So Totally Emily Ebers Read online

  Love,

  Emily

  JULY 18

  Dear Dad,

  Alice delivered the bad news today.

  “Emily, we couldn’t have held on to the Allendale house forever. It wouldn’t be practical.”

  “Practical! Who cares about practical?”

  “The house was bound to sell sometime, you knew that.”

  “How could it sell? The floors tilt, and the doors stick, and Dad never did get around to painting it. It would cost a fortune for anyone to fix it up.”

  Alice fiddled with the fringe on her blouse. “The new owners are going to knock the house down and build a new one in its place.”

  “What? And you’re going to let them?”

  “This is not my choice.”

  “Well, Daddy would never have let this happen. Does he even know?”

  “He knows. His old boss sold the house for your father and called me today as a courtesy.”

  “I bet Dad didn’t want to sell the house and you tricked him. This is all your fault.”

  “Emily! You think your father didn’t want to sell the house? You think he wanted to keep it? It was his idea to sell. He wanted the money so that he could get new equipment and get the Talky Boys going again —”

  “Stop it! You’re lying. You wanted to get rid of the house so we could never go home again. You sold it so some strangers could knock it down and it would be like we were never there, like we never existed, like we were never a family!”

  “Emily, your father sold the house, not me. He got it in the divorce settlement. I had nothing to do with it!!!”

  “Not true!”

  “Emily, listen to me. Emily, Emily, come back here….”

  I ran all the way to Millie’s house, and rang and rang the doorbell. When no one answered, I went into the backyard and found Millicent in her tree house. The minute she saw me, she scrambled down.

  “Emily, what’s the matter?”

  I tried to catch my breath before blurting out, “She sold it!”

  “Oh no!”

  “Oh yes! I was hoping … I was hoping that maybe someday …” I began to cry.

  “It’s okay, Emily.” Millie ushered me into her room and handed me a tissue box.

  “It’s not okay. Alice doesn’t trust me. Neither of them do. I didn’t think they were really going to sell the house. Both of them acted like, ‘Maybe we’ll sell it, maybe we won’t.’”

  “But you said you hid the ‘for sale’ sign, so you must have known.”

  I sighed and began crying all over again. “I guess I hoped it really wouldn’t happen. Just like the divorce, I knew they were thinking about it, but they never brought it up, so I thought that they changed their minds.”

  As I blew my nose, she opened the small safe in the back of her closet and pulled out a Hershey bar. “Even though the house may not be there,” Millie said, “you can always hold on to the memories.”

  “You sound like Maddie,” I said as I bit into the chocolate.

  “Oh no!” Millicent cried in mock horror. “I sound like an old lady? Arrest me!”

  On my way home I walked down Fair Oaks Avenue and put coins into the parking meters. It made me feel a little better. I wonder what you are doing right now? I’ll bet you’re as sad about the house as I am.

  Totally depressed,

  Emily

  JULY 19

  Dear Dad,

  It’s like we’re pen pals, except you’ll hear about my entire summer all at once and I’m getting your postcards every week or so. I keep wishing you’d call me, but Millie says, “If he wasn’t a telephone person before, he’s not going to suddenly turn into one now.”

  Will you do me a favor when your tour is over? Will you take some photos of our house before they knock it down?

  I got your latest postcard and put a sticker on Syracuse. From the map, it looks like you’re looping around now. The Comfort Z-Z-Zone Inn sounds really nice and restful. Do you get tired of being on the road, or is it fun? I think it would be fun not to have to make your bed every day. Millicent agrees with me and says that’s why she sleeps in a sleeping bag on the top of her bed. She has a lot of really strange ideas. However, once you think about them they are totally logical.

  “I know you’re homeschooled and everything,” I told Millicent, “so how do you make friends?”

  “I have a few friends,” she said. “Mostly, I meet people here and there. I had this one best friend, Debbie, but we finally figured that we didn’t have that much in common.”

  “Friendships can get weird,” I said, thinking of A.J. and Nicole. I’ve barely heard from them. If they were true friends, wouldn’t they have written to me more? Now Millie has moved up to be my number-one best friend. “Sometimes you think you are great friends with someone and then you are surprised to discover that you’re not. That won’t happen to us, though, right?”

  “Right!” she answered.

  I’ve told her about A.J. and Nicole, but not too much. I don’t want her to feel bad that I have, er, had, other best friends that I’d known forever. She doesn’t talk about her other best friends either. Even though it might not seem like it, Millicent is actually very sensitive.

  It’s strange, but A.J., Nicole, and I agreed on everything, and Millie and I disagree a lot. I used to think that if I had a totally different opinion from Nicole or A.J., they’d think less of me. I don’t feel that way about Millicent. In fact, some of our best discussions have been disagreements. We can talk about anything and not have to worry about what the other person thinks.

  We were in her room once arguing over what makes a guy attractive, and she named totally bizarre stuff like “high intelligence and a firm grasp of current events.”

  I wasn’t sure if she was joking, so I told her my definition of “attractive.” “Good hair, sparkling eyes, and the ability to make a person melt. You know, sort of like Stanford Wong.”

  “Spare me! You’re not even close to accurate,” she said, reaching for one of her dictionaries. (She has four. That’s one more than Alice. It’s sort of sad that she needs so many.) “Let’s look it up.”

  “Wait, I’ve got a better idea!”

  We each made a list of our Top Ten Attributes for the Ideal Husband. (Millie came up with the title.) We didn’t have one single overlap. How weird is that? At least we don’t have to worry about getting engaged to the same guy.

  “I always wanted to be like Sleeping Beauty or Snow White,” I announced as Millie was still poring over her list. “You know, like one day my prince will come and carry me away.”

  “Well, wake up, Emily!” she barked. “You don’t need some boy to rescue you. And if you think you’re going to find a prince here in Rancho Rosetta, good luck. The only royalty in this town is Burger King, and his lineage is suspect.”

  Millie claims she’s going to “hold off on marriage until I am a success in my chosen profession.” I don’t think I would wait. I’d be like you and Alice, except for the arguing and divorce part. I’ve heard of people who have divorced and then gotten remarried to each other again. Mrs. Min said that there’s this famous actress, Tierney Turney, who married one of her husbands three times and took his name each time, so now her official name is Tierney Turney Turney Tarrantino Turney.

  I can talk to Mrs. Min for hours. She loves to shop, and her idea of a dream vacation is the exact same one as mine — to go to the Mall of America. The other day as I was helping her fold sheets, she mentioned that they were having a sale on lotions at Body Beautiful. So today I brought her a present.

  “What could this be?” Mrs. Min asked. “Orange blossom hand lotion! How lovely. Thank you, Emily, but you shouldn’t have.”

  “Really,” Millie added. “You shouldn’t have.”

  I tried not to smile. “It was nothing,” I said.

  “Can I try some?” Mr. Min had been working on his latest project, building a combinatio
n microwave oven/CD player, and was holding a melted CD.

  Soon we all smelled like oranges, except for Millie, who insisted her hands weren’t dry. Later she asked, “Did you get some lotion for your mom too?”

  It hadn’t occurred to me to get something for Alice. She’s still moping around in her dippy hippie clothes. Millie gave her a poncho yesterday. “Maddie says you can have it. She’s been clearing out her things to get ready for her move to London. Her best friend made this, and she wants to make sure it has a good home.”

  “Why, thank you, Millicent!” Alice said. “Please thank Maddie for me too.”

  “Don’t give her things like that,” I hissed as Alice tried on the poncho. It got stuck over her head. “You’ll just encourage her. She wants to act like she’s all free-spirited, but she spent last night alphabetizing the medicine cabinet again.”

  Alice’s head finally popped out of the top. She twirled around and said, “Millie, I can tell you’re interested in journalism. Would you like to see one of the stories I’m working on?”

  Soon I could hear them both chattering away about toxic mold. I’m not sure why Millie feels so obligated to talk to Alice all the time. She acts different around her too. Older. I think Alice has that effect on people. I heard you tell her once that she was making you grow up, and that you didn’t want to. You said, “That’s not who I am.”

  I guess now that Alice isn’t around, you can go back to being yourself. I just wish you could be yourself and still be here.

  Love,

  Emily

  JULY 20

  Hi Daddy,

  You called! You called! Millie said the odds were you wouldn’t, but you did. It’s like I sent you an ESP brain wave and you caught it, and you called!

  I am sooooooo sorry I wasn’t home. If I had known you were going to call I would have been here, I promise. When Alice told me you called, I actually screamed.

  “What did he say? What did he say?”

  “He said, ‘Hi Emily, it’s Dad.’”

  “What else? What else did he say?”

  Alice sighed. “He said something like, ‘I’m having a good time on the road. Hope you’re having a great summer. Love you.’”

  “Did he leave a number? I’m going to call him back right now!”

  “No number.”

  “Why didn’t you ask him for one?”

  “Emily, he left a message.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me that?”

  I raced to the answering machine, but you weren’t on it.

  “ALICE!” I screamed. “The machine’s broken. Dad’s message isn’t here. Alice, something’s wrong!”

  “I erased it,” she said.

  “You what ???!!!”

  I am so angry at Alice. I’ll bet she erased it on purpose. It’s like it’s her mission to make my life miserable. Remember the times you took me out of school so we could go to Radio City and watch the orchestra practice? And then you’d talk to your musician friends while I got to wander around backstage? When Alice found out, she was so mad at us she just blew up and started yelling. But even though we both got in big trouble, it was worth it.

  Alice never took me anyplace fun. She always took me to school or the dentist or the doctor. I still remember the time you got your new convertible and we drove to New York City to go to Serendipity 3. I ordered a Frrrozen Hot Chocolate and you got one of those coffee drinks that come in tiny cups. We ran into your friend Margaret from the orchestra and she sat with us. She was so nice and funny. Afterward, you told me not to tell Alice about Serendipity 3 because it was so close to dinnertime and you’d get in trouble for spoiling my appetite. It was our secret and Radio City was our place, you said.

  I hope, I hope, I hope you call again. Please call again, and if I’m not home be sure to leave a phone number and I’ll call you back. I promise.

  Love,

  Emily

  JULY 21

  Hi Dad!

  Guess what? On the oldies station they had a special called “One-Hit Wonders,” and they played “Heartless Empty-Hearted Heartbreaker”!

  When I heard it, I ran into Alice’s office and she stopped working while we listened. It was very exciting! Afterward, the DJ said, “That was the smash hit from the Talky Boys! I wonder where they are now?”

  “Their East Coast comeback tour!” I shouted at the radio.

  Alice bought us new flashlights to use for Neighborhood Watch. I was sort of hoping we’d catch a criminal, but instead we just walked up and down, up and down the streets, shining our lights here and there.

  “Isn’t ‘Heartless Empty-Hearted Heartbreaker’ the best song you’ve ever heard?” I asked Alice.

  “Yes.”

  Remember when your music used to make Alice happy? Now anytime I bring it up, it depresses her. It seems like the only thing she’s into these days is her work. Well, that and trying to get me to buy into some sort of talk-fest.

  “Emily, we should talk about the divorce …” she said after a while.

  “Alice, let’s not,” I answered.

  The totally bogus thing is, I sort of wouldn’t mind talking to Alice now and then. Of course, it wouldn’t be like when you and I talked about music and stuff like that. It would just be … I don’t know. Talking. But I just can’t bring myself to say anything to her. She tries too hard, and if I talked to her it would make her happy. For some reason, I can’t stand the thought of her being happy. And she’s kept things from me before, so why should I tell her every little picky thing about my life? Anyway, I’m still mad at her. Next time you call and no one’s here, be sure to say, “Alice, DO NOT ERASE THIS MESSAGE!”

  Hey, are you and the other Talky Boys enjoying your tour? Wouldn’t it be cool if you played in Rancho Rosetta?

  Remember when you always used to say I was like the fifth member of the band? I’d run errands, help pass out flyers, and sit in on your practice sessions. The other Talky Boys were always so nice to me, especially Luka. He would always let me play his drums. After you, Luka was the best musician, but you had TWO instruments, the guitar and your voice. I love it that you’re the lead singer. I hope I get my singing talent from you and not Alice.

  I remember when you suddenly started talking about the Talky Boys’ big comeback. “Emily, it’s going to be the real thing. Not just weddings and dances and low-paying stuff like that.”

  “But you liked playing at A.J.’s sister’s bat mitzvah, right?”

  “Right. But this is the big time. We’re getting a manager and he’s booking us in clubs! We’ll tour the East Coast, and then if that goes well, we’ll cover the whole country,” you said. “It’ll be just like before, when we could fill a stadium.”

  I just loved listening to you. You were so happy. That’s why I totally understood why you had to miss things like my school play when I was orphan number three, or when you couldn’t make Parents’ Night at school. What made me feel bad, though, was that you and Alice would always fight about it later. It bothered me that she used to get mad at you for not being around and spending time with me. If it was okay with me, why was it such a big problem for her? And her solution was what? A divorce, so I’d really never get to see you? Oh, that’s smart thinking, Alice.

  Luckily, there’s nothing stopping you now. It must feel good to be able to focus on your music without any distractions. By the way, have you tried calling me back again? I’m sure you have, but to save money you probably hang up if it keeps ringing. I don’t blame you. Long distance can be expensive.

  Love,

  Emily

  P.S. I used the credit card to get a new MPS 5000 answering machine. The one we had was old and unreliable.

  JULY 24

  Hi Dad,

  Millicent and I have decided that though volleyball is still horrid, it’s not as bad as when we first started. I think it’s because we have each other. Have you noticed that when there’s someone else suffering alo
ng with you, it takes some of the pressure off? I told Millie that if I were ever being tortured to death, I’d want her right there next to me.

  Though it’s clear I will never be a professional volleyball player, I am getting a little better and can actually serve. I can’t spike yet, but I am not bad at blocks. Millicent no longer closes her eyes when the ball comes toward her, and we both agree this is a huge improvement. So far our team is doing okay. Coach Gowin says, “We’ve lost about half our games.” However, I prefer to think that we’ve won about half our games.

  Win or lose, I always lead the team in a cheer at the end of every game:

  Serve-ivors, Serve-ivors,

  We’re number one,

  Go Serve-ivors, go Serve-ivors,

  Have some fun!

  SERVE-I-VORS!!!!

  I wrote that myself.

  Julie hasn’t been as scary lately. One time I even ran into her at the mall and she said, “Nice Teddy + Joanie top.” No matter what, I make it a point to smile at her, even though I used to imagine that she’d shrunk to the size of a volleyball. Millicent would throw her in the air for a set, and I’d spike her over the net. Oops! Did I actually write that? Bad Emily. Bad Emily.

  Millie asked me why I’m always nice to Julie when it’s clear our presence annoys her. “It’s more work to be mean than it is to be nice,” I explained. It’s true. I’ve thought about this a lot. As I told Millicent, “It’s not really worth the effort to scrunch up your face and send out bad vibes. Besides, scowling will give you premature wrinkles.”

  Alice is always talking about how the hippies loved everyone and everything. Though I try to block her out, some of what she says is sort of true. The world really would be a better place if we all got along.

  I slept over at the Mins’ again. I like it there. It feels like home.

  “Lights out in five minutes,” Millie’s mom said through the closed door.

  I pulled TB out of my sleeping bag and tugged on his nose. It’s always getting smashed in. TB is starting to get pretty worn, but I keep telling him that he will always look wonderful to me.