Everything Changes Page 2

  Me: Hello?

  J: Oh, I’m still here. Um, Kristy?

  Me: What.

  J: There is one other thing.

  Me: What is it?

  J: If I get into the school I’d be going to classes five afternoons a week and on Saturdays during the school year. During the summer, I’d go six days a week.

  Me: I guess that wouldn’t leave a lot of room for baby-sitting, would it?

  J: Not really.

  * * *

  Tried to sound excited for J. Really did. But wasn’t. Don’t know how well I hid lack of excitement. J. didn’t come out and say so, but obviously if she’s accepted into program she will have to drop out of BSC. So conflicted. Program would be chance of J.’s lifetime. She deserves it. Would be wonderful for her. But don’t want her to drop out of club.

  Don’t know whether am more upset about MA or J.

  Not my best day.

  Satruday

  Dear Stacey,

  So far I love this trip!!!!! Best one ever!!!!!! Today we went to freeport!!!!! I have always wanted to do this.

  Let me bake up and start with yesterday. We left early in the mornig. Mary Ann came over to see us of. Which I felt bad about. Hear we were driving off on a months vacation and what has her summer been like so far. Well her house burned down, shes not going to camp and maybe her father is going to move her to another town.

  Anyway we waved and waved to each other and then the drive to Main began. We drove all the way to Port Land yisterday. Actualy it wasn’t a bad drive. And Port Land is a realy nice city. Our hotel was fine. Not grate, but fine. We didnt spend much time in it. We dumped are stuff in our rooms and went of to explor the city. Guess what I had lobster for diner. So maybe I really can eat lobster every day of this vacasion. By the way it was not a hole lobster it was lobster fetta fetu pasta.

  Okay, now hear comes the cool part. This morning we cheeked out of the hotel and drove to Free Port. (Its a good thing I didn’t know how close we were to Freeport yesterday. I wouldn’t have been able to stand the wait.) In less than an hour we started seeing signs for outlet stores. Dad drove us off the highway at the very first Free Port exit and soon we were passing outlet stores left and write. It was astounding. I could hardly contane myself. Dad was good and let us stop at a couple of places but finaly he said, We havent even gotten into freeport yet. Don’t you want to spend some time there. It would be a shame to miss the actual town.

  Well of course no one wanted to miss the actual town and its a good thing we didn’t. In the town the stores were all together in one big hunk. Plus restrants, an ice cream place, and get this — a McDonalds that fetures lobster rolls. I ordered one, so now I am two for two with the lobsters.

  Okay back to the shoping. There is so much more than LL Been there. Everything you can imagine plus some stores youve never heard of. One of the best was a store that sells nothing but butons, just rows and rows of boxes of butons. I bought a little bag full to use in jewelry making.

  Perchases of the day:

  — the butons

  — one pare shoes ($3.59)

  — one shirt ($8.50)

  — souvenears (I can’t tell you what or how much they cost because they are for you, kristy ect.)

  Biggest disappointment — some of the stores didn’t realy have such great disconts.

  Favorite purchise — the lobster role.

  I hope your having fun in NYC.

  More from Monhegan soon.

  Love,

  Claudia

  Saturday

  Dear Claud,

  I got your letter two days ago, and this is the first chance I’ve had to write. I’m so busy here!

  Claud, I can’t believe the vacation choice your parents made. And they didn’t even consult you! A return to the simple life? I have one very important question for you: DOES THE HOUSE YOU’RE RENTING HAVE A TELEPHONE? I’m dubious, since it doesn’t have so many other things, including a TV. I mean, not even a stereo? Not even a DISHWASHER? Well, by the time you get this letter, you’ll know the answer to that question. But I have another: WHAT ARE YOU GOING TO DO WITHOUT A TELEPHONE? Think about it. Let’s say you want to order out for pizza. How do you do it without a phone? You’ll have to go all the way to the pizza place to give them your order, and, well, that sort of defeats the purpose.

  Also, I have been made very nervous by your line about reading worthwhile things. In your case, what exactly does that mean? I suspect it doesn’t mean Nancy Drew books, so what is left? Just out of curiosity, what are Janine and your parents going to read this month? And meditating? MEDITATING? What do you meditate about? Have any of you ever meditated before?

  I have a very bad feeling about your trip. For that reason, I certainly will write you as often as I can and keep you informed of all details and gossip. Also, I’m going to visit every place on your list. It’ll be fun. I’ll go with Ethan.

  Speaking of Ethan, this is what my week has been like so far:

  Sunday — I arrived at 4:00 P.M. and Dad met me in Grand Central. I don’t know how he did it, but he managed to hail one of those cabs that’s actually a station wagon, and there are, like, four of them in all of Manhattan. Thank goodness he got one, because he and I and all my luggage would never have fit into a regular cab. We rode to Dad’s apartment, dropped off my stuff, then took another cab downtown to the Cowgirl Hall of Fame for dinner. I just love that place. Did you know that Chelsea Clinton had a birthday party there once?

  Monday — Dad went to work, and Ethan was supposed to go to work, but he took the day off. (The art gallery seems to be pretty flexible about his hours.) We hung out in Central Park — bought pretzels from a vendor, fed the ducks at the lake, watched the Rollerbladers, even went to the zoo. I felt like a tourist. It was great. (Romantic too.) At the end of the day, Ethan wanted to take me to dinner, but then Dad called and said HE wanted to take me to dinner, with Samantha. Samantha is okay, but I would rather have eaten dinner with just Dad. Or better yet, with just Ethan. That would have been a nice way to end our day. Dad and Samantha and I went out, though. This time we ate at Bon 75, a Japanese restaurant in Samantha’s neighborhood.

  Tuesday — Dad and Ethan both went to work, so I was on my own. Just kind of hung out.

  Wednesday — Dad and Ethan at work. In the evening, though, Ethan and I had a real date. He came by the apartment all dressed up and took me to this incredible coffee bar that serves so much more than just coffee. Then we went to the movies. I got home late but discovered Samantha there with Dad, so Dad didn’t seem to mind the hour. Ethan took off quickly, though.

  Thursday — went shopping in the morning. I need a project while I’m here, since Dad and Ethan are working. (Well, Ethan’s hours are flexible, but still … ) Anyway, I went to a crafts store and looked around for awhile. Finally I decided I’d like to learn how to needlepoint. It must be Mary Anne’s influence, and a little of yours. Anyway, I bought a kit to make a glasses case for Mom. (Keep your fingers crossed.)

  Friday — started following the directions in the needlepoint kit. Hmm. A little more complicated than I had bargained on. I’ll keep persevering. In the evening, Ethan and I went to a party at his friend Mitch’s apartment. Mitch’s parents weren’t there. Got back a little later than I had intended….

  And that’s the story so far. I promise to write again soon. I’m thinking of you on your desert island.

  Love,

  Stacey

  July 3

  Can’t believe I am back at Camp Mohawk! Just got here this morning. Already Old Meanie has called for rest period. Thought maybe, just MAYBE, we could have one day with no rest period, but no, Mrs. Means squeezed it in late this afternoon.

  Woke up so excited this morning! Feel horrible about L., about MA, about J., but … well, it’s camp! Called A. first thing.

  “Are you all packed?” I asked her.

  “Every last thing in the brochure.”

  “Good.” Then I couldn’t resist asking,
“Even the bug spray?”

  “Exactly what kind of bugs are we going to encounter at Camp Mohawk?” A. wanted to know.

  “Just the usual. Only larger.”

  Ate last breakfast with family this morning. Maybe won’t miss it as much as thought I might. Was on the messy side. Plus, Karen and David Michael are mad that they’re not going to camp this year. Had to listen to endless drivel about spoiled older sisters.

  Glad to load trunk into Junk Bunket. Charlie offered to drive A. to bus stop too, but turned out not enough room for two trunks in JB. A., her mom, and Anna met us at high school parking lot. Think Mrs. Stevenson was relieved that A. didn’t have to ride in JB in addition to horrible camp bus. When bus lurched around corner, Mrs. S. gasped. But couldn’t very well prevent A. from getting on bus when so many other parents were letting their much younger offspring go.

  A nice touch — MA showed up to see A. and me off. At first I thought maybe she had changed her mind about camp. But no, she was just there to wave us off. Of course she cried. Of course A. and I did not. Mrs. S. did, though (more at sight of bus bearing down on us, I believe). Don’t know what Charlie’s reaction might have been. He dropped me and my trunk off, then zoomed away before bus even arrived.

  “Later, Kristy!” he yelled. So sentimental.

  Got much better good-bye from MA. We hugged and she promised to write, and I promised to write her.

  At long last, all stuff safely stored in belly of bus and every last parent had said good-bye to every last kid.

  “Kristy, some of these kids are pretty little,” A. said to me.

  Some of them looked pretty scared too. So A. and I teamed up two of the scaredest-looking kids (7-year-old girls) and sat them in front of us.

  “Let’s sing songs!” called A. gaily as soon as bus pulled out of parking lot.

  Recalled last summer when David Michael had gone to Camp Mohawk too and started singing “A Million Bottles of Beer on the Wall.” I tried for something tamer. And shorter.

  “How about ‘The Ants Go Marching’?” I suggested.

  A few feeble voices piped up with, “The ants go marching one by one, hurrah, hurrah.”

  A. joined in with big, loud voice and soon everyone was singing, even shyest kids. A. is going to do well at camp, I think.

  Finally arrived at CM and got cabin assignments. A. and I and our counselor, Rebecca, walked 8-year-olds to cabin 8-A.

  These are our campers:

  — Marcia (pronounced Mar-see-uh) Bailey

  — Kate Wells

  — Harmoni Rose Curtin

  — Rachel Werner

  — Jenna Front

  — La Vonne Simon

  Already have bad feeling about Marcia, who is wearing makeup. And not speaking to Harmoni for some reason. A. says to let it go for time being.

  Okay.

  Must show A. around camp when we have free time. (Next period.) Hope A. will be happy here. Think things are off to good start.

  The Fourth of July

  Dear Kristy,

  Well, you left for camp yesterday. I’ve been thinking of you there. You and Mrs. Means and all the campers and counselors, the lake, the arts-and-crafts cabin. I know the arts-and-crafts cabin isn’t your favorite spot at camp, but it was mine. I bet you’re having a great time. I miss being with you guys. But I’m better off here. If I were there, I’d just be worrying about what was going on here.

  Today is July 4th, Independence Day. I can smell barbecues. People are having picnics. The fireworks will be displayed downtown tonight. Guess how Dad and Sharon and I celebrated the birthday of our country. We went back to the house one final time this morning and searched through the ashes and rubble. (Isn’t it funny that before the fire we said “our house” and after the fire we started saying “the house”?) It was our last chance to do that before the workers come tomorrow to bulldoze the remains.

  Logan came with us. Dad and Sharon and I were going to go by ourselves, but when I told Logan what we were doing, he said, “Okay. I’ll come with you.” Like I had asked him.

  I said, “Oh, no. That’s okay. You don’t have to.”

  “But I want to. I want to be there for you.”

  I was thinking that this was a private thing, a family thing, but I didn’t know how to tell him that. So I mentioned to Dad that Logan wanted to come with us, hoping Dad would say no, and instead he said, “Okay. That’s fine, honey.” Which is how Logan wound up accompanying us to the house.

  We pulled into the driveway at about 10:30. The second we stepped out of the car, Logan put his arm around my shoulders. You know what, Kristy? I wanted so badly to shrug it off. I want to handle things on my own. I can handle things on my own. I’m a very strong person. Why doesn’t Logan see that? His arm on my shoulder was like a big sign saying, HERE TO HELP YOU — BECAUSE YOU CAN’T COPE ON YOUR OWN.

  Anyway, with Logan’s arm still around my shoulders we walked across the lawn to where the house used to stand, to that pile of ashes and bits of wood and metal and who knows what. It was so weird. The fire was several weeks ago and that rubble has been hosed down and rained on and picked through. But we wanted to look through it just one more time. One more time before we couldn’t do it again.

  I didn’t say anything to Logan because I didn’t want him to feel sorry for me, but in my mind I was going to search specifically for anything that belonged to my mother. I was wearing that ring of hers the night of the fire, so it’s not like I have nothing that belonged to her, but so much of her, so much, was lost in the fire. All that stuff in the attic — letters, photos, her school papers. Gone.

  What I was especially hoping to find was more of her jewelry. In the blue box on my dresser were her charm bracelet and the gold necklace with the pearl pendant. Every time we’ve looked through the ashes I’ve searched for those things, but I haven’t found them. And so I looked very, very, very carefully for them today. I tried to find other things that might have come from my bedroom and I sifted through the ashes and dirt.

  Nothing.

  I didn’t find the necklace or the charm bracelet or anything else of my mother’s. I guess they melted. Anyway, I feel as though I’ve lost her all over again.

  Here’s what we did find:

  — part of a newspaper (of all things NOT to burn up, imagine, a newspaper)

  — part of a shoe

  — a cracked dish

  — an intact book

  — an alarm clock

  None of it was worth saving. Even the book and clock had been ruined by water.

  As we got into the car to go home, Logan took my hand and whispered to me, “I’ll always be here for you, Mary Anne.”

  I couldn’t answer him. I don’t want him always to be here for me. (Is that a horrible thing, Kristy?)

  Write back soon.

  Love,

  Mary Anne

  Monday

  Dear Stacey

  I haven’t heard from you yet. What’s going on.

  Well we arrived on Monhegan yesterday. It isn’t quite what I expeted. First of all we were led to beleve that theres a town here and there isnt. I just dont understand gidebooks and things like that I really dont. But let me start over with geting to Monhegan because it was a nice aventure. There is only one way to get to the island, by boat. We came on a ferry called the Elizabeth Ann the trip took about 50 mins.

  We left from a tiny town called Port Clyde. We had to get to the fery really early to be able to load all our stuff on it. Lot’s of people were waiting for the ferry. Anyway, guess what there’s no bank on Monhegan. Well Mom and Dad knew that but they were surprised to find out that theres no cash machine in port Clyde so what were we going to do about $$$ on Monhegan. The nearest cash machine was in Thomaston and we didnt have time to drive all the way back there before the ferry left. At the last minute Dad got a cash advence on his credit card at a store near the fery dock. I bought candy.

  Anyway we finaly got on the ferry along with all these othe
r people and a few pets. The fery was so crowded we couldn’t sit down so Janine and I stood on the deck. That turned out to be great. We stared strate ahead and watched Monhegan which is about ten miles away get bigger and bigger. It looked like a huge rock rising out of the ocean. Then we arrived and I just have to say that my heart sank. Where was the town. We stepped of the ferry dock and started up a hill (Someone with a truck was going to bring our suitcases to the house later) and all I could see were a few brown buildings that looked like houses. Well one of the first ones we came to turned out to be a coffee bar, the kind were they sell all different kinds of coffee plus pastries and sandwiches and things. So I felt a little better. Maybe the other houses were realy the rest of the town. Well the next one was a huge hotel. And

  Wait I’m going to stop here and tell you about our house first becuse we went to our house befor we explored the town. We walked and walked. As you can imagine there are almost no cars on the island. And finaly we came to a big house with those wethered brown shingels and a sort of sandy yeard. I have to admit that the house is prety in a bleak sort of way.

  Then we steped inside. Just like mom and Dad said theres no tv, VCR, dishwasher or stereo. Just a radio. Guess what else theres not one of. A telephone. Can you believe it. If we want to make calls there are a few pay phones on the island that we can use, at the hotels and outside the litle post office. Stacey, is this even safe??? I don’t think so.

  I hate to admit it but the inside of the house is kind of prety too. Very cozy. I have my own bedrom on the second floor and waht do I see if I sit up in bed. I look right out at the ocean. If I ever wake up early enough I bet I could watch the sunrise form my bed.

  Ok back to the town. The truth is there are a few restrants on Monhegan including a pizza place. Also an ice cream stand. But there sort of scatered around, not all together like downtown in stoneybrook. Are you surprised to learn that theres no minature golf or movie theater. Also theres no docter, another thing that doesn’t seem safe. What happens if we get hurt. So far I have found 2 gift shops. Very far apart from each other. And a library. And a fish market. And a general store, the only place to buy grocerys. They also sell art supplis and books and things. Well that’s it. Mostly what you do here is hike on trails. We have not done that yet. There are 17 miles of trials on the island.