Drive Me Crazy (12 page)

She gives him a high five. “So long as Nono doesn’t get jealous.”

“What Nono’s getting,” Grandma Tess says, clearly pleased, “is ready for some actual food. We haven’t done the bumper boats yet, though, so what do you say we head for our big final splash, dry off in the sunshine, and then see what downtown Bakersfield has to offer in the dining department? I may have had my fill of amusement park junk.”

“Cool,” Cassie says, picking up her purse. I notice she slides her hand inside it, probably to make sure her phone’s still there, or to feel it if it buzzes.

As we fall into step behind our grandparents, she sneaks me a
Wow, that was close
look. While I’m glad we didn’t get caught—and the whole dancing thing was a heap of fun—part of me still can’t wait to drench her with a Super Soaker.

Chapter Twenty
Cassie

F
or our late lunch Howie finds the hands-down weirdest place. Instead of quiet little booths, the family restaurant called Noriega’s has long, giant tables stretching across the room, and everyone sits together. Worse than sitting with strangers? We can’t even pick what we eat. Instead the old-lady waitresses bring out huge platters of food, and we all help ourselves family-style to the beans, soup, salad, bread, and bleccch—thin slices of cow tongue. Ugh.

“This place is certified Basque at its finest,” Howie says happily, swallowing a bite of tongue and scooping up some bean sauce with a chunk of bread. “Not to mention highly rated by James Beard.”

Lana and I swap a look that says we just don’t want our lunches licking us back.

“Makes me miss the commune days, I’ll admit,” Nono says. “Sharing meals together was one of my favorite parts.”

“Sure you weren’t too busy painting to make it to dinner?” Howie teases her.

Nono protests with a laugh, explaining that she actually had a very strict studying schedule, so that she could finish her college education in three years. The fun around the table was her only break.

“I will say I bartered to get out of my chores as often as I could,” she tells us. “At one point I owed three chakric crystal readings, two healing-touch massages, and my favorite Guatemalan poncho.”

“You know how to read crystals?” Lana looks at Nono with the same admiration I always feel when Nono tells stories. I get a flash of pride at how awesome my grandmother is. It’s nice in the same way as when on one of Nono’s visits, she treated Fiona and me to pedicures, and the two of them immediately clicked. Something like that will never happen again, of course. Kendra Mack and my other new friends would not be impressed by Nono’s hippie stories, either. I’m glad Lana loves them, though.

Nono explains how her debts to everyone were eventually what led to her friendship with my mom’s birth father,
Richard Hsu. The story is especially fun for me, since I already know Nono’s punch line. I squeal out, “She doesn’t read them at all!” right as Nono says, “I don’t know the first thing about them,” and we all crack up.

Back at the hotel, the receptionist hands Lana a postcard: a picture of two old-fashioned cowgirls whipping lassos over their heads. Lana reads it as we head to our room, where we have about an hour to pack our things and get ready for driving on to Modesto. Modesto means heading back north, and only a couple more days of the trip. Not that I’m sorry. I just didn’t expect time to fly by so fast.

Hopefully in that hour I’ll think of how to reply to Cory’s weird texts, since I can’t stall much longer before answering him.

“What does Tamika say?” I ask Lana.

“Oh, not much. She’s telling me about all the cool stuff she signed up for at Wilderness Camp, and that so far she likes all her cabinmates.”

“You should tell her about all the things
we’ve
done. Way better than sleeping in a smelly tent and having to cook beans over a fire, if you ask me.”

Lana laughs out her nose. I start wrapping the cord for my hair straightener, letting memories of the trip so far drift through my mind. I’d thought this was going to be an
awful week, and there have certainly been some bad spots, but I’m a little sorry it’s almost over.

My phone vibrates, and Kendra Mack pulls me back to reality:

Cory Baxter wants to know *for sure* if you are coming to my party Saturday. Hope it’s okay that I invited him!

I nearly scream with happiness, texting her back,
OF COURSE!!

“Kendra Mack invited Cory Baxter to her pool party this weekend!” I say as I’m typing. “And he wants to make
sure
I’m going to be there.”

Lana’s eyebrows come together. “He wasn’t invited before?”

I’d forgotten that Lana still thinks Cory is my real boyfriend. I wish I’d never told that stupid story at Nono and Howie’s wedding. It’s hard to keep track of who knows what, and it feels weird now, Lana not knowing the truth. One more quick lie is easier than explaining the whole thing, though.

“Kendra Mack’s mother doesn’t like to invite over people she’s never met before.” It sounds like it could be true. “Apparently Kendra Mack’s been begging all this time. And now, he’ll be there!”

The idea makes me giddy. I snatch up my phone and
snap a quick selfie with my eyes crossed and my tongue peeking out, since Cory’d asked for one earlier. With it I text:
I really hope you’ll be able to make Kendra Mack’s party.
It’s more a silly shot than gross, but I hope he’ll think it’s cute and text me a cute one back.

I switch over to my playlist and search for one of my favorite songs. “Come on,” I tell Lana. “We need a celebration dance.”

“You didn’t get enough of that at the arcade?” she says.

“Not to this I didn’t,” I say, turning up the volume as loud as it goes. I grab Lana’s hands. “And not on cushy hotel beds!”

I pull her up and start bopping around to the music. She gives in, and soon we’re yelling the lyrics and bouncing together, until we stumble on the comforter and collapse into laughs.

“We’re more than halfway through the trip,” Lana pants, as the song winds down. She’s on her back, looking at the ceiling, with her feet raised over her head.

I roll over onto my elbow. “I was thinking about that too.”

The edge of her mouth twists. “You probably can’t wait to get back, though.”

“No, I can’t wait,” I admit. “But this has been way more fun than I expected. Besides, I bet Tamika’s got big plans for once you’re both home.”

Picturing Lana and Tamika comparing notes about their time apart makes me feel a little sad, actually. No one in my group will want to know about giving silly names to exotic pets, or Dessert First, or Howie’s slick swing-dance move.

Lana nods and turns her face away. “Can Rule Number Ten be that we promise to still talk to each other, even when we’re back at home?” she asks quietly.

I pause. It’s nice being with Lana now, but she’d never fit in with my group, so it’s hard to imagine her fitting into my real life. I certainly wouldn’t talk to her instead of Kendra Mack. The idea of texts streaming in from Lana while I’m with my friends or Cory Baxter feels awkward too. I nudge her with my foot. “You can call me if you want sometime. We don’t have to make a rule about it.”

She keeps looking away. “You’ll have a lot going on, with Cory and everyone, I guess. I just thought it might be reassuring. That, you know, you won’t forget about me.”

I feel weird, talking about this. I can’t make a promise to Lana that I know I can’t—and likely won’t want to—keep.

“I’ll probably be texting you after Kendra Mack’s party,” I dodge. “So you can help me laugh over whatever stupid thing I manage to do in front of everyone.”

She finally meets my eyes. “You’re not going to do anything stupid.”

I’m saved by a
bing
from my phone. There’s another message from Cory:
Can’t wait gorgeuz you are so prettee. Kendra Mack sez u are even sweeter than you look. Is that true?

My stomach drops. It’s hard to tell if he’s joking about my selfie and I’m not quite getting what’s funny, or if he really talks like that. Either way, it doesn’t match at all what I thought I knew of him. I have no idea why he’s being so bizarre. Or why he’s also texting with Kendra Mack. I tell him I have another excursion to head off to and I’ll talk to him later, and put my phone in my purse. There’s packing to finish.

I decide that having to keep my phone hidden from Nono is a good thing, if Cory’s going to be so weird. Once we’re back in the car, Howie tells another story about the End of the Road, and the summer carnivals in town there every year. It’s old-fashioned, but the way he describes the Ferris wheel and seeing a cotton candy machine for the first time is cute. Nono’s got some quiet music playing, and Lana’s harmonic humming is soothing instead of irritating. She really does have a good voice. I’m admiring the pretty farmland we’re passing and wondering what our evening will be like when there’s the most awful sound: my phone, chiming in with a text.

I freeze. Next to me, Lana stiffens too. I’m hoping that the music has kept Nono from hearing, but then it chimes again, and she looks back in the rearview mirror.

“Lana? Is that your folks?” she asks.

“Um—” Lana reaches down for her bag.

As she’s pretending to look for a text that isn’t there, the ring tone I use for my dad discos loud and jarring from beneath my feet.

Nono sighs. “I suppose you’d better answer it, Cassandra.”

I don’t want to move, but if I don’t answer, Dad’ll just hang up and send me a billion texts, which will only make it worse.

“Hi, Dad,” I say, feeling the horrible glow of the phone against my cheek.

“We just got the Labor Day party goods out of the attic,” he tells me. “But we’re going to wait for you to help decorate and do the shopping.”

“Is that so?” I say, though I can barely speak.

He keeps talking, and I feel words like “I think so” and “It’ll be fun” coming from my mouth. I’m aware of the whole car listening to my conversation. This conversation I shouldn’t be having, because I shouldn’t have my phone.

Dad asks if he can say hey to Nono. “She’s driving,” I try, but Nono’s already reaching her hand back to take it.

To say I want to throw up or leap out of the car doesn’t
even cover it. I can feel Lana looking at me, but I keep my eyes straight ahead on the back of Nono’s seat as she pulls over and tells my dad where we are, where we’ll be staying, and that no, we girls aren’t wearing her and Howie out too much.

She should be laughing, joking with my dad, but her voice is dead serious.

“Cassie and I will have a few things to discuss together when we get to Modesto, though, I think.” She pauses, and I can hear my dad asking a question but not the words. “No, I’m sure it’ll be fine. No trouble we can’t handle,” she says.

At least Nono isn’t telling Dad what I’ve done. If he knew I’d stolen from my own grandmother, I’d probably be banished to my room for the rest of my life. Kendra Mack’s party would be out of the question.

Nono listens for another minute. “Well, perhaps we should count this as our check-in right now, and you can tell Serena I’ll call her tomorrow at our regular time.”

That Nono’s been talking with Mom every day surprises me, but I guess it shouldn’t. Mom is very regimented. If Nono tells Mom about this phone business, it’s going to be hideous. But not as hideous as the horrible feeling that Nono knows I’ve betrayed her.

Nono ends the call and hands my phone back to me.
“You’ll turn that off now, please,” she says. “I still have some decisions to make.”

“Okay,” is all I can answer.

Nono doesn’t say a word about it the rest of the way to Modesto. She taps her fingers on the steering wheel to the nostalgia playlist, and when her favorite Stevie Wonder song comes on, she sings at the top of her lungs. Like nothing has happened. Like I’m not going to be in a pile of trouble when she finally talks to me about it.

Chapter Twenty-One
Lana

“B
e ready for a walk and then dinner in five minutes,” Grandma Tess says as soon as the hotel elevator opens onto our floor.

Cassie looks like she’s swallowed a live frog, or worse. I’m not sure if she’ll even be able to eat. I can imagine all the terrible things that must be going on in her head, and Grandma Tess being mad at her is only the tip of the iceberg.

When Cassie’s phone made that first noise and Grandma Tess thought the text might be mine, I had no idea what to do. I didn’t want to lie to Grandma Tess, but I didn’t want Cassie to get caught, either. When the phone finally rang so clear at Cassie’s feet, I admit my relief felt bigger
than my horror. Still, this is all unpleasant, and Cassie and I don’t even have time to talk about it.

In our ahead-of-time research, Grandpa Howe and I chose a few possible spots around town for dinner, but somehow without discussion, we all know this needs to be Grandma Tess’s decision. She marches ahead of the three of us, taking big strides in her Chacos and capris, her batik bag banging against her hip with every step.

I’ve never seen Grandma Tess so angry before. Well, not angry at a person. Last year during election season she went on a rant about “self-aggrandizing positioning,” which Dad explained came from the frustrations she faced when she served as county commissioner years ago, but that anger lasted for about ten seconds and ended in a resigned laugh. This angry is the kind my mom can get—the kind that won’t talk to you all day, and will only give you a good-night kiss out of a sense of duty. Personally, I prefer my dad’s form of getting upset. He may throw giant temper tantrums that sometimes involve lots of yelling and even frustrated tears on his part, but his anger always passes quickly, and if you can stay calm through it, when it’s over, it’s like nothing happened.

Not even Grandpa Howe can pretend this angry isn’t happening, though. He walks between Cassie and me, holding hands with us and keeping a small distance from
Grandma Tess so she can have space for whatever feelings she needs to. I’m glad Cassie’s letting Grandpa Howe give her some comfort, because I know she needs it. He might’ve actually gotten some practice with this kind of thing from dealing with my dad.

Grandma Tess is right to be mad at Cassie, of course, but what she doesn’t know is that she should also be upset with
me
. I’m the one who put the idea about getting the phone back in Cassie’s mind, and I tricked Grandpa Howe into getting in the go-kart line with me so she could take it out of Grandma Tess’s purse. At the very least, I should’ve tried harder to keep Cassie from doing it at all, or made her put the phone back after responding to Cory’s first batch of texts. All I want to do is tell Grandma Tess how sorry I am, and that it’s my fault too. But bringing it all up again might get Cassie in even bigger trouble.

After a while of walking in silence, Grandma Tess picks a Mexican place with a giant sombrero on the roof and cacti in terra-cotta pots decorating the open-air patio. “Tell us about your mail from earlier today, Lana,” she says when we’re seated. She has a tight smile on her face, but I can tell she’s trying to loosen it.

“Oh. It was from Tamika.” Making regular conversation feels hard. “She sounds pretty excited about camp.”

Grandma Tess makes an expression like this might be
the most interesting thing she’s heard all day, so I go on and explain what Tamika is doing at Wilderness Camp. The whole time I’m aware of Cassie in the chair beside me, leaning hard against her own hand, like the thought of keeping her head up without support is far too much.

Grandpa Howe throws in a story about “roughing it” at the End of the Road one Christmas when an ice storm took out the power for a few days. Since we don’t have severe winters in Berkeley, it all sounds intense and a little scary, but the way Grandpa Howe describes his mother trying to finish baking their Christmas cookies in the fireplace is funny. Cassie’s obviously not listening, though, and the whole time Grandma Tess casts disapproving glances in her direction. We even forget to order dessert first.

It’s not a long walk back to the hotel, but every step still feels heavy. Grandma Tess hasn’t mentioned Cassie’s phone, but we all know she’s going to.

“Time for Cassie and me to have a conversation,” Grandma Tess says when we reach the hotel lobby. “What do you think? On the patio there?” She gestures to the sliding glass doors as though Cassie has a choice.

“Grandma Tess, I—” I start, but Cassie immediately shoots me a silencing look, cutting off my confession. “I’ll
write Tamika back,” I say instead, to let Cassie know I’ll be waiting.

“And I’ve got a good book to tuck into, myself,” Grandpa Howe says.

“Wonderful.” Grandma Tess puts her hand on Cassie’s shoulder.

From the way I feel and from Cassie’s expression, I know it is just the opposite.

As soon as I get back to the room, I call Mom and Dad. I haven’t heard from them since I texted that we were on the road to Modesto several hours ago. I know Dad always says, “No news is good news,” but my gut feels like no news is bad news, and I need to check in.

When Dad answers, he tells me to call back on video chat. Mom’s there beside him, looking pretty tired. While we talk, I watch her carefully for signs of more pain, but the screen is small and it’s hard to tell much with her laughing over my stories about go-karts and bumper boats. Dad keeps the chat short, pretending to be the exhausted one so that Mom doesn’t have to say she is, but when we hang up, they’re both smiling. Still, I’m glad I’ll be home before too long, where I can keep a closer eye on things.

Cassie’s still not back, so I write Tamika another postcard. I consider telling her something about how unsettled
I’m feeling about Mom, but a postcard isn’t that private, and who knows who might see it. I decide to stick to the fun stuff.

I’ve washed my face and just barely finished changing into my pajamas when Cassie lets herself back into the room.

“What happened?” I ask right away.

She shrugs, sad and defeated. “She took my phone. Permanently. I can’t have it back until the end of the trip.”

I was expecting that, though, and it’s not really much longer.

“What else did she say?”

Cassie lifts her hand as though there’s no point in explaining. She sighs and drops onto the bed. “She said the things you’d think she’d say. That she’s disappointed. That she thought she’d explained you all want me here, with you, not distracted by people at home. She said sometimes being away from your friends makes it better when you’re back, which, hello,
no
. Maybe knowing her friends’ details isn’t important to her, but it’s important to me.” Tears crest over Cassie’s lower lids, and her shoulders start to shake. “It’s so important.”

I glance over my postcard to Tamika, not sure it
has
to be as important as Cassie imagines. Tamika and I said
good-bye in her driveway two days before I left, and when I get back, she’ll still be gone for two weeks. I miss her, but our friendship isn’t at stake or anything.

“I’m sure Kendra Mack will fill you in on everything you missed. Even Cory will—”

“No!” she wails. Two giant tears drop down her cheeks. “I have to keep up with them. I
have
to. If I don’t stay in touch, it won’t matter when I get back. If you miss out on something with them, you’re out. I’ll be nobody and I’ll have nobody.”

I reach out, tentatively, and touch her knee. “Cassie, you’ll always have me.”

“That’s not what I’m worried about.” She groans, flopping into the pillows. “You don’t get it. You’re not there, with Tom and his perfect grades and his million friends, everyone comparing us all the time. You don’t have the same life I do. You just don’t.”

Maybe this would be a time to tell her that my life isn’t near as perfect as she assumes, but she starts crying harder, and it breaks my heart. She’s right that I don’t know what it’s like to have a big brother to compete with, or demanding friends who tease and judge you, but I do know how to do what’s right.

“I need to talk to Grandma Tess,” I say, standing up.
“But first I’m running you a hot bath.”

“It won’t make a difference,” Cassie moans into her pillow.

“Maybe not in a big way,” I tell her, just like Mom tells me, “but small things can still help. Plus, there’s a super-good-smelling thing of bubble bath in there. I checked everything out while you were gone.”

Without waiting for another word from her, I turn on the taps in the bathtub, test the temperature, and pour in the soap, and head down the hall to my grandparents’ room.

“Lana,” Grandma Tess says when she answers the door, looking a little concerned and mostly plain tired. “Is everything all right?”

“No, it isn’t,” I say. I keep my hands in little fists by my sides, to help me feel brave. “I don’t think it’s fair for you to punish just Cassie. I need to tell you that I helped, too.”

Grandma Tess opens the door wider. Inside, Grandpa Howe is sitting in one of the armchairs reading something on his tablet, his glasses pushed far down on his nose.

“Hey there, Pumpkin,” he says. “Something you want to talk about?”

Grandma Tess sits in the chair across from Grandpa Howe and tucks one leg under her body. Thinking of Mom, and how she’s always taught me to amend a wrong as soon
as you learn about it—even just a miscommunication—I plunge forward.

“I just want you to know that this isn’t all Cassie’s fault. It was my idea to try to get her phone back, and I helped her do it. Grandpa Howe”—I turn to him, not sure I can look him square in the face—“I tricked you into getting into the go-kart line yesterday, when Grandma Tess went to wash her hands, so we could leave Cassie alone with the purse.”

He’s watching me over the top of his glasses. “Was there a reason?”

I swallow, hard. “Cassie was having an important conversation. And I wanted her to feel like she could rely on me if she needed help with something.”

Grandma Tess’s eyebrows shoot up, and she looks like she’s about to launch into a lecture. Grandpa Howe clears his throat in a small, almost undetectable way, but it’s enough to stop her. I’m grateful, because Grandma Tess’s frustration makes me feel even worse than watching Cassie cry in our room.

“I know you’re disappointed,” I go on, even though my throat is clogging up and my eyes feel funny. “And I know it was wrong to lie to you. I was just trying to be a friend to her. I’m sorry.”

“Well,” Grandpa Howe starts, “I don’t see how—”

But this time Grandma Tess stretches her fingertips out, just slightly, wanting to interrupt.

“I appreciate your coming to us, Lana, and I accept your apology. But, you know, this isn’t so much about Cassie sneaking her phone back, but about how she acts as though she cares more about the people on the other end of it than the ones she’s with.”

“That’s not true,” I blurt, even though I’ve felt the exact same way. “Her friends at home, they aren’t as understanding as we are. And I think that’s what she needs right now. For someone to understand.”

It isn’t a full explanation, and I’m feeling all flustery, but I must say something right in there, because Grandma Tess’s face immediately softens.

“Thank you, Lana,” she says. “I’m glad for Cassie that she’s got a friend like you on her side. And don’t worry, I’m keeping her phone but not my anger. I fully intend for this to blow past us while we sleep and to keep having fun in the time we have left.” Her eyes regain a little of their usual warmth. “I’m not interested in doling out unnecessary punishments, and I think putting up with everything tonight is all the hardship you need around the issue.”

I nod, the funny feeling in my throat getting even wobblier. I’ve never had to talk to Grandma Tess like this before, and it surprises me how much her rational explanations
remind me of Mom’s. It’s comforting, but it also makes me wonder if this quality of Grandma Tess’s will be a too-hard thing to be around once my mom isn’t anymore.

“I understand,” I say, barely able to whisper.

“Let’s all get some rest.” Grandma Tess straightens up to stretch her back. “Tomorrow we’ll be together again. Okay?”

I nod, crossing to give her a good-night hug, and one to Grandpa Howe. When I feel his strong hands against my back, I let myself collapse into the spicy-sweet scent of him, the linen-and-sunshine feel of his skin. If it weren’t so late, and everyone weren’t so tired, I’d curl up right here and finally talk to him about everything.

“You’re a good girl, Pumpkin,” he murmurs into my ear.

I nod against his cheek, because I can’t do anything else.

“But we’ve got some standards to uphold around Dessert First tomorrow,” he says, pointing a finger at me when I let go. “We slacked a little today, I think.”

I eke out a small smile, but I know no amount of dessert tomorrow, or for the rest of this trip, will sweeten away the bitter fear inside me.