Bubble trouble, p.4
Bubble Trouble, page 4
Henry half smiled, so his stupid dimple showed. “No, I haven’t,” he admitted.
“Don’t knock it till you try it,” said Mrs. Alamantia. “It’s just one of the greatest human creations on earth, gathering together to tell a story. And about so many things! There’s a Broadway show about the French Revolution, about cats, about Hamilton—”
“Everyone knows about that one,” announced Henry.
“Don’t interrupt,” I said. “That’s rude.”
Henry lifted one eyebrow and didn’t say anything for a moment. Then he turned to Mrs. Alamantia. “I’m sorry I interrupted,” he said. He actually sounded like he meant it.
“Not a problem. You probably kept me from naming every Broadway show I’ve ever loved,” said Mrs. Alamantia.
“Some people don’t appreciate Broadway,” I said, glaring at Henry’s back as he sat down. But I did. I definitely appreciated Broadway!
When I got home from school, I thought Dad wasn’t home because the car was gone. But Dad was inside, trying to teach Phineas how to stop barking by using K-99.
“Yip. Yip, yip, yip!” squeaked K-99. “Yip! Yi—”
“K-99, quiet!!” said Dad. K-99 quieted down. Then Dad pushed a button that made a doorbell sound. Phineas started barking.
“Quiet, Phineas,” said Dad. Phineas kept barking. Dad repeated the command. Phineas stared at the door and barked more loudly. I covered my ears. He was so loud!
I opened the door. “There’s no one there, see?” I said to Phineas. Phineas stopped barking and looked at me. I patted him on the head. “Good boy.”
“He’s supposed to learn from K-99,” said Dad.
“But he was making my ears ring with his barking,” I said. “And he stopped.” Phineas sat down and looked from me to Dad, then back to me.
“I’ll find a way,” said Dad. “If you want to find a way, you will find a way.”
Dad looked like he was going to try the doorbell again, so I interrupted him. “Where’s the car?”
“The car?” Dad looked puzzled for a minute. Dad was definitely in one of his deep-in-work modes, when the rest of the world disappeared. “Oh yeah. The car is in the shop.”
“What’s wrong with it?” I asked.
Dad chuckled. “What, were you planning to go for a drive?”
I tried not to look panicked. I knew enough that car repairs were not cheap.
“I think it’s the transmission,” said Dad. “The guy said he’d call me in a few hours.” Dad put his arm around me. “Don’t worry, though I know you will. We’re all stocked up on groceries, and I don’t need to go anywhere. If we need anything, we can walk or ride our bikes.”
Dad thought I was worried about not having a car. But it was worse than that—a transmission repair definitely sounded expensive. Maybe I’d have to earn money so we could keep the car!
On Friday night, Dad and I made pizza and plans for the weekend. Normally, it was one of my favorite times of the week because the whole weekend seemed ready for all sorts of possibilities. But this weekend, I had to get my notebook ready for Mr. McRyan’s notebook check, and I was going to ask Dad for help in finding some babysitting.
I carefully spread the pepperoni pieces over the whole pizza so they were evenly distributed, and I set the table. I waited until the pizza was in the oven and Dad was making the salad. I cleared my throat and said, “So, I was thinking of doing some babysitting.”
Dad stopped in the middle of tossing the salad. “You want to babysit? You?”
I squirmed in my seat. “Yeah. What’s wrong with that?”
“Well, on numerous occasions, you have declared small children to be filthy, sticky, germy, gross, and disgusting. And that’s when you were still a small child yourself,” said Dad. “I just figured you weren’t going to be into babysitting. I know your mom wasn’t.”
“She wasn’t?” I loved finding out these little dollops of information about Mom.
“Nope. But somehow, that didn’t stop her from wanting her own children, and here you are, the neatest, tidiest child we could have imagined.” Dad laughed. “So why the sudden interest in babysitting?”
“It’s not sudden,” I said guiltily. “I just think it would be good to have a job, learn some responsibility.”
“Well, I can ask around. I’m sure someone would love your help,” said Dad. He sprinkled some goat cheese on top of the salad and then tossed a chunk to Phineas. Phineas gulped the whole piece down and looked hopefully at Dad for more. “What else is on the agenda?”
“I have to get my notebook ready for Mr. McRyan’s notebook check,” I said.
“Oh, I’m sure your notebook is fine,” said Dad. “That’s one thing I never have to worry about with you, Chloe.”
I don’t want you to have to worry about anything with me, I thought. “No, Dad, you don’t understand. Mr. McRyan’s notebook checks are legendarily hard. He has failed people.”
The timer dinged, and Dad took a peek in the oven. “I’m going to give it another few minutes,” Dad announced. “Look, Chloe, let’s say you did fail. I’d go in and talk to Mr. McRyan and see what was going on.”
“But isn’t it better to just not have the bad thing happen?” I asked.
“Well, sure, but I don’t want you to turn yourself into a pretzel, either,” said Dad. “Sometimes a person can get so busy making sure things don’t happen that they don’t let a marvelous mess happen, either.”
“Marvelous mess?” I said. “Isn’t that like saying a fabulous basement flood?” Dad kept his workshop in the basement, which did flood once.
“I mean, something good that happens when you don’t expect it,” said Dad. “Maybe even when something unpleasant is happening. Like me meeting Mom because I got lost in the hospital.”
“And then it turned out you guys were headed to the same place,” I said, remembering. “Radiology.”
“That’s a marvelous mess,” said Dad. “Maybe I could have planned my way beforehand and checked the maps, but instead I met Mom.”
“I don’t think there are any marvelous messes when it comes to Mr. McRyan,” I told Dad.
I decided to work on my notebook first thing on Saturday morning, while everything was fresh and quiet. The rings in the binder weren’t closing all the way, so I took all the papers out of the binder and set them on the floor into the different categories Mr. McRyan wanted. Notes, tests, projects.
Dad poked his head in. “Whoa. That’s a lot of paper.”
“I told you,” I said, pulling out a new yellow binder. “Everything has to be perfect, and Mr. McRyan does not believe in digital anything.” I started to hold up the stack of Mr. McRyan’s notes when I saw it. “Look!”
Dad stared at the notes on the Great Depression. “What’s wrong?”
“What’s wrong? Do you see that spot? That’s from Phineas slobbering over the five causes of the Great Depression!” Maybe I would have to rewrite it.
Dad squinted. “Aw, Chloe, you can barely see it. And it’s not like you can’t read the writing. It’s all still legible.”
“This is the type of stuff I could get dinged on! That dumb dog!” I threw my head back and shouted, “Phineas!” Immediately I heard the rhythmic thud of Phineas running down the hall and realized my mistake.
“No, no, no!” I leaned forward, trying to protect the papers. But I was no match for Phineas. Phineas barreled into me, sending me and all the papers across the room. “You dumb dog!” I shouted as the papers fluttered around me. “Look at what you did.”
“Phinny thought you were calling him, and he got all excited,” explained Dad. Phineas sat on a pile of papers and panted happily. He started wagging his tail, which sent more papers into the air. “No! Phineas! No!” I glared at Dad. “This is not a marvelous mess! This is a doggy disaster!”
“Sometimes messes are just messes. Try to be calm.” Dad took Phineas out of the room, then came back inside and shut the door. “Now you can clean up in peace.”
All my neat stacks had been decimated. I felt like crying. “This is going to take forever to fix!” Panic rose in my chest. “My papers are all messed up. I’m going to fail the notebook check. I won’t get into a good college …”
“One step at a time,” said Dad. He crouched down next to me and helped collect papers. “Fixing your notebook will take longer than you expected, but you can do it. And your grades in middle school don’t count for college, anyway.” He handed me some papers. “Do you want me to clear the dining room table?”
“Can I go somewhere to work?” I asked.
“Like where?” asked Dad.
My first choice was the library, but it wouldn’t open until noon. I wanted to work now.
“The boba shop,” I decided. “They like people who work quietly. And dogs are not allowed.” Dad opened the door, and Phineas came back in, still oblivious to the damage he had caused. He nudged my hand for a pet, rattling the papers I was holding.
Dad put a hand on Phineas, rubbing his neck. “He didn’t do it on purpose.”
“I know, but still.” I gestured to all the papers. “Now I have to redo all of this.” I thought about the Billy Elliot angry dance. Billy Elliot is a musical about a boy who wants to dance ballet against his father’s wishes; the angry dance involves a lot of screaming and stompy dancing. I wanted to do the same thing, except organize instead of dance.
“Okay, okay, go,” said Dad. He scratched his head. “Is this a bad time to mention that Auntie Sue wants you to call her?”
It’s a great time, snarked my little voice. All the terrible things at once!
“I’ll call her,” I said. I didn’t want to make the Auntie Sue thing harder for Dad. But this weekend was going downhill in a hurry!
Tea Palace was quiet; just a few people were working at their laptops or reading the newspaper. Henry was unpacking a box of napkins, but when he saw me, he told the other person that he’d take my order.
“Are you going to order a real drink this time?” Henry teased.
“A soda is a real drink,” I said.
“Oh, you know what I mean,” said Henry. “What are you doing here so early, anyway?”
I reached into my backpack and pulled out the stack of Phineas-ly arranged papers. Henry’s eyes widened. “You must be an imposter. The Chloe I know would never allow that to happen,” he said.
“The dog decided to ‘help’ me organize my notebook for Mr. McRyan’s class,” I said sourly. “I need a quiet place to get everything sorted out.”
“Well, okay, you’ve come to the perfect place. You just need the perfect drink to keep you company,” said Henry.
“Let’s see,” I said. “The perfect drink would cheer me up because the dog messed up my notebook, help me focus on fixing my notebook, and give me the strength I need to call my aunt.”
“It’s a lot to ask of a drink,” said Henry. “But fortunately for you, I have just the thing. You need a Thai milk tea.”
“Thai tea? Thai tea? Boba is from Taiwan, not Thailand,” I said.
“We don’t discriminate,” said Henry. “We support all the Asians. And are you always this demanding, or am I just lucky?”
“I’m only this way around people who need to be taken down a peg. Or three,” I said.
“So, one Thai tea?” persisted Henry. Make that seventeen pegs.
“Okay,” I said. “That’s one option.”
“It’s the only option,” said Henry. “The only good one for this exact situation.” Henry pressed his palms against the counter and leaned forward. His eyes twinkled. “Trust me; I’m a professional.”
I gave Henry a doubtful look. “And if you’re wrong?”
“I won’t be,” said Henry. “Thai tea has caffeine so you can focus, but it’s sweet so it will cheer you up. And there’s this nutty flavor that, I don’t know, makes you feel you can do anything. Like call difficult aunts. But”—Henry took a breath—“in the unlikely case that you think I’m wrong, I’ll replace your drink for free.”
I looked at the menu board—it really didn’t have anything else I wanted to order. “Fine,” I said. “One Thai tea, please.” And if there’s anything remotely wrong with it, I’m telling you.
“Here you go,” said Henry, handing me the drink.
“Wait, how did that come up so fast?” I asked.
“I’d already put in the order,” said Henry, smiling.
“What if I had gone with a different drink?” I demanded.
“But you didn’t,” said Henry.
“But I could have,” I said.
Henry shrugged. “I guess I would have gotten a Thai tea for my break drink!”
I thought about what my dad had said about marvelous messes. It seemed like Henry was going out of his way to make a mess happen, happy or not. But that wasn’t the worst part.
The worst part was that it was perfect. Cold and sweet. After the first sip, I felt ready to tackle the notebook, and anything else that came my way.
“How is it?” asked Henry. He was practically gloating.
“It’s adequate,” I said. I was kicking myself for not waiting to take a sip until I was out of Henry’s sight.
“You’re welcome!” called Henry as I walked away.
I decided to start with the notebook and finish with calling Auntie Sue. The notebook wasn’t as hard as I thought it would be because I had already had a highlighter system for the different units and types of papers. At one point, Henry walked by and said, “Nice notebook.”
“Thank you,” I said. “I have a color system for all my classes.”
“So yellow for … social studies?”
“Correct,” I said.
“Maybe I should do something like that,” said Henry. “Right now, all my notebooks are black.”
“Well, how do you keep track of your classes?” I asked.
“Your question has a big assumption built into it,” said Henry. “I prefer the fly-by-the-seat-of-my-pants method.”
Just hearing Henry describe his lack of organization made my stomach tighten up. “Do you at least study for tests?”
“This word you use, study. I am not familiar with it,” said Henry with a fake accent. “How to explain this?”
“Please stop,” I said. I wasn’t sure if I was going to start laughing or screaming. “I don’t understand how you live.”
Henry stopped talking, tilted his head, and smiled.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” I said.
“I think more people live like me than you; that’s all,” said Henry, still smiling. “I think you’re the one to wonder about.”
The way Henry was looking at me was making me feel weird. “I, um, have to make a phone call.” Henry nodded and walked back to the counter.
I dialed Auntie Sue’s phone number, hoping that I could just leave a message. No such luck.
“CHLOE! HOW IS MY FAVORITE NIECE?” Auntie Sue sounded like she was shouting into the phone. The people sitting around the table turned their heads in my direction.
I lowered my voice, hoping that she would follow my lead. “I’m fine,” I whispered. “How are you?”
“IS SOMETHING WRONG? ARE YOU SICK? DO YOU NEED ME TO COME RIGHT NOW? I’M IN THE CAR.” I frantically pressed the down volume button on my phone, but not before Henry’s uncle caught my eye and pointed to the sign about being quiet. I nodded and covered the phone with my hand.
“I’m fine, Auntie Sue,” I said. “I’m not sick; I’m just at a boba shop, so I have to speak quietly. How are you?” I held my hand over the phone and hoped that would be enough.
“OH, BUSY. YOU KNOW. ALWAYS A DEAL TO MAKE.” I’m sure Auntie Sue thought she had lowered her voice, but now it just sounded like regular shouting instead of a supersonic boom. Aunt Sue worked in commercial real estate. Usually, at some point, she was going to remind me that she was the number one broker in her area. “BUT I’M NOT TOO BUSY FOR YOU! I WANT TO COME SEE YOU. MAKE SURE YOUR FATHER IS NOT LETTING YOU STARVE TO DEATH.”
“Dad can cook,” I reminded her in a slightly louder voice.
“I’M KIDDING, I’M KIDDING. I WANT TO SPEND TIME WITH MY FAVORITE NIECE. ARE YOU AVAILABLE ON THURSDAY AFTER SCHOOL? I HAVE A MEETING NEAR YOU. WE CAN GET BOBA.” Henry’s uncle was heading back in my direction. “OTHERWISE, I CAN COME ON SATURDAY OR SUNDAY OR …” I needed to end this conversation now. I didn’t even look at my calendar.
“Yes-yes-Thursday-sounds-great-I’ve-got-to-go-now!” I half whispered, half yelped into my phone. “See-you-soon-bye!” I hit the end button just as the angriest man in Tea Palace arrived at my table.
“We do not encourage phone calls at Tea Palace,” he said gruffly, which was actually a nicer reaction than I expected.
“Sorry,” I whispered. “It’s my aunt. She, um, wants to make sure I can hear her.”
“The whole café could hear her,” said Henry’s uncle.
“It won’t happen again,” I promised.
“When are you bringing your aunt here?!” called Henry from behind the counter.
I was already regretting my decision to see Auntie Sue.
I knocked on the door and a boy with big brown eyes and curly hair opened it and stared up at me. He was wearing a red-and-blue-striped T-shirt. “Hi,” I began, saying the words I had long dreaded. “I’m Chloe, your babysitter.”
Dad had gotten in touch with Mrs. Mansfield, who was looking for a babysitter for her five-year-old twins, George and Ellis. The way I figured it, five was a good age to babysit. Five-year-olds seemed pretty sturdy. They didn’t need diapers or baby food or anything like that. My cousin Millicent was five, and she was pretty independent. I just had to keep the twins entertained and uninjured for two or three hours. That seemed doable. And Mrs. Mansfield paid fifteen dollars an hour, which seemed like a pretty good deal.
Sabrina’s advice? Stay one step ahead. Don’t show fear, but don’t be scary. Snacks can take a long time.
“What’s your name?” I asked the little boy. I took a quick look at his hands and noticed that they looked clean and unsticky. A good sign.
