Freaky Tuesday #17 Page 4

  “Let’s get inside,” Gaby said. “We’re probably going to be the last ones. I hope there are some good seats left.”

  “Good seats? It’s not a movie,” Chelsea commented as Gaby opened the front door and ushered her in.

  “It’s better than a movie. We’re helping people,” Gaby primly reminded her. She scanned the large foyer and spotted a woman with a nametag that read JULIA JEUNET. “Follow me,” she told Val and Chelsea.

  Gaby crossed the room and held out her hand to Ms. Jeunet. “Hello. I’m Gaby Parsons. We talked on the phone. I brought my friends to the orientation.” She waved in the direction of Val and Chelsea. “We’re so excited about volunteering.”

  It felt good to have brought Val and Chelsea to the center. Ms. Jeunet must think Gaby was an ultra-good person. She hadn’t just volunteered herself. She’d brought recruits.

  “And we’re excited to have you here,” Ms. Jeunet answered. “We’re going to be meeting in the dining room. Just go on in. It’s the yellow door to the left.”

  “It’s cute how all the doors are different colors,” Val said as they walked into the dining room.

  “I think it would look better if they were at least all shades of the same color,” Chelsea said. “And I think the chairs should match.” She shook her head, looking at the mix of armchairs and straight-back chairs circling the large wooden table.

  “It makes the place cozy,” Val said, plopping down in the nearest armchair.

  Chelsea raised her eyebrows. “What do you think?” she asked Gaby.

  “I don’t think the decor is important,” Gaby answered, sitting next to Val. Although, actually, she agreed with Chelsea. The place did feel a little too thrown together.

  She glanced around at the other people at the table. She, Chelsea, and Val were the youngest. There were a couple of girls who were maybe in college. Some mom-aged women, some in suits, some in jeans and those tacky sweatshirts with the appliqués. There weren’t many guys. Just three. One who looked sort of like Santa Claus, with the white hair and the belly. And two who looked like your basic dads. No cuties.

  Chelsea leaned across Val and whispered, “Is there some rule that says cute boys can’t volunteer?”

  “Shhh! And also, that’s not why we’re here,” Gaby whispered back. What would everyone think if they heard that? Gaby didn’t want people to think she was volunteering so she could meet cute boys. She was volunteering because she was a good person and it was a good thing to do.

  “Maybe we should volunteer to hunt down some hottie volunteers,” Val jumped in, keeping her voice low. “That would be a fun job!”

  “You two should just leave if all you can think about is boys,” Gaby snapped, forgetting to whisper. Val and Chelsea were ruining everything. Gaby had brought them with her. She had introduced them to Ms. Jeunet. So if they looked silly and shallow, it made Gaby look silly and shallow.

  “Uh-oh. Does that mean I have to leave, too? I think about boys an awful lot,” one of the college girls asked with a grin.

  Val and Chelsea laughed.

  “I didn’t mean…I wasn’t talking to you,” Gaby said, embarrassed.

  “All right, everyone. Let’s get started,” Ms. Jeunet called as she walked into the room. She sat down next to Gaby, not bothering to go to the empty chair at the head of the table.

  “First I want to tell you a little bit about Home Away From Home,” Ms. Jeunet continued. “It was started by Clarissa and Robert Hanson, a couple whose daughter, Shannon, had leukemia. Of course, the Hansons wanted to be with Clarissa whenever she was in the hospital. The closest motel to the Children’s Hospital pretty much became their home away from home.” She smiled. “Now you know where the name came from.”

  Gaby nodded. She already knew the background of Home Away From Home. She’d read everything on their website.

  “Every once in a while, Clarissa and Robert would meet other families staying at the motel who were in the same situation. Parents who also had children in the hospital. Talking to these other parents was a huge comfort to the Hansons, and that’s what gave them the idea for Home Away From Home,” Ms. Jeunet explained.

  Gaby wondered how many times Ms. Jeunet had told this story. It didn’t sound memorized or rehearsed, but she had to have given this talk at a ton of volunteer orientations.

  “They thought it would be great if there was a place close to the hospital where parents with sick kids could all stay. Someplace that was more comfortable than a motel,” Ms. Jeunet went on. “Someplace where life could feel a little bit normal. With a kitchen where people could cook their own meals. And a play area where the other children in the families could hang out. And a big living room where there was always somebody to talk to.”

  Then Ms. Jeunet listed the different kinds of volunteers they needed at Home Away From Home. Babysitting. Gaby could hear a baby crying somewhere in the house right now. Even from this far away it was starting to make her nuts.

  Grocery shopping. You needed a car for that one. And grocery shopping? Gaby bet that was the one kind of shopping even Chelsea wasn’t into.

  Laundry. Gaby would melt into a pool of liquid boredom.

  Cataloging the books in the library. Yawn.

  Organizing entertainment for the brothers and sisters of the patients. Ms. Jeunet explained that volunteers could organize a movie night, or run an afternoon of games—anything where the kids could have a good time.

  That’s it, Gaby decided, not bothering to listen to the rest of the list.

  “So what should we sign up for?” Gaby asked when the orientation ended.

  “I think helping expand the playground would be tons of fun,” Val answered. “I’ve always wanted to wear a tool belt.”

  “That’s not a good look for anybody,” Chelsea told her. “Especially anybody with hips. And anyway, we should do cooking. Every time I watch America’s Favorite Chef, I want to start chopping something.”

  Gaby couldn’t believe this was happening. She’d only asked them what they wanted to do to be nice. She’d been positive they would want to sign up for entertainment. It was so clearly the best job.

  “What about entertainment?” Gaby looked back and forth between Chelsea and Valerie. “We’d be like camp counselors. We could come up with lots of great games and activities.”

  “Cooking is the best—” Chelsea began to protest.

  Gaby cut her off. “We need to show the kids how to have fun Camp Lakeview–style!” she exclaimed. “I’m signing us up for entertainment right now.” She rushed over to the wall where the sign-up sheets were posted and wrote her name in big, clear letters. Then she added Valerie’s and Chelsea’s.

  The whole volunteering thing was Gaby’s idea. It was only fair that she get to choose what job they’d do.

  To: Brynn and Alex

  From: Valerie

  Subject: The Deets

  You guys said you wanted the details on how the volunteering thing went. All I can say is OMG. You should have seen Chelsea and Gaby. It was a complete Clash of the Control Freaks. I’m surprised I’m not blood spattered right now.

  See, there was this list of jobs that Home Away From Home needed volunteers for. Like expanding their playground, which I thought would be cool (and I’d get to wear a tool belt!), but whatev. So Chelsea wanted to volunteer to help cook a meal, and Gaby wanted to volunteer to organize some fun activities for the brothers and sisters of the kids who were sick.

  You won’t believe this. Actually, you will, because you know Gaby. Anyway, Gaby just signed me, Chelsea, and herself up for the activities. And Chelsea threw a hissy. She and Gaby really got into it. Gaby only won because Chelsea’s mother came to pick her up first.

  I actually think planning some games and stuff for the kids would be fun. If I wasn’t doing it with the Temper Twins.

  There you have it.

  Peace out,

  Val

  chapter

  FOUR

  “Peanuts, hard-bo
iled eggs, and steak strips,” Candace’s mother said, setting plates down on the kitchen table. “All guaranteed brain food. Do you need anything else?”

  “Anything else?” Candace echoed, looking from Joshua to Samantha to Rowan—the members of her study group.

  “An A on my first French quiz,” Joshua joked.

  Candace’s mom opened the fridge and peered inside. “Sorry. Must have forgotten to put that on the shopping list. I guess you’ll have to study,” she said with a smile. “I’ll leave you to it,” she added over her shoulder as she headed out of the kitchen.

  Candace glanced at the food and sighed. She would much rather have chips and pretzels like they did at camp. Who cared if snack food made your brain work better? Snack food was supposed to taste yummy and that was about it.

  “Wouldn’t it be cool if you could just go to the store and pick up good grades?” Rowan asked. “My parents told me they’d give me fifty dollars for every A I bring down this year. If I could buy As for thirty dollars each, I’d be making twenty bucks an A!”

  Joshua laughed. “You sound like one of those word problems we had back in elementary school.” His expression turned serious. “I can’t believe your parents pay you for As. My parents just expect me to have a row of them on every report card. And when I do, they hardly say anything. I’d only hear about it if I did something horrifying—like get a B.”

  “That’s sort of how it is for me,” Candace said. “My parents tell me I did a good job if I get As. But they say a lot more if I don’t.” She thought about last year when she’d brought home a B-minus in math. She’d definitely heard about that. It wasn’t that her parents had yelled or anything. But the three of them—and sometimes Max, too—had long talks about motivation, study skills, and homework schedules. For a while, it had felt like math was her whole world. That’s why it had been extra great to get to camp this year and just forget about school for a while.

  “What about you, Samantha?” Joshua asked. “Are your parents bribers or yellers or what?”

  “They think school is my job,” Samantha answered. “They say I’m old enough to know that actions have consequences. Studying hard means you get As. Slacking off means you don’t. My parents think that decision is mine.”

  Joshua snorted. “Yeah, right. I bet that would change the second you brought home a B.”

  “Samantha doesn’t do Bs,” Rowan reminded everyone.

  Samantha tossed her head, sending her long, long hair flying. “Can I help it if I’m naturally brilliant?” she asked.

  She was incredibly smart. But Candace knew that Sam worked hard to get the grades she did.

  “You know who’s truly naturally brilliant?” Rowan asked. “Allen. That boy never studies. I mean it. Never. And he’s still in the top ten every month when the rankings are posted.”

  “He’s in the top ten every month,” Candace agreed. Then she winced, realizing she’d slipped into the repeating thing again.

  “I know. I hate him,” Joshua joked. But there was an edge to his voice. He wasn’t completely kidding.

  That’s so weird, Candace thought. Joshua and Allen have been best friends since kindergarten.

  She managed to keep herself from repeating anything Joshua said. There was no reason for the nervous habit now. She was hanging in her own kitchen with her friends. It’s just that all the talk about rankings and As made her think of math. And that stressed her out.

  “If Allen actually did study, he’d give you some real competition for the number-one ranking,” Rowan told Samantha.

  Samantha did another hair toss. “You’re saying Allen is smarter than me?”

  “Than I,” Joshua corrected with a smile.

  “We’re not working on English right now,” Samantha shot back.

  “What are we going to start with?” Candace asked quickly. She felt like the conversation could turn ugly any second. When had her friends become so competitive? She didn’t like the tension in the room. And besides, they needed to get to work.

  But Samantha ignored the question. “Speaking of English, did I tell you guys that the short story I wrote over the summer is going to be in the school paper on Friday?”

  “How did you swing that?” Rowan asked. “You aren’t even on the newspaper staff.”

  “Mr. Kinney knew I went to writing camp over the summer. He asked to see some of my stuff. He really liked one of the stories, so he asked me if they could run it in the paper,” Samantha explained.

  “That’s not exactly fair,” Rowan commented. “He should have asked everyone if they had stories they wanted considered. It’s not like you have to go to writing camp to write.”

  “What should we start with?” Candace asked again. She had the feeling the issue of whether or not Mr. Kinney should have gotten stories from everyone could turn into a debate. A loooong one.

  “How about math?” Joshua suggested.

  “How about math?” Candace repeated. She couldn’t stop herself.

  Drew dumped a box of Pop-Tarts, a bag of Chips Ahoy, and a bag of mini candy bars on the kitchen table. “What?” he asked as Brynn and Rosemary stared at the pile of junk food. “I run on sugar. You can’t expect me to come up with a skit without it.”

  “The only thing is, I run on grease. And salt,” Rosemary told him.

  Drew shot her a grin, then pulled a large bag of Doritos out of the cupboard and added it to the pile. He turned to Brynn. “Anything you need to help you think?”

  “I’m flexible. I can run on either sugar or salty grease.” She grabbed one of the chocolate chip cookies and a handful of the Doritos.

  “Did you know that Doritos are made in York County, Pennsylvania?” Rosemary asked. “It’s called the Snack Capital of America because there are so many snack-food makers there.”

  “You really are the queen of useless knowledge,” Drew told her. “So what are we going to do for our skit? How are we going to make everyone want to sign up for drama?”

  “We have to make acting look like fun,” Brynn said. “Which shouldn’t be that hard. Acting is fun.”

  “Why is acting fun? Maybe that’s what we should think about for starters,” Rosemary said. She licked the salt off a chip and smacked her lips.

  “The applause,” Brynn joked. Mostly joked. She did love hearing a crowd give it up for her. But that was only a teeny part of why she wanted to act.

  “Getting to learn new stuff,” Drew offered. “Like fencing. Or how to do magic, like when I played Houdini.”

  “I like how extreme you get to be,” Rosemary said. “I played Helen Keller in The Miracle Worker once. I loved throwing those huge tantrums. It’s fun being able to do stuff you’d never get away with in real life.”

  “Oooh, that gives me an idea!” Brynn exclaimed. “What if we did a skit where we were, like, the Dramatics. The most dramatic family on the planet. If one of the Dramatics forgot to say ‘good morning,’ one of the other ones would burst out sobbing. I’m talking big-time tragedy.”

  “And the other one could get furious. And just go off like a maniac off his meds,” Drew added.

  “Exactly!” Brynn exclaimed.

  They both looked over at Rosemary. Her eyes had gone so wide that white showed all around her irises. She wrapped her arms tightly around herself, but she couldn’t stop shivering.

  “What’s wrong?” Brynn demanded.

  Rosemary leaned forward and whispered, “I love this idea so much it scares me.”

  Drew cracked up. So did Brynn. These are sooo my peeps, she thought.

  “Great. So our skit will be about the Dramatics,” Drew decreed.

  It’s going to be fab, Brynn thought. She couldn’t wait for lunch on Friday. She couldn’t wait to perform the skit for everybody in school. They were going to love the Dramatics—and Brynn!

  “Looks good, tater tot,” Chelsea’s father said as he came into the kitchen.

  “Don’t call me tater tot,” she said automatically, even though she
didn’t really mean it. She studied the plates of snacks in the middle of the kitchen table, then nodded. “They do look good, don’t they?” The garnishes of sliced bell peppers set off the sunshine yellow plates perfectly.

  “Good enough to eat,” her dad said. He grabbed a bottle of water out of the fridge and left the kitchen.

  Chelsea turned her attention back to the table. The bruschetta smelled so good, she felt like gobbling it all up before Val and Gaby arrived. Not that she’d ever do that. Messing with the perfectly rounded mound of bruschetta would throw the whole display out of balance. Gaby probably didn’t care about things like that. And Valerie was too laid back to notice. But Chelsea liked perfection.

  In fact…she hurried to the bathroom and did a quick makeup and hair check. She was glad she had. The thickness of her eye shadow was slightly out of balance. She grabbed a tissue and ran it lightly over her left eyelid. Yes. Perfect.

  The doorbell rang, and Chelsea smiled. She couldn’t wait to tell the other girls her plan for the Home Away From Home activity night. It was, what was the word? Her smile stretched into a grin. Perfect. She still thought it would be more fun to cook dinner for everyone at the center. But since Gaby had had a tantrum and insisted on doing the activities, Chelsea had come up with the best idea for what they should do. She wasn’t afraid of teamwork, and now Gaby would know that.

  The doorbell rang again as Chelsea walked down the hall. That has to be Gaby, she thought. Valerie’s not that impatient.

  She was right. She saw Gaby standing on her porch though one of the diamond-shaped panes of glass in the front door. I would have gone a different way with the accessories, Chelsea told herself, taking in Gaby’s topaz earrings paired with a topaz pendant and a topaz bracelet.

  But all she said when she opened the door was, “Interesting jewelry.” Gaby wasn’t the only one who could be saintly.

  “Thanks,” Gaby answered. She thrust a greasy paper bag into Chelsea’s hands. “I brought snacks, these cookies my mom came up with.”