Finally

  The war wound line doesn’t seem appropriate, so I just swallow hard and say, “Little shaving accident.”

  “Yeah, well, now it’s a little soccer accident.” She waves a crew member over and tells him to grab a doctor’s coat from the wardrobe trailer. Before I know it, I’m being hustled over to the sidelines and told to sit on the grass. A “doctor” is bending down next to me, pretending to examine my leg. The “doctor” is my history teacher, Mr. Matthews, who had been walking to his car when he was recruited.

  Brenda calls one of the cameramen over and instructs him to film some footage of the two of us fake-talking, and him fake-wrapping. She sticks a soccer ball under my arm to lend credibility. Like I just love soccer so much that even when I get hurt I can’t part with the ball? Also, it’s very strange to have your history teacher holding your leg. Especially if it’s mutilated and hairy.

  But I can’t complain too much, because I’m so close to Jake and the others now that I can hear their dialogue on the field. From what I can pick up, Jake is the new kid in town, trying out for the school soccer team. Madison is the captain of the girls’ team and doesn’t want him to get picked for reasons we don’t know yet. No one is breaking into song, or running onto the field in a scary mask, so I’m thinking teen comedy/drama is probably the best bet. They film the scene over and over again, although it always looks the same to me. The extras have moved on to relays. Most of them look like they’re ready to keel over.

  My stomach is starting to rumble by the time the director booms, “It’s a wrap!” into his megaphone. The “doctor” helps me up and I wait for Annabelle before heading back to the locker room to grab our stuff. She reaches me right as the actors are leaving the field. We watch as Madison slips her hand possessively into Jake’s. We’re not the only ones to notice this. Behind me I hear a gasp, then an oof sound. I turn in time to see Annabelle helping Kira off the ground. She had tripped over her own feet. The commotion causes Jake and Madison to look over at us. I try to hide behind Annabelle but I’m not fast enough.

  “How are the legs?” Jake asks me.

  Unable to answer, I just smile weakly. Madison looks from Jake to me, and her eyes search my face. I can tell she’s trying to remember where she’s seen me before. Then she glances at Kira, and I can see the memory has come back to her. She starts to laugh. “Jake, you’ve got to see the book this girl made, it’s so funny you won’t bel —”

  I finally find my voice. “They look worse than they feel,” I say loudly, still wishing more than anything that I had my sweats back on.

  “That’s good to hear,” he says.

  Madison glares at me, and pulls him away. Kira hurries away, too, in the opposite direction.

  “Wow!” Annabelle says. “I think Madison Waters hates you!”

  “I know, isn’t that funny?” The girl no one ever notices is hated by a famous movie star. It’s crazy! As we leave the field, one of the production assistants hands us each twenty dollars.

  I can’t wait to tell my parents all about the filming, but when I get home, they’re acting strange. Even stranger than usual. Like they keep smiling, but then keep trying to pretend they’re not smiling by looking all serious. Sawyer is so antsy he won’t stop jumping from foot to foot. My face has pretty much returned to normal, so he’s able to make eye contact again, which is good. I keep hearing all these banging and scraping noises, but I’m too busy telling them about the filming to pay much attention.

  Eventually I get through the story, and Mom and Dad murmur all the right things like “wow” and “interesting” and “that sounds like fun!” Then Dad excuses himself to go work in the dining room, and Mom ushers a squirmy Sawyer into the other room and puts on his potty video, which quiets him right down.

  After a dinner of pizza (with mashed-up carrots and peas hidden underneath the cheese that, as usual, Sawyer doesn’t notice), I pretty much hide out in my room all night, catching up on homework. It’s weird not having my parents over my shoulder asking me if it’s finished and then going over it. But it’s not like they could do that for the rest of my life. Mom comes into the bathroom while I’m brushing my teeth and offers to clean and re-dress my wounds. I get dizzy when I see them uncovered, so I stare at a spot on the ceiling until she’s done. I’m so exhausted that I don’t even care that my bedtime isn’t officially for another half hour. I fall asleep as soon as my head hits the pillow.

  So it’s perfectly understandable that when I wake up an hour later to find two red, glowing eyes staring at me from across the room, I scream at the top of my lungs. Seriously, anyone would have.

  Chapter Thirteen

  I can just make out my parents’ footsteps over the sound of my screams. Untangling myself from my blanket, I jump out of bed and race for the door. It takes a few seconds for the pain in my legs to kick in, but when it does, I stumble, lose my balance, and bump into something that I can’t immediately identify in the dark, but that goes crashing to the floor with a bam.

  I stand in the middle of my room, frozen, as my parents rush in and switch on my light. Blinking fast, I look around wildly for the source of the red eyes and the bam. The first thing I see is the floor, and the huge bag with the words RABBIT PELLETS printed in big, black letters. Then I see the rabbit pellets themselves, scattered to the far corners of the room. Rabbit pellets? Why on earth would a huge bag of rabbit pellets be in my room? Unless …

  I twist around until I’m facing my dresser. Right there, right next to my old snowman lamp, is Kyle (now and forever known as Bunny) happily chomping away on a piece of lettuce.

  Dad looks sheepish. “Um … surprise?”

  I don’t know whether to laugh or cry.

  “We thought you’d see him when you woke up in the morning,” Mom explains, gently leading me around the bag and over to the cage. “Guess we didn’t really think it through.”

  “When … how … when did you get him?” I ask, feeling my heart swell as I watch his little nose move up and down while he eats.

  “Sawyer and I picked him up this afternoon while you were filming your scene. I thought for sure Sawyer would give it away.”

  “But I thought you said I had to wait to get him?”

  Dad puts his hand on my shoulder. “We think you’re responsible enough to take care of him now. We paid for the initial expenses, and you’ll have to cover the upkeep.”

  “I will,” I promise, glancing over at the spilled food that I’ll now have to replace. I really want to hold him, but I remember reading there’s this whole process in getting them to bond with you. The middle of the night probably isn’t the best time for that.

  Mom helps me back to bed while Dad sweeps up the pellets. I gaze happily at Bunny until Dad switches off the light.

  Boy, those red eyes sure do glow in the dark.

  All I can think about at school is Bunny. I can’t wait to get home to play with him. This morning he let me hold him and stroke his nose and ears and I fed him a piece of bread, which he loved. He is soooooo cute! Mom is taking me to the pet store after school so I can buy more pellets and some chew toys.

  At lunch Sari brings us into the hair and makeup trailer. She has a badge around her neck, like the official crew members. It’s VERY cool. All she does is flash the badge and the security people part and let us through. Annabelle immediately sits down in one of the makeup chairs and starts powdering her face with a big cotton puffball. I’m afraid to try any of the makeup.

  “Look at this,” Sari says, holding up a shiny white and green shirt. “It’s part of the soccer uniform Jake wore in the scene yesterday.” She brings it to her nose and sniffs deeply. I wrinkle my nose. I mean, I like Jake, too, but I don’t feel the need to smell his sweat. She drapes it over her shoulder and then directs me into one of the chairs. Leaning over the counter, she plugs in a hair straightener and turns it on.

  “My hair’s already pretty straight,” I point out.

  She shakes her head. “This does more than just s
traighten your hair.” She picks up a section of my hair, places it between the two halves of the straightener, and runs it down the length of it. I feel my hair when she’s done. It’s so smooth and silky, it feels like butter. “Wow! No wonder Madison’s hair always looks so great.”

  Sari picks up another section, then glances out the small window above the mirror. She quickly tosses Jake’s shirt back on the counter and grabs a tube of red lipstick out of Annabelle’s hand. “C’mon,” she urges. “We’ve gotta go!” She races down the steps of the trailer and takes off, followed by Annabelle. It’s still not easy for me to move very quickly because of my legs, so I trail behind. I catch up a few feet away from the school.

  “Hey,” I say, panting from the effort. “What was that all about?”

  “Yeah,” Annabelle says. “I thought you were allowed to be there.”

  “Technically I’m not supposed to be there unless one of the hair and makeup ladies is around,” Sari admits, glancing nervously back at the trailers.

  I can see someone entering the one we just left.

  “C’mon,” Sari urges. “We need to get back inside before anyone sees us.” She and Annabelle take off in a run toward the door in the courtyard that no one uses except the gardening club. It’s the same one we snuck out through. It’s locked from the outside, though, so we had to stick a rock in there to keep it open. I just wave them on. “Go. Save yourselves.”

  At least they’re nice enough to leave the rock in the door so I don’t have to find a window to crawl through.

  The next time I see Sari again, in the locker room before gym, she pulls me into a corner of the changing area. She’s all sweaty, and not in the glowy way that Madison was sweaty.

  “What’s wrong?” I ask.

  “I’m on probation!” she whispers.

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means they knew I was in there. I went back after my Spanish class because I had this terrible feeling that I left the straightening iron on.”

  My eyes widen. “So what happened?”

  “I walked in, and the three makeup ladies were all in there, and it smelled like smoke. I tried to back out, but they saw me and asked me, and I couldn’t lie. Plus, the thing that caught fire? It was Jake’s soccer uniform! I had left it on the counter with the iron.”

  “Wow!”

  “I know! They had to throw it out and everything.”

  “So what happens now?”

  “I have to be really good and not break any more rules.”

  “Can you do that?”

  She nods. “I think so.” Then she lowers her voice again and adds, “One good thing did come out of it.”

  “What?”

  She reaches under her shirt and pulls out a wad of material. She unfurls it to reveal Jake’s uniform, complete with scorch marks and a huge hole in the middle.

  “Well, I’m glad to see you’re not breaking any more rules.”

  When Mom picks me up from school, she announces we’ll be dropping Sawyer off on the way for a playdate with a boy from his preschool class. Apparently this kid was potty trained at, like, six months, and she’s hoping it’ll rub off on Sawyer. They live in a part of town we don’t go to very often, so it takes a while to find the house. Sawyer spends most of the ride singing an ode to Hot Lips that he made up off the top of his head.

  We finally pull up to the curb, and Mom gathers Sawyer and his diaper bag from the back. “Wait here,” she instructs.

  “Where am I going to go?”

  She disappears inside the house, and I daydream about Bunny and the games we’re going to play when I get home. Not even a minute later, an elderly woman who reminds me of Grandma passes by, walking a big yellow dog. Actually, it’s more like the dog is walking her. She’s barely holding on. Then right while I’m watching, a squirrel darts across the street, and the dog takes off after it, barking and yanking the leash right out of the woman’s hand. She stands there, clearly stunned, then starts after him. There’s no way she’ll catch up, though. She’s not what you’d call spry.

  I check the front door of the house Mom just went into, but it’s still closed. Seeing no other option, I push my car door open and take off after the dog. I cut across two people’s front yards, neatly dodging flower gardens and hedges, until I can step on the leash to make him stop. He halts in surprise, then surrenders and hangs his head. I lead him back into the street and wave to the woman, who is still half a block away. She stops when she sees me, and I bring the dog back to her.

  “Thank you, young lady,” she says, breathless. I hand her the leash, and she takes it with a trembling hand. “He’s a feisty one.”

  “It was no problem. I could use the exercise.”

  Up close I can see she doesn’t really look like Grandma, but she has the same kind smile. “Um, I better get back to my mom. She doesn’t like me to talk to strangers on the street.” Ugh, why did I say that to this nice old lady? Now I sound like a jerk.

  But she just waves good-bye as the dog pulls her down the sidewalk again. I hurry back to the car and swing the door shut behind me just as Mom comes out of the house.

  “Sorry that took so long,” she says as she climbs in the car. “You know how I get leaving him at a new place.”

  “No problem.” I want to tell her about the lady and the dog, but then she’d know I left the car. It’s not until we’re walking through the mall parking lot and my legs ache that I realize I hadn’t even thought about them while I was running after the dog.

  The manager of the pet store is out in front, piling up a pyramid of dog food cans. “Figured I’d see you today,” he says as we enter. I turn around, assuming he’s talking to someone behind me. But no one’s there.

  “Me?” I ask. “You knew I’d knock over the rabbit food?”

  He looks from me to my mom, and back again. “You’re here for more food?”

  I nod. “I spilled most of it last night. Long story.” I glance accusingly at my mom, who pretends not to notice.

  “So everything’s good with Kyle?” he asks, standing up to straighten the can on the top of the pyramid.

  “Sure. I renamed him Bunny, though.”

  He chuckles at that, and I remind myself that he doesn’t like rabbits. He shows us where the chew toys are, and then when we’re ready to ring it all up, he tosses in a few free toys and some nibbling sticks. “On the house,” he says with a wink.

  Strange guy.

  Mom carries the bag out of the store. She’s used to carrying Sawyer around all the time, and he weighs a lot more than that bag. She stops in front of the ear-piercing store and sets it down on the floor.

  “Do you need me to carry it the rest of the way?” I ask, kind of hoping she’ll say no.

  She shakes her head. “I thought maybe, since we’re here, that you’d like to get your ears pierced today.” She reaches into her pocket and pulls out Grandma’s earrings! She must have slipped them out of my dresser drawer.

  At first my heart leaps. My ears pierced! Finally! And then I remember that boy and the screaming. “Um, I’m not sure….”

  Mom almost drops the earrings in surprise. “You’ve been begging me since you were eight years old. What gives?”

  I tell her about the teenage boy. She laughs. “Honey, men are wimps. Why do you think it’s women who have the babies? C’mon, you’ll be fine.” She dangles the earrings in front of me. “They sure do bring out your eyes….”

  They really do. But I’d have to wear those starter earrings first anyway. “Maybe I should get the contacts today instead?”

  She glances at her watch. “We need more time for that. So what do you say?”

  I peer into the store window and see a six-year-old girl hop off the stool, smiling and holding her mom’s hand. If she can do it and not even cry, Mom must be right about the men-being-wimps thing. “Okay, let’s do it.”

  While Mom signs me up at the desk, I head over to the rack of starter earrings and pick out the gold
balls. No one else is waiting, so Mom tells me it’s my turn. The lady holding the piercing gun is the same one who was here last time. As I settle in the chair, I can’t help asking about the boy and if he ever went through with the piercing. At first she seems not to remember who I’m talking about, and I wonder if that means a lot of kids wind up crying and leaving, and that makes me want to leave again.

  “We offer ice to numb the ear first, and some kids — teenage boys especially — pass on the ice. You know, they want to tough it out.”

  “I’ll take the ice,” I say hurriedly. She smiles and reaches around to a little freezer. While she’s pulling out the ice pack, Mom asks, “Can you tell me how you sterilize your equipment?”

  The lady hands me a small ice pack in the shape of a cat’s head, and brings my hand up to my right ear. Then she turns to Mom and says, “We clean the area with antiseptic before we begin, and then dab on some antibiotic cream afterward.” She waves the metal thing around in the air. “And this is a single-use piercing gun. The only thing to actually make contact with the skin is the hypoallergenic gold stem of the earring.” She turns back to me. “I’ll be going over how to care for your ears, and will give you instructions to take home. You can always call with any questions.”

  Mom seems satisfied. My ear is getting cold.

  “You ready?” the lady asks.

  I lower the ice pack and nod. I’m tempted to reach for Mom’s hand but don’t want to look like a baby.

  “Okay,” she says. “First, I’m going to wipe your ear with the antiseptic, then I’ll place a dot on the right spot.” She leans over and takes my ear in her hand. I close my eyes. She fiddles around a little, but my ear is so numb I don’t even feel the cotton ball or the pen touch it. I decide that, babyish or no, I want to hold my mom’s hand. I open my eyes to reach for it, when Mom says, “It looks great, honey!”