The Summer of Bad Ideas Read online

  I smile back, but in the back of my mind, I wonder if it would have still been worth it to her if she didn’t have as many likes. I turn back to the weeds. At least weeds are easy to understand. Wait—weed or plant? Weed. No, definitely plant. Well, okay, easier to understand.

  After I pull a few more green things from the ground, I notice I’ve pretty much been working solo for a while. I look over my shoulder. She’s lying on a beach towel, texting away.

  “Sorry, Edie, I’ll help in a second, okay?” Then she holds the phone at arm’s length and says, in her classic-movie voice, “I’m ready for my close-up.” She snaps a selfie.

  “Rae.” I smile. “What on earth are you doing?”

  “Just working.”

  “Um—”

  “I mean, that’s my caption. ‘Hard at work.’ You know, lounging here on this beach towel.” She smiles, her eyes glued to her phone screen. “I’m texting this one to Vivian. One of my beasties.”

  “Your beasties?”

  “I’m kidding. My besties, of course.”

  She sends her message and finally puts her phone down. “You look exhausted. Maybe we should look into the child labor laws. We might actually have a case.”

  We hear excited voices coming from the backyard. I take a peek around the corner of the house.

  “Did you know the Komodo dragon kills its victims by infecting it with its mouth germs?” It’s Beatrice.

  “Yeah, and when they kill something, the dragon babies roll around in the prey’s guts so that they stink as much as possible and no animal will want to come near them.” That’s Henry.

  The twins are practically clamoring around Mitchell as he tries to make his way to the snakes. “No, I didn’t know any of that,” Mitchell says, “But thank you. That’s . . . uh . . . good stuff.”

  “Hey, Edie. You’ve practically memorized Petunia’s list. What’s the next thing on it?”

  “You mean item four?” It’s another thing that feels pretty out of reach, especially since I’m the kind of person who has to have imaginary boyfriends. “It’s ‘master flirting.’”

  But when I look over at her, she gives me a slow smile that says she already knew the answer. “So I’d say maybe today’s a good day to check that box. With Snake Boy.”

  “Well, I—I,” I stammer, a little flustered. “I don’t even . . . know him, really.”

  “Maybe you’d like to get to know him a little better,” she says in a syrupy, teasing voice.

  I try to laugh, but my breath comes out in little frantic bursts.

  “Uh-oh, I think you like him,” Rae says, almost singing. “You really like him.”

  “What? No—no, I do not, Rae. I mean, not like that.”

  “Okay, fine. You don’t like him like that. That doesn’t mean you can’t flirt with him.”

  I bite my bottom lip. I do want that checkmark. “There’s this guy down here—he’s cute, with turquoise eyes, and very mysterious, and we sort of have a thing,” I’ll tell Taylor when she calls. And she’ll realize how exciting I am now, how far I’ve come since this past spring, when I chickened out and played sick the whole week the class was paired off for square dancing in P.E.

  “So what would I even do?” I ask.

  “Just talk to him,” she says, like it’s all so easy. Which for her, I’m sure, it is.

  “About what?”

  “I don’t know, Edie—about anything. It’s not so much what you say, it’s how you say it.”

  Like that helps.

  I study him. He’s just another weird kid, like me, right? Nothing to be too nervous about. Maybe I can just march over there and talk to him—about what, though? Snakes? Frogs? Reptiles? Ugh.

  Rae follows my glance. “Okay, I was totally joking, but you do—”

  “No, I do not.” And then I say, “Anyway, I have a boyfriend,” mostly so she’ll stop teasing me about Mitchell.

  But she doesn’t. “Well, the way you’re looking at Snake Boy, I kind of feel sorry for Klaus.”

  I hear Beatrice’s voice again. It’s like someone turned her volume up a few notches. “Hey, Mitchell! Did you know the largest snake in the world is the reticulated python?”

  Then Henry’s words pour out quickly, and even louder. “Yeah, and it grows to about twenty-five feet long! And did you know the most poisonous reptile is a poison arrow frog? Just a drop of its poison can kill a bunch of people—”

  “Well,” I say, grateful for the distraction, “the only person you should feel sorry for right now is Mitchell. It’s an SOS situation. The supertwins are on full attack.”

  We go into the backyard, and Rae calls out, “Never fear, Mitchell. We’re here to save you!” Then she runs across the lawn, toward the snake enclosures. “The dynamic duo to the rescue!”

  But I’m not feeling too dynamic at the moment, and I’m not sure if it’s the thought of the snakes or the boy with them that’s making me so skittish.

  I take a breath. I can do this, right? I allow myself to fall forward, one leg at a time. From the outside, it must look like running. I make it about halfway through the yard, halfway to the serpents’ lair, before my run slows to a reluctant walk.

  Rae’s made it over to Henry. She taps him on the shoulder and runs a few steps away.

  “Yes?” he asks her.

  “Henry, I just tagged you. You’re it!”

  “It?”

  “Yeah.” She laughs. “Come on, you’re supposed to try to tag me back.”

  “Oh, it. We don’t play it.”

  “It’s called tag,” Rae says, laughing. “So what were you playing with Colvin the other day?”

  “Oh, that was fetch,” Beatrice says. “And Colvin was pretty good at it, even though he’s just a human and not a dog.”

  Rae stops and looks over at me. “Okay, wow. Rescuing Mitchell from these dizygotes is going to be harder than I thought.”

  I walk a little closer to them. Every inch feels like a mile. “Come on, you guys. Leave Mitchell alone.”

  “Why?” Henry asks.

  “He’s trying to clean out the cages. You’re probably driving him crazy. Just go play. And not fetch.”

  Beatrice looks at me. “Then what?”

  I give Rae a please-help look.

  “All right, supertwins, show me something smart,” Rae says.

  Beatrice looks suddenly excited. “Oh, oh, Henry! Let’s show her our way of measuring trees.”

  Henry races her to the line of trees at the edge of the yard, and Rae follows them. I am alone with Mitchell. I get a fluttering attack of the nerves, but I just try to smile and cross my arms in some easy-looking way. And avoid his eyes at all costs.

  “So,” he says, “you don’t much like them, do you? Snakes.”

  “Oh.” I gust-laugh. “Is it that obvious?”

  He gives a little shrug. “Well, you seem nervous.”

  “I’m working on it. I’ll get over it, I will.” I exhale. “Eventually.”

  “Well, you can start by coming closer. I promise I won’t let any loose.” He puts a few handfuls of shredded paper on the bottom of an enclosure.

  I try to take another step, but my feet don’t want to work with me. “Hey, Mitchell?”

  “Yeah?”

  “What about snakes in the grass?” I ask.

  He looks at me like I’m speaking a different language.

  “I mean, well, say, you were walking around outside in the yard or the grass or something, and you wanted to make sure that if there are any snakes nearby, they know you’re coming. So they have a chance to, you know—”

  “You mean slither away?”

  Slither. The word itself gives me chills. “Yeah, I guess—”

  But our conversation is interrupted by Beatrice. “Edith! This tree’s forty-five feet tall!”

  I shade my eyes and squint. I see that Rae and Henry are bent over, in wide stances. From where their heads touch the ground, they are looking up at the trees. Beatrice is taking
slow, exacting steps from the tree toward them.

  Mitchell’s voice is slow, confused. “Uh, what are they . . . ?”

  “Oh. If you can see the top of the tree from ground level, you’re about as far away as it is tall. It assumes a forty-five degree angle from the ground, where your head is, to the tree top.” I explain. “It’s just practical trigonometry.”

  He smiles. Okay, he dimples.

  Even though he seems a little impressed, like he thinks I’m kind of smart, I’m feeling pretty dumb because of the goofy, supersized smile that I can’t seem to wipe off my face. My eyes start to seek his out, but I catch them doing that and force myself to look away and watch Rae and the twins. It looks like she’s started teaching them to play tag after all.

  But then Mitchell says, “You know, you can always make kissing noises.”

  “Uh—” Kissing noises? I don’t know what he’s talking about, but I feel suddenly sunburned with embarrassment.

  “To scare away the snakes, if there are any around. Just make kissing sounds. Scares them off.”

  I feel a nervous laugh start to erupt, but I know how that works around him. I will turn into some sort of snort-snot machine, so I just give him a smile and walk off—okay, kiss off—to join Rae and the twins. No wonder I have to make up boyfriends. I couldn’t flirt my way out of my own underwear drawer.

  Henry squeals and runs. It looks like Rae just became it. And tag’s a much easier game than this flirting thing anyway.

  Later, Rae and I are in our room. I’ve just finished brushing my teeth, and she’s just finished a heavy texting session with Leo. She lets out a happy sigh, and then in a nasally monotone she says, “E.T. phone home.” She pushes the phone into my hand.

  “Oh, but—”

  “Just text him already!” She’s talking about Klaus.

  “I think I’m too tired.”

  “Oh-kay.” She takes the phone back and reclines on her bed. “Suit yourself. But don’t you miss him?”

  I try to smile, but it feels more like a grimace. “I don’t know, Rae. I don’t think we’re like you and Leo.” As, well, one of us isn’t even real.

  She glances over. “What do you mean?”

  “Oh, well . . . I guess I don’t really feel like we need to stay in touch all the time.”

  “I bet I know why,” she says. Her voice has this sweet and gooey tone to it.

  “Why?” I ask, feeling a little nervous.

  She props herself up on her elbow. “I bet it’s because you haven’t kissed Klaus.”

  I almost wince at the thought of having lip-to-lip contact with this imaginary boyfriend. “Well, no.” Lederhosen! Knee socks! “I haven’t.”

  “Well, just wait till you do,” she says. “That changes everything.”

  “What’s it like?” I ask. I can’t help myself.

  “It’s just amazing,” she says, snapping off the light. I hear her yawn.

  “Amazing how?”

  “It’s like, oh, I don’t know . . .” Her voice gets kind of dreamy and floaty sounding. “Your mouth is being squeezed by a vacuum.”

  “A vacuum?”

  “Well, like between pillows in a vacuum. I mean”—the dreamy/floaty tone leaving her voice—“it’s hard to explain. One day you’ll understand.” And then she sort of giggles. “Hey, Edie. Maybe you’ll be the one to kiss the charmer.”

  “Oh, uh.” I laugh. Panic starts to simmer quietly inside of me. I’m clearly not capable of flirting with a boy—I can’t even imagine kissing one!

  But Rae’s right about the comment she made earlier today: I have memorized Petunia’s list of good ideas. I say, “Well, that’s the last thing on the list.” So, thankfully, there’s a lot to do before I have to face it.

  Chapter 12

  Dirty Laundry

  “Hey, Edith,” says a supertwin. “Mom says to get up.”

  I keep my eyes closed.

  I feel Beatrice shake my shoulder. “Edith. Wake up.”

  “I’m awake,” I mumble.

  Snickering.

  I am aware of something close to my face. I open one eye. A glassy-eyed, gray-and-black creature stares down at me.

  I yank myself up, toppling over Albert/Odysseus. The twins break into fits of laughter. “Ha ha. You guys are so funny,” I say. “Now will you please leave me alone!?”

  “But Mom did say to wake you up,” Beatrice says.

  “And take Albert with you!”

  “His name,” Beatrice says, “is Odysseus.”

  I throw my pillow in their general direction and they scatter out of the room, leaving me alone with the stuffed dog. I put on my glasses and look over at him. His vacant blue eyes stare back at me. Maybe Albert/Odysseus isn’t so bad. I reach up and pet him. I wonder where Rae is.

  “You do like him!” Beatrice says, giggling. The twins haven’t made it very far. They’re peering in from the hallway.

  “Don’t you guys have an extinct bird to find?” I ask.

  “It’s endangered. No one can find an extinct bird,” Henry says.

  “I know that, Henry. Now go somewhere else, you guys. I need some privacy.”

  “You’re no fun anymore,” I hear Beatrice say, but at least I get the intended effect. They leave, shutting—okay, slamming—my door behind them. I hear their footsteps finally making their way down the hall.

  I stand up, slip on a clean T-shirt and some clean-enough shorts, and go downstairs. Rae’s sitting at the table drinking her morning coffee as my mother sorts through the mail.

  “Hi,” I say.

  “Morning, honey,” my mom says.

  “Hey, sleepyhead,” Rae says.

  The phone rings, and I lunge for it. Taylor? Could it be? Already? Could she be home from camp early? Bored with Sophi, missing me? “Hello?”

  “Good morning. This is the Polk County Animal Shelter. Could I speak to an adult?”

  I slump and hand the phone over to my mother.

  “Expecting a call?” Rae jokes. She mouths the words, “From Klaus?”

  My eyes go wide with panic. My mom seems to be happily chatting away on the phone, but still—she’s less than ten feet away! I’d be mortified if she knew anything about a boyfriend, real or otherwise!

  My mom hangs up the phone and announces, “The animal shelter is doing a clothing drive. They’re picking up donations tomorrow. This sounds like a good job for you girls. Petunia’s got a whole closet full of things that will be as good as new after a good wash.”

  “Great. Laundry day.” I groan.

  But just as I try to secretly scavenge for a Pop-Tart, a stream of water starts pouring in through the ceiling above the sink. My dad clomps down the stairs and rushes into the kitchen. “Oh, dragonfly droppings!”

  “Walter! What’s the matter?”

  “Maybe my aim’s a little off these days,” he says.

  Then Uncle A.J. stomps down the stairs, shouting out things that horrify my mom. As they start to argue, Rae turns to me. “Hey, Edie,” she says in an extra-quiet voice. “No worries, okay? I won’t tell your parents. I can keep a secret.”

  A secret?

  “About Klaus.” She gestures zipping her lips shut. “I totally get it. My dad doesn’t know about Leo either. Well, he knows Leo. He just doesn’t know that he’s my boyfriend.”

  We exchange a conspiratorial smile. I feel a little guilty about lying, but I have to admit—I like this feeling of approval. If I can be exciting enough for Rae, this adventurous almost-famous cousin of mine, then hanging on to Taylor seems a little more possible.

  Uncle A.J. makes it jarringly clear that the bleeping water will have to be shut off, and my mother says, “A.J., will you please watch your mouth?”

  “I don’t have to, with you doing it for me!”

  He dashes outside, and we hear the crank of a rusty water valve turning.

  “Well, so much for laundry. And sanity,” my mom says. “Walt, maybe we should think about buying a new refrigerator. I k
now this one’s really going.”

  “A refrigerator?” my dad asks.

  “You could be really helpful by pioneering that effort,” she says to him, giving him a wide smile. “Girls, I guess you’re on mildew duty today. We’ll just have to do a clothing donation another time.”

  “Aunt Hannah?” Rae asks. “There’s a Laundromat downtown. We drive past it on the way to the diner. Maybe Edie and I can wash the clothes there and get them ready for the pickup.”

  “A Laundromat? Rae, how do you know how to . . .” My mom’s sentence slows to a halt.

  “I’ll be thirteen in October. I’ve been doing laundry since I was ten.”

  I’m amazed at her range of talents, her scope of skill. She’s so smart—not like the Posey-Preston book-sponge kind of smart, but the real-life kind of smart. So capable.

  “Well, if I’m supposed to be looking at refrigerators, maybe I can drop the girls off on my way to Home Depot,” my dad suggests.

  My mom tilts her head. “Okay, girls, start collecting Petunia’s clothes, then. But I’d like to remind you that you’re in town to do laundry. None of this wandering around. Understood?”

  “We understand,” Rae says. With a smile that makes me wonder what she’s planning.

  My dad makes his thinking noises as he drives us downtown. It sounds like he’s trying to suck something out of his teeth. “A refrigerator,” he says. “Never bought one before, but it can’t be that hard, right?”

  “You should get a stainless steel one,” Rae says. “With that little button you can press for ice. It’s so hot down here.”

  We pull up in front of the Laundromat. “Be back in . . . what do they say around here? Two shakes of a coon’s tail?”

  “Dad, they don’t say that down here. Or probably anywhere,” I say as we get out of the car.

  “Yeah, Uncle Walt. All the reptiles probably ate all of the raccoons anyway.”

  Rae and I go inside with our quarters and three bags of Petunia’s clothes, a large number of them zebra patterned, tiger striped, and leopard spotted. The place is empty, so we fill up three washers and Rae adds detergent. She gives me a handful of quarters, but I’m not sure what to do with them. I watch as she slides them into slots and presses the plate in. There’s the sound of water filling the washer. Is there nothing this girl can’t do?