“What a lame story. I’d never do those things.”
Odelia ignores me and makes a list of other things I’d never do, but might think about doing if I’m a guest. Like, putting my napkin on my lap, passing food to the right, taking small bites, chewing with my mouth closed. Oh, and forget about burping and putting my elbows on the table.
Finally, Odelia shows me how to cut meat, scoop up veggies, eat a sandwich without making a mess, and how I should ask to be excused. Excuse me! This is too much information. I’ll need to take a cheat sheet with me to Wyatt’s!
***
A Damsel in Distress
I’m walking, not skating, to Wyatt’s house. I can’t risk wrecking my hair—hair that I straightened for two hours last night and re-straightened for an hour this morning. When I called Roxanne to tell her I was getting ready, she ran over to seal my ‘do with her mega-hold hairspray. A hurricane couldn’t dent it.
Odelia strolls next to me. I fill her in about the prince and princess party Miss Robyn has planned and her eyes twinkle like the jewels in her missing tiara.
“Wear a princess gown and every accessory you can dig up. Especially your tiara,” I say. “Tell the kids stories of castles and moats, and witches, and your godmother—make Serena a fairy godmother. That’s more interesting. Let’s see what else. You can talk about Magnifico, Collin the shoemaker, your snooty butler, and all those other people who sound like they’re part of a fairy tale. Everybody loves a good story.”
“Serena, Magnifico, Collin, and Gerard are not characters from a book. They are real. And Gerard is not snooty. He’s actually cool.”
“Listen to you,” I say. “You sound like me.”
“But you will look like me for the party. I’ll bring a lovely gown over Tuesday morning—a gown that is perfect for you. Maybe one in peach or pale yellow. No . . . rose. It must be rose, offset with a white satin sash. You will be the belle of the ball.”
“A rosy dress to match my rosy middle name,” I tell her. “It’s Rose.”
“Your middle name is Rose?” Odelia asks. “My middle name is Rose as well!”
“No way!” I say. “We have matching middle names.”
“How fun! But you will be the one in the rosy gown.” Odelia claps her hands together in excitement.
“Hey, Odelia Rose, Wyatt’s house is coming up. You should disappear.”
Odelia tugs on my arm. “Well, Bernice Rose, not before one more important lesson. Listen carefully:
ODELIA’S GUIDE TO THE SOCIAL GRACES
LESSON 10: OODLES OF OOPSIES
OBJECTIVE: Bernice will learn to accept that certain unforeseeable problems are out of her control. She will handle these difficulties with the finesse of a ballerina. (Note to self: The ballerina reference requires quite a stretch of the imagination.)”
“Thanks a lot, Odelia,” I spit out sarcastically. “What do you mean by ‘unforeseeable problems’ and ‘difficulties’?”
“Leave your sarcasm at the door,” Odelia says. “I’m trying to give you a short lesson and lighten your anxious mood. Here we go. Consider quickly how you will act in the following situations. I’ll say pass if your answer is acceptable.”
“Whatever. Hurry up. We’re almost at Wyatt’s.”
“When you feel a burp coming on, you . . .”
“Run to another room, and burp there.”
“Pass. If you spill juice, soda, or food down your shirt, you . . .”
“Run to another room, and turn my shirt inside out.”
“Pass. You could politely ask for tonic water and dab the stain.”
“When you sneeze and mucus runs out your nose, you . . .”
“Run to find a tissue.”
“Pass. If you feel ill and need to vomit . . .”
“Run anywhere there’s a sink, toilet, or trash can.”
“Pass. But if you are continually running, you will run yourself out of Wyatt’s house. Moving on. You have accidentally passed gas before getting to the bathroom. You . . .”
“I’d have to move off the planet! Odelia! If that happens, I. Will. Die. Why are you bringing up these horrible things? What are you trying to do?”
Odelia grins an evil witch grin. “I’m just messing with you,” she says. And she runs home.
My nervous frown turns upside down and that smile sticks with me as I walk the rest of the way to Wyatt’s. When he opens the door, it’s everything I can do to keep from laughing in his face.
There is nothing better in the world than sitting next to a boy you’ve been in deep like with for weeks. Wyatt has loaded the DVD in the player and for an hour we watch Jake Brown, Ryan Scheckler, and Pierre-Luc Gagnon tear it up. Soon afterward, lunch is ready. It smells more like dinner and my stomach growls. Wyatt didn’t hear that, right?
“C’mon, kids,” Mrs. Anderson says. “Get the fried chicken while it’s hot.”
The sight of a chicken leg, deep fried, is usually enough to put me in a food coma. But not today. Today, the drumstick is a UFO, an Unidentified Food Object. I don’t know whether to pick it up with my fingers or cut it with a knife. My first thought is: Odelia, why didn’t we cover this! And my second is: I have to stall.
I make a detour for a finger food friendly chip. In that instant, both Wyatt and his mom dive into their drumsticks without the help of a fork. Yay! Problem solved.
Wyatt’s Mom is a chatterbox. She asks where I live, how long I’ve lived on Station Street, what school I go to, and ten more questions. She keeps giving me and Wyatt this motherly look that says you two are so cute together. Wyatt is squirming and so am I. Lunch is taking forever. When Mrs. Anderson goes to answer the phone, we
