If a Tree Falls at Lunch Period

  "You talk to the rev about this?"

  Walk shakes his head. "My own personal theory, man."

  Jamal laughs. "If you're interested, I got some business."

  "Last time you say that, you sell the rug out from under us."

  "That was once, man. And it was only because I got a good price for it." Jamal's smile shows all in his eyes. His mouth is straight as a toothpick.

  "We livin' on the floor now. Hard as rock," Walk tells him.

  "Look, I wanna show you something I've been workin' on."

  "For real?"

  Jamal nods. "How 'bout Tuesday I come over show you?"

  "Can't Tuesday. Student council meeting."

  Jamal snorts. "On student council already?"

  Walk shrugs.

  Jamal nods and nods, watching Walk. "You like that new school?"

  Walk shakes his head. "I'd be back at City in a hot minute if it weren't for Sylvia. You know—"

  "Yeah, you would," Jamal interrupts, his lids low over his eyes.

  "I would! You don't—"

  "Sure," he snorts, cutting Walk off.

  The choir's up front. One voice humming in the microphone. Then—boom—both electric pianos and the chorus of voices lift the whole place up.

  During the service, Jamal's head flops back. He's snoring and drooling on a brand-new, blue upholstered pew. Walk sees Aunt Tanesha glaring at Jamal. She's in the choir or she'd be on him in a flash.

  A few minutes later, Aunt Shandra storms over clickety-click, clickety-click in her hot pink pointy-toed shoes. She slaps him on the side of the head, her bracelets jingle-jangling, then slaps him again. He wakes up for a minute, but by the time the rev is done, he's asleep again.

  On the way home, Sylvia starts in. "So what did Jamal say?"

  "Nothin'."

  "I saw you talking to him."

  "We talked about shoes."

  "You need to tell me what you know. Shan's worried. Tanesha's worried. He's into something he shouldn't be." She shakes her head. "Kid's got his whole life in front of him if he doesn't screw it up."

  "He's just doin' business like always. You know Jamal."

  "Always trouble when a kid's got secrets like that. If he was proud of what he was doing, we'd be hearing about it."

  Walk shrugs.

  "You don't know anything?" Sylvia asks.

  "Nope," he says. "Nothing."

  Fifteen

  Kirsten

  My eyes are puffy. My nose is red. I look as if I've been thrown in the washer and slapped around in there. I've been crying practically since I got home from Balderis's yesterday.

  My mother has asked me three times if everything is all right. "Just cramps," I tell her. That's the nice thing about your period. All you do is say the word and people back away. I know Kippy knows the truth, though. She has stacked four boxes of Kleenex outside my door.

  I go online, again.

  How could u do this 2 me?

  Send.

  What have I ever done 2 u?

  Send.

  I'm never going 2 talk 2 u again.

  Send.

  I will never ever 4give u. I might pretend I do, but I won't.

  Send.

  I've called Rory's house maybe fifty times. "You've reached the Dunkel household. If you'd like to leave a message for Rebecca, press one; Arthur, press two; Rory, press three." I hang up. Rory wouldn't call me back, anyway. My only hope is to get her mom.

  Now the phone rings, but it's my father. "Kirsten? Everything okay?"

  "Yeah, fine," I say. "Where are you?"

  "I'm still at the fund-raiser. Will you tell your mom?"

  "Uh-huh."

  "How's school going? Starting out on the right foot this year?"

  "Sure, Dad, sure."

  When he hangs up, I call the Dunkels again. Still nothing. It's 5:30 Sunday night by the time the real Rebecca Dunkel answers. My voice pounces on her. "I need to talk to Rory."

  "Kirsten. How are you?"

  "Fine. Is Rory there?"

  "She isn't. But I will certainly let her know you called."

  I don't like the way she says this. Rory will never call me.

  I wonder if I could walk to her house. But then what would I do when I get there? Sit on her? Let her hamster out?

  Before I can figure it out, my mom comes in.

  "Honey." She sits on my bed. "Are things going okay at school?"

  Oh great, now she knows something. "Why?" I ask.

  "Just wondering."

  God, I hate when she lies.

  She sighs. "I just happened to be talking to Rebecca and she said—"

  "You just happened to be talking to her?"

  My mother's head moves back. Her eyes move fast from side to side. "That's right."

  I roll my eyes. "She said what?"

  "There had been some problem at school. She wasn't sure about the details. Rory seemed pretty upset. Was there a problem?"

  I can't tell my mom about the wallet and the food. I would rather die.

  I take a breath. "Rory is acting weird."

  She looks over her glasses. "You guys had a little tiff? Is that it?"

  I shrug.

  She seems to take this as a yes. Her lips pucker like she's thinking it all out. "Rebecca said she'd try to find out more. She said she'd call me back."

  "Mom!" I plead. She means well, but I really wish she'd leave me alone. I don't need her help on this. I'm almost thirteen.

  "This is important. They're my friends, too, Kirsten," she says.

  When it's time for bed, she's back with her bowl of air-popped popcorn. She grabs my Seventeen, places it on my duvet, and sets the bowl on top of it. "Here's what's happening. Rory is starting to spend time with Madison, Brianna, Maya, and Lauren. She says you don't like these girls. Is that true?"

  I shrug.

  "Well, they seem to think you don't. Rebecca says they don't trust you."

  They don't trust me?

  "Girls like to know that you're one of them. And when you strike out on your own the way you do..." She sighs. "People get suspicious. And I guess none of them liked that Nellie girl you were friends with last year. The one who moved away."

  The tears well up in my eyes. "Sure, Mom. This is all my fault."

  "I'm not saying this is your fault. It's just one of those things."

  "Just one of those things" means: This sucks and you have to put up with it.

  "But when people don't trust you, they stay away. Rebecca says these are nice girls. Brianna's mom, Jacqueline, is cochair of the auction. She's quite charming. And Maya's mom is a chatterbox—so bubbly and fun. Lauren's mom I don't know very well. But Madison's mom is a real go-getter.

  "Rebecca says Rory's ready to branch out. Have a larger circle of friends, which I think is very healthy." She looks around my room. "Everyone wants to be popular, Kirsten. You can't blame Rory for that."

  "I can't blame Rory? Whose mother are you?"

  "You know I'm on your side, Kirsten, but if you want just Rory as your friend, I think you're going to be disappointed. You have to be a part of the whole group." Her shoulders settle into this.

  I sink my teeth into the inside of my cheek. "Everyone knows Brianna isn't nice."

  "Well, Rebecca says that you haven't been all that nice to her. She says Brianna is a natural-born leader, but she's very sensitive."

  "Brianna sensitive?"

  "She's very involved with the Save the Salmon movement. She cares deeply about..."

  "Fish?"

  "The environment," my mom says. "Look, the thing is, you just want to be one of the crowd for a while. One of the crowd, but you have to have a little something they want, too." She smiles. "You know, I saw the cutest boots at Nordstrom. You have a day off from school tomorrow. Why don't we hop in the car and take a ride to the mall and try them on?"

  I know my mom's trying. I know she is. But I've seen the pictures of her when she was twelve. She was thin. She was beautiful. Sh
e was an ice-skating champion and she had a million friends. The only thing I'm good at is Nintendo 64, which no one even plays anymore. Plus I have every episode of Friends practically memorized and my closet is also very neat.

  How do I tell her that I'm a loose piece that doesn't fit anywhere? How do I say the world is whole without me?

  "Sure, Mom," I tell her.

  When she goes out, she's smiling like she's just earned 150 mother points for solving this for me.

  The door closes behind her. The room is dark. I stare at the line of light leaking through the bottom of the door.

  Sixteen

  Walk

  Sylvia is at the Y doing her Jazzercise class. Walk has the door wide open, the fan on high, but it doesn't help. It's really hot today. Why didn't he go with Sylvia? He could be in the pool right now instead of sweating over his homework.

  Jamal pulls up in a black SUV with tinted windows. He's up front and this big Terminator guy's driving. Jamal has friends who drive? He's only thirteen.

  B.T., who was in City with Walk, jumps out of the back. B.T. always acts cool like he doesn't know Walk. Today he's pulling along a little suitcase on wheels. What's he got that for? Is he moving in here?

  Walk slides his homework under the chair cushion.

  "What you doin' here, Jamal?" Walk asks.

  "That's all you got for me? Where is the love, man?" Jamal's boys plunk down in the living room. The Terminator guy grabs the remote.

  "No AC?" B.T. scowls.

  Walk shrugs.

  The Terminator flips through the channels. Stops at Rugrats. "Hey, man, I love these little dudes." He pulls off his do-rag and settles in.

  "Got some product to show you," Jamal tells Walk. "Really fine stuff. Not goin' to see this every day." He nods to B.T. B.T. unzips the suitcase.

  "Product? What are you talkin' about, Jamal?" Walk asks.

  "Tryin' to make some money, man. This is how you do it. I'ma show you." He cocks his small head. Earrings glisten in each ear.

  Sweat drips down Walk's chest. He looks at the clock. "Sylvia be home any minute."

  "So?" Jamal says.

  "I don't do this stuff, Jamal."

  "Everybody does this stuff. Don't you know anything?"

  "Jamal, c'mon. Not here."

  "This is how white people get rich. Seriously." Jamal smiles at him.

  "No, it isn't."

  "They don't get their hands dirty. They get other people do it for them. I'ma let you buy it first. Then we'll talk opportunities. This is a path paved with gold, man. Paved with gold."

  B.T. is unloading boxes now, different size boxes. All with one word on the top: AMWAY.

  Laundry detergent, dishwashing detergent, brass cleaner, toilet cleaner, floor cleaner, sink cleanser.

  Jamal nods. "Soap, man. First you sell. Then you get other people workin' for you and you know what happens when they sell? You make money without doin' one thing. Just sit on your booty and the money pours in."

  "This is soap?" Walk asks.

  "Not just soap. Best stuff there is. You can't buy this in any store anywhere. Not on the Web, either. You can only buy it from me."

  "Yeah?" Walk says.

  "Isn't anybody doesn't need soap. It's the American dream, man, right here. I've been to a weekend. They told me all about it."

  Seventeen

  Kirsten

  Kirsten! Get up!" my mom calls from downstairs. I stick my head under the covers. "I've got the flu. I'm going to throw up," I tell her when she knocks on my door.

  "Honey, Rory just wants more friends. That doesn't mean she doesn't want to be your friend. You two have had spats before and you've always patched them up."

  My mother sounds so reasonable. I want to believe she's right.

  I take a deep breath and reach for my brand-new boots. I didn't buy the Nordstrom ones because I couldn't get them over my calves. They just scrunched down like sloppy socks. But I got these other ones at Macy's. They're ankle high, real leather, and incredibly cute. If you took a picture of my feet, you wouldn't even know I'm fat.

  "Kirsten!" I pull the duvet back over my head. "Honey?" My mom pokes her head in my door. "We're going to be late."

  "I'm sick, Mom. I have the wastebasket right here. I'm going to throw up any minute. Any second!"

  "Are you sure this isn't about Rory?" she asks, her eyes full of pain.

  "I'm sure." I nod with too much enthusiasm.

  My mom sighs and walks out. A few minutes later she's back, with the phone in her hand. "Kirsten, it's Rory. She wants to talk to you."

  The phone hasn't rung. My mother called her mother. Can this get any more humiliating? I sit up in bed, take the phone, and wait until my mom leaves the room.

  "Rory." My voice cracks.

  "Brianna made me. She forced me," Rory says. "You have to forgive me, Kir. You have to."

  Rory had a good reason. She did.

  "You'll never believe what happened. Never," she says.

  "Why did Brianna do it?" I ask.

  "I'll tell you all about it at school. Your mom's going to drive us. C'mon, Kir, don't worry. This is all going to be fine."

  It's so foggy on the way to Rory's house, my mom has her headlights on. She has to go really slow or she'll slam into someone on Rory's twisty road. Yesterday, it was blistering hot; today the fog came in and it's freezing.

  I read to Kippy from All About Electrical Storms. She knows how to read as well as I do, but she still likes me to read to her. "Read the part about getting electrocuted in the bathtub, please!" she begs.

  I've been reading out loud for the last five minutes but not a single word has entered my brain. My mom pulls into the carport next to Rory's mom's Mercedes SUV then backs out to turn around. I stay where I am next to Kippy and make Rory climb over me. I know this is rude but I don't care. I don't care that Rory sees me holding Kippy's hand, either. So what if she thinks I'm a baby. So what.

  Rory gives a little wave to my mom. "Hi, Rachel." There's something so girlfriendy about the way Rory says my mom's name. This has always bothered me a little. Now it bothers me a lot.

  Rory's eyes track to the long handwoven sweater I'm wearing that's really my mom's. She's never let me borrow it before and I'm really hoping it stays foggy, so I can keep it on all day. "Kirsten, you look so nice."

  "She got new boots," Kippy blurts out. "See!" She points to my feet.

  "Yeah. They're cool." Rory looks sideways at me—a scared sneak of a look.

  "Aren't they darling?" my mom asks into the rear-view mirror.

  "Rachel, my mom says to tell you she checked with Brianna's mom and Thursday morning right after drop-off is fine for the auction meeting."

  "Perfect," my mom chirps.

  This all sounded better on the phone. Like maybe Rory really did feel sorry. Like maybe it was all Brianna's fault.

  When my mom pulls into the drop-off, I climb out and Kippy squeezes hard before she lets go.

  "Thanks for the ride, Rachel. Bye, Kippy," Rory says.

  The door closes. Kippy waves.

  Don't leave me here. Please, couldn't you homeschool me? But my mom has already pulled away.

  "So." I can't look Rory straight in the eye.

  "It was a mistake, Kirsten. An honest mistake."

  I snort. "A mistake?"

  "I thought I saw you take the wallet. But I was mistaken."

  "What, it was my evil twin you saw?"

  "Very funny."

  "You said Brianna made you do it."

  "She did." Rory's eyes are round. "She said she had to know if I was going to be their friend or not. She said it was all in fun and if you were really my friend you'd understand."

  "In fun?"

  Rory gets out her inhaler and puts it in her mouth. "Look"—she takes a gaspy breath—"I don't want to be in the middle of this. I just want to be everybody's friend. That's what nobody understands."

  "You weren't responsible. You were just along for the ride."
>
  "I didn't do anything."

  Rage flashes inside me. "Brianna put Balderis's wallet in my backpack, right? And then you lied and said I stole it. That wasn't anything?"

  "I said I thought I saw you do it."

  "That doesn't make sense, Rory."

  "You don't know what I thought, Kirsten."

  I scuff my boots on the pavement. "So what are you going to tell the principal?"

  "That I thought I saw you take the wallet, but I was mistaken."

  "And Brianna, what is she going to say?"

  Rory's cheek twitches. "How should I know what she's going to say? Look, it's not like I'm in this group. Madison is the only one who really likes me. I have to be careful, you know."

  "Careful, huh? And what about me?"

  "I've been telling them how nice you are."

  "I thought you hated Brianna."

  "I never said that."

  "Only a million times."

  Rory shrugs. "Look," she whispers like we're sharing a big secret, "they might give you a try. Your mom is pretty hooked in. She's already called my mom and Madison's mom and Brianna's mom."

  "They might give me a try? Because of my mom?"

  "If you want to be friends with us, maybe you can be. Just don't tell your mom again, all right? My mom, like, wigs over stuff like that."

  "Rory! Kirsten!" Brianna is hurrying toward me, her cell in her hand. "I am so sorry. But I've already talked to Fishhouse about it. We've got it all squared away. And man, do you look cute. Look at those boots. Can I do your hair at lunch, because I'm thinking you'd look just darling with a wrap! Isn't she cute, Rory?" Brianna pets my hair like I'm a dog. "She is so cute."

  "Thanks," I say. "But, um, what did you get squared away? I mean, what did you say to the principal?"

  Brianna shrugs. "I just explained how we were playing hot potato with Balderis's wallet, which we should not have been doing. Definitely should not have." She shakes her head. "It just happened to end up in your backpack. It was naughty of us, wasn't it, Rory?"