Mind Your Own Business, Kristy!

  We piled silently into the Junk Bucket. Charlie was tapping happily on the steering wheel to the beat of a Blade ballad, “Another Girl,” that was blasting from his radio. (Appropriate title, I thought.)

  The car had that syrupy sweet smell of old cologne. I almost gagged. Abby and I gave each other a Look and tried not to crack up.

  As Charlie pulled away from the curb, he started singing along with the radio: “Ohhhhh, I ammm the remaaaains of a lo-o-o-ove that tiiime forgot …”

  I don’t know how we made it home without barfing. Charlie’s voice sounds like the cry of a dying moose. When the Junk Bucket stopped in front of our house, Abby nearly sprinted home.

  “What’s her hurry?” Charlie asked.

  “Allergies,” I said. To your singing, I wanted to add.

  We climbed out of the car and walked toward the back of the house. “Did you decide who you’re going to take to the concert?” Charlie asked.

  “Claudia,” I said. “And you?”

  Sarah … Sarah … Sarah … I hoped.

  “Probably Travis,” Charlie replied. “He likes Blade.”

  We entered the kitchen through the back door. The smell of roast beef blasted us and I practically started to drool.

  Boy, was I hungry. I must have eaten half a cow during dinner. Not to mention about five biscuits. I was partway through my ice-cream dessert when I remembered about the broken bat.

  I glanced at the stove clock. It read 6:37. The sporting goods store downtown would be closing in a few minutes. I’d have to go all the way to the Washington Mall if I wanted to replace it that evening.

  “Can someone drive me to Sportworld?” I asked.

  “Not me,” Charlie said. “I told Travis I’d hang with him after dinner.”

  “You’re the one who broke the bat,” I reminded him.

  “Send me the bill,” Charlie suggested.

  Good old Watson ended up taking me. Just outside Sportworld, he ducked into the gourmet food shop next door. (Watson is not an athlete.)

  Sportworld has a great selection of wooden bats, but I bought a metal one, just in case Charlie decided to show off again.

  Mission accomplished. Clutching my bat, I headed for the gourmet store.

  “Kristy … hi!” called a familiar voice.

  Through the front door of the gourmet store walked Sarah Green. She was with her mom, and both of them were smiling.

  “Hi, Sarah,” I said. “Charlie’s not here.” (Ugh. The words just flew out. I couldn’t stop them. I felt like such a goon.)

  “How’s he doing?” Sarah asked.

  “Fine, I guess,” I replied. “You know, looking at colleges, whatever. It’s kind of confusing.”

  Sarah nodded. “I know. All those brochures are driving me crazy. Well, tell him I said hi.”

  “Really? I mean, sure, I will. He’d like that. A lot.”

  Sarah’s face brightened at that. (Okay, maybe it was just wishful thinking, but it sure seemed that way.) “Great. See you soon.”

  “Good-bye, Kristy,” said Mrs. Green.

  “ ’Bye!” I replied.

  See? Even her mom is nice.

  Angelica, Shmangelica. Charlie was a total fool to break up with Sarah.

  As I walked into the store, I could see Watson at the cheese counter, talking with a clerk.

  I waited by the cashier. My mind was racing into Idea Mode. Sarah still liked Charlie. That was clear. Charlie and Angelica had barely even spoken to each other yet.

  There was still a chance.

  Okay, maybe Charlie and Sarah had fought. Big deal. Why should he lose a great girlfriend over that? Why chase after some strange new girl? Why waste his time? Why waste Krusher Klinic time?

  I was going to bring Sarah back into his life, or my name wasn’t Kristy the Matchmaker Thomas.

  “Hello, Green residence.”

  I nearly hung up. I’d spent half an hour working up the nerve to call Sarah, and now, at the moment of truth, I felt as if I’d swallowed sandpaper.

  I glanced up at the basement door. It was closed. I could hear my family bouncing around upstairs. Shannon was barking gleefully. No one would hear me.

  “May I speak to Sarah, please?” I squeaked.

  “This is Sarah.”

  Steady, Thomas, I said to myself. It’ll work. Just say it.

  “Hi, Sarah,” I began. “This is Kristy Thomas. It was great to see you tonight at the mall. I was thinking about our conversation, and I wanted to ask you a question.”

  “Sure.”

  “Well, it’s about colleges. Charlie’s totally mixed up. He has about a zillion brochures and they all look the same. Mom and Watson keep telling him to narrow the choices down. They ask him what he’s interested in, what kind of job he wants. Does he know? No way. He just shrugs and changes the subject. Now my parents are kind of angry, which makes him angry.”

  “Maybe he should see the guidance counselor,” Sarah suggested.

  “He did, but he said she just asked him the same dumb questions. She’s so busy she barely knows who he is. Anyway, I was asking myself: Who knows Charlie really, really well? I mean, not a grown-up, but a kid his own age who knows the things he likes in school. And then you popped into my mind.”

  “Kristy, um, you know that Charlie and I broke up —”

  “Sure, sure. Maybe just you and I could meet. I’ll sneak you Charlie’s college brochures, and you can tell me what’s good.”

  “But I don’t know much about colleges —”

  “Charlie always talked about how smart and organized you are. Just a few minutes, that’s all. Can we meet at the Argo tomorrow at, say, one o’clock? We’ll have lunch. I’ll treat.”

  “Well …”

  “Great! I knew you would, Sarah. This will be very important to my brother. Thanks. ’Bye!”

  Bingo.

  As I hung up, I murmured, “Yyyyyesss.”

  Now for Phase Two.

  I walked all the way upstairs to the second floor. Charlie’s bedroom door was ajar. He was at his desk, playing a computer game. On his screen, spaceships were bombing each other to smithereens.

  I poked my head in. “Hey, Coach. Good practice today.”

  Click-click-click, went Charlie’s fingers on the mouse.

  BOOOOOM! went the computer.

  Charlie punched his fist in the air. “Got you, you nerd!”

  “Anyway,” I said loudly, “I really appreciate your help. A lot. You know, I was thinking: How can I possibly repay my brother?”

  Click-click-click-click. “You don’t have to.”

  “How about having lunch at the Argo tomorrow, right after practice?”

  Charlie finally put the game on pause and turned around. “You’re my little sister. What if someone sees me?”

  I picked up a sock from his floor and threw it at him. “Ha-ha. Look, I’m treating.”

  “How’d you get so rich?”

  “I save my allowance instead of spending it on dumb computer games.”

  Charlie aimed the mouse at me and clicked it. “You’re asteroid dust. And you pay for everything tomorrow.”

  “Okay. See you.”

  I practically skipped to my room.

  Kristy, you are a genius, I said to myself.

  It was going to work. I knew it.

  * * *

  At Klinic the next day, I couldn’t concentrate.

  Big Ideas are funny. Each one seems to change with time. Sometimes it just seems smarter and smarter. Sometimes you begin to wonder if you’d lost your mind when you thought of it.

  This one was closer to the lost-your-mind variety.

  The idea had seemed perfect the night before. Charlie would see Sarah, Sarah would see Charlie, they’d both realize it was dumb to break up. Happy ending.

  But the more I thought about it, the stupider it seemed. What if it was too soon to bring them together? What if Charlie and Sarah really were sick of each other? What if they became angry at me for setti
ng them up? They might order from the dinner menu and make me pay. They might throw sugar canisters at me.

  I could always wear a batting helmet….

  I tried to put these thoughts out of my mind. It was Day Four of the Klinic, and we had lots of work.

  How did my Krushers do? Pretty well, considering that the Papadakis and Barrett kids both had to miss the practice because of family commitments. For the first time all week, Jamie Newton did not run away when a ball was thrown to him. Jackie made it through the practice without injuring anyone. Claire managed to swing the bat without falling down. Charlie and Angelica seemed to be easing up on the cologne.

  Progress.

  When it was over, David Michael, Charlie, and I piled into the front seat of the Junk Bucket.

  “Uh, we don’t have to squeeze, David Michael,” I said. “The Papadakises aren’t here.”

  “I want to ride up front!” David Michael insisted.

  Charlie leaned out the open window and called out: “Hey, guys! We have some space. Want a ride?”

  I looked outside to see Angelica and the Hsu kids running toward the car.

  Oh, groan.

  The three of them scrambled into the backseat. Angelica must have thanked Charlie a million times. She kept thanking him even after he started driving. Charlie didn’t even grow sick of it. He kept saying “You’re welcome” and “Hey, my pleasure,” as if he’d just given Angelica a winning lottery ticket.

  I was so happy when we finally dropped them off in front of the Hsus’.

  “Well, thanks,” Angelica said (again) as she climbed out.

  “Wait!” Charlie blurted out. “Kristy and I are going to the Argo for lunch. Want to come?”

  Clunk. My jaw hit the floor of the car.

  David Michael was jumping up and down on the seat. “If Timmy and Scott are going, I want to go, too!”

  “No!” I almost shouted. “I mean, no children are allowed.”

  Charlie gave me a funny look. “Kids eat in there all the time.”

  “Uh … well, I only have enough money for two.”

  “I have cash,” Charlie said.

  “Me, too,” Angelica added. “I’ll just drop off the kids and meet you in front of your house!”

  “Ohhhhhhh,” groaned David Michael, Timmy, and Scott.

  Angelica laughed sweetly. “Come on, guys.”

  As Angelica and the Hsus walked toward the house, Charlie zoomed away from the curb.

  “You can’t!” I blurted out. “I mean, she can’t come, Charlie. This was supposed to be just for me and you!”

  “I see you every day, Kristy. What’s the big deal? Besides, you want to thank me for coaching, right? Well, think of Angelica. She’s been here every day helping the kids, too.”

  “But not with baseball! She’s a sitter, Charlie. I’m not inviting the other sitters, am I?”

  Charlie stopped in front of our house. “All seven-year-old sluggers out!”

  “Unfair,” David Michael mumbled as he opened the door and skulked away.

  “That’s it, it’s unfair!” I said. “I mean, here I am, going out of my way. Offering to take you out. And you’re — you’re making it seem like, la-di-da, let’s invite just anyone.”

  Charlie rolled his eyes. “Okay, okay, fine.”

  I could see Angelica running toward us now. Her hair was flowing behind her, her teeth gleaming in the sun. She looked like a toothpaste commercial.

  I wished I had a remote so I could zap to the next channel.

  “Hi!” Angelica said, reaching for the door handle.

  “Uh, Angelica,” Charlie said. “I’m really sorry, but my sister says this was supposed to be some kind of private lunch. She’s, like, angry at me for inviting you —”

  “I’m not angry!” I said. “It’s just that I wanted to thank my brother personally.”

  “Oh.” Angelica nodded. “That’s nice. I wish my sister would do something like that.”

  “Maybe tomorrow?” Charlie said. “Just, you know, me and you?”

  Bing! Back came the toothpaste smile. “Sure!”

  She backed away, and Charlie started away from the curb. “ ’Bye!” he called out. “Sorry!”

  I flopped back into my seat. Boy, was I relieved.

  I also felt like a total jerk. “Don’t be mad at me, okay?”

  “Sure, Kristy.”

  Just hang on, I wanted to tell him. You’ll be glad I did this.

  As Charlie drove into the Argo parking lot, I saw Sarah’s bike in the rack. Fortunately, Charlie didn’t seem to notice it.

  We parked, then walked into the restaurant. My heart was thumping so hard, it felt as if I’d swallowed a jackhammer.

  “Table for two?” asked a waitress.

  “Kristy, over here!” Sarah’s voice called out from my left.

  I turned. Sarah rose from a nearby table, smiling.

  The smile lasted about a nanosecond. She suddenly looked as if someone had erased the color from her face.

  “Charlie?” she said.

  “Uh — uh —” Charlie stuttered.

  “I have to go to the bathroom,” I quickly said.

  Zoom.

  The next time I exhaled, I was standing over the sink. I took a lo-o-o-ong time washing my hands. I counted silently to 257. I thought about something Dawn Schafer once told me: If you want something badly, you visualize it clearly in your mind until it seems you can see it. You can actually will it to become real.

  I closed my eyes and visualized Charlie and Sarah, sitting at a table, sharing a laugh, holding hands. Thanking me, with tears of joy running down their cheeks.

  Then a customer knocked at the door, so I had to leave.

  Sarah was sitting at the table, glumly toying with the utensils. Charlie was standing on the other side of the table, looking at his feet.

  As I approached, he looked up. His eyes were not twinkly.

  “Well, guys,” I said, “I guess I’d better leave you two alone. I can walk —”

  “I’ll drive you,” Charlie interrupted. “I forgot, I was supposed to play basketball with Travis.”

  I glanced at Sarah. “But what about —?” I began.

  “That’s all right,” Sarah said. “I couldn’t stay long anyway.”

  “Okay, ’bye,” Charlie said. He was out the door like a shot.

  “But — but —” I sputtered.

  I looked at Sarah. If eyes were spears, I’d be human shish kebab.

  If I hadn’t run to the Junk Bucket, I think Charlie would have driven off without me. He tore out of the parking lot and lurched onto the street. We were quiet for a few minutes.

  My heart was down around my instep. “Charlie,” I said, “I can explain …”

  Charlie yanked the steering wheel hard onto McLelland Road. I nearly barfed. “You think I’m stupid?” he snapped. “You think I don’t know what that was all about?”

  “Okay, it was dumb, but —”

  “Typical! Typical Sarah Green. She set this up, didn’t she? She used you, Kristy. And you fell for it!”

  “Whaaaat? That wasn’t it at all —”

  “If she wanted to talk to me, couldn’t she just call? She had to pull something like this?”

  “She didn’t pull anything! I —”

  “I’m sorry I ever went out with her!” Charlie skidded to a stop in front of the house. “See you later, Kristy. I’m taking a drive.”

  “But Charlie, it wasn’t Sarah —”

  “Just go, okay? I don’t want to talk about it.”

  It was no use. Charlie wasn’t listening. I stepped out of the car.

  The moment the door shut, he was off.

  I felt about two inches tall.

  That’s Abby. When things go wrong, she tells jokes. The worse the better.

  Fortunately, she’s a good athlete. Which makes the humor less painful.

  Abby and Mrs. DeWitt had brought Buddy and Suzi Barrett and the Kuhn kids to the Krusher Klinic on Wed
nesday. And boy, was I glad to see her. Jokes or not.

  Charlie wasn’t talking to me. It was the day after the Argo disaster, and yes, I’d finally told him the truth about what I’d done.

  I’d also told Abby. She could feel the chill between Charlie and me. She was going overboard to make everyone laugh. The whole team had shown up, so she had a big audience.

  I was playing catch with David Michael, beyond the first-base foul line. Charlie was on the opposite side of the diamond, hitting soft grounders to some of the Pike kids while flirting with Angelica. Abby was in the middle, coaching Claire at home plate.

  Poor Claire. Because she’s so little, she usually brings her own bat. But she’d forgotten it, so now she was struggling with the new metal one. It seemed to be swinging her.

  “Choke up on it, Claire,” Abby said. “Like this.”

  She took the bat from Claire. Then Abby assumed a batting stance, her hands way up toward the thick part.

  “Let me try,” Claire said, taking the bat.

  Thunk. Claire hit the ball off the tee. It rolled slowly toward the middle of the infield.

  “Good one, Claire!” Abby cried out.

  “Yaaaaaaay!” screamed Claire.

  Behind second base, Scott Hsu stuck out his glove and squatted. The ball came to a stop about fifteen feet in front of him. Scott stood where he was, looking a little puzzled.

  “Run in for it!” Abby called out.

  All the infielders — Hannie, Scott, Timmy, Suzi, and Patsy — sprinted toward the ball.

  Abby decided to teach them a lesson. She ran to first. “Uh-oh, here goes the runner! Who’s covering first base?”

  Hannie threw the ball to the empty, playerless space above first. It rolled into foul territory.

  Abby kept running. “I’m stealing second!” she shouted, lifting the base off the dirt and tucking it under her arms.

  The kids were running around like crazy, chasing after the ball and throwing it to no one in particular.

  When Abby reached home, she held second base, third base, and home plate triumphantly over her head. “Three stolen bases!”

  The kids were cracking up. Linny Papadakis had snatched first base and put it on his head.

  Charlie did not find this funny. He trotted over to Abby and said, “You know, we’re supposed to set an example! This is softball, not play-with-the-bases.”