She isn’t smiling now though. Her eyes snap fully open and she looks at me with a little furrow of worry running across her forehead. “I can’t even believe you are still here,” she says.
I think she’s being overly dramatic. Yes, I was totally humiliated this morning, but everyone’s been so nice. I’m really not even feeling upset about it anymore.
“Actually, I’m over it, M.” I grab the Tupperware and take off the lid. “In fact, I think everyone’s grown up a lot around here. I mean, no one’s been anything but cool. Even Kayla was sweet to me . . .”
I stop talking because Nicki has raced up. She is stuffing her “emergency only” cell phone into her pocket. She sits at the table, eyeing me very intensely.
“You okay?” She’s staring at me as though I am fragile.
“What is it with you guys? I mean, I got paged and then tripped in front of the school. It wasn’t a stellar experience, but I didn’t pee my pants or barf or something!”
As I talk I smooth the cucumber slices into little fans and slide them to the middle of the table. M takes two and crunches slowly, still staring at me as though I might break down at any moment.
Nicki is straddling the bench so she is staring at my profile. Her body posture says she is ready to hug me or hold me up at any second. I turn my head toward her and give her my best one-raised-eyebrow look.
“I guess being here is probably easiest anyway,” she says, in what I know is her soothing voice. She uses it when her baby brother is crying. My humiliation is hitting them harder than me. Weird.
Nicki puts her hand on my arm. “Air, I have never even told you about going through stuff like this. I mean about . . . loss . . . or just even almost losing someone.... I know this is hard . . .” Nicki is stringing out her words, pausing a lot. I am not one to curse, but what the hell? What is she talking about? Does Nicki have some secret story? I knew something odd was going on with her! But why is she rubbing my arm as if I am going to break down at any moment? Will Rod Serling be making an appearance soon?
I shake my head and shrug. “Nick, what are you talking about?”
Nicki seems to snap out of some trance and she jerks back her arm, shakes her head a little and says, with a forced smile, “Oh, nothing, never mind, you don’t have to talk about it. I just hope you’re okay.” She sounds fakely cheerful.
“I am fine. Over it.” They both just stare back. Awkward silence. Last week’s earthquake pops into my mind. I think it knocked a few screws loose in my friends’ heads.
A change of subject is in order. “Did I tell you guys I’m going to enter the Idaho potato baking contest? I have made my twice-baked recipe five times now, and it is supremely yummy. . . .” I trail off because they are both looking confused. “Um, is there something sinister about potatoes? You guys are acting freaky.”
There is an expectant silence as though they are waiting for more from me. I feel out of sync with them—kinda like the feeling you get when the soundtrack doesn’t match the picture on a TV show and the person’s mouth moves a second after you hear their words.
“Maybe talking about her cooking is helping her cope,” Nicki says to M.
I am going to slap these two in a minute. Why can’t they let it go?
“Is he going to make it?” M asks in a voice barely above a whisper.
“Who?” We are officially in the Twilight Zone. What is she talking about?
“Your dad,” they both stage-whisper at once, and neither says “jinx.”
There’re a few seconds of silence as I try to make sense of this. We were talking potatoes, weren’t we? Where on the planet does my dad fit in here?
“My dad?” I finally ask, still not comprehending.
Now they look confused. M cocks her head at me and squints her eyes. “Everyone heard. It was on the police scanner the janitor keeps in the side office. It was your dad they said. He had a heart attack or stroke or something. He collapsed, a bunch of people saw it! That’s why you got called to the office this morning. That’s why your mom was here.” Nicki is nodding, agreeing with M.
“What . . . what? WHAT?” It’s the only word I can muster.
Nicki makes a little cucumber stack in the container, waiting for me to say something else, but I can’t. I feel like someone dropped me on an alien planet and forgot to tell me what language the natives speak.
“Maybe it wasn’t a heart attack?” M finally asks.
Suddenly I flash on a bunch of little moments from my morning: the looks of sympathy and kind glances from normally mean or indifferent kids, Mr. Kraft tactfully ignoring my late entry into homeroom, the click of Kayla’s French manicure as she brushed my shoulder. They thought something had happened to my dad. It suddenly makes sense. But it also makes no sense. How did we go from a bee sting kit to this? If something did happen to him, my mom would have told me when she was here, right?
“It was my bee allergy stuff,” I say dumbly to Nicki and M.
Now they look lost. I start to explain, but only get to the part about going to the school office and seeing my mom there. I stop talking when Jerrod, a really cute guy from the water polo team, passes by and says, “Hang in there, Ariel.”
And just like that I choose to play a part. “Thanks, Jerrod, I will,” I say and smile bravely. Jerrod winks and gives me a thumbs-up.
M and Nicki just stare at me.
For once all three of us are speechless.
Once Misunderstood Twice Baked Potatoes
4 large baking potatoes
2 T. butter
¼ C. or less milk
½ C. sharp cheddar cheese, grated
5 slices bacon, cooked crisp and crumbled
1 T. grated onion
1 t. minced garlic
salt and pepper
crushed (seasoned) dry stuffing mix
Preheat oven to 425°. Scrub potatoes and prick several times with a fork (or they will explode and dump potato guts all over your oven—trust me on this). Put potatoes directly on middle rack in oven and bake about 35 minutes, or until they feel soft and squishy inside when poked. Using a kitchen towel or pot holder, remove them and cut them in half. Use a spoon to scoop the soft baked potato into a bowl. Use an electric mixer to beat the potatoes with the milk. Use just enough milk to make the potatoes creamy but still very thick. Stir in all the other ingredients. Spoon the potato mixture back into the skins. Put them in a 13x9˝ pan, cover with tin foil, and return to oven for 15 minutes.
My Really Old, Kinda Famous Dad
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