take her pick of the scarves.
“Five-year-olds. Soooo cute,” Amala whispers to me. “Want to help with the class?”
“I should go,” I say.
The cuteness factor rises a whole lot as the rest of the girls rush into the room.
“Nice to see you, Lila,” Amala says. She blows me a kiss and turns her attention to the little girls as I leave.
I’ve got a lot to think about.
Fourteen
O n Sunday morning my mom asks me to help with the big spring cleaning she’s planned for the afternoon. I sigh, but mostly because she expects me to. Really, I don’t mind helping. I need time doing something with my hands so I can think.
Mom’s already deep into cleaning when I get back from the morning’s dance class. There’s a pile of large rubber boxes by the front door, all labeled—things like Winter clothes or Blankets—living room —and the smell of chemically manufactured lemon scent hits my nose and makes me sneeze. Joni Mitchell’s voice fills the air.
Mom staggers into the hallway carrying a way-too-huge potted plant.
“Whoa…what are you doing?” I ask.
“Taking this to the shower,” she says through clenched teeth.
I drop my bag and grab the bottom of the pot.
“Oh, thanks!” she says. We lurch our way down the hallway to the bathroom, and with a heave we place the huge pot in the bathtub. Mom turns on the shower and lets the water run over the leaves of the plant. In seconds it goes from dusty and sickly to shiny and fresh.
“I like to let them think they’re out in a forest every once in a while, like rain’s really falling on their leaves,” Mom says.
Coming from anyone else, that would sound totally crazy, but my mom knows plants don’t think. She says things like that to make me smile.
“We’ll let that dry before we take it back. Come help me get the next one,” she says.
“Mom, can I at least take off my coat and have a bite to eat before I jump into housecleaning?”
Mom laughs. “Sure. There’s mac and cheese in the oven for you.”
I escape to the front hall, where I take off my coat and retrieve my bag before heading into the kitchen for a big bowl of mac and cheese smothered in ketchup. Yum.
There are two messages on my phone, one from Angela that says @ Jonas’s house. Me + him.Telling Nini this aft.
I text back, Stay strong !
The next message is from Robin: Impromptu dance practice @ my place, 2 pm.
One second later the doorbell rings, and I hear Mom open the door. “It’s Robin, isn’t it? Come in.”
“Hi. Is Lila here?”
“Hi, Robin,” I say as I come into the hallway. “I just got your text. I have to stay home and help my mom with some cleaning.”
“We can wait a while to get started if you want,” Robin says.
“I think this’ll take a while. Mom’s even cleaning the plants,” I say with a laugh. Mom opens her mouth to speak, and I know she’s going to say I can help her later, but I cut her off. “Also, I promised Angela I’d get together with her later this aft.” Not true, but it sounds perfect. Both Robin and Mom believe me right away, and Robin says, “Okay. See you tomorrow then” and leaves.
“I’m glad you’re hanging out with Angela this afternoon, Lila. We haven’t seen much of her lately. Make sure to invite her for dinner. I’ll make her favorite,” says Mom.
She’s got pollen smeared across her cheek. I reach over and rub it away. “I will,” I say.
Made that bed. Now I have to lie in it.
* * *
When I’ve finished my mac and cheese and changed into some old jeans and a T-shirt, Mom shows me where to start cleaning. It’s a bookshelf under the stairs to the basement, and it looks like no one’s dusted it for twenty years. The first shelf is so dusty, I’m sneezing halfway through it.
“Don’t forget to dust the books themselves,” Mom says as she heads back upstairs.
“I won’t,” I say. I know the drill. We do this every year. I think I was even the person who dusted this shelf last time.
Thank
“Five-year-olds. Soooo cute,” Amala whispers to me. “Want to help with the class?”
“I should go,” I say.
The cuteness factor rises a whole lot as the rest of the girls rush into the room.
“Nice to see you, Lila,” Amala says. She blows me a kiss and turns her attention to the little girls as I leave.
I’ve got a lot to think about.
Fourteen
O n Sunday morning my mom asks me to help with the big spring cleaning she’s planned for the afternoon. I sigh, but mostly because she expects me to. Really, I don’t mind helping. I need time doing something with my hands so I can think.
Mom’s already deep into cleaning when I get back from the morning’s dance class. There’s a pile of large rubber boxes by the front door, all labeled—things like Winter clothes or Blankets—living room —and the smell of chemically manufactured lemon scent hits my nose and makes me sneeze. Joni Mitchell’s voice fills the air.
Mom staggers into the hallway carrying a way-too-huge potted plant.
“Whoa…what are you doing?” I ask.
“Taking this to the shower,” she says through clenched teeth.
I drop my bag and grab the bottom of the pot.
“Oh, thanks!” she says. We lurch our way down the hallway to the bathroom, and with a heave we place the huge pot in the bathtub. Mom turns on the shower and lets the water run over the leaves of the plant. In seconds it goes from dusty and sickly to shiny and fresh.
“I like to let them think they’re out in a forest every once in a while, like rain’s really falling on their leaves,” Mom says.
Coming from anyone else, that would sound totally crazy, but my mom knows plants don’t think. She says things like that to make me smile.
“We’ll let that dry before we take it back. Come help me get the next one,” she says.
“Mom, can I at least take off my coat and have a bite to eat before I jump into housecleaning?”
Mom laughs. “Sure. There’s mac and cheese in the oven for you.”
I escape to the front hall, where I take off my coat and retrieve my bag before heading into the kitchen for a big bowl of mac and cheese smothered in ketchup. Yum.
There are two messages on my phone, one from Angela that says @ Jonas’s house. Me + him.Telling Nini this aft.
I text back, Stay strong !
The next message is from Robin: Impromptu dance practice @ my place, 2 pm.
One second later the doorbell rings, and I hear Mom open the door. “It’s Robin, isn’t it? Come in.”
“Hi. Is Lila here?”
“Hi, Robin,” I say as I come into the hallway. “I just got your text. I have to stay home and help my mom with some cleaning.”
“We can wait a while to get started if you want,” Robin says.
“I think this’ll take a while. Mom’s even cleaning the plants,” I say with a laugh. Mom opens her mouth to speak, and I know she’s going to say I can help her later, but I cut her off. “Also, I promised Angela I’d get together with her later this aft.” Not true, but it sounds perfect. Both Robin and Mom believe me right away, and Robin says, “Okay. See you tomorrow then” and leaves.
“I’m glad you’re hanging out with Angela this afternoon, Lila. We haven’t seen much of her lately. Make sure to invite her for dinner. I’ll make her favorite,” says Mom.
She’s got pollen smeared across her cheek. I reach over and rub it away. “I will,” I say.
Made that bed. Now I have to lie in it.
* * *
When I’ve finished my mac and cheese and changed into some old jeans and a T-shirt, Mom shows me where to start cleaning. It’s a bookshelf under the stairs to the basement, and it looks like no one’s dusted it for twenty years. The first shelf is so dusty, I’m sneezing halfway through it.
“Don’t forget to dust the books themselves,” Mom says as she heads back upstairs.
“I won’t,” I say. I know the drill. We do this every year. I think I was even the person who dusted this shelf last time.
Thank
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