Secrets Out! Read online

  Text copyright © 2015 by Julie Sternberg

  Illustrations copyright © 2015 by Johanna Wright

  All rights reserved.

  For information about permission to reproduce selections from this book, contact [email protected].

  Boyds Mills Press

  An Imprint of Highlights

  815 Church Street

  Honesdale, Pennsylvania 18431

  Printed in the United States of America

  ISBN: 978-1-62091-777-0 (print)

  ISBN: 978-1-62979-434-1 (e-book)

  Library of Congress Control Number: 2015904691

  First edition

  The text of this book is set in Zemke Hand ITC Std.

  The illustrations are done in pen and ink.

  Book design by Robbin Gourley

  Production by Sue Cole

  10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

  For my sister, Deborah, who has always kept my secrets

  —JS

  For Georgia B. Sisco

  —JW

  CONTENTS

  Journal

  THIS DIARY BELONGS TO: Celie Valentine Altman

  Thursday, December 2

  Friday, December 3

  Saturday morning, December 4

  Sunday, December 5

  Monday, December 6

  Tuesday, December 7

  Wednesday, December 8

  Thursday, December 9

  Friday, December 10

  Saturday, December 11

  Sunday, December 12

  Monday, December 13

  Tuesday, December 14

  Wednesday, December 15

  Thursday, December 16

  About the Author

  JOURNAL

  PUT THIS JOURNAL DOWN RIGHT NOW.

  DO NOT TURN THE PAGE. IT IS PRIVATE.

  That definitely includes you, Josephine Rosalie Altman. You do NOT get to open this just because you’re my big sister. If you do not put it right back where you found it and walk away, I will tell your whole grade that when you eat strawberries you get a rash on your tushy.

  I AM NOT KIDDING, JO.

  NO, I AM NOT.

  Dearest spectacular Celie,

  While your mother and I were out earlier, she mentioned that you had asked for a new journal, since you’ve already filled your last one. So we stopped on our way home from my doctor’s visit and picked this out for you.

  I should buy something for you every day! It never fails to lift my spirits. Like this:

  Dark Spirits

  Lifting to Light

  I hope that you enjoy this journal. How nice that the moments you describe in here will be forever available to you in these pages.

  all my love,

  granny

  THIS DIARY BELONGS TO

  Celie Valentine Altman

  Thursday, December 2

  I think I can stop being so worried about Granny’s mind. I’ve been scared about it ever since she moved in a couple of weeks ago, because she keeps forgetting things. Like this morning, when she couldn’t remember the word for eggs. And called them “oval things from chickens.”

  THAT definitely scared me. Since “eggs” is not a hard word.

  But then I thought about it more. And I realized: Jo forgot her math notebook in a classroom after school today, which meant Mom and I had to wait FOREVER in the school lobby while she went back upstairs to find it. And no one’s worried about Jo’s mind.

  Plus Mom forgot to give me my bag lunch a few weeks ago, when my class went to the Brooklyn Museum. She was holding it when we got to school, then she just left with it. Mrs. McElhaney had to buy me a lunch. It was embarrassing. But no one’s worried about Mom’s mind.

  Also, Dad tells me all the time to stay calm when Jo annoys me. “Try reminding yourself, ‘She’s not an evil villain! She’s just my big sister!’” But I never remember to do that. And my mind is fine.

  So that’s it. I am done worrying about Granny’s mind. D-O-N-E, like when one of her sour-cream coffee cakes comes out of the oven, golden brown and cinnamon-y and delicious. Yum.

  Friday, December 3

  It turns out, Granny’s a genius. Take for example the picture she drew in this journal, when she wrote her note to me. The picture of dark spirits lifting to light. It is very inspiring. I am inspired to draw my spirits so far today.

  Here is a picture of my spirits ten minutes ago, when my best friend, Lula, called and asked me to come over tomorrow:

  Light!

  Dark

  And here is a picture of my spirits five seconds later, when Lula said Violet was coming, too.

  Why does Lula always have to invite both of us? Violet never wants to do anything fun. Last time, when we went to the movies, we didn’t get a jumbo popcorn with a giant box of chocolate-covered raisins—the way Lula and I have for years and years and years—because Violet said her stomach wouldn’t feel right afterward. Which made Lula say, “Yeah, mine too, probably.” So we just got the popcorn. But stomachs are not the point! The point is friendship tradition!

  That movie did not feel as good without chocolate-covered raisins. And it was all Violet’s fault.

  A Little Later

  Now Jo is acting CRAZY.

  Before she went bonkers, I was having a perfectly nice time in the kitchen with Mom and Granny. Even though I don’t like being in the kitchen as much as I used to. Because it’s gotten very cluttered in there. Ever since Mom cleared out her home office so we could turn it into a bedroom for Granny.

  At first Mom tried putting all her files in cabinets in our living room. But the cabinets stopped closing, they had so much jammed in them. So Mom’s been putting more and more of her papers on the kitchen table. Plus she’s keeping boxes of staples and paper clips and pencils and pens and an electric pencil sharpener on the kitchen counter. A couple of plastic pencil sharpeners, too. There are pencil shavings EVERYWHERE. They’re probably getting in our food.

  Yuck.

  I liked it better when Jo was the only messy one.

  Anyway. That’s not the point. The point is, Granny, Mom, and I were having a nice time in the kitchen.

  Granny’s banana bread was in the oven. She was sitting at the kitchen table, sketching on her sketchpad, in a spot that wasn’t taken over by Mom’s stacks. Mom was making a salad for dinner. And I was eating red peppers as she sliced them.

  Then Jo rushed in. Her eyes were big, and some hairs were flying away from her head, and her cheeks looked sweaty.

  “My phone—it’s not in my backpack!” she cried.

  Mom turned to Jo. In a super-serious voice, she said, “You lost your phone?”

  “That’s very bad,” I said to Jo. Because Mom and Dad had specifically told her not to lose that phone when they gave it to her a few weeks ago, as a surprise.

  I should’ve gotten the phone instead. Even though I’m two years younger. I obviously would’ve been better about following the rules.

  “It’ll be very expensive to replace,” I reminded Jo. “You might not get another one.” Then I turned to Mom and said, “Right?”

  “I DIDN’T lose it—I know EXACTLY where it is,” Jo said. Not even letting Mom answer. “I remember very clearly putting it on the top shelf in my locker, right on the edge, after I looked at it before I went to science.”

  “Why did you look at it before science?” I said. “You’re not supposed to touch the phone during school. Mom and Dad said that.”

  Jo glared at me and said, “I’m not even talking to you. I’m talking to MOM.”

  “Well, MOM will tell you that you’re not supposed to touch your phone at school,” I said.

  Then I waited for Mom to tell Jo that. And get really mad. But instead she shook her head and closed her eyes and
paused for a long time.

  I could tell what she was doing. She was counting backward to keep calm.

  I hate when she does that. It takes forever.

  Finally she opened her eyes said, “Let’s all just please focus on what to do about the lost phone.”

  “IT’S NOT LOST!” Jo shouted. Like a crazy person. “You never listen to me. I JUST told you—it’s in my locker, on the edge of the shelf, I KNOW it is. But I need to go back to school now and get it. Please let me go back—I need my phone TONIGHT, I really, really need it.”

  “JO!” Mom said. FINALLY sounding angry. “You know how much is going on. You know it’s not an easy time. PLEASE do not pick this moment to have a tantrum about a phone.”

  I glanced at Granny then. Because she’s the reason it’s not an easy time. We’re all worried about what the doctors will say about her mind. But Granny was sketching, not listening.

  “All you do on your phone is—” I started to say to Jo. But she interrupted and jabbed a finger at me and shouted, “Stop talking—just STOP! This has nothing to do with you!”

  Actually, it had everything to do with me. Because if Mom took Jo back to school, dinner would be very late, and I would starve.

  But I didn’t get to say that. Because Granny called to me then.

  “Celie,” she said, “please come sit next to me.” She set a napkin on top of her sketchpad and pulled out one of the kitchen chairs for me.

  I never say no to sitting next to Granny. So I went and sat and put my elbow on a file of Mom’s labeled “Royalties.”

  Granny peeled an orange and shared it with me while Mom told Jo they couldn’t go back for the phone tonight. “Maybe tomorrow,” Mom said. “Assuming the school’s open over the weekend. We’ll have to call and check.”

  “Tomorrow will be too late!” Jo said.

  “You spent years and years without a phone,” Mom said. “I think you can make it one more night.”

  “YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND!” Jo shouted. “NOBODY IN THIS WHOLE FAMILY UNDERSTANDS!”

  Then she ran past me and out the door.

  I saw her face for one second as she did, and it looked like she might have started crying. I thought about going to see if she actually had.

  But then I got distracted by Granny’s sketchpad. She’d put a napkin on top of it, but I could still see the edges of her picture. The one she’d been drawing while she sat at the kitchen table. And those edges got me worried.

  “Is that—” I started to ask Granny. Then I didn’t know how to finish my question. So I started again and said, “What is that?”

  “Oh!” Granny said, realizing what I was looking at. “Nothing but an old lady’s scribbles. I’m throwing it right out.”

  She ripped the drawing out of her sketchpad then and threw it in the tall garbage can by the window.

  “Okay,” I said, acting like I didn’t care. I didn’t want her to know that she was scaring me.

  For a while after that, I just sat at the table, trying to seem interested in Mom and Granny’s conversation. Pretending I’d forgotten all about that sketch.

  But really I was waiting for a chance to sneak to the trash can and take it out. Also, I was wishing I could keep Mom from dumping pepper seeds and cucumber peels and wet paper towels on top of it.

  It was a massacre. And there was nothing I could do to stop it.

  Later

  I FINALLY snuck Granny’s sketch out of the trash. After Mom had left the kitchen to check on Jo, and Granny had gone to her room to rest before dinner.

  It wasn’t easy to get all the gunk off that sketch. But I did my best. Now at least it’s less disgusting.

  Here it is:

  I don’t want Granny to be thinking eggs, eggs, eggs, eggs, eggs, eggs. It makes me think maybe I DO need to be worried about her mind.

  Except, maybe this is just Granny making a new kind of art?

  But if that was it, wouldn’t she just say so? Instead of throwing it out so fast?

  I wish I could show the sketch to Jo and see what she thinks. Only, she locked herself in the bathroom and is refusing to come out. Even when I pounded on the door and told her I had to pee. She shouted from in there, “I NEED A PLACE TO MYSELF FOR ONCE! PLEASE, JUST LET ME HAVE A PLACE TO MYSELF!”

  So I had to use Mom and Dad’s bathroom.

  I am NOT going to become a crazy person who locks herself in bathrooms when I’M in sixth grade. No, I am not.

  I guess I could talk to Lula about both Granny and Jo tomorrow at her house. Since Lula is an understanding person and my very best friend. Except, Violet will be with us.

  I am so sick of Violet being with us.

  Saturday morning, December 4

  I have nowhere to go in my own home. Except the HALL. Which is where I am, on the floor. Hoping nobody steps on me.

  Our housekeeper, Delores, is dusting in my room, so I can’t be in there. Dad’s getting dressed in his room, Granny’s getting dressed in hers, and the kitchen is a disaster. Crumbs and dirty dishes are EVERYWHERE. Plus Mom’s working on Granny’s insurance papers in the living room.

  No one can go near Mom when she’s working on insurance papers. They make her VERY CRANKY.

  I can’t even go in my own bathroom, because Jo’s taking a shower. Her showers last FOREVER. I don’t know why. She’s a normal-sized person. There’s not that much to wash.

  She better not be using my conditioner. I love my conditioner. It smells like pomegranates.

  A Tiny Bit Later

  I just went to tell Jo not to use my conditioner. The bathroom door was locked, so I pounded on it and shouted, “JO! OPEN THE DOOR! JO!”

  Jo didn’t even answer. But Mom did. She yelled from the living room, “STOP SHOUTING!”

  And, before I could say a word, she yelled even louder, “I NEED QUIET!”

  Dad stepped out of his room then.

  “Shhh,” he said, when he saw me. Then he pointed down the hall, in the direction of Mom, and whispered, “INSURANCE.”

  “I know, I know,” I told him.

  One second later, Jo FINALLY stepped out of the bathroom, wrapped in a big towel. AND SHE SMELLED LIKE POMEGRANATES!

  I couldn’t even yell at her! Dad was STILL standing there. I’d JUST told him I’d be quiet.

  So I said to Jo, VERY calmly and VERY quietly, “You are not allowed to use my conditioner. Never, never, never. Not allowed.” I sounded like a teacher, talking to a kindergartener.

  “Nice work,” my dad said. He seemed very proud.

  But Jo looked at me like I was a lunatic. “Okey dokey, artichokey,” she said. Then she went off to our room to get dressed.

  I glared at Dad.

  “That did not work,” I told him. “She definitely did not listen.”

  “I have an idea,” he said.

  Then we hid the bottle of conditioner together, behind a big stack of towels.

  Later

  After we hid the conditioner, Dad took me to Lula’s. Now I’m back, and it’s official. I was right about Violet. She ruined everything.

  They were both in Lula’s room when I got there. I could hear the sound of their voices as I walked down the hall toward them. I couldn’t tell what they were saying, though.

  Then, the second I walked into Lula’s room, they both got VERY quiet. They were sitting near each other on Lula’s soft carpet, and they looked up at me with worried faces. Like they did NOT want me to know what they’d just been saying.

  I wanted to go home then. Because it felt like they must’ve been talking about me.

  But Lula was looking so sad and worried. I had to ask her, “What’s wrong?”

  She shook her head and said, “Nothing.” Then she smiled at me and said, “Come sit with us.”

  So I sat beside her, on her rug. Right in our snapping spot, where we’d taught ourselves to snap when we were really little.

  “Let’s all do something,” Lula said. “What should we do?”

  “I know,
” Violet said. Looking only at Lula. “Let’s play that game Gracie made up at your movie party. It made you laugh so hard, remember?”

  That was a MEAN thing to say! Because I was practically the only girl in the whole grade who hadn’t been invited to that movie party. Lula and I were in a fight back then. Violet MUST have remembered that. That fight was the only reason she and Lula started being friends.

  I crossed my arms and glared at Violet, who kept looking at Lula, as if I wasn’t even in the room. And I started getting a stomachache, remembering how my best friend in the whole world had decided to have a party without me. And, apparently, had done a lot of laughing without me.

  Remembering that party made Lula feel bad, too. I could tell, the second I glanced at her. She’d turned blotchy in the face and was biting the top of her thumb. Like she does when she feels guilty.

  I didn’t want her to be blotchy and thumb-biting. Since we’re friends again.

  So I said to Lula—NOT Violet—“What are the rules of the game?”

  Lula stopped biting her thumb and said, “You just, you know—you say one sentence about a movie. Not a very obvious sentence. And then people guess what the movie is. Like, for example—”

  She looked away and thought for a second.

  Then she said, “An old farmer dances to cure his little sick animal.”

  “Babe,” I said, smiling at her, and she smiled at me, and everything was definitely all right between us. Because she’d chosen our all-time favorite movie, which we’ve loved from the very bottoms of our hearts forever.

  Maybe Vicious Violet didn’t like it that everything was all right between Lula and me. Because after we’d all played just a couple more rounds of the movie game, Violet said to Lula, “Remember when we were at your party and Nora said just one word—”

  “‘BOYS!’” Lula said, laughing. “She said, ‘BOYS!’”

  “And then Isabel started jumping up and down, saying, ‘I know what movie it is! I know it!’” Violet said.