though. He’s the one in college. College guys are a little more mature than high-school guys.”
“High-school guys?” Tracy popped her head inside Julie’s room. “I’m Julie’s sister,” she told Carla. “Who are you—and what was that about high-school guys?”
“This is Carla,” Julie said. “Her family just moved here. And her brother Tom is in eleventh grade. I mean Tim.”
“At the high school? Cool! Maybe I know him.”
“No, he goes to Maxwell Academy,” Carla replied.
“Hmm. Well, maybe I can come to your house and meet him,” said Tracy with a grin.
“Sure—but he’s awfully busy,” said Carla. “He has practice for football and basketball and stuff. And he plays the piano and practices that, too. So does my twin brother. Tim plays piano, and Tom plays guitar. They want to make a band with our oldest brother, Todd. He plays the saxophone, but he’s in college now and doesn’t have a lot of time. Maybe they’ll make their band in the summer. And when they do, I’m going to be the singer.”
“Hey, like the Partridge Family!” Julie pointed out. It was hard to keep the names of Carla’s many siblings straight. “But I thought it was Tom who played the piano. Didn’t you tell us that at school?”
Carla laughed. “We all play the piano, but some of us play a lot better than others! In fact, everybody tells me I’d better just keep my voice as my instrument.”
“You do have a great voice,” Julie said, remembering Carla’s singing on the playground with T. J.
“Maybe you’ll be like Joni Mitchell or Carly Simon when you grow up,” said Tracy.
Carla smiled. “I’d love that,” she said. “But my mom says I have so many stories in my head, I should write adventure novels.”
“Or mysteries!” suggested Julie.
“Yeah—but I think I’d be a good master spy.”
“Me too. Or a detective. My friend Ivy and I want to open a detective agency someday.”
“My dad’s a—” began Carla, then bit her lip.
“A what?”
“Well, he’s a doctor, like I said. But he told me he’d love to be a detective.”
“Spies are much more glamorous,” Tracy said, raising her eyebrows archly. “Like in those James Bond movies.” Then she left them, calling “Ta-tah, dahlings!”
The girls curled up on Julie’s bed to continue talking about their future plans. Sometimes Julie was sure that being a detective would be the perfect job for her, but other times she wanted to be an ecologist and save endangered species. Sometimes she wanted to become a mayor or a senator—maybe even run for president someday. “Sooner or later,” she told Carla, “America will have a woman president. So why shouldn’t it be me?”
“It would be cool to live in the White House,” Carla said. “Although it feels like our new house is nearly that big!”
If only she and Mom and Tracy still lived in a house—just big enough to have a border collie, Julie thought fleetingly. Carla was lucky.
Mrs. Albright came home, and Julie introduced her new friend.
“Would you like to stay for dinner?” Mom asked Carla.
“Oh, please stay!” cried Julie, but Carla shook her head.
“I have to get home,” she said. “To help with the baby, and everything.”
Tracy popped out of her bedroom and grabbed her mom’s arm. “I’ll drive her! Okay, Mom? Can I drive her? May I?”
“Hmmm,” said Mrs. Albright, considering. She stared up at the ceiling for a moment, then winked at Julie and Carla. “Do you think if we ask Tracy very, very politely, she might possibly consider driving Carla home?” Her voice was teasing. Tracy gave a yelp of assent and hugged her mother. Then, beaming, she hurried to get the car keys.
“Oh, good,” said Julie. “I’m coming too!” She wanted to see Carla’s painted lady house.
But Carla was shaking her head. “No, that’s okay,” she said. “It’s not far, really. I really should walk—I need the exercise.” She grabbed her book bag and headed across the living room.
“But it’s getting dark,” objected Mrs. Albright. “And it looks like rain again.”
“Really, I’ll be fine,” Carla insisted.
“Well, come over again soon,” begged Julie. “We can play spies! Or else bring your dog and we’ll go for a walk—”
“I will,” promised Carla. “Thanks for having me. See you again soon!” She was out the apartment door and down the stairs before Julie could say another word.
Tracy sighed. “Guess she doesn’t trust my driving either,” she said glumly. “Nobody does.”
“Now, Tracy dear, you know I trust you,” said Mrs. Albright. “You did just fine getting the groceries, and didn’t I just give you permission to drive her home?”
“Yes, but—”
“Mom,” interrupted Julie, “can’t we move into a bigger house so that I can get a border collie? Please?”
chapter 4
Puzzle Pieces
AT LUNCH IN the school cafeteria the next day, Julie and Joy traded halves of their sandwiches. Julie’s mom had packed her a ham and cheese sandwich, while Joy had peanut butter and strawberry jam. They also traded a cookie apiece: Julie had Oreos, while Joy had brought home-baked oatmeal. Julie wished her mom had time to bake cookies. Once she and Ivy had baked Chinese almond cookies together, and they’d turned out pretty well. Maybe next time they would make oatmeal cookies, and Julie would bring some to school. T. J. sat across from them, watching the daily trade, and kept trying to sneak bites of their sandwiches and cookies.
Carla slid onto the bench next to Julie and opened her brown paper sack. She withdrew an apple, a chunk of cheese, and a small green pepper.
“That’s your lunch?” asked T. J.
Carla frowned at him. “Why not?” She bit into the pepper. “It’s a perfectly good lunch. My parents are doctors, and they say fruits and vegetables are healthy and nutritious.” She finished the pepper and started crunching the apple.
“You can have one of my cookies,” Julie offered.
Carla hesitated, then took the Oreo. “Thanks.” She stuffed the cookie into her mouth.
“So much for healthy and nutritious,” T. J. teased.
Carla shot him a glare.
“Sorry!”
