Serendipity and Me (9781101602805) by Judith Roth Page B

been
    lately.
    Â 
    Dad looks at the thermometer,
    mutters, Still 102,
    and reaches for the phone.
    He pushes my bangs off my forehead
    while he waits for an answer.
    Â 
    He looks surprised
    by how wet it is.
    My freshmen were supposed to come over
    tomorrow night, he says.
    Looks like I’ll have to reschedule.
    Â 
    I look out the window
    and across the street
    at the small college campus.
    Â 
    Some crazy kids are braving the March chill
    and having an early water fight
    between classes.
    Â 
    I watch a biker duck under
    a stream from a water blaster
    and land in the bushes
    under a girls’ dorm window.
    Â 
    I should be sad we’ll be missing
    the freshman meeting
    Â 
    the only time our house
    has life in it.
    Â 
    But right now I
    just don’t care.
    Â 
    Â 

 
    The quick strep test—
    the one where you
    sit outside the doctor’s lab
    and feel like a germ factory
    and gag on the swab
    the nurse sticks down your throat—
    Â 
    comes back negative
    Â 
    which means it’s a virus
    and there’s nothing they can do for me
    and I have to just get through it.
    Â 
    Miss Conglin calls
    to ask how I’m doing.
    Â 
    Dad tells her I won’t be in school
    for at least another day
    that I’m really not doing well
    Â 
    and I’m motioning for him to
    stop talking
    stop making her think
    I won’t be ready for the play
    Â 
    and he doesn’t get it
    thinks I want to talk to her
    Â 
    hands me the phone.
    Â 
    Â 

 
    Sara?
    I can hear music in the background
    something with a heavy beat.
    Sara? How are you?
    Â 
    I want to say, Horrible.
    I want to say, Ready to perform.
    I want to say, Please don’t replace me.
    I can still be Wendy.
    I can still fly
    second to the right
    and straight on till morning.
    Â 
    What I say is Fine.
    It comes out a whisper.
    It comes out a scratch.
    Â 
    Oh, sweetie, Miss Conglin says.
    Get better.
    I’ll send Taylor over
    with your makeup work.
    Â 
    But we both know
    schoolwork
    is not the real issue
    here.
    Â 
    Â 

 
    If I get well in time
    I will be the perfect Wendy.
    Â 
    I will be so nurturing
    the Lost Boys will miss their mothers.
    Â 
    John and Michael
    will forget I’m only their sister.
    Â 
    I will even help Peter Pan
    grow up gracefully.
    Â 
    This is what I think
    when my daisy quilt becomes
    too hot to lie under
    and then not warm enough
    when I’m shaking from chills.
    Â 
    If I get well in time
    I will be the best mother.
    Â 
    Even though
    I don’t have anyone
    anymore
    to show me
    how.
    Â 
    Â 

 
    Taylor comes over after school Thursday
    her arms full of books.
    She dumps them on the floor
    beside the couch
    and backs away.
    All the work,
    Tuesday through Thursday.
    If we get more tomorrow,
    I’ll bring it.
    Â 
    I look up at her through puffy eyes.
    What’s happening at rehearsal?
    Â 
    Taylor softens her
    force-field-against-germs attitude.
    Miss Conglin put in Kelli for now.
    Â 
    Is she any good?
    Â 
    Taylor shrugs.
    She knows the part.
    Â 
    I decide to ask Taylor something
    I’m not sure she’d even notice.
    Is, um . . . does Garrett
    still act goofy?
    Â 
    Taylor rolls her eyes.
    He’s always a goof.
    Kelli laughs her head off at him.
    Â 
    Just what I was afraid of.
    Â 
    Â 

 
    It is time for drastic measures.
    I need to get well now
    so I can make it
    to the last practice tomorrow.
    Â 
    It used to be our nightly ritual.
    Mom and Dad would come to my room
    at bedtime
    and we’d pray together.
    Â 
    After Mom died
    things were so confused for a while
    and then one night
    I asked Dad to come pray again.
    Â 
    He stood in the doorway for a minute
    then sat on the edge of my bed.
    You start, he said.
    Â 
    But when I prayed
    Bless Mommy and Daddy
    a sob burst out of him
    then he laid his hand on my head
    and lurched out of the room.
    Â 
    I didn’t ask again.
    Â 
    So I ask alone tonight
    Please,