My Mixed-Up Berry Blue Summer Page 6
At the fairgrounds, we stashed our bikes and walked through the exhibitors’ entrance. Trucks and cars were parked in and around the booths, unloading.
The fair was at once exotic and ordinary. Men with faded snake tattoos connected wires, hoisted tents, and tied ropes. Women, cigarettes hanging from cracked lips, hauled equipment into place. I remembered the rides from last year, the funnel cakes, and tie-dyed shirts. Even the crocheted tablecloths and knitted baby outfits looked familiar. Except this time was my first pie competition.
We watched a large truck back up to position the Zipper, the upside-down ride.
“Will you try it this year?” Tina asked.
“I don’t know. What about you?”
“Maybe.”
We went over to the farm area and watched the men set up the corrals. Soon each pen would hold a prize pig, goat, or cow.
“Moonbeam’s doing great,” Tina said. “My dad and I will bring her down tomorrow.”
I hadn’t seen Mr. Costa since I’d overheard him at the farm. But he was helping Tina get ready for the fair. It was weird the way people could be good and bad. My form bulged in my back pocket, making me anxious.
Tina saw me kicking the hay. “Do you want to go look at the culinary section?”
I took a deep breath. “My mom doesn’t want me to register for the fair.”
“What?! I thought you already had. That’s awful.” Tina grabbed my arm. “Let’s go see if it’s not too late.”
I hesitated. “I’m going to enter the adult berry pie competition.”
“Why?”
“This way, I don’t need anybody’s signature.” I glanced at her, hoping I didn’t need to explain more.
But Tina got it. “That means you’ll be competing against my mom.”
I nodded. I had worried about going for the adult contest for two reasons: it would make it harder to win, and it might make Tina mad. But I didn’t have any other choice. “Is that OK?”
“I guess,” she said. “But you can’t just walk into the office and ask for an adult form.”
I unfolded the piece of paper from my back pocket. “I got this from the library.”
She read it over. “It looks like you filled it out right.”
We started walking toward the office door. My mouth was dry, and I got worried all over again. How could I do this? “Maybe you could turn it in, and say your mother asked you to drop it off.”
“But what if it’s someone who knows me? And my mother really has turned in her entry form.”
I looked at the office door. If someone was going to lie, I figured it should be me.
“I’ll do it,” I said.
“I’ll come.”
I was surprised—and glad. “Thanks.”
The woman behind the counter was stapling entry forms.
“Hi,” I said, too quietly. I tried again louder. “My aunt was hoping it isn’t too late to enter the berry pie competition.” I pushed the form across the counter.
“She’s just in time.” The woman put on her glasses and read over my entry form. My breath came ragged, as if I had been running. I clenched my fingers, waiting.
Finally, she took out a pen and wrote a number on it. “Tell her she’s Number forty-seven and to deliver her pie on Monday by ten a.m.”
I nodded, relief steadying me. “Does that mean there are forty-seven pies entered in the contest?”
“That’s right,” she said. “So tell her good luck!”
As soon as the door shut behind us, Tina and I grinned.
“The competition will be much harder now, you know,” Tina said.
“Number forty-seven can handle it!” I did a cartwheel right there in the dirt. I was registered!
Tina clapped and laughed. When I came up right side up again, I was face-to-face with Mr. Costa, stopping his farm truck beside us.
“Well, look who’s here.”
“It’s Tina and that test-tube kid!” Sam jeered from the flatbed.
“No name-calling, son,” Mr. Costa said. He looked down at me from the driver’s seat. My face was red from Sam’s words.
Mr. Costa rested his arm on the window. “You’re turning out fine, it seems, but I should tell you I don’t approve of homosexuals like your mom raising kids and wanting to get married,” he said. “And you’re getting old enough to start thinking about boys. If you ever get mixed up, you can come on over to our place. You’re always welcome.”
I couldn’t speak.
“Dad!” Tina said.
“June’s normal—she’s got a boyfriend,” Sam teased. “Weren’t you and Luke holding hands the other day?”
Tina squealed, “You never told me.”
“He’s not my boyfriend.” My voice came out hot and fast.
“That’s OK, sugar, you’re a little young,” Mr. Costa said. “Tina, Mom needs you back at the farm to watch Tim. He’s underfoot. We’ve got some hay to deliver.” And he drove off.
The dust from the truck filled my eyes, but the bumper sticker on the back of the truck was unmistakable: TAKE BACK VERMONT.
“Can you believe my dad is talking to us about boys!” Tina laughed. “Tell me about Luke! What happened?”
“Nothing.” I strode over to our bikes and grabbed my helmet, struggling with the strap.
“What’s wrong?” she asked. “Why are you leaving?”
I picked up my bike. I was shaking all over. “It’s just like at the game at school,” I said. “You’re on his side, aren’t you?”
“What are you talking about? You aren’t mad about what he said about your mom, are you? Just don’t pay any attention. He was concerned, anyway.”
I stared at her. “I can’t believe you’re saying that.”
“What?”
“He’s wrong, you know,” I shouted. “My mom is a great parent, and she deserves to marry Eva if she wants. They can get married just like anybody else!”
I didn’t wait for Tina to answer. I jumped on my bike and pedaled for home.
Chapter Twelve
I WOKE UP to the sound of a woodpecker tapping on the pine tree. I sat up and turned my binoculars to him. He was alone, as alone as I felt. I couldn’t go through with the pie contest. Not if I had to deal with people making fun of my family all the time. I wondered what happened if someone didn’t turn in a pie. I guessed the judges just assumed it was a no-show and threw the entry form away. That would be Number forty-seven.
I spotted the rowboat cutting across the cove, but it was Joe not Luke. Then I remembered Joe was going to handle the shop today—Mom and I were going to Burlington to buy a flower girl dress. I flopped back onto my bed, staring at the ceiling. No one was a flower girl at my age.
Mom knocked and poked her head in. “Let’s go!”
I groaned.
“C’mon—I’m buying you clothes!”
“OK, but no pink.”
Mom and Eva had soft smiles now whenever they talked about the wedding plans. Mom said she knew the people who mattered—Joe, Ms. Flynn the librarian, even Ruth—supported their right to get married if they wanted. I made an effort, but Eva and I were still not on the best of terms. I didn’t know how to break the stand-off with her.
Once in the car, I glanced at the windshield. We hadn’t had any notes or signs after that one time. It didn’t surprise me. Whoever was behind it, maybe Lauren’s mother or even Mr. Costa, had gotten organized and made all those flyers boycotting gay businesses. I began counting how many “Take Back Vermont” signs I saw compared to “Keep it Civil.”
“We sent out the invitations,” Mom said once we got on the highway for Burlington.
“Who’s coming?” I had counted ten “Take Back Vermont” signs; six “Keep It Civil” signs.
“Well, so far, Joe and Luke have RSVP’d, and so has Anne Flynn.”
Great. Three people. I spotted another “Take Back” sign, making the score eleven to six.
“No worries, right, June?” Mom said.
At the department store, I trailed behind Mom, fingering various dresses. Nothing seemed right.
“I’m wearing my lilac dress,” she said. “And Eva is wearing a red dress—well maybe more of a burgundy wine color. We thought you’d look great in something, hmm, green.”
I looked around. I hoped no one had heard. “Blue,” I said defiantly.
A saleswoman approached. “May I help you?”
“Yes,” Mom said. “We’re looking for an elegant dress for a special occasion for my daughter.”
“How nice,” she said. “Should we head to the teen section?”
I felt like the woman was looking right at my chest. “I’m twelve,” I said.
“Growing up so fast,” Mom murmured, mussing my hair. I was about to scream.
“What’s the special occasion?”
I gave Mom a look, but she went ahead and said, “A wedding.”
“Oh, how lovely! Who is getting married?”
“I am,” Mom said, then gave me a reassuring squeeze.
I was glad she didn’t say any more. Not every conversation had to be a political act, did it?
The saleswoman pulled a couple of dresses off the rack in pinks, lavenders, and purples.
I folded my arms. “I like blue,” I said.
“Well, here’s a nice one.” She pulled down a lake blue dress, with navy trim. It was short-sleeved, with a wide skirt. “It has little flowers around the neckline.”
“June, they look like blueberry flowers,” Mom exclaimed.
Even I had to admit it was perfect. I tried on several others, including a green one, but the blueberry dress was the one.
Mom put her hands on my shoulders. We both straightened as we gazed in the mirror. My head had reached Mom’s shoulder—and my hair was not in a ponytail for once. I wasn’t flower girl material anymore.
“June, you look beautiful.” Mom touched my hair lightly, and for once I didn’t mind.
With the blueberry dress folded in a bag, we stopped in a few more stores. Mom found new shoes for herself and white sandals for me.
“Let’s get ice cream to celebrate,” Mom said, pushing open the door at Ben & Jerry’s. “I never take clothes shopping for granted with you.”
I ordered my favorite, chocolate chip cookie dough. Mom had hers, rainforest crunch. Eva wouldn’t approve—she wanted us to try new flavors.
“Eva and I thought you could hold a bouquet of Queen Anne’s lace,” Mom said, as we settled into a booth.
I licked off a piece of dough. “Don’t you think I’m too old to be a flower girl?”
“What would you like to be?”
“The maid of honor.”
Mom wrapped her napkin around her cone. “Usually, the maid of honor is the bride’s best friend.”
I grinned. “That’s me, isn’t it?”
She smiled. “There’s nothing conventional about this wedding, so why not?”
“Yes!”
“I’ll tell Eva,” Mom said, then added, “We know this wedding hasn’t been on your list of favorite things to do this summer.”
Somehow, it didn’t seem like the worst thing anymore. “You changed your mind about the wedding, about being in the spotlight.”
“I’ve never changed my mind about Eva, but I was worried about you.” She pushed her glasses back. “I was trying to protect you—that’s what moms do. But you’ve been tackling prejudice all along, and that’s not going to change.”
I dragged my tongue over the top of the cone. It was fine for her, but now lying low seemed like the right thing for me. I no longer wanted to be Tina’s friend or enter my pie in the fair.
Mom continued. “And getting married makes sure we’re treated like any other family, even if some people don’t see it that way.”
“Like the eleven people with ‘Take Back Vermont’ signs,” I pointed out.
“What about the ‘Keep It Civil’ signs?”
“Only six.” I licked my ice cream. I wanted to tell her about the day at the library, but the words stuck in my throat like cookie dough. Or what had happened with Mr. Costa and Tina, but that reminded me how Sam had called Luke my boyfriend.
“Can I ask you something else?” I said. “About boys.”
Mom’s cone stopped inches from her lips. “What about them?”
“Do you think . . .” I hesitated. “I mean, you may not know, but do you think I will be like you?”
“Oh, honey,” she said. “Only you will know. Deep down, I think you might know already.”
My stomach quivered, remembering when Luke had held my hand the day on the cliff and on the dock. I wondered if Tina had ever held a boy’s hand, not counting Tim’s.
“Hey, you two.” Eva appeared. “I thought I might find you here.”
I stiffened. What was she doing here? This was my time with Mom.
Mom gave her a hug. I looked away, hoping no one noticed. “We were just talking about the wedding.” Mom winked at me.
“What, same old flavor?” Eva teased. She was wearing her hospital coat.
“Were you trying to track us down?” I asked.
“June!”
“I won’t bother you two for long—I’m taking a little break.”
I balled up my napkin. “I’m going to be the maid of honor,” I announced.
Eva was surprised. She looked at me and then at Mom. “Is that what you want?”
“It’s what we both decided,” Mom said. Now it was Eva’s turn to feel left out. I was glad.
Eva and Mom began to discuss details about the caterer. I finished my cone, hoping no one was listening to them. I excused myself and headed to the rest-room.
Just as I shut a stall door, some girls all talking at once came in. With a start, I recognized Tina’s voice. I looked through the crack: She was with Lauren and Kelly. I hadn’t seen them since school had ended.
My face burned. I couldn’t believe she was with them. Any hope that Tina understood how mean they had been that day at the softball game disappeared. She obviously didn’t get it. She was from a regular American apple pie family: Mom, Dad, two boys, and a girl. I couldn’t stand it. A friend wouldn’t laugh off an insult. Luke wouldn’t have laughed.
I didn’t make a sound. If I walked out, I’d have to decide whether or not to ignore them. My skin prickled. I wondered if they would ignore me.
“Wasn’t that guy cute?” Kelly squealed.
“No way,” Lauren said. “He was so gay!”
Anger kick-started inside me. Tina wouldn’t tell Lauren to stop saying “gay.” It was all the same—at the game, with her family or her friends. Tina didn’t get it, and, what’s more, she didn’t have the guts to stand up to any of them.
I banged open the door just in time to see Tina cover her smile with her pink nails. Our eyes met. She looked away first. I didn’t say a word and walked out.
To my horror, I saw that Mom and Eva were holding hands. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Tina, Lauren, and Kelly heading to the counter to order.
“Let’s go,” I said, blocking any view of the table.
“I guess I’m ready,” Mom said.
Eva pitched the napkins on our way out. “Hey, isn’t that Tina over there?”
I turned toward the door. “Don’t you have to go back to work?”
“June, that’s enough,” Mom said.
“I do have to go.” Eva gave Mom a kiss. “Bye, June.”
I kept on walking.
Chapter Thirteen
THE NEXT DAY it was raining, and Luke’s signal was yellow. In a way I was glad—I still hadn’t talked to him since Sam had called him my boyfriend. Nothing had changed as far as Luke knew, of course—it was me I was worried about. It seemed like I had lost all
my friends in one stroke. The only constant was the lake, and even she seemed to be blue today. Every worry, every insult baked inside of me.
The blueberry dress hung ghostly on the closet door; I turned my back to it as I pulled on shorts and a T-shirt.
Downstairs, the kitchen still smelled of pies; Mom and I had made four berry pies after shopping—the silver lining of yesterday. I ate breakfast in silence, idly skimming the comics. Mom and Eva didn’t seem to notice. They were talking quietly—Eva said something about her father having e-mailed to say he wouldn’t come. She looked sad, and Mom gently rested her hand on Eva’s. I turned back to the comics. If Eva’s own father wouldn’t come to the wedding, how could we be sure anyone would?
“June, can you work the shop today?” Mom asked. “A photographer is coming.”
“For what?”
“For the wedding, honey.” Mom glanced at Eva, who sighed and straightened her dress.
So you’re really going to go through with it, I wanted to say. The wedding worried me. It seemed crazy to act like everything was going to be fine when so many people thought it was wrong. And I still hadn’t figured out how to be around Eva.
Not talking turned out to be easy. Business was slow although a little better since Eva’s e-mail. But even that rush of friends had eased. I swatted at flies, tidied up the stack of Lake Champlain maps, and spun around on the stool.
“Got any special pies?”
It was Ms. Flynn, the librarian. I was so surprised, I jumped off my stool. “What are you doing here?”
Ms. Flynn laughed. “I don’t live at the library, June. I’ve got a good friend coming over to dinner, and I want to serve the best Vermont has to offer.”
I smiled for the first time all day. “I made this strawberry-blueberry,” I said. “But I used store-bought blueberries.”
“It will be fabulous,” she said. “MJ and Eva must be very proud of your baking talent.”
“Thanks,” I said, and felt better. I noticed, too, how comfortable she was mentioning two moms. I wished everyone felt that easy about it. Including me.
“That’s ten sixty-nine,” I said. “Do you want anything else?”
“No, thanks.” She handed me her money. “Pies like this shouldn’t be kept a secret—did you enter the fair?”