don’t work.”
“The electricity’s out,” Theresa says.
“Oh. Then go find some candles.”
“We can’t use candles.”
“Why not?”
“Because if there’s gas in the room, they might cause an explosion.”
“Then what do we use? It’s getting dark!”
“Flashlights.” Theresa’s talking to her mother as if explaining things to a five-year-old.
Theresa leaves the room for a while. Meanwhile, Nellie finds a flashlight and begins flicking the on-off switch back and forth. “Hey, how can the earthquake affect this too?” she says.
Theresa comes back with new batteries. She takes the flashlight from Nellie, changes the batteries, and turns on the flashlight. It seems that without Theresa, Nellie could not survive in this world. I imagine myself in Theresa’s shoes. I wouldn’t have known not to turn on the stove. I probably would have lit a candle and blown my mom and me up.
“Look how smart Theresa is,” Mom says. “She’s really worth the rice you feed her.”
“When the earth was shaking, I was so scared, I just started running around the room screaming,” Nellie says. “Then Theresa grabbed me and pushed me under the dining table. Good thing too, because I probably would have gotten hurt from all the flying dishes.”
Mom is probably wishing she and Nellie could trade daughters. And who could blame her? Theresa was there for Nellieduring the quake. She was there for Mom when she needed comfort and protection. Where was I? Practicing for a speech competition behind my mother’s back.
“Where did you go after school today?” Mom says to me.
“Princeton Review. Remember?” I try to spy Theresa from the corner of my eye, but she is looking at her lap.
“How come you weren’t there when everyone else was leaving?” Mom says.
How did she know that I wasn’t there?
“I tried to call Princeton Review, but the phone didn’t work,” Mom says. “Then I ran to Nellie’s house, even as the ground was shaking, in case you were there, but you weren’t. Then I made Nellie drive me and Theresa to Princeton Review. We waited outside the building and looked for you as everyone else left, but you weren’t there. Nellie and I began asking the kids if they knew where you were, but no one did. Then, I found your teacher.”
I stifle the urge to gasp.
“I asked him where you were. He said something like ‘She’s not with you?’ ”
Had Mr. Engelman said, “Frances wasn’t here today,” I would have been caught for sure. How much longer before my luck runs out? Maybe I should just surrender the truth and get my punishment over with.
“My heart nearly fell into my bowels,” Mom says. “Then Theresa said that maybe you had left and were on your way home. Then I told Nellie to drive me home to find you, butTheresa told me to stay at her house. She offered to walk to our apartment, risking her own life, to wait for you and bring you back. But Nellie and I were too scared for her, so she said she would leave you a note and come right back.”
I picture Theresa sitting nervously in the backseat of Nellie’s car, scared of what would happen once Mom and Nellie discovered that I wasn’t at Princeton Review. She probably nearly peed in her pants when they ran into the teacher. It would have been so easy for her at that moment to give up and drop our charade. I watch Theresa from the corner of my eye. She is still looking at her lap.
“Why weren’t you with your teacher? Why weren’t you with the other kids?” Mom asks.
Theresa looks up at me, her eyes wide with alarm.
“Well,” I say, “like Theresa said, I had already left. I was worried about you, so I rushed out the door.”
“But how did you get home?”
“I just …” I can’t say that I walked. It is too far. But would the bus still run in a time like this? “I just found a way,” I say, aware of how lame I sound.
“Aiyah! Gracie!” Nellie fans the air in front of Mom’s face, as if to slap some sense
“The electricity’s out,” Theresa says.
“Oh. Then go find some candles.”
“We can’t use candles.”
“Why not?”
“Because if there’s gas in the room, they might cause an explosion.”
“Then what do we use? It’s getting dark!”
“Flashlights.” Theresa’s talking to her mother as if explaining things to a five-year-old.
Theresa leaves the room for a while. Meanwhile, Nellie finds a flashlight and begins flicking the on-off switch back and forth. “Hey, how can the earthquake affect this too?” she says.
Theresa comes back with new batteries. She takes the flashlight from Nellie, changes the batteries, and turns on the flashlight. It seems that without Theresa, Nellie could not survive in this world. I imagine myself in Theresa’s shoes. I wouldn’t have known not to turn on the stove. I probably would have lit a candle and blown my mom and me up.
“Look how smart Theresa is,” Mom says. “She’s really worth the rice you feed her.”
“When the earth was shaking, I was so scared, I just started running around the room screaming,” Nellie says. “Then Theresa grabbed me and pushed me under the dining table. Good thing too, because I probably would have gotten hurt from all the flying dishes.”
Mom is probably wishing she and Nellie could trade daughters. And who could blame her? Theresa was there for Nellieduring the quake. She was there for Mom when she needed comfort and protection. Where was I? Practicing for a speech competition behind my mother’s back.
“Where did you go after school today?” Mom says to me.
“Princeton Review. Remember?” I try to spy Theresa from the corner of my eye, but she is looking at her lap.
“How come you weren’t there when everyone else was leaving?” Mom says.
How did she know that I wasn’t there?
“I tried to call Princeton Review, but the phone didn’t work,” Mom says. “Then I ran to Nellie’s house, even as the ground was shaking, in case you were there, but you weren’t. Then I made Nellie drive me and Theresa to Princeton Review. We waited outside the building and looked for you as everyone else left, but you weren’t there. Nellie and I began asking the kids if they knew where you were, but no one did. Then, I found your teacher.”
I stifle the urge to gasp.
“I asked him where you were. He said something like ‘She’s not with you?’ ”
Had Mr. Engelman said, “Frances wasn’t here today,” I would have been caught for sure. How much longer before my luck runs out? Maybe I should just surrender the truth and get my punishment over with.
“My heart nearly fell into my bowels,” Mom says. “Then Theresa said that maybe you had left and were on your way home. Then I told Nellie to drive me home to find you, butTheresa told me to stay at her house. She offered to walk to our apartment, risking her own life, to wait for you and bring you back. But Nellie and I were too scared for her, so she said she would leave you a note and come right back.”
I picture Theresa sitting nervously in the backseat of Nellie’s car, scared of what would happen once Mom and Nellie discovered that I wasn’t at Princeton Review. She probably nearly peed in her pants when they ran into the teacher. It would have been so easy for her at that moment to give up and drop our charade. I watch Theresa from the corner of my eye. She is still looking at her lap.
“Why weren’t you with your teacher? Why weren’t you with the other kids?” Mom asks.
Theresa looks up at me, her eyes wide with alarm.
“Well,” I say, “like Theresa said, I had already left. I was worried about you, so I rushed out the door.”
“But how did you get home?”
“I just …” I can’t say that I walked. It is too far. But would the bus still run in a time like this? “I just found a way,” I say, aware of how lame I sound.
“Aiyah! Gracie!” Nellie fans the air in front of Mom’s face, as if to slap some sense
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