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Authors: Lauren Baratz-Logsted
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stood talking to some guests.
"What's she doing here?" we asked Aunt Martha, not hissing the words this time and keeping our voices as calm as we could as we pointed to Crazy Serena.
But it wasn't Aunt Martha who answered. It was Uncle George.
"You mean my sister?" he said, looking surprised. "Also your mother's sister?"
Oh no. This was a terrible moment in our lives. Ever since we'd learned that Serena's real last name was Smith, just like Mommy's before she got married, and ever since we'd seen that picture on Mommy's computer of Mommy with Crazy Serena and a woman who looked almost exactly like Mommy, we'd kind of known that Crazy Serena was some sort of relative. If we'd thought about it more carefully, we would have realized sooner that Crazy Serena was Mommy's younger sister. But that's the thing: we hadn't wanted to look at it more carefully, because then we'd have had to admit to ourselves that Crazy Serena was a much closer relative than we were comfortable with her being.
But now we had to admit it. We had no choice.
Crazy Serena was our aunt.
Did that mean we had to start calling her Aunt Crazy Serena?
We shuddered at the thought.
"Oh, that's right," Uncle George said, his puzzled expression clearing. "You've never met her because she and your mother haven't exactly been close the last several years."
Not close? That was rich. Aunt Crazy Serena had tried to Eightnap her own sister's children. Mommy may not have known about this, wherever she was, but we knew that if she had known, she would not have been pleased.
"Would you like me to introduce you?" Uncle George offered kindly.
"To whom?" Annie asked, only half listening.
We couldn't blame her for that half-listening thing. We were distracted too. How could we not be when we'd just bumped into one of our greatest enemies in France and then immediately learned she was closely related?
"Why, to your Aunt Serena, of course," Uncle George said.
"I'd rather eat nails," Georgia blurted out.
"Pardon?" Uncle George blinked.
"What she meant to say," Annie said, "was, 'Do you have any snails?' We've heard they eat them in France."
"Oh yes. Yes, of course," Aunt Martha said. "Let me show you."
We found the food table and did not eat the snails. Instead, we grabbed a few of whatever nonsnail items we could find and then circulated through the room, which is what you do at parties.
The only problem was, all the other guests were adults, so as we circulated we felt like we were snaking around trees in a redwood forest. This was particularly awkward for Petal. We tried to remember to lead her through neatly, but with her eyes squinched shut so, whenever we forgot to lead her she'd crash into people.
That was bad enough, but what was worse was that Petal was drawing even more attention to us with her incessant babbling. People were looking at us as though we had a crazy person in the family. Of course, we did have a crazy person in the family, several of them, but Petal was far from the worst of our crazies.
We looked at the worst of our crazies, Mommy's sister, long and hard. And then we looked around the room and saw Pete staring at her too. The last time he'd seen her, he'd kicked her out of our town. We could imagine what a satisfying moment that must have been for him, but he seemed troubled now. We could understand that. He no doubt wanted to know what was going on in Crazy Serena's mind, as did we all.
Of course Petal could have helped us out with that, but it had become increasingly obvious that wasn't going to happen.
We edged closer to Crazy Serena, where she now stood talking to Aunt Martha and Uncle George.
"It's such a shame Queen and her family couldn't be here," Crazy Serena was saying. "She always did love a good party so. And to miss your wedding?"
"What's she talking about?" Annie muttered low enough so as not to be heard by the adults but nowhere near loud enough to drown out Petal's babbling, which now drew Crazy Serena's stare.
"She
"What's she doing here?" we asked Aunt Martha, not hissing the words this time and keeping our voices as calm as we could as we pointed to Crazy Serena.
But it wasn't Aunt Martha who answered. It was Uncle George.
"You mean my sister?" he said, looking surprised. "Also your mother's sister?"
Oh no. This was a terrible moment in our lives. Ever since we'd learned that Serena's real last name was Smith, just like Mommy's before she got married, and ever since we'd seen that picture on Mommy's computer of Mommy with Crazy Serena and a woman who looked almost exactly like Mommy, we'd kind of known that Crazy Serena was some sort of relative. If we'd thought about it more carefully, we would have realized sooner that Crazy Serena was Mommy's younger sister. But that's the thing: we hadn't wanted to look at it more carefully, because then we'd have had to admit to ourselves that Crazy Serena was a much closer relative than we were comfortable with her being.
But now we had to admit it. We had no choice.
Crazy Serena was our aunt.
Did that mean we had to start calling her Aunt Crazy Serena?
We shuddered at the thought.
"Oh, that's right," Uncle George said, his puzzled expression clearing. "You've never met her because she and your mother haven't exactly been close the last several years."
Not close? That was rich. Aunt Crazy Serena had tried to Eightnap her own sister's children. Mommy may not have known about this, wherever she was, but we knew that if she had known, she would not have been pleased.
"Would you like me to introduce you?" Uncle George offered kindly.
"To whom?" Annie asked, only half listening.
We couldn't blame her for that half-listening thing. We were distracted too. How could we not be when we'd just bumped into one of our greatest enemies in France and then immediately learned she was closely related?
"Why, to your Aunt Serena, of course," Uncle George said.
"I'd rather eat nails," Georgia blurted out.
"Pardon?" Uncle George blinked.
"What she meant to say," Annie said, "was, 'Do you have any snails?' We've heard they eat them in France."
"Oh yes. Yes, of course," Aunt Martha said. "Let me show you."
We found the food table and did not eat the snails. Instead, we grabbed a few of whatever nonsnail items we could find and then circulated through the room, which is what you do at parties.
The only problem was, all the other guests were adults, so as we circulated we felt like we were snaking around trees in a redwood forest. This was particularly awkward for Petal. We tried to remember to lead her through neatly, but with her eyes squinched shut so, whenever we forgot to lead her she'd crash into people.
That was bad enough, but what was worse was that Petal was drawing even more attention to us with her incessant babbling. People were looking at us as though we had a crazy person in the family. Of course, we did have a crazy person in the family, several of them, but Petal was far from the worst of our crazies.
We looked at the worst of our crazies, Mommy's sister, long and hard. And then we looked around the room and saw Pete staring at her too. The last time he'd seen her, he'd kicked her out of our town. We could imagine what a satisfying moment that must have been for him, but he seemed troubled now. We could understand that. He no doubt wanted to know what was going on in Crazy Serena's mind, as did we all.
Of course Petal could have helped us out with that, but it had become increasingly obvious that wasn't going to happen.
We edged closer to Crazy Serena, where she now stood talking to Aunt Martha and Uncle George.
"It's such a shame Queen and her family couldn't be here," Crazy Serena was saying. "She always did love a good party so. And to miss your wedding?"
"What's she talking about?" Annie muttered low enough so as not to be heard by the adults but nowhere near loud enough to drown out Petal's babbling, which now drew Crazy Serena's stare.
"She
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