O.J. yet today?”

I rolled my eyes. “No,” I said.

“Who’s O.J.?” asked Allie.

“I thought I’d do it later,” I told my mom.

“Is Ace okay with that?” asked my mom.

“I don’t know,” I admitted.

“Who’s O.J.?” Allie asked again.

“Zelly, I suggest you keep up your end of the deal,” said my mom.

“Why?” I argued. “You said yourself it wasn’t going to make any difference.”

“That’s not what I said,” replied my mom.

“Yes, it is.”

“No, I specifically said this was good practice for when you get a dog. I believe I also said if you make a promise, you should keep it.”

“It’s okay, Mrs. Fried,” said Allie, jumping off my bed. “I’ll help Zelly do it.” She gave me a look that said,
Do what she says if you want her to say yes to the sleepover
.

She didn’t have to convince me. I had heard the magic word: good practice for
when
you get a dog.
When
, not if!

“Okay, fine,” I said. “Fine, I’ll do it right now.”

“Good,” said my mom, leaving the room.

“Okay, now for the last time,” said Allie, putting her hands on her hips, “what is the big, fat, juicy secret? Who is O.J.?”

“Oh, it’s juice-y all right,” I told her. I picked O.J. up and pulled off the note to reveal his face. “Allie, meet O.J.,” I said.

Allie stared at O.J. Then at me.

“You have
got
to be kidding me,” she finally said.

“I can’t believe your grandpa is making you do this,” Allie said as we left the house to take O.J. for a walk. She kept just slightly behind me, looking over her shoulder nervously to make sure no one could see us.

“Believe it,” I said flatly. We turned onto Summit Terrace while O.J. bounced gracelessly behind. As usual, I was going to wait until we got to the dead end to take care of O.J.’s “business.”

“I still don’t get why.”

So I launched into the story of how Ace came up with the idea of me having a “practice dog” and how I signed on without knowing what it would entail. I told her about all the bad parts: feeding the “practice dog,” dragging it on “practice
dog” walks, and, worst of all, cleaning up its “practice dog” poop.

Allie made a face at the last part. “Seriously?” she asked.

“Seriously. And once I even stepped in it!”

“Ewwww!” she shrieked. “Zelly, your grandpa is nuts!”

“I know,” I agreed, even though I had a pang of guilt. And another pang of not liking her talking about Ace that way. It was okay for me to call him crazy or call his ideas stupid, because he was my grandpa. But it didn’t feel right for someone else to do it.

“Oh no,” Allie said, freezing. “Quick, let’s go back. There’s someone coming.”

I looked and saw Jeremy walking down his front steps. “Relax,” I told her. “That’s just Jeremy. He knows about O.J.”

“Oh,” she said, looking over her shoulder once more.

Jeremy waved big at the sight of us and came bounding over, carrying his tennis racket.

“Hey, where were you this morning?” he asked.

“Oh no, did you go to the courts? I’m sorry! I thought I told you I was going along to pick up Allie at camp. This is Allie. Allie, this is Jeremy.”

“Hi,” said Jeremy.

“He just moved here,” I added, because I didn’t want Jeremy to know I’d been talking about him.