I'm glad to say that nothing wild happened in church. No one recognized me; there were no slapstick moments. I think Miranda was a little disappointed, until we ran into the odious Robert outside.

"Hey, baby," he said to me. "Did you get my little gift?"

"Don't call me 'baby'," I told him, "and yes, I did get it."
 

---

 

7. Washed, Burnt, And Buried
 

It wasn't until after breakfast, when Miranda and I were standing in matching slips in front of her closet, waiting for Mrs. Jameson to choose our dresses, that I finally came up with an excuse.

"Mrs. Jameson," I said, "I'm not sure that my parents would want me to go to church. They might object." As an afterthought, I added, "They might even be offended." And then, "They might not approve."

Mrs. Jameson stopped what she was doing and pretended to consider what I said. Her lips twitched slightly, then she told me, "That's a good point, Juliette. A very good point."

I smiled, thinking I'd dodged a bullet.

Unfortunately, she continued. "I certainly wouldn't want to risk offending your parents." She looked me in the face and smiled. "That's why, when I talked to your mother last night, I specifically asked. And do you know what she told me? She said she thought that church might be a good thing for you."

I actually gasped at the... perfidity came to mind, although I had no idea what the word meant.

Later on Miranda told me, "That was a good try. But when it comes to clever, Mom's pretty much got it covered."

---

I'm glad to say that nothing wild or out of the ordinary happened in church. No one recognized me; there were no slapstick moments. I think Miranda was a little disappointed... until we ran into the odious Robert outside.

"Hey, baby," he said to me. "Did you get my little gift?"

"Don't call me 'baby'," I told him, "and yes, I did get it."

"Did you like it?"

"It smelled bad, Robert. I had to wash it. Then I burned it and buried it. Under a bridge by the river."

His mouth fell open. "Did you really?"

"No! but it did smell bad. Where did you find it, in a dumpster?"

He shook his head. "Naw, it was in my closet, under my shoes. It must have been in there a good long while, getting ripe. I really had to dig to get it out."

"Ugh!" I said, shuddering in disgust.

He grinned.

"Hey, baby, you want to see my magic trick again?"

"If you call me 'baby' one more time, I'm going to p–" Mrs. Jameson pulled me away before I could finish the sentence.

---

We met my parents outside a restaurant. Dad was visibly shocked when he saw me, and he had a hard time getting used to my appearance. Mom smiled, stroked my hair and put her hand on my shoulder as she chatted with Mrs. Jameson.

As soon as I possibly could, I asked my parents about Uncle Mickey.

"Who?" my father asked.

"Uncle Mickey," I repeated. "Weren't you two with him yesterday? Is he alright?"

My father looked confused, and glanced at my mother.

She said airily, "I just made that up."

"What!?" I cried. "I was so worried. I prayed for him!"

"Did you?" she asked, obviously amused.

"Yes, I did! How could you make something like that up?"

"When Macy offered to keep you overnight, I thought you might need a reason. I figured that if you two can use Mickey as an excuse, well, so can I!"

My father was obvious disturbed by this, and so was I, but we carried our inarticulate discomfort into the restaurant.

---

We had to wait forever for the food to arrive. It looked like a good time to go to the bathroom, and when I announced my intention, Miranda said she'd come with me.

The adults looked at each other, a little alarmed.

"Nothing's going to happen," I said.

Mrs. Jameson told us, "Alright, but you girls behave yourselves, and come right back."

Miranda took my hand as we walked toward the back of the building, but when we got into the bathroom we both felt a little shy. We took the stalls at opposite ends so we wouldn't be near each other. It was much weirder than I expected it to be. I was quiet, waiting for her to start first, and I guess she was doing the same. Then, she started humming something: when I recognized it as the Hannah Montana theme song, I began humming too, and then we both started singing, which covered the sound of what we were really doing.

When we joined each other at the sinks, we were a little giddy and silly.

Miranda pretended to put on lipstick, and I mimed using a powderpuff. We goofed around and laughed until a woman came in and glared at us. As soon as she entered a stall, we dashed out. Miranda giggled, "She might launch a gas attack!"

"We don't want that!" I agreed, laughing. Still chuckling, I saw a woman approaching from the opposite direction. The light was behind her, so I couldn't see her face, but she somehow looked familiar. The next moment, she moved under a light. I saw her face clearly, and I knew her!

"Hey, Mrs. Mossert!" I sang out.

"Hello, girls," she said, frowning. "Do I know you?"

Then I froze. What a colossal idiot I am!

"Uh, uh," I said. Miranda looked at me, not sure what to do. When I didn't go on, she said, "I'm Miranda Jameson," and shook Mrs. Mossert's hand.

Who is Mrs. Mossert? She's Lou's mother. The mother of my best friend Lou.

She absent-mindedly shook Miranda's hand, but didn't take her eyes off my face.

"Who–?" she murmured, and then I saw the light dawn in her eyes. She reached down and took off my glasses. "Chapters?" she whispered.

"Yes, it's me," I said, wishing I could sink through the floor. Lou's mother looked from Miranda's face to mine, and told me, "If you hadn't called to me, I never would have known it's you."

Nothing like underlining my stupidity.

"Lou's not here, is he?"

"No. It's just my husband and me. What are you up to?"

"It's for Halloween," I said. "This is my friend Miranda," I said a little uselessly.

Mrs. Mossert studied Miranda's face. "You're a real girl, though." Miranda smiled and nodded.

Lou's mother put my glasses back on and laughed. "You have a way of getting yourself into things, don't you?"

"You won't tell Lou, will you?"

"Not if you don't want me to. But you'll tell me the story sometime soon, won't you?"

"Yes," I said glumly.

"Hey, don't feel bad. You're awfully cute. Both of you are, in those matching dresses." She smiled mischievously. "I wish I had my camera."

Miranda and Mrs. Mossert smiled at each other.

"It's really just for Halloween," Miranda said.

"If you say–" she stopped, realizing something: "This is why you're not coming to Lou's party!"

"Right," I said. "I'm going to a party with Miranda."

"Oh," she said. "I get it."

"No," I said. "She's not my girlfriend. She's just my friend."

"Right," Miranda said. "We're friends."

"Okay," Mrs. Mossert agreed. "But I want to hear the whole story. Soon." She turned to go, then, as an afterthought, "Oh, one question: I know your outfit's a secret, but Miranda's not, is she?"

"No," I said. "Miranda's my friend. She's not a secret."

"Thanks!" Miranda said brightly, and gave my arm a squeeze.

As we walked back to the table, she asked, "Did you really give up a party at Lou's to come with me?"

"Yes," I said, feeling miserable.

"And all your friends will be at Lou's party?"

"All of them except you," I answered.

"You are too sweet," she told me, and gave me a hug.

I know this sounds stupid, but that hug made it all worthwhile.

---

The Mosserts left just as our food arrived, so I wasn't completely surprised when Lou called the minute I got home.

"I saw your car go by," he explained. "Hey, who is this Miranda chick? Is she your girlfriend?"

"No, she's just a friend."

"But you're blowing off my party to go with her? Sounds like more than a friend to me."

"Look, I like her a lot, but not that way."

"Uh-huh."

Clearly he didn't believe me, so I told him, "She's ten years old. She's in fifth grade."

"What!? Are you kidding me?"

"No, I'm not."

"How can you hang out with a ten-year-old?"

"For one thing, she's really nice, and she's really smart."

"Oh, yeah, I'm so sure."

"She's smarter than me."

"Doesn't take a lot."

"AND — she's as tall as I am."

He had no answer for that at first. I let the awkward silence hang. He's my friend, but I wasn't going to take crap from him about Miranda.

After the silence, Lou said, "Listen, Chapters. Everybody teases you about your height, but nobody really cares about it."

"I know," I said. "But my height bothers me. I always have to literally look up to everyone. It sucks. When I talk to Miranda, her eyes are on my level. The first time I mentioned I was short, she laughed. To her, I'm normal size."

"You found your Thumbelina," he laughed. "So are you going to go back to fifth grade?"

"I honestly thought about it," I said. "But I'd have to stay in fifth grade forever, or until I start growing."

"My mom says puberty will make you grow."

I sighed. "I'm already pubertized. It didn't work."

"Hmm. I don't know what to say, then," Lou replied. "So why don't you come over and we'll drown our sorrows in a video game?"

"I'm on my way!"

I hung up and called to my mother, "I'm going to Lou's house!" as I opened the front door.

From the kitchen she called, "Don't you want to get changed first?"

"Oh!" I looked down at the church dress Mrs. Jameson had chosen for me. "Good catch, Mom!"

---

As we shot and jumped our way through the video game, Lou asked me about Miranda. I answered as well as I could, considering how my attention was divided: I was trying to do well in the game and not give away the fact that with Miranda I dressed like a girl.

"I'm killing you, dude!" Lou told me. "You're playing badly because you're in love."

"I'm not," I protested, but he got the drop on my player, and won again.

"How many does that make?" he asked.

"I don't know. I'm not counting."

"That's 'cause you're in love!" he crowed.

"Give it a rest!" I told him, and went to the kitchen for drinks.

---

Of course, Lou's mother was waiting for me in the kitchen. Lou is used to me talking to his Mom. I heard him switch the game to single-user mode in the living room.

I gave her a fairly abbreviated version of my story, leaving out Robert, the cream pie, and other nonessential details.

I don't know how I expected her to react, but I sure didn't expect a stone face. She didn't laugh. She didn't ask questions. She didn't even smile or nod.

It was unnerving, and when I was done talking, I anxiously asked her, "So, what do you think?"

She drew a breath and said, "You went through all this trouble, and you never considered that anyone would break down and have a party?"

"It didn't look that way," I said.

"Why did you think I asked you about parties?" she continued.

"I don't know." She was making me feel terribly guilty. "I'm really sorry that I'm not coming to Lou's party."

"No," she said. "That's not it. It's not about the party."

I was confused. Then what was she upset about?

"That story you told Lou about your uncle –"

"Huh?"

"He's not really sick, is he?" Her voice caught as she spoke. For the first time, she seemed emotional. "I was so worried, I almost called your mother."

Now I understood. For some reason, Lou's mother and mine can't stand each other. They avoid each other. They never speak. So if Mrs. Mossert was going to call Mom, it had to be something serious.

"I'm sorry," I said.

"You just made it up, didn't you?" she accused. She looked so angry, I was frightened.

"I don't even know him," I lamely protested.

"Does that make it right?" she asked, her eyes flashing. "Suppose someone who didn't know you made up a story. Suppose they said that you like to go to Boston so you can dress like a girl. If they didn't know you, would that make it alright?"

My mouth worked, but no words came out. I was completely bewildered. They wouldn't have to make up a story about me — it was something that happened. And who would do that, anyway? Was she threatening me?

At the same time, she seemed to be waiting for an answer, and I wracked my brain for moment before I saw that no was the right answer. She fell silent, and in that awkward silence I timidly asked, "Why do you and my mother hate each other?"

Her shoulders, which had been tense up to that point, suddenly fell, and she gaped at me. "Hate each other? That's a little strong. We don't hate each other."

"Don't like each other, then."

"Ah," she sighed, and thought for a moment. "I know your mother is a lovely person. I am, too, for that matter. But we have some history."

"What kind of history?"

She twisted her mouth. "I can't say. I mean, I could say, but I —" She sighed again. "I will tell you that it had something to do with your Uncle Mickey. Your uncle is kind of a sore spot for a lot of people, me and your mother in particular."

"Oh," I said, not understanding at all. It was unnerving, this business about adults having once been young. They had all these stories, all these things that happened before I even existed, and now whatever in the world they did back then was complicating my life.

She looked at me and laughed, but in a kind way. The consternation on my face must have activated her maternal instinct.

I was sitting at the kitchen table when she walked over and gave me one of her famous hugs. Since I was sitting, my excitement was not as evident as usual. She let me go and sat down opposite me.

"You know– did anybody ever tell you that you look a lot like your uncle?"

"Mickey?" I asked.

She nodded, smiling.

I shook my head no.

"Now," she said, now that her mood was brighter, "I want to know about this Juliette business. Do you want to be a girl?"

"No!" I said.

"You just like the clothes?"

"No! No, it's just for Halloween."

"You looked awfully comfortable at that restaurant. You looked right at home in that outfit."

I shrugged. "I got used to it."

She nodded. "Hmm. And you said your mother bought a pile of dresses and shoes and outfits for you? What's going to happen to all those clothes, and that cute dress you were wearing today?"

"Oh, that dress is Miranda's. The other stuff, I guess we'll throw out."

"You should at least give it to Goodwill, but don't do that, Chapters."

"Why not?"

"If you're going to get rid of those clothes, bring them over here. Don't toss them, don't give them to Goodwill. I'll keep them for you."

"Why?" I asked, astonished.

She smiled and cocked her head. "You might want to –"

"I won't," I said.

"– AND it might be handy to have an alter-ego, a secret identity. You never know."

I didn't answer, so she went on: "And, you could just come and dress up for me."

My mouth fell open.

"I could take you and Miranda places. Places like Story Land."

I scoffed. "That's for little kids!"

"Miranda is only ten."

"But I'm not!"

"I know that Chapters isn't, but how old is Juliette?"

Before I could answer, Lou appeared in the door and asked, "Who's Juliette?"

© 2007, 2008 by Kaleigh Way