A car full of kids cruises down our street, and I panic. I can’t be seen walking next to Odelia! I imagine what they’d call us at Porchtown Middle: Beauty and Bernice or maybe Buggy Beauty and Beastly Bernice. Doesn’t matter what. It’d all be bad. To play it safe, I duck behind a row of hedges.
Odelia keeps gliding down the sidewalk, yakking about social graces. She hasn’t noticed my side trip. When I catch up to her, I hear her going on and on about how Wyatt shares the same good looks as Prince Chancellor Pomegranate. She’s convinced that Chance (my name for him, not hers) and Wyatt would be fast friends. She sounds like any other boy-crazy thirteen-year-old.
“Have you ever actually spent any time with Chance . . . Chancellor?” I ask.
Odelia’s caught off guard. “No. I’ve never had the chance.” Odelia chuckles at her own joke. I chuckle, too. Truth is, her pun was pretty clever.
“Anyway,” Odelia continues, “it’d be easy to speak to him. I once prepared a two-hour soliloquy on the life of a hummingbird. No one heard it, of course.”
“You talked to yourself for two whole hours? Really, Odelia?”
“I can speak on any subject, to anyone, and that’s why you need me. But you’ll need to get over being embarrassed to be seen with me.” Odelia hikes up her “wings” and flits away.
I wish Odelia hadn’t caught me hedge-hopping. I feel bad. I call out to her, “If the next time we’re out in public, you promise to not wear the princess gear, I’ll do the next lesson. C’mon, Odelia, I do need you and your lessons. I can’t figure out how to keep talking to Wyatt. It’s hard. Especially when I’m concentrating on skateboarding tricks. Can you help me?”
Odelia spins around. “Yes, I’ll help, and if it’ll make you happy, I’ll put on regular, boring clothes.” She whips out the pink notebook, and says:
“ODELIA’S GUIDE TO THE SOCIAL GRACES
LESSON 5: THE ART OF CRAFTY CONVERSATION
OBJECTIVE: Bernice will learn how to fine-tune the conversational skills she’s acquired so far. Just like a vocalist whose simple notes build to an elaborate musical crescendo, Bernice will sing her heart out to capture the attention of her prince.(Note to self: I’ve heard Bernice sing, and I’m grateful that the singing I speak of here is metaphorical.)”
Odelia grins at me like she’s got the key to my life. Then she belts out a musical scale that would make an opera star proud.
“This is crazy,” I say. “I am not a singer.”
“Oh, I know,” Odelia says. “My objective is to have you engage in an ongoing conversation, and then Wyatt will get to know you better. He’ll see the real you.”
Odelia needs to follow her own advice because I haven’t seen the real Odelia yet—the one who used to hate dresses and hate being proper. I want to meet that Odelia.
I find a bus stop bench on a side street; we both sit down, and Odelia continues. “A conversation is like a game of chess,” she instructs. “You take a turn. Wyatt takes a turn. If you don’t move the pieces on the board, you don’t give him a chance to join in, and the game ends.” Odelia sings again as she moves imaginary chess pieces across the bench’s wooden planks.
I put my face in my hands, and mumble, “Can we stop with the singing and the games?” I peek out between my fingers to make sure no one has stopped to see Odelia’s show.
“It sounds as if you did well with Wyatt on your last visit to the park. But you must keep asking questions—questions that will get Wyatt to talk for a longer period of time. Make sure you ask questions where you’ll get more than a yes or no answer.”
“I thought I did that when I told him I can’t pull off the tougher tricks.”
“Choose your words carefully, Bernice. Do not make the conversation—”
I butt in before Odelia finishes. “I can’t do this. I just can’t. It’s too much. Sure, I want Wyatt’s attention, but I can’t beg for it. Roxanne and the more popular girls know how to get anybody’s attention, easily. I don’t. I only dream about being the popular girl. Like the other night. I dreamt that everybody wanted to be me. Everybody gushed over me. And copied me. Even in my dream it was way too much to take. I woke up in a cold sweat.”
Odelia flies off the bench. “First, never interrupt a speaker! It’s rude. Second, no one wants to be part of a conversation that’s one-sided, like the conversation you just had with yourself! Chess game, remember? Back and forth, back and forth. Ask about the other person—their hopes, their dreams. Don’t overpower friends with your dreams. Don’t sing out selfish speeches. Don’t go into detail about you, you, YOU!”
Hello, big bad Odelia. Nice to meet you!
“Okay, Okay! I get it,” I say, calming down. “But what if I need to tell someone off, or what if someone is boring me?”
“Speak the song of your heart,” Odelia says.
Like I’m supposed to know what that means.
“What I mean is, speak your mind. Be kind. Be truthful. If someone or something is bothering you or boring you, turn the conversation around, or be polite and make your escape.”
Lesson five is not for wimps! I get up and stretch and tell Odelia I will try. Then I add, “Right now, I need to get home. It’s getting dark, and my mom’s probably worried.”
Odelia pouts. “I was enjoying our banter.”
I smile at my clueless princess. “I’m making my escape, Odelia. Maybe we can banter tomorrow.”
I leave Odelia sitting on the bench. If I were smarter and quicker, I could’ve put the Art of Crafty Conversation lesson to good use and gotten Odelia to talk about herself. Maybe if she opens up, she’ll change into a normal human being.
The
