Call Me Sunflower Read online

  She rubbed against my legs, her tail swishing back and forth, and it filled me up with happiness inside. For now, I couldn’t help the animals used to make the fur coats in Grandma Grace’s store, but I could help a little stray cat by feeding her every day.

  “I’ll name you Ripple,” I told her. It was the title of one of Scott’s favorite songs. He loved to play it on the guitar. Besides, it was the perfect name for a cat with fur like fudge ripple ice cream.

  The cat mewed. “You like that, huh? Ripple it is.”

  She stayed with me for a while, until a noise in the distance scared her back into the bushes.

  After sticking the saucer in the dishwasher, I headed to the office to go through the last of the files. When I got to the photos taken right before we left New Jersey, I counted up the numbers I’d written in my notebook. Ten. Only ten photos of just Mom and Scott together, from the day I was born until now. I’d found plenty of all of us together, but the album I was making was supposed to show how much they were in love with each other, not with their kids.

  I needed photos of the two of them when they first started dating. Unfortunately, the earliest files on the computer started with my birthday.

  I sighed and got up to find my mom. She was standing in front of the stove cooking dinner. “Mom, what did you do with the photos of you and Scott when you first met?”

  She looked up at me. “You mean back when we were in college?”

  “Yeah.” I grinned. “From the olden days, back when you were young.”

  “I suppose they’re around here somewhere.”

  “Where do you think they are?”

  Mom frowned, then turned back to the pasta sauce she was stirring. “I’m not exactly sure. We packed up boxes of stuff and put them in storage before we left.”

  I groaned.

  “What’s wrong? Do you need the old photos for a school project?”

  I paused, scooping up some parmesan cheese from the cutting board and dropping it in my mouth. “Um, yeah,” I said after I swallowed. “A school project.”

  “Well, if you really need the pictures, you could ask Scott. I bet he has a few boxes of old photos lying around somewhere.”

  “Okay.” At least it wasn’t a total dead end. “How did you two meet, anyway?”

  “Oh, freshman year, I guess.”

  “In what class? Or did you meet on campus?”

  Mom stared down at the sauce. Then she started sprinkling in spices, a teaspoon of this, a teaspoon of that. Finally, she dropped the spoon against the side of the pot and wiped her hands on her jeans. “In class. I think it was English or psychology or something. It was a long time ago, Sunny.”

  “I know that.” I sat down at the kitchen table, tucking my feet underneath me on the chair. Mom didn’t have a bit of romance in her. She couldn’t even remember where they first met! “Where did you go on your first date?”

  Mom started stirring the sauce again. Round and round the spoon went, like she was trying to figure out the answer to one of the world’s greatest mysteries.

  “Mom?” I asked again.

  “Oh, sorry,” she said, screwing the caps on the jars of spices and putting them back in the rack.

  “I asked you where you went on your first date with Scott.”

  “First date? Hate to disappoint you, but I really can’t remember.”

  “Oh.” I twisted a strand of my hair. “Well, what did you used to do together for fun?”

  “We were mostly friends at first. There was a group of us that hung out together. Though we haven’t really stayed in touch with most of them. I wonder what Miranda and Kenny are doing these days. We were both in their wedding, you know.”

  “Why didn’t you and Scott get married after college?” I asked, even though I’d asked the question many times before. Maybe this time, I’d get a different answer. “You were dating as long as Miranda and Kenny were.”

  Mom paused. Another long one. This time I was going to wait her out.

  “Oh, I don’t know…. Neither of us was interested in marriage, I guess. What’s with all the questions tonight, anyway? I’m sure you don’t need this kind of information for a school project.”

  “Just curious. You never talk about it.”

  Mom shrugged and stared into the pot like she’d find her memories there.

  “It seems like if someone has been dating for years and years that they’d want to get married—”

  “That’s not how it was with us,” Mom said, but her voice had changed. It had a finality to it. She was finished with the conversation. She glanced up at the clock. “Do you mind watching the sauce for a while? It needs to simmer for about twenty minutes. Stir it once in a while, okay? I need to finish my critique before the chat room tonight.”

  “Oh, okay.” Before I could say another word, Mom had walked out of the room, leaving me with the simmering pasta sauce and a whole lot of unanswered questions.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Jessie didn’t look up at me when I walked into art class the next day. She didn’t look up when my chair scraped against the concrete floor as I sat down next to her, either. She was reading a paperback, but I could tell by the way her shoulders hunched that the reason she wasn’t looking up had nothing to do with her book.

  “Hi,” I said. “What are you reading?”

  She held up the paperback for a millisecond, long enough for me to see the word Boyfriend in the title. Then she turned back to her book until Ms. Rusgo called for our attention.

  “Hello, hello,” she said in her usual energized voice. “Today we’re going to work on something fun. We’re going to use clay to create original pinch pots!”

  While Ms. Rusgo demonstrated how to shape the clay to form pots, my mind raced with ideas. “There’s no such thing as a right or wrong way to create pottery,” Ms. Rusgo continued. “If you don’t like the way your pot is shaping up, feel free to start over. But remember, some of the most amazing art has been made because of the imperfections. You might think it’s lopsided; someone else will look at it and only see the beauty and originality in your creation.”

  I got to work right away, almost forgetting Jessie was nearby until I heard her pounding her clay next to me. Ms. Rusgo stopped at our table. “Jessie. Oh, Jessie!” Ms. Rusgo leaned over and put an arm around her. “I sense some frustration in the way you’re approaching this project. There’s no need to pound … use your fingers instead of your fist to work with the clay, to knead it like dough. There now, that’s much better,” she said as Jessie began rolling the dough back and forth on the table.

  “Come on, chin up!” Ms. Rusgo said cheerily before she came around to my side. “You can do this, Jessie.”

  “Now, Sunny, this is wonderful! I sense that you and the clay are working together instead of against each other. I can’t wait to see what you come up with.”

  Jessie kicked her foot against the table leg and smushed all the clay back together in a ball.

  “Do you want some help?” I whispered.

  She dropped the clay on the table and turned to face me. “I saw you yesterday.”

  I swallowed. “Yesterday?”

  “You were sitting out front with that red-haired girl.”

  “Lydia?” Why couldn’t Jessie at least use her name?

  “Yeah, Lydia Applehead, or whatever she’s called—”

  “Applebaum. Her name’s Lydia Applebaum.”

  “Whatever. Anyway, I thought you had an appointment after school.”

  My mind raced. Two years of Odyssey of the Mind should have made me a quick thinker. Where were my spontaneous skills when I needed them?

  “You admit you lied to me, then?” Jessie asked, her voice getting louder. A couple of kids turned around to stare at us.

  Ms. Rusgo called out, “Shhh, shhh, quiet work produces creative expression.”

  “No,” I lied, again. Going back to my original lie sounded better than making up a new one. “My appointment was super
quick. At the orthodontist. He checked my teeth to see if I needed braces, and then he let us go. Mom said I could come back for the rest of the OM meeting. I mean, I didn’t want to walk in on Drama Club late when I’d never been before.”

  Jessie was studying me carefully through narrowed eyes, but I could tell she was thinking about what I’d said, wondering if I was telling her the truth.

  “Plus, I didn’t know where Drama Club was meeting, so I went to OM.”

  Jessie stared at me a minute longer, then went back to rolling her clay back and forth on the table. At least she wasn’t pounding it, which I took as a positive sign.

  After a little while, Jessie asked, “Do you need them?”

  I looked up at her. “Need what?”

  “Braces? Isn’t that what you went to the orthodontist for?”

  “Oh, that. Yeah.” I showed her my teeth. You couldn’t ignore evidence like that.

  Jessie nodded and turned back to her clay and we worked quietly for the rest of the class. When the bell rang, she picked up her backpack and headed out of the room without waiting, like she usually did.

  I couldn’t let her get away. If I didn’t sit with her today, it would be like a door closing … One that wouldn’t open again.

  “Hey, Jessie!” I called out. “Wait up!”

  She stopped at the doorway.

  “You’re not still mad at me, are you?” I asked as I fell in step beside her. “I mean, because it’s not my fault I had an orthodontist appointment—”

  “I’ve decided I’m not going out for Drama Club,” Jessie said. “I’ve already got too much going on since I’m on a dance team and I’ll have cheerleading practice soon. Plus, none of my friends are joining.”

  “Oh,” I said, feeling like I’d just dropped my heavy backpack in the middle of the hallway and I could move twice as fast. Now I didn’t have to worry about coming up with an excuse again next week. “That’s great—I mean, it sounds like you’re really busy.”

  “Yeah.” Jessie didn’t say anything until we were almost at the cafeteria. Then she stopped and turned to face me. “Just don’t do that again.”

  I gave her a puzzled look.

  “Lie to me. I need to trust my friends, and I don’t like liars.”

  When I stood there, frozen to the spot, she grabbed me by the wrist. “Come on, Sunny. The others will be wondering where we are.”

  Stung by Jessie’s words, I followed her to the lunch table, where I stayed quiet until the bell rang for fourth period.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  The rest of September flew by. Once we’d settled on the problem, our OM team got straight to work brainstorming ideas for the skit. Thanks to Avi and his out-of-space ideas, our main character was going to be Annalise Alien, and we had an awesome idea for our solution. Lydia still barely looked at me during practices, but when I made suggestions she didn’t shoot them down.

  As for Jessie, she was still talking to me during art class and letting me sit with her crowd during lunch, but our friendship seemed to have skidded to a stop after I’d lied about the appointment, and I didn’t know what to do about it. Sunny’s Super-Stupendous Plan for Getting Mom and Dad Back Together seemed to have hit a lot of dead ends as well. I was like a car spinning its wheels in the mud, trying different things but going nowhere.

  That’s why I found myself doing something on the first Monday in October that I never thought I’d have the nerve to do. As soon as Jessie sat down next to me at the art table, I said, “You want to come over after school some day this week?”

  Jessie looked at me with an expression on her face I couldn’t read. Was she trying to think fast to come up with an excuse like I had done when I didn’t want to go to the Drama Club meeting with her?

  Then she shrugged. “Okay,” she said, pulling a datebook out of her backpack. “I can do Friday. Why don’t you come over to my house instead? Mom can pick us up.”

  “Yeah, sure,” I said, letting out a deep breath. Jessie snapped her planner shut and tossed it back in her backpack. I was excited. This was my chance to work on two problems at once—fixing my friendship with Jessie and planning Mom’s makeover. With Jessie’s expert fashion advice, Mom was sure to look like a model by the time we were through.

  ***

  “You have a really nice house,” I told Jessie as we sat in her huge, open kitchen Friday afternoon. It was as clean as Grandma Grace’s, with shiny, uncluttered countertops.

  “It’s okay,” Jessie said with a shrug. “The best part is the basement. We have a Ping-Pong table, video games, stuff like that.”

  “Wow. Do you have brothers or sisters?”

  “Nope, just me and Mom.”

  I wanted to ask her about her dad, but didn’t want to sound nosy. Her parents could be divorced, or her dad could have died … or she could even have a strange situation like me.

  “What about you?” Jessie asked. “Do you have any brothers or sisters?”

  “I have a sister in third grade.”

  “Why’d you move down here from New Jersey?”

  I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. “My mom wanted to go back to school, so we came down here to stay with my grandmother.”

  “Did your dad move in with your grandma, too?”

  I paused. “Actually, he’s still in New Jersey.”

  “So your parents are splitting up. Well, don’t worry. It’ll be okay. My mom and dad used to fight all the time. Now it’s a lot better.”

  “Really? When did your parents get divorced?”

  “About two years ago. Dad has a new girlfriend. A really young girlfriend.”

  “That stinks.”

  Jessie took a sip from her water bottle. “I don’t see him that often, but whenever I do, he buys me everything I want. It’s not that bad.”

  “My parents aren’t splitting up, though. They get along pretty well.”

  “Then why didn’t your dad come with you?”

  I looked down at my clementine, concentrating on pulling apart the sections carefully. “He couldn’t leave his store. We’re going back in two years, when Mom finishes her degree.”

  “That’s how it starts,” Jessie said, a knowing edge to her voice. “They try to act like everything’s okay, but who do they think they’re fooling? Mom and Dad used to fight so much I was almost relieved when they finally told me they were getting a divorce.”

  “My parents never fight. They’re best friends,” I said, though I wasn’t sure that was true anymore. Best friends talked to each other. Best friends wanted to spend time together, and live in the same state, at least.

  Jessie didn’t say anything more, but she raised one eyebrow like she didn’t believe a word I was saying. I’d told her all I wanted to about Mom and Scott, and I certainly didn’t plan to share that I was adopted—but only by Mom—so I picked up a piece of popcorn, tossed it in the air, and caught it in my mouth. Then I tossed two pieces and caught those, too.

  “Bet you can’t catch three,” Jessie finally said.

  “Bet you can’t catch one.”

  Jessie tossed a piece in the air and it landed on her nose. I giggled.

  “Give me a chance,” she said, and after a few more tries she got the hang of it.

  Soon we were both up to threes, popcorn littered the kitchen floor, and we were making so much noise that Mrs. Landers came in to check on us. “Girls, what in the world is going on in here?”

  I took one look at Jessie’s mom standing there with her hand on one hip, and I stopped tossing and giggling. I wondered if I’d messed up any chance of being invited back. I kicked the pile of popcorn under my feet.

  “It’s okay, Mom. No big deal,” Jessie said. “We’ll clean up.”

  Mrs. Landers gave Jessie a harsh look, then glanced over at me. “Don’t forget to use a broom. I don’t know how you managed it, but there’s popcorn all over the kitchen floor.”

  “No problem, Mom,” Jessie said. Mrs. Landers hesitated, then shook her h
ead and left the room. As soon as she was gone, Jessie burst out laughing and tossed a handful of popcorn in the air. I laughed, too, but I knew Mrs. Landers had put an official end to the contest. We finished what was left in the bowl, picked up what we could find, then headed upstairs without sweeping. Grandma Grace would have had a fit if we left her kitchen like that. But I figured if Jessie didn’t think we needed to clean up, I sure wasn’t going to insist on it.

  Jessie’s room was super neat like the rest of the house. I sat down on her bed, not surprised to see the comforter with its peace sign and smiley-face pattern. Her bulletin board was full of photos, and a few posters of movie stars and pop stars were hung on the walls.

  “I like your room,” I said.

  “Thanks. So what do you want to do now? We could go down to the basement and play Ping-Pong, or we could watch some YouTube videos?”

  “How about a makeover?” I said, not wanting to waste any more time. “I mean, since you know a lot about fashion—”

  “Oh, that would be awesome!” Jessie’s eyes lit up. “I was thinking you could use a little help, but I didn’t want to hurt your feelings.”

  My cheeks flamed. “Um, well,” I managed to say as my hand flew to my hair. “My hair’s kind of in that in-between stage.”

  “Oh, don’t worry about that,” Jessie said, opening her top dresser drawer. It had enough little bottles and containers to fill a cosmetics factory. “We can start with your face, and then we’ll straighten up your hair, okay?”

  I got up to take a closer look. “Where did you get all this stuff?”

  “It’s a hobby. Mom doesn’t mind. She lets me wear it.”

  I glanced at Jessie’s face. Most of her eyeliner had worn off, though her eyelids still sparkled with a little blue shadow. “You don’t use all this stuff, do you?”

  Jessie shrugged. “I could, if I wanted to. For a fancy occasion or something. I like to experiment. Come on, let me show you. Just for fun.”

  I wasn’t sure how I was going to get back into the house with my face all made-up, but I knew the sacrifice would be worth it. Jessie seemed so excited about the opportunity to transform me that I was sure she’d forgotten all about my little lie a couple of weeks ago. Maybe our friendship could finally gain some momentum. Even more importantly, if she had fun doing my makeover, I wouldn’t have any trouble convincing her to use her skills and talent on transforming my mom.