“Stringbean? Why?”
“I have no idea. Maybe she really likes vegetables.”
“Stringbean, eh.” Michael nodded and changed the subject. “Galit Portal called today. She wants to write that book about me.”
“See, I told you she was gonna call. Did you say yes?”
“Not at first, and I said it was because of the way the Journal’s been treating you. But she assured me she’d be fair, even had Ian Malik call to tell me how pleased he was with his book. So I agreed. I figure if I build a good relationship with her, it could end up helping you. I hope I’m making the right decision.”
“You are, I’m sure of it. A positive biography will be great for the company. And you know you’ve arrived when you become the subject of a Galit Portal book. Plus, it’s nice of you even to think about saving me from those mean people at the Journal.” Christy was proud of Michael. For a few moments, she felt like a newlywed again, nestled safely in her hero’s arms.
Renata Uses Inappropriate Language
DEAR DIARY,
I AM SO GHETTO COMPARED TO EVERYONE ELSE AT MY SCHOOL. I WISH PEOPLE WOULD STOP TEASING ME ABOUT THAT. I WISH IT WAS A YEAR AGO. THEN GRANDMA WOULD BE ALIVE AND I’D BE GOING TO SCHOOL WITH KIDS WHO WERE JUST LIKE ME. EXCEPT FOR MAYBE THEY WOULDN’T BE AS NATURALLY TALENTED.
YOUR FRIEND,
STRINGBEAN
The mothers and daughters assembled in Mrs. Smart’s classroom. It was a good thing she’d come, Christy thought. If she’d missed the event, she would have been the only mom absent. Each girl stood before the group to read the tribute her mother wrote her. Then the mom reciprocated by sharing her child’s letter of homage. It was as close to a lovefest as they ever throw on the Upper East Side. Christy couldn’t help but notice how Brownie beamed when she read Stephanie’s laudatory essay. She may be a bitch, Christy thought, but she’s a bitch who has a better relationship with her daughter than I have with Renata. Of course, there had to be some exaggeration going on. Mothers and daughters don’t get along this well. Do they? Christy wasn’t sure. She could barely remember what it was like to have a mom.
When it was Renata’s turn, she walked to the front of the room, opened Christy’s letter, and spoke:
DEAR Stringbean,
Unlike your friends and their parents, you and I are just beginning to form a relationship. It is my greatest wish that someday, you will come to think of me as your mother. While I would never expect to take the place of your cherished grandma, perhaps there is room in your heart to love me in a different but special way. As I once told you, when I was a child, my mother died. So I understand that you will always miss Maria. When your grandmother asked me with her last breath to raise you, it felt like God was offering me a chance to give something back for all the wonderful blessings that had been bestowed on me. I only hope I am worthy of standing in the place of the only mother you ever really knew, Maria Ruiz. Have I told you how extraordinary I think you are? I think you’re a wonder. You are a well-mannered, smart, and loving girl. Maria did a beautiful job of raising you. I will do my best to continue to bring you up in the way Maria would have wanted. While I cannot give you back the woman you loved most in the world, I can give you the world. That’s what I intend to do.
All my love,
Christy
The classroom erupted in applause when Renata finished reading. It wasn’t that Christy’s letter was so heartwarming; the class clapped after each person completed her recitation. Christy stood and walked to the front of the room as Renata took her seat. She opened the sealed envelope and pulled out her child’s letter. She read what Renata wrote and then, slowly, folded the letter and put it back in the envelope.
“I’m sorry, but this letter is just a bit too personal for me to read out loud. You’ll have to excuse me. I’m overwhelmed.” Christy raced out of the classroom, intent on making it to the car before her emotions betrayed her. Steven held the door as Christy dove headfirst into the backseat. She opened the letter again just to make sure she’d read it right:
DEAR CHRISTY HAYES,
YOU ARE A RUDE, MEAN, SELFISH BICH.
I HATE YOU.
LOVE,
STRINGBEAN E. RUIZ
It’s Always Something
The descent from Refuge du Gouter was a nightmare,” Michael said.
“How come?” Christy asked. She was in her bedroom, sitting at her desk, wishing Michael weren’t so far away.
“There was serious rockfall. Big chunks were flying everywhere. They were sharp and coming down fast.”
“Was anyone hurt?”
“A woman in the party below ours was cut pretty badly. It was a good thing Galit was there. She was trained as a medic in the Israeli army.”
“How’s it going with her?” Christy said.
“Pretty good. We’ve gotten most of the background interviews done. She seems like a good reporter, but I wouldn’t want to be her boyfriend. What a ballbuster.”
“You’re not too tired for interviews after climbing?”
“We did most of it on the flight over. She’s my Skip Heller, only I have to come up with more stories, enough to fill a whole book.”
“I’m not worried. When have you ever been at a loss for words?”
“I miss you. You should have come.”
“I know. I wish I had. Remember that mother-daughter assembly I told you about?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, it was a disaster.”
“Beegee, wait, hold on. Someone’s knocking.” Michael left the phone for a moment. “I’m
