Dear George Clooney Page 11

  I did mean to hit her, but I didn’t mean to break anything. Not that the subtle difference mattered to Mr. Patil. When he entered the classroom, he saw Ashley clutching her nose, blood spurting between her fingers, and me, rubbing my sore knuckles. He marched me to the principal’s office. And because I couldn’t bring myself to tell the principal about the photos of my mother, I took all the blame.

  “Mr. Patil will go with you while you gather up your things from your locker,” Ms. Marlatt told me. “You’re suspended for the rest of the week.” Then she picked up the phone and called my mom at work.

  Mom picked me up in the Rust Bucket twenty minutes later. She was so upset, she didn’t say a word, which was probably a good thing since I wouldn’t have heard her over the noise of the busted muffler. When we arrived home, Mr. and Mrs. Bright were in their front yard, doing their first bit of spring gardening. They glared at Mom.

  “You need to get that muffler fixed,” Mr. Bright shouted.

  “And you need to get your nose out of my business!” my mom shouted back, as she marched up the front steps and into the house.

  The moment we were through the front door, she lit into me.

  “Suspended! For the rest of the week!” She threw her car keys down on the entranceway table. “What is wrong with you these days, Violet? I don’t even know who you are anymore! You’re belligerent and rude…. You spy on my boyfriend…. You break a girl’s nose! What has happened to you?”

  “What’s happened to me? What’s happened to you?” I screamed back. “Do you know why I punched her, Mom? Because she called you a skank, that’s why!”

  Mom looked completely taken aback. “What are you talking about?”

  “Your stupid friend Karen posted a bunch of her stupid photos on stupid Facebook. You’re drinking in the photos. You’re kissing Carl. You’re showing off your thong underwear!”

  All the color drained from Mom’s face. “I can’t believe Karen posted those pictures.”

  “I can’t believe you were in those pictures!”

  “Those pictures – it feels like a lifetime ago. It was a terrible time for me, Violet. I was depressed, I felt totally undesirable – I made some really stupid choices.”

  “Ever since Dad left, you’ve been this totally different person. Dressing like a teenager. Dating all these gross guys. Leaving me to do all the stuff you used to do – cooking dinner, doing the laundry, putting Rosie to bed –”

  “You’re right, Violet. None of this has been fair to you. But things are getting better. Now that Dudley –”

  “Oh, please! Mom, he is so second-rate. You’re only falling for him because you’re desperate to have a man in your life!”

  Mom looked like I’d just punched her in the nose.

  “I need to get back to work,” she said slowly. “I’m giving the students an exam this afternoon.” She picked up her keys and walked toward the door.

  I was thinking that I’d now managed to alienate pretty much every single person I’d ever cared about, when she turned back.

  “I wasn’t going to tell you yet, but last night, after you and Rosie went to bed, Dudley asked me to marry him.” She walked out the door.

  I stood there, frozen, listening to the Rust Bucket rattle and bang as Mom drove away.

  I felt numb. I climbed the stairs and poured myself a scalding hot bath. I forced myself into it, grabbing the latest edition of Entertainment Weekly from the stand near the toilet. I was thinking that this wasn’t one of the worst days in my life, it actually was the worst day of my life, right up there with the day Dad left, when something in the magazine caught my eye.

  “British director Alfred Billingham started production yesterday on his new film, Inside Job. The movie is shooting at Tantamount Studios. George Clooney stars.”

  Tantamount Studios. My mind started to race. Why did it sound so familiar? Then it hit me: Jennica had said Dad was shooting his new pilot at Tantamount Studios. George Clooney and my dad were working at the same studio.

  I leapt out of the tub and called Dad on his cell phone, still dripping wet.

  “Dad? It’s Violet. I’m really sorry I fed cat turds to Lola and Lucy. And I really want to come to L.A.”

  — 21 —

  “Cannonball!” Rosie shouted, before she launched her compact little body into the pool. She wore a brand-new swimsuit, one of those with a built-in flotation device. It was royal blue with dolphins on it, a gift from Wife Number Two when we’d arrived, just a few hours ago. Lucy and Lola were in the shallow end with Jennica, who wore a string bikini that showed off her tanned, curvy figure, and their part-time nanny, Anna Maria. The twins shrieked with delight, and I could tell that Rosie was loving being the cool older sibling for once.

  As for me, I sat on a lounge chair in khaki cargo pants and a white T-shirt, blocking my face from the sun with a pair of Jennica’s sunglasses and a floppy straw hat. I clutched one of the books I’d brought with me, The Outsiders by S.E. Hinton. The irony of the title was not lost on me. But I found it hard to concentrate on the story as sweat trickled down my front and pooled at the base of my training bra. The water looked cool, silky, and inviting, but I wasn’t going near it today.

  My mom must have told my dad that both of us needed new bathing suits because Jennica had bought me a new one, too. A bikini. With little cups where my boobs were supposed to go. I’d tried it on to be polite, and as I’d gazed at myself in the full-length mirror in the little change house beside the pool, I felt like the most tragic girl on the face of the earth. The bikini bottom sagged around my flat bony butt, and the top hung sadly with nothing to hold it up. I poked one of the cups with my finger, and it created a big concave indentation, which would have been funny if it didn’t make me want to cry.

  How could I have thought for a moment that Jean-Paul could be interested in me when he has Ashley falling all over him? Ashley might be a bitch, but she’s a pretty bitch. I, on the other hand, am painfully average. Possibly even below average. I should have stuck to my vow.

  I was starting to feel seriously sorry for myself when Jennica walked right into the change room without knocking.

  “How does it fit?” she asked, before she had a chance to actually look at me and figure it out for herself. “Oh. No worries, the shop has a million different styles, and I know at least a dozen more that will look gorgeous on you.” She smiled her trademark smile, showing off two rows of dazzling white teeth. “In the meantime, you can swim in your underwear if you want; it’s just us girls.”

  Was she kidding me? “Thanks, but I’m actually feeling a bit chilled,” I lied.

  So here I was, sweltering under the hot sun instead. Rosie was showing the twins her dive, which looked more like a belly flop.

  I got up and moved my chair into the shade. I polished off my Diet Coke and put the can beside my lounge chair. Jennica buys Diet Coke by the case, and since Mom doesn’t buy pop except on special occasions, I drank a lot of it here. I belched softly and tried once again to read my book.

  It had been just two days since I’d apologized to Dad on the phone, but once I’d done so, things moved really quickly. First, my mom had a long talk with my dad. “She’s suspended. For the rest of the week.” I could hear her through the vent in the bathroom, where I was brushing my teeth. “She punched a girl in the nose.”

  I noticed she didn’t bring up the Facebook photos.

  There was a long pause while she listened to my dad. “Don’t you dare call my parenting skills into question, Ian, don’t you dare. When is the last time you parented your daughters?”

  I couldn’t help it – I grinned. I love it when Mom tears a strip off Dad. It doesn’t happen very often because they rarely speak, but it’s awesome when it does.

  “You need to take her off my hands for a while. I can barely cope with her these days.”

  My smile disappeared.

  A couple of hours later, Mom announced that Jennica had found a last-minute deal for a flig
ht leaving Wednesday morning. Rosie was delighted, especially since it meant she got to miss three days of daycare. We would be staying with them for ten days, our longest visit yet.

  Mom and I barely spoke to each other when she drove us to the airport.

  “Have a wonderful time,” she said to Rosie as she showered her with kisses outside the security gate. Then she straightened up and looked at me. “Behave yourself,” she said, before quickly kissing my forehead.

  “What did you say to Dudley?” I asked.

  She pursed her lips. “Nothing. I haven’t answered him yet.”

  “Answered him about what?” Rosie piped up.

  “Well, just – don’t answer him,” I pleaded. “Not until we’re back.”

  She just grabbed us and hugged us. “Good-bye, my girls.”

  Then I’d taken Rosie’s hand and the two of us went through the security gate. Three hours later, we’d landed in Los Angeles.

  I gave up on my book and put it down beside the lounge chair. I looked around at the pool, the swing set, and the infamous sandbox. A stone fence surrounded the yard, just high enough so that you couldn’t see the neighbors, and some sort of ivy fell from the stones.

  Their home was beautiful. And I couldn’t help it, my mind wandered to that place again, the place that fantasized about what our lives would be like if Dad hadn’t met Jennica. We might have all moved down to L.A. and lived in a house with a pool. Mom probably would have insisted on a more modest house, and she wouldn’t have hired a nanny, or decorated in the same way, or had as many clothes in the closet, but still. We’d have a pool instead of a rusted trampoline, and Rosie would have more toys and wouldn’t have to wear my hand-me-downs. Maybe I would have my own room, and Mom would drive a nicer car, and our house wouldn’t be falling apart.

  Suddenly one of the twins toddled up to me. I could tell it was Lucy because her swimsuit was green. She hollered, “Up, up!” I pulled her onto my lap and hugged her. She was wet, but it felt good because I was so hot.

  She didn’t seem to remember that I was the wicked half sister who’d made her eat poo. Or, if she did remember, she didn’t hold it against me. Pretty soon Lola, in her purple swimsuit, joined us, and I had both of them on my lap. As I held them tight, I realized I was crying. Tears were gushing down my face, hot tears of shame for what I had done to these two little girls, who’d never, ever done anything to hurt me except to be born.

  Next thing I knew, Rosie was slapping her way over, a pair of flippers on her feet. She frowned at me through her blue-green goggles, her arms crossed over her chest.

  “Girls, make room for Rosie,” I said, wiping away any leftover tears, and Rosie climbed up too. Then Jennica came running over, worried that the chair would collapse, so we piled onto the grass instead. I tickled all three of them and gave them airplane rides, putting my feet on their tummies and lifting them into the air and making airplane noises. Jennica sat close by, and I could tell she didn’t one hundred percent trust me, and I guess I couldn’t blame her.

  As I placed my feet into their chubby little tummies, first Lola, then Lucy, I realized that deep in my heart, I loved my half sisters, I loved them more than I thought I ever could. But I would never love them as much as I loved Rosie.

  And maybe it was terrible to think that. But Dr. Belinda Boniface once told me that I had to own my thoughts. So I was owning this one, too.

  After Anna Maria went home, Jennica ordered some pizzas for dinner, and we ate outside on a picnic blanket. Then Rosie and I called Mom to let her know we’d arrived safely.

  “Is Dudley there?” I couldn’t resist asking.

  There was a pause before she answered. “Signs point to yes.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Mom, I invented the Magic-8-Ball conversation. Do not use it on me.”

  “Sorry, Violet. Just trying for a bit of levity.”

  I softened my tone. “Yeah. I know.”

  “And no, I haven’t answered him yet. I’ve told him I need some time to think.”

  “You can’t marry him, Mom.”

  “Violet.”

  I didn’t respond.

  “Well, I should let you go.”

  “Mom?”

  “Yes?”

  “I love you.”

  “And I love you, my dear silly girl.”

  Dad still wasn’t home by the time I went to bed. Rosie was already sound asleep, her little chest rising and falling with each breath, her sheet twisted around her feet.

  I read my book for a long time, but it was still hard to concentrate. My thoughts kept drifting to Dudley’s proposal, to Jean-Paul, and to Ashley’s nose.

  And to Phoebe. Especially Phoebe. What a mess I’d made. She was my best friend, and I missed her like crazy.

  I heard Dad’s car pull up around midnight. I thought about climbing out of bed and meeting him at the door to say hello, but I didn’t really feel like it and so I didn’t. I knew I would see him in the morning, over breakfast.

  I could put my plan into motion then.

  — 22 —

  Thanks to one tiny beam of sunlight that shone through a crack in our bedroom curtains like a laser beam, directly into my left eye, I woke up early the next morning. Rosie was still sound asleep, so I slipped out of bed and closed the door quietly behind me.

  As I approached the kitchen, I could hear voices. Raised voices, arguing. I slowed my pace and strained to hear.

  “That’s the third new dress in the last month.” Dad’s voice.

  “You know I have to look good when I go to an audition.” Jennica’s voice.

  “Of course. But you have a closetful of outfits to choose from.”

  “I hate wearing the same thing twice to these things; I feel like I’m jinxing it.”

  “That … is ridiculous.”

  “And you’re one to talk, Mr. I-Just-Bought-a-Brand-New-Mercedes-Benz-Convertible.”

  “I needed a new car. Besides, this pilot pays well.”

  “Oh, so just because you’re working and I’m not, you’re allowed to spend and I need to pinch pennies?”

  “That’s not what I meant.”

  “When we first met, I was outearning you, and did I ever make you feel bad about what you spent?”

  “Jennica, be reasonable. We’re mortgaged up the wazoo here. This pilot may never go to series. You haven’t worked in six months.”

  “Thanks a lot, Ian. Thanks for the reminder.”

  I chose that moment to walk into the room. “Good morning,” I announced in my best I-have-overheard-nothing voice.

  Dad’s face lit up. “Violet!” He looked genuinely happy to see me, which surprised me. He wrapped his arms around me and squeezed me tight. I breathed in the scent of him and suddenly felt tears prick my eyes, even though I didn’t feel particularly sad.

  But all I said was “Hello, Father.”

  “Look at you. You’re hardly a kid anymore. You’re turning into a beautiful young woman.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Please.”

  “I see more of your mother in you every day.”

  I wasn’t sure how to take that, so I wriggled free and grabbed a bowl from a nearby cupboard. “You have any cereal?”

  Jennica got down a bunch of boxes, and, for the first time, I noticed her new outfit. It was a white baby-doll sundress that showed off her assets, if you know what I mean. She wore a lot of makeup that somehow managed to look mostly natural. Mostly.

  “You look nice,” I told her as I checked out the cereal labels. They were all what my mother would call junk: Cap’n Crunch, Count Chocula, Lucky Charms. I grabbed the box of Lucky Charms.

  “Thanks,” she said, shooting my dad a look. “I have an audition later this morning.”

  Dad poured himself a cup of coffee. “I’m sorry I have to work so much while you’re here, sweetheart.”

  I shrugged. “No big deal.” Then I said, as casually as possible, “I hear George Clooney’s shooting a movie at the same studio.”

&nbs
p; “That’s right. They’re on Lot 9. We’re on Lot 18.”

  “Have you met him?”

  Dad smiled. “Never even seen him. Tantamount Studios is huge.”

  My heart sank, but only a little. I poured myself a huge bowl of Lucky Charms. “Can I come to the set with you today?”

  Dad’s brow furrowed. “Gosh, Violet. I couldn’t possibly swing it for today. We’re shooting this big action sequence – it’s going to be chaos. And not nearly as interesting as you might think.”

  “Tomorrow, then.”

  “Tomorrow’s not good, either.”

  “Ian,” Jennica said, and her voice had a slight edge to it. “Your daughter would like to see what you do.”

  It was kind of fun, watching my dad get backed into a corner. “Please, Dad,” I said, laying it on a bit thick. “I want to spend more time with you.”

  “But that’s the problem. I won’t be able to spend time with you. It’s go, go, go, from the moment I get there till the moment I leave.”

  I opened my eyes just a little bit wider and blinked a few times, like I might cry at any moment. “Please, Daddy,” I said.

  He sighed. “Let me check the schedule when I get into work, okay? If there’s a day that’s not completely insane while you’re here, I’ll arrange for you to visit. But I’m not making any promises, understood?”

  I nodded. It was the most I was going to get out of him for now.

  After breakfast, I asked Jennica if I could borrow her computer.

  “Sure thing,” she said. She brought her MacBook Pro into the living room. I logged on to Facebook. First, I checked Karen’s home page. The photos of my mom had been removed. Next, I went under my FRIENDS list to delete Ashley Anderson, but she was already gone. She’d beat me to it.

  Just as I was about to shut down, I noticed, under CHAT at the bottom of the page, that one of my friends was online, too. Since I had so few Facebook friends, this hardly ever happened. I clicked on the icon to see who it was.

  Phoebe Stegel, it said.

  Without taking time to think about it, I typed her a message, hit RETURN, and held my breath.