She laughs. “I certainly hope so! When are we going to see you over here again?”
“Oh, trust me,” I say. “I’ve got a whole bunch of nothing planned this summer, so you won’t be able to get rid of me.”
She tsks into the phone. “You’re not signed up for any extracurricular activities yet? Lots of those run through the summer. I’ve got Oscar signing up for all kinds of clubs and even wrestling, I think.”
“What? Oscar signed up for wrestling?” Oscar avoids sweating as much as I do, and he hates when his brothers horse around. Why would he sign up for wrestling?
“I could’ve sworn he gave me the schedule.” I can hear her shuffling through papers. “You’ll have to ask him yourself, hon. I’ve got paper coming out of my ears over here.”
“Speaking of, could I talk to Oscar?”
“Just a moment!” She muffles the receiver, but the speaker still crackles when she shouts, “Mijo!”
A few seconds later, Oscar sighs into the phone. “I’ve got it, Mom!”
“Hey, it’s me,” I say. “Your mom said something about you signing up for clubs? And a sport even?”
I can hear him chewing on his lip—his nervous tic. “Yeah, we can talk about it tonight. My mom’s getting my brother to give me a ride later. What time should I come over?”
“Well, I sort of have some bad news....” And then I layit all out for him, and to my surprise, Mrs. Bryant’s dumb rule is the least of his concerns.
“You invitedKierato our sleepover without even asking me first?”
I groan. “I don’t know. I mean, yes. But you dragged me to her birthday party. How was I supposed to know you’d even care?”
“I didn’t make you go to her party. You wanted to check out Trampoline Zone as much as I did.”
“I just... we used to be such good friends. And she’s going through a lot right now.”
“What is she going through?” he asks.
“It’s really not for me to say.”
“Whatever, Sweet Pea. So I guess Little Miss I-Get-Everything-I-Want Kiera is going through... something. And so all of a sudden after she just mysteriously ditched you for years, you’ve invited her to our sleepover and in doing so have uninvited me?”
“Well, when you put it like that...” I sigh into the receiver. “Oscar, just trust me on this, please? I’m so, so sorry. And I owe you so big-time. I promise to make it up to you.”
“Yeah, you’ve been promising lots of things lately.”
“I really will make it up to you.”
“Whatever,” he says.
“So we’re cool?”
“I don’t know, Sweet Pea. Sure. I guess so.”
I squeal into the phone. “You’re the best, you’re the best, you’re the best. I promise I really will make it up to you. Me. You. Trampoline Zone. Zero puke. I’ll even use my allowance to pay for us both. And—and I’ll buy you the fancy socks they sell.”
“Whatever you say,” he says flatly. “Have fun at your slumber party.”
I’m feeling guilty and annoyed all at once. Guilty that I had to choose Kiera over Oscar and annoyed that I can’t make Oscar understand why.
After we hang up, the light on the phone is blinking red. I hit the voice-mail number next to the light. We never really get voice messages since anything important goes to Mom’s or Dad’s phones. I’m sure this message is just some fake spam message saying we won a cruise to Alaska or something.
“Andre? Andre DiMarco? This is Saul Benson from Liberty Finance up in Bridgeport, Connecticut. I was calling about that small-business loan we discussed. We got you approved. Sent out a letter in the mail. I tried to connect via email, but looks like I got your address wrong and the email bounced back. Give me a call when you can. We gotta tie up some loose ends and get you up here to get some things in order. Anyway, listen, give me a call back.And congrats! Can’t wait to get you on your feet with the shop.”
A new shop? And it’s in Connecticut? I don’t get it. Would Dad really move halfway across the country without talking to me first? My stomach plummets.
