Secrets Out! Read online

  “And she was so WRONG!” Lula practically shouted. Then they both LAUGHED and LAUGHED. Making me feel left out AGAIN.

  I had to interrupt all that laughing. So I asked Lula if we could play our favorite game on her new phone. (HER parents let HER have a phone. Why can’t mine?)

  Anyway. That phone game has a baby koala riding on the back of an armadillo, and Lula and I love playing it and singing its very catchy tune.

  But Violet wouldn’t let us play it this morning. Because she has to limit her time on electronics. She actually said, “If I play now, my mom won’t let me watch my show tonight.”

  Lula nodded and set down the phone. But I wanted to say, “So don’t watch your show.”

  I had a very bad thought, too. I thought, What about your DAD, Violet? Would your DAD let you watch your show?

  Which was a mean thing to think! Because Violet’s dad moved to Oklahoma over the summer and hasn’t even come back to visit her yet. That’s what Lula told me.

  I was feeling guilty about that terrible, mean thought when Lula’s mom called us to lunch. So I left the biggest BLT for Violet. Even though I know that Lula’s mom’s BLTs are delicious.

  Only, THAT was a mistake. Because Violet took all the yummy, crispy bacon out and set it on the side of her plate. Since fried food isn’t healthy.

  That poor, abandoned bacon.

  Later

  I just made two pie charts about the fight Lula and I were having last month, when she didn’t invite me to her party.

  (We had to draw pie charts for math homework. So now I keep making pie charts in my brain.)

  Here is my pie chart of what I thought at the BEGINNING of our fight:

  WHOSE FAULT IS THIS FIGHT?

  And here is my pie chart of what I thought by the very END of the fight:

  WHOSE FAULT IS THIS FIGHT?

  I CAN’T TELL ANYMORE!

  I HAVE to remember one thing about that fight with Lula. It all started when I heard her parents yelling at each other, while I was at their apartment. They screamed really mean things. And I didn’t behave perfectly, afterward. I ended up hurting Lula’s feelings. I didn’t mean to, but I did. So I have to be REALLY CAREFUL if anything like that ever happens again.

  Luckily I haven’t had to worry about it lately. Because I’ve only seen Lula’s mom. Not her dad.

  It’s funny that they’re never together now. I wish I could ask Lula why. And whether they screamed at each other a lot before I heard them. And whether they’ve kept screaming. And how she’s feeling about it.

  But I can’t ask any of that. Because the screaming is the exact subject that started all of our problems.

  I’m glad my parents don’t scream at each other. They definitely argue, but they don’t yell things like, “I don’t want to live with you anymore!” Which is basically what Lula’s parents were doing.

  Also, I’m glad I never have to worry about my dad moving to another state. Like Oklahoma.

  I do wonder this, though: Where is he right now? I haven’t seen him since I got home.

  Later

  Dad took Jo to school, to get her phone. That’s where he was. She got lucky because the school was open for a volleyball tournament. And because Dad didn’t make her Suffer the Consequences of breaking our cell phone rules. Which is what he should’ve done.

  Anyway, they’re back now. And I didn’t want to be annoyed with Jo. I wanted to TALK to Jo, about Violet’s behavior at Lula’s. Because ever since Jo finally got rid of her evil former best friend, Trina, it’s been nice talking to Jo about friend meanness. It’s been helpful.

  So I was happy when she came home and sat on her bed and said, “How was Lula’s?”

  “You will not believe what Violet did,” I said. And then I started to tell her the story.

  She should’ve listened! She should’ve scooted to the edge of her bed and given me all her attention, like she usually does when we talk about friendships.

  Instead, she picked up her stupid phone, which she’d set beside her on the bed. And she started flipping through screens.

  “What are you DOING?” I asked her. Instead of finishing my story.

  “Just checking for texts,” she said, still looking down at her phone.

  “There’s no new text,” I told her. “Your phone buzzes when you get a new text. Remember? I heard no buzzing.”

  She ignored that and set the phone down again and turned to me and finally said, “What were you talking about?”

  Of course I was ready to yell at her for NOT LISTENING TO ME, EVER. But we both got distracted. Because right that second her phone did buzz. Which meant she’d gotten a text. And her whole face got excited.

  She picked up her phone and read the text. Then she turned blushy and grinned.

  “What?” I said. “Why are you looking that way?”

  I don’t think she even heard me. She kept looking at her phone. Then she covered her mouth and thought for a second. Then she typed for a while. She covered her mouth again as she read over what she’d written.

  That’s when I reached over and tried to grab her phone. Because I needed to know—what was making her blushy and mouth-covery? It was WEIRD.

  “Stop it!” she said, moving farther from me and holding her phone close to her heart. “You can’t just grab my phone like that—get away from me!”

  “WHO is texting you?” I said.

  She tried to look very casual. Then she said, “Amber,” and raised her eyebrows and tilted her head. Which is EXACTLY what she does when she’s lying.

  “I can tell when you’re lying,” I told her. “Besides, you don’t act like that when you and Amber text.”

  She doesn’t. She doesn’t blush or cover her mouth or read her texts a million times before sending when she’s texting with Amber.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about, and you don’t either,” Jo said.

  She stood up and raised her eyebrows and tilted her head and said, “I have to go to the bathroom.”

  “You’re lying again,” I said.

  “You don’t know when I have to go to the bathroom and when I don’t,” she said.

  Then she walked quickly out of our bedroom. Still holding her phone to her heart.

  She’ll leave it behind at some point. And then I’ll get a look at those texts. I’ll be as sneaky as a ninja warrior.

  Ninja Warrior Me

  Later

  I found Granny in her room a little later. I love her room. I helped decorate it. I used her white tablecloth with pretty blue flowers (which she’d given to me as a birthday present) to cover Mom’s ugly desk. Like this:

  And I hung this painting of a crushed coffee cup that Granny had made for Mom:

  So she could see her fabulous art on her wall.

  “Jo’s being annoying,” I told Granny.

  She was sitting in the armchair in the corner of her room, reading. She set her book down for me, though. And she said, “Let’s do an art project, just the two of us. That’ll be a nice distraction.”

  We went to the kitchen, where we’re keeping art supplies now, plus a gazillion other things. Granny found pencils and paper for us and set them on the table. Then she started digging and digging through the drawer to the left of the stove.

  After a while I asked what she was looking for. “A spoon,” she said.

  “We keep them in a different drawer,” I said. And I got one for her.

  It was weird, how she kept looking and looking through that one drawer, instead of moving on to other drawers.

  I don’t want to think about that.

  Doodling instead

  Anyway, Granny came up with a great project.

  “Draw this spoon three different ways,” she told me. “Let your imagination run free. I’ll do the same, and we’ll call our work ‘Views of a Spoon.’”

  Here’s what I came up with:

  Spoon, Ready for the Red Carpet

  Angry Spoon

  Just a s
poon, taking a snooze.

  Granny gave me hers, too. It’s so different from mine! She explained that she used different art styles—something about dots and points, and Picasso, and another style she couldn’t remember the exact name of.

  Views of a Spoon

  It’s so smart, that drawing. Plus her spoons don’t upset me at all. Which is good, because after her last drawing I started avoiding eggs. And it would be a lot harder to avoid spoons. Especially when Granny makes her famous butternut squash soup.

  Yum

  Later

  Incredible news! Jo is texting a BOY! And not just any boy. Violet’s brother, JAKE!

  I know this because Jo finally walked away from her phone. She left it on her bed when she went to grab an apple. Good thing she uses the same password as on her computer.

  She must have a crush on Jake. THAT’S why she got so blushy and grinny when she read that text earlier. I can’t believe she likes HIM. He’s a hundred feet tall. And also, Violet told me and Lula that he bit her in the stomach once. They were both very little, but still! He’s like Dracula. A very tall Dracula.

  At least Jake’s in the same grade as Jo. Instead of tenth grade, like the last boy she had a crush on. But does it have to be VIOLET’S brother? Does Violet know? Does she think Jo is RIDICULOUS? All giggly and blushy? Is she talking to Lula about it? Is THAT why they got so quiet when I walked into Lula’s room the other day? Because they were gossiping about my sister?

  I don’t want anyone gossiping about my sister. ESPECIALLY not Violet.

  Why does she have to be ALL OVER MY WHOLE LIFE now?

  Anyway. I couldn’t read the whole chain of texts between Jo and Jake. Because it was long! And Jo was only going to get an apple. I had to be fast!

  Here’s what I remember seeing:

  WHAT IS HAPPENING ON WEDNESDAY? Jo goes to rehearsals for her play right after school on Wednesdays, and every other school day. Rehearsals are AT SCHOOL and FREE. And if Jake is paying, doesn’t that mean this is a DATE?

  She should’ve asked Mom or Dad for permission, instead of saying “yes” right away, with a smiley face! I have to ask for permission before I do anything. I can’t even go stand on the sidewalk right outside our building with Lula, who I’ve known FOREVER, without getting permission. So OBVIOUSLY Jo needs permission to skip rehearsal and go on a DATE with a strange boy!

  I’m going to find a school calendar. To see if there’s a school-sponsored activity that costs money on Wednesday afternoon.

  The Tiniest Bit Later

  The calendar was on the kitchen counter, under Mom’s office supply collection. Paper clips spilled everywhere when I pulled the calendar out.

  Those things take forever to clean up.

  Anyway. I looked in the calendar. There is NOTHING going on after school on Wednesday. Except for an afterschool class in knitting. I don’t know whether it costs money. But I am certain Count Jake-ula is not taking Jo to that.

  So, where exactly are the two of them going?

  Later

  I just looked through our bookshelves until I found the school yearbook from last year. Because I couldn’t remember exactly what Jake looks like. Here’s a picture of that tall boy:

  And here’s the horrifying picture I cannot get out of my mind:

  Sunday, December 5

  I just did something weird. I hid under Jo’s bed while she was out of our room. Because I figured she’d come back in and probably call Amber and tell her about Jake and Wednesday. I wanted to spy on her while she did.

  Here is my spy report:

  From the

  Top-Secret Spy Notebook of

  Celie Valentine Altman

  A spy disguises all aspects of his or her appearance. When you speak to your target, trying using a much deeper voice than usual.

  I’m pretty sure Jo knows me even when I talk in a deep voice.

  Besides, I’m not going to speak to my target. I’m HIDING from my target.

  I’m not exactly comfortable under here. I hope she comes back soon.

  Try wearing perfume to disguise your scent.

  I have a scent? I don’t want a scent.

  Besides, I don’t own perfume. Am I supposed to steal some?

  And also, has anyone ever cleaned under here? There are a LOT of dust bunnies.

  Clothes are another important tool for altering appearance. Consider wearing one vividly colored item, such as a red scarf, as a distraction.

  My hands and arms are covered in grime. I bet my jeans are, too, but I can’t see them. I’m lying on my stomach. I want to take a bath. Yuck.

  Wait—I hear something.

  I had to stop writing in my notebook then. Because Jo came in. I guess she heard me writing. Or maybe fidgeting around, trying to get comfortable. Because she looked right under her bed and said, “What are you DOING under there?”

  Then she saw my spy notebook. And she said, “Were you about to spy on me?”

  “No, definitely not,” I said. But she’s my sister, and she knew I was lying, and she said, “I gave you that spy notebook as a gift! You’re never allowed to use it on ME—that should be obvious!”

  So I said, “FINE.” I crawled out, and I was covered with dusty filthiness. Plus I still don’t know anything about Wednesday.

  It was not a successful spy moment.

  I don’t think a red scarf would’ve helped.

  Later

  I keep feeling dirty in my own house. I don’t like it. I made these pie charts about it:

  WHO MADE THE MESS IN OUR HOUSE BEFORE GRANNY MOVED IN?

  WHO MAKES THE MESS IN OUR HOUSE NOW?

  I don’t blame Mom and Dad for the dirt under Jo’s bed, though. Just Jo. How did she get it so grimy under there? There aren’t nearly as many dust bunnies under my bed. I just checked.

  Later

  I have been paying close attention to Jo today. Here is what she has done: She’s asked Mom to quiz her on her Spanish vocab, and she’s watched a little football with Mom and Dad, and she’s helped them make dinner. (Because it is her turn for that chore.)

  Here is what Jo has NOT done: She has NOT had a private conversation with either Mom or Dad. Which means she has NOT told either one of them that she is skipping rehearsal in three days and going on her very first date, with a giant who has a history of sister-biting.

  What should I do about this?

  Monday, December 6

  Math was miserable today. Because Lula and Violet kept passing notes, back and forth and back and forth. Right in front of me.

  I wish their desks were behind mine, so I wouldn’t have to see.

  I could tell something was bothering Lula, too. Because she kept twisting her hair while she waited for Violet to pass a note back on that sheet of paper that they kept folding and unfolding.

  If Lula is twisting her hair, something is definitely bothering her.

  I kept thinking, Why isn’t Lula writing ME when she’s upset? Why VIOLET?

  I couldn’t think of a single good reason.

  Finally, the bell rang. I didn’t get up like everybody else. I sat and tried to decide what to say to Lula. But she and Violet moved so fast! In FIVE SECONDS, they were whispering together and walking out of class together.

  They passed me on their way to the door at the back of the room. And they paid no attention to me at all.

  When they were right beside me, I saw something sticking out of Violet’s back pocket. A folded piece of paper covered with writing.

  I knew what that paper was. And it was SO CLOSE to me.

  I reached out fast and grabbed it.

  Then I sat on it, and I froze. Waiting to get yelled at.

  But nobody’d noticed! I guess Violet didn’t even feel that folded paper leave her pocket. She and Lula just kept whispering and walking out the door. Everyone else kept walking, too.

  Finally, when I felt very safe, I shoved the paper in my backpack. And didn’t take it out until I’d locked myself alone in my roo
m. Right here, on my bed. And now I can’t even believe what I just read.

  Lula’s dad is moving out! Her parents must be getting a divorce. It’s HORRIBLE.

  Here’s the whole conversation:

  V—Dad found a place he likes! Already! He’s taking me to see it tonight. –L

  But he said it would take weeks!

  I know! And he said he’d find something close! It’s not even walking distance. We have to take the subway 4 stops.

  At least he’s already taking you to see it. And you don’t need a plane.

  I can’t believe you still haven’t seen your dad’s place. Only a few more weeks!

  I’m kind of scared to go now. It’s weird. He’s my dad. But you don’t have to be scared. You’ll see yours all the time.

  At least you got a new sister!

  A stepsister. Who won’t say my name. She calls me “Geranium” if she answers the phone when I call Dad.

  She’ll change once she meets you. I know it. She’ll love you! I always wanted a sister.

  She’d just call you Lola. Or something strange, like Ballpoint Pen. You’re actually very lucky.

  I feel unlucky. But thanks for trying, Sky High Vi.

  I feel so many things, reading this note! I feel terrible that Lula’s parents are separating. That must be so hard for her. Knowing they’re not going to be a family anymore. Having to go down into the subway and then wait four stops and come up in a strange neighborhood, just to see her dad. Not being able to wake him up in the middle of the night and ask him to get her some water.

  Also, I don’t understand why she didn’t tell me! I’ve known her family forever! I know how weird it’s going to be for her. Not Violet. Even if Violet’s parents are divorced. Violet’s only really been friends with Lula since last month!