Meadow Perkins, Trusty Sidekick (12 page)

“Oh, delightful!” Elaine glanced back at me gave me a wide smile. “We have an art teacher and a choir. Much of our focus is on sports and academics. Our girls go on to play in excellent college sports programs across the country.”

I died inside. I don’t do sports. Also, what did she mean by ‘our girls?’

“Mom,” I whispered.

“What?” she whispered back shortly.

“Is this an all-girls’ school?”

“Yes.”

What?
I was horrified and terrified. When I thought of a private school like this, I thought of an entire school filled with field-hockey playing Emilia clones, a terrifying prospect. I followed Elaine and Mom down the perfectly manicured path with entirely weed-free flower beds on either side, benches, and views of the mountains all around, up the stairs and back into the huge hallway. We entered an office that looked more like a throne room for the queen than a school. 

My despair and anxiety grew with each step. This entire school is the same exact thing that I want to get away from. Competition. Mean rich girls. And field hockey players.

“Have a seat. Dr. Myer will be right with you.” Elaine shook our hands again and disappeared through French doors with glass panes. Not a single finger print dulled the sparkle of the glass.

I sat down, crossed my legs, and glared at my mom.

“Don’t blame me,” she said. “I didn’t pick this place out, your dad did. You already know my preference.” 

I didn’t say anything. Mom took that as an invitation to keep talking. It wasn’t.

“Is there a reason you want to leave? Did something happen?” Mom’s eyes were full of concern and confusion.

“I’m sure ready for something different. That’s all,” I shrugged.

Mom leaned toward me. “Did Emilia do something?” she asked quietly.

I stared at the scuff marks on my left shoe.

“She did, didn’t she?” Mom pressed.

I turned my attention to my right shoe.

Mom sighed, angry at my lack of response. “That’s enough Meadow,” she whisper-yelled. “Your grandfather was a founder of HSA. Does that not mean anything to you?”

That hit me the wrong way. Of course, it meant everything to me. “I’m not good enough to be there. I am a disgrace to his name,” I just blurted it out. Loudly. The stress must have gotten to me.

Mom’s face fell from anger to sadness. “Is that what you think?” 

Of course, exactly at that moment, the door opened and Elaine peeped her head out. “Dr. Myer is ready for you.”

Tears
filled
my eyes. I stood up and took a deep breath, biting my tongue to keep from crying. 

For once, Mom saved me. She grabbed my arm and pulled me toward the door. “I’m terribly sorry, Mrs. Rowling, something urgent has just come up. We’ll be in touch.” Before Mrs. Rowling had time to react, we were out the door.

In the car, I burst into tears as we tore out of the parking lot.

“Something happened, didn’t it?” Mom asked gently. 

I nodded, staring out of the window. 

“You can tell me. Please, tell me,” she said. 

With a sigh, I told her about the terrible last day of school. I told her about Mr. Egan and what he said, and Emilia telling half of the student body. I told her that the only person that had said anything nice about it was Alejandro. And then I cried. A lot.

“Meadow, I’m so sorry that happened. I wish you had told me. I had no idea you felt that way and I’m so sad for you because it isn’t true. You are very talented and your grandfather would be proud. He would be proud of you whether or not you could paint. Okay?”

I nodded, but I since I’d finally released the tears, they wouldn’t stop. We rode home in silence except Mom called to cancel the second school visit.  

Right before we got back into town, Mom said, “Honey, is that everything? Is anything else going on?”

I wanted badly to talk to tell her about Alejandro and Jack, and about Isla’s mom. “No. I’m just feeling a little lost.”  

“I feel like I never see you,” Mom said. “I’ve been really busy and I’m sorry. As soon as Twist’s show is open, things will calm down. Meanwhile, just hang in there. We will fix this. Yeah?”

“Okay.”

“I’ll talk to Dad. Don’t worry about the interviews.”

My super-fun evening consisted of a family meeting. Dad attended via speakerphone and he was furious, in part because it was an ungodly hour in Paris. Mom tried to smooth things over with him and said we’d all talk when he got home, after Twist’s show. 

After, Mom gave me a really long speech about finding my inspiration, whatever that meant, and then we ate a subdued dinner. I had cereal.  

Mom drank too much wine. By the end of the evening, she had tears in her eyes and said, “I am just so honored that you both chose me to be your mother. I am so lucky.”

I caught Twist’s eye. She shrugged.

“Thanks, Mom,” I muttered. I dumped my cereal bowl in the sink and retreated to my room. I got online to see if anyone was around. Jack was.

Jack
: How was your day?

Meadow
: Eh. 

Jack
: So really great then? 

Meadow
: Yes! Absolutely!

Jack
: Me too!

Meadow
: That’s great! Why was your day so great?

Jack
: Well, I was finally made CEO of Google AND I added a tiger to my collection of exotic animals.

See? Funny guy. He was easy to talk to about anything. I just felt better when I signed off.

Mom came in before she went to bed. She was a little more composed. 

“Meadow, let’s not make any decisions yet. I’m going to keep you enrolled at HSA—”

I started to protest.

“Let me finish. I’m keeping you enrolled at HSA, but after you’ve had time to really think and we’ve all had time to really discuss it, if you still don’t want to go to HSA, I’ll enroll you at Berkeley High. Let’s just get through Twist’s show.”

“That sounds reasonable,” I said. It did. But I didn’t quite believe her that I could enroll in a regular school without a fuss. I was already getting used to the idea of being strong-armed back to HSA on the first day of school.

“I want you to be happy, Meadow. I just don’t want you to sell yourself short.” She left after she said that and closed the door softly, instead of with her characteristic bang. 

I changed into my “sad” outfit, a holey T-shirt, and baggy gray pants. Exhausted both emotionally and physically, I eased into the bed and curled up next to Hank. We comforted ourselves with old episodes of
America’s Next Top Model.
I’d nearly drifted off when my text alert went off really loudly. I jumped and Hank made a huffy exit.

Alejandro:
I’m outside. I would have knocked on the window but I didn’t want to scare you. Can I come in?

It was the longest text I’d ever received from him.

Yeah
, I texted back.
Go around back by the garage. I’ll be right out.

The sleeping loft was above a small room that had been our playroom when we were kids. Now it was sort of a catch-all room and full of Twist’s stuff. But it had a separate entrance and you didn’t have to go through the main part of the house to get to it. 

There was no time to be concerned about my appearance. I tiptoed out of my room and through the former playroom. I unlocked and opened the door, ready to jump at any sound. The door opened silently and Alejandro materialized from the bushes next to the garage.

“Hi,” I whispered.

“Hi.” His hair, disheveled and wild, stuck out all over. Completely hot.

Before I had time to say anything else, he kissed me. We stood there, leaned up against the doorframe for a few minutes before I realized that this was a recipe for being grounded forever and then some. I pulled him inside, then shut and locked the door as quietly as I could.

“We have to be so quiet,” I whispered. Sneaking a boy into my house was the opposite of a Meadow thing to do. I blushed hotly as I climbed the ladder to the loft. 

He was right behind me and we were kissing again before we even got settled into the bed. Occasionally, we came up for air. 

“Is that the kitchen?” Alejandro whispered, nodding toward the curtained window behind us.

I nodded. More kissing.

There was an urgency that had never been there before. We also went further than ever before. Laying down and kissing? I was pretty sure there were laws against that. My mom had never gone over the kissing house rules with me because it had never been an issue before, but I was pretty sure this was on the ‘don’t do it’ list. Adrenaline pumped through me, both from the kissing and the law-breaking. 

Alejandro sat up suddenly, took his shirt off and pulled me on top of him. I wished I had on beautiful lacy top instead of a tank top with holes. Then again, he didn’t seem to care.

I was dizzy yet exhilarated by the danger of the situation, knowing that being caught would result in my demise. 

A loud bang coming from the kitchen startled us both. I froze.    

“What was that?” Alejandro whispered.

“I don’t know.” I peeped through the curtain into the kitchen. Twist, covered in splatters of paint, made coffee in the kitchen. I sighed with relief.

“It’s Twist,” I whispered as quietly as I could.

Alejandro tugged my arm. I settled down next to him, and I laid my head on his chest. His fingers brushed my back under my shirt making me shiver. 

We didn’t make a sound, not even a whisper, until we heard Twist and go back to the studio for another late night. T-minus seven days until the opening.

“I should probably go.”  

“Okay.” I really didn’t want him to leave.

“I don’t want to,” he said softly. 

We sat up and faced each other and kissed again.  

Finally, Alejandro found his shirt and put it back on. I tried to suppress giggles. I peeked out of the loft to make sure the coast was clear before I dared to climb down. He followed me to the door and kissed me again before I unlocked it and he disappeared into the night.

Chapter 12

Morning came too early. I’d been hired on as Mom’s gallery help to get ready for the opening. Not that I had much of a choice. There was a week between shows and we had to take all the art down, pack up, clean, and hang Twist’s show.

I might have been a little distracted, or completely distracted. I found myself staring off into space about a hundred times, thinking about the way Alejandro’s hair was always messy/tangly/curly or his eyes or his arms . . .

“Meadow!” Mom snapped her fingers by my face. “Did you hear me?”

“What?” Startled, I felt my cheeks heat. Oops.

“What is wrong with you today?” she asked, exasperated. 

“Um, I’m just tired, I guess.”

“Well, I’m not going to ask you again,” she said.

“Ask me what?”

She groaned. “I need you to run to the store for duct tape.” Hands on her hips, she glared down at me where I sat wrapping and taping packing bubbles around a painting. The lighting behind her lit up her frizzy hair like a halo.

Things pretty much went the same way all day. Isla came over that night. Her mood had lifted and she couldn’t contain her smile. “We are leaving in the morning for a quick trip to Santa Fe. My mom is getting out of the hospital. And guess what else?”

“What?”

She squeezed my hand and bounced up and down. “She’s moving here!” 

“That’s great news!” I cried.

She nodded. “Dad rented her a really tiny studio downtown.”

“I’m so glad, Isla.”  

“Thanks. I just hope things go okay with my dad. It can be a little touch and go.”

“When are you coming back?”

“We’re going for a long weekend. We’ll be back on Monday.”

“See you then?”

“Absolutely!” She hugged me before gliding home.

Saturdays are supposed to be for sleeping in. Instead, I stood on a ladder at 8 a.m taking a really strange painting off the gallery wall. I wrestled with a large, scary painting that looked like someone’s worst nightmare come to life. I shuddered and wobbled the ladder. I very nearly dropped the painting as I grabbed onto the top rung. “Shit! I hate ladders,” I told the painting. “I don’t like you much, either.

Standing on ladders was not supposed to be my job. The person whose job it actually was, or used to be, had run off to Israel to live on a kibbutz. I considered joining her.

I got the painting down and it had to immediately be packed and ready to go somewhere. I didn’t know where, not my job.

With a sigh, I glanced around the room. Still so many paintings left to take down and wrap. Then I had to touch up the wall paint and get rid of all the scuffs.

As I worked, my mind drifted to Alejandro again and again. I’d been mooning about absentmindedly since that night to the total annoyance of my mother. Especially when we realized I’d mislabeled five paintings.

After that, I’d gotten a speech. “Critics are going to come in with a bad attitude for two reasons: Twist is my child, and she is the grandchild of Levi Hobart. So we have to blow them away. Everything has to be perfect.” Then she’d looked at me pointedly as if to say,
Get it together, Meadow
. But no pressure or anything.

Gabe, mom’s assistant and an incredibly stylish gay man, wandered through. He stopped and put one finger against his chin while he surveyed the room. Gabe was flawless and I’d only ever seen skin like his on babies. I wondered what his skin care routine was. I could probably use some pointers considering I thought I felt the beginnings of a zit on my forehead. I hoped my bangs would keep it covered.

“How you doing, baby girl?” he said and gave me a hug.

“I’m fine,” I said.

“Well you look gorgeous,” he said, drawing out the word so it sounded like multiple syllables.

“Shut up.” I smacked his arm.

“Girl, you do. I wouldn’t lie about something like that! I gotta run.” He blew me a kiss and went on his way. 

I climbed back up the ladder. Noticing my vision seemed clouded, I leaned against the step and cleaned my glasses on my shirt. As I scrubbed off the fingerprints on my holey tank top, Mom’s voice trickled in. 

“You’ll be working with my other daughter, Meadow,” she said, entering the room.

Relieved that I might have some help, I turned to see who the savior was. Jack stood next to her smiling up at me.

“I know Meadow.” He lifted his hand in a wave.

I stuck my glasses back on and almost poked out my eye. “Uh, hi.” I looked back and forth from Mom to Jack, Jack to Mom.

“You do?” Mom asked.

“Yeah, from school.” He smiled, charming my mother.

“Oh, you go to HSA?” She trilled. I’d almost never seen her so enthusiastic. She told him the whole story of her father, the great Levi Hobart.

He was preoccupied listening to her so I chose that moment to climb back down the ladder in what I hoped was a somewhat graceful fashion.  

When she was done regaling him with tales of our family, she ushered him over to where I stood.

“You’ll be helping Meadow take down the show and get ready for the hang.” Mom gestured to the walls which were half-covered in abstract paintings.

I shifted my weight from one foot to the other suddenly self-conscious of everything including my ratty clothes and the oldest pair of Chucks in existence maybe. I touched my hair, horrified that it was neither washed nor combed. Furthermore, I had skipped makeup.

“Meadow, get him started, would you?” Mom asked handing me my latte. “I’ll check in on you in a little while.” She click-clacked into her office. 

I took a sip of my lava-hot coffee and sputtered a little.

“Are you okay?” Jack asked. 

I nodded and wiped my chin. “These things are designed to stay crazy hot for hours, aren’t they?”

“Yep! Well. Where should we start?” Jack rubbed his hands together like he was excited.

“You can help me take all these paintings off the wall. We have to pack each one up and label it as we go so they don’t get mixed up. When that’s all done, we will put them in the storeroom and let my mom deal with them. Then we paint, clean, and start the hang.” I paused for a moment. “Can I ask how you ended up here?”

“I was getting coffee and started talking to your mom in line.” He climbed the ladder without hesitation as he spoke.

“Okay,” I said, flummoxed. “Do you usually talk to middle-aged women in line for coffee?”

“Not usually. I heard her on the phone trying to find someone to work and I was out looking for work. I got fired from my last job and my parents said I have to work, so it was kind of like a miracle. I’d much rather work here than clean toilets at Peet’s Coffee.” 

I cleared my throat. “Well, okay. Don’t tell my mom I called her middle-aged. I guess, let’s get to work?”

Taking down an art show is not exactly elegant work. I spend the morning sweating in front of Jack.
This isn’t embarrassing at all,
I thought while trying to sniff my armpits without him noticing.

By the time lunch rolled around, my nerves had worn off somewhat. Plus we spent our lunch hour with my mom in her office eating a salad and drinking kombucha, so I figured I had nothing left to be nervous about.
Kombucha, Mom?
That was probably worse than the time I’d offered Alejandro a nice cuppa. After that, we settled into a nice rhythm. He was good at climbing ladders and being tall, which I appreciated.

Somehow, the topic of Alcatraz came up.

“You’ve never been?” Jack asked, his eyebrows raised.

“No.” I shrugged. 

“But why?”

“I think it’s one of those touristy things that people who have generations invested in this place don’t even remember to do,” I said. Also, I get horrible motion sickness, but I didn’t think it would be necessary to get into that. I didn’t want to give Jack the visual of me throwing up.

“But I’ve been there,” Jack said. 

“But you haven’t lived here long,” I said. “That’s my point.”

“I guess that’s a good point.”

I pulled bubble wrap tight around a painting. “Can you hand me the tape?”

Jack brought the tape over and secured the wrap around the painting while I held it. I could smell him and he smelled good. I was pretty sure I didn’t and I kept trying to nonchalantly smell my pits to assess the damage. I made a solemn vow to myself to douse myself in deodorant and perfume before showing up to work with him again.

After work, I went straight to my room. Exhausted, I sprawled out on the bed. My thoughts raced between HSA, Alejandro, and Jack.

My ceiling provided the backdrop while I had an entire conversation with myself.
Would HSA really be so terrible? Alejandro and Jack are both there.
I chewed my already ragged fingernails.
Emilia. I just can’t even with her. But Jack. Hanging out with him, even while we worked, was so fun. I think I really like him. I might even have a chance with him. Ugh.

I weighed the pros and cons of everything. Public school had Isla and did not have Emilia which was an extremely attractive option. However, HSA had Jack. And Emilia.
And
Alejandro. Mountain Day had field hockey.

A text startled me out of my pro/con daydream.

Jack:
Favorite color?

Meadow
: I like the whole rainbow.

Jack
: You can’t answer the whole rainbow. You have to pick one color.

Meadow
: Yellow maybe. No! Red!

Jack
: Which is it? Red or yellow?

Meadow
: I think it’s blue.

I went to sleep with a smile on my face.

The next day, I made sure to take a shower. I labored over finding something cute that didn’t make me look like I was trying too hard which was hard to put together at 7 a.m.

When I finally emerged, Mom stood by the front door waiting for me and tapping her foot. “Let’s go!” She hustled me out to the car. It was full of stuff going to the gallery.  

Mom was enchanted by Jack, of course. She talked about him the entire ride. “He’s very polite,” she gushed. “And he seems very smart.”

Parents only care about things like that. I ignored her and stared out the window.

“He’s kind and motivated.”

That went on all the way to the gallery.

Jack waited outside the back door when we pulled in, which made my mom giddy. I checked my hair one last time in the mirror, glad I didn’t look too much like a hobo. I hoped it didn’t look like I was trying too hard. Somehow I’d lived almost 17 years before getting all stressed out about what to wear around boys.  

Working with Jack was fun. We had all the paintings down, wrapped, and ready to go on to their new homes, or wherever they were going.  

We spent a healthy portion of Sunday touching up paint that had been scuffed, and in a few cases repainting entire walls. Jack suggested that we play a game and he chose “Would you rather?” We played it for hours. We were still playing when it was time to rinse out the brushes.

“Would you rather follow One Direction around the country on tour or eat only dill pickles for the rest of your life?” I asked.

“I hate dill pickles,” Jack said. “This is a hard one. But unless 1D starts doing some actual dancing, I’m going to have to go with pickles.” 

“I’m surprised!” I said. “I thought for sure you were a 1D fan.” 

“Your turn,” Jack said with a wicked grin. “Would you rather carry a stuffed animal with you everywhere you went or only ever wear athletic shorts?”

“That’s easy. Stuffed animal! I can coordinate her outfits to match mine.”

Jack swatted me with his brush splattering both of us with white paint. I retaliated, thankful there was a drop cloth covering the shiny wood floor. Otherwise, I’d be dead.

I doubled over laughing as he smeared paint down his cheek.

“Oh no, you didn’t.” He came toward me holding up his paintbrush.

I squealed and ducked, but he trapped me against the wall. I looked up at him. He stared back with a goofy grin and my stomach did a somersault.  

“Are you done?” Mom came bursting in with her usual gusto.

Jack took a step back.

Way to ruin the moment, Mom.
 

“Uh, not quite.” I held a brush soaked in white paint up as proof.

It didn’t seem like she noticed she’d almost walked in on something. “Meadow, you finish up. Jack, come to my office and let’s talk scheduling.” Mom turned and walked back through the gallery. “It’s looking good in there,” she shouted. “I think you’ll be able to finish painting by Tuesday and then we can start the hang.” 

“Well, I guess I’ll go,” Jack said but he didn’t move. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Once again, he stepped toward me. The air around us was electric. When he leaned toward me, the back door burst open and Gabe bustled in.

I cleared my throat. “Yeah. Tomorrow then.”

“Yeah, tomorrow. Goodnight.” Jack handed me a wet paint brush then turned to walk away.

Gabe raised his eyebrow as he went by. “He’s cute,” he mouthed before disappearing again.

Do I
like
like Jack?
Oh, brother. I did. A lot.
What about Alejandro?
I stood in the gallery, brushes in hand until one drop of white paint fell and landed on my black shoe.

“Meadow, come on! I’m about to turn off the lights. Let’s go!”