The Key to the Golden Firebird by Maureen Johnson

fine.”
    â€œNeed a ride?”
    â€œNo.” Palmer shook her head firmly. “My sister’s coming.”
    â€œBrooks?”
    â€œYeah.”
    â€œYou want me to call her?”
    â€œNo. She’s coming.”
    â€œIf you’re sure…”
    â€œI’m sure.”
    Palmer wasn’t sure at all. Brooks could very well have forgotten. Brooks forgot everything. This wasn’t the first time she’d been left waiting. Brooks’s incompetence embarrassed her. She preferred to cover it up.
    With a nod Diana drove off, leaving Palmer staring out at the empty brown field and the expanse of surrounding trees. The sky was heavy, prematurely dark. A wind was kicking up. She set her messenger bag down in the dirt along the side of the clubhouse and started digging through the contents, finally producing a small address book and a handful of change. Enough for two calls. There was a pay phone at the front of the school. It would take her ten minutes to walk all the way around. If Brooks came while she was gone, she’d be stuck. She jingled the change in her hand and stared up the driveway. Then she took out her algebra book and put it in her lap. Then she stared out at the road again.
    Fifteen minutes later she was still staring.
    No one was in front of the building by the time Palmer made her way around. Somewhere, deep in the bowels of the building, there were probably meetings or detentions going on, but outside there was only the phone, a concrete bench, the flagpole, and Palmer. She took one of the two coins, dropped it into the phone, and dialed her house. No answer. She dropped in the second and dialed the work number that May had given her. An unfamiliar voice answered the phone, and she asked for May.
    â€œBrooks zoned,” Palmer said when May got on the line.
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œShe forgot about me.”
    She heard May sigh into the phone.
    â€œJust stay where you are, okay?” May said. “Someone will be there for you soon.”
    â€œWho?”
    â€œI’ll figure it out. Just don’t worry about it.”
    Palmer hung up the phone. Undoubtedly Pete would be sent, since he suddenly seemed willing to run or fetch or roll over at May’s bidding. In response, May was going out of her way to make it clear that she didn’t notice this—until, of course, she needed him to do something. It was an annoying little game they played. Even if he was being dispatched to pick her up like a FedEx guy, a ride home with Pete was still a good thing. He was one of the few people who might actually make her feel better today.
    Palmer sat down on the bench and stared out at the road, waiting for Pete’s car to turn into the parking lot.
    Â 
    As May hung up the phone, she noticed Nell had fixed her with a curious stare.
    â€œWas that Pete?” she asked.
    â€œYes.”
    â€œWho called before?”
    â€œMy little sister.”
    â€œShe’s stuck at school?”
    Nell seemed to have no desire to hide the fact that she listened to other people’s phone conversations.
    â€œYeah,” May said. “She’s stuck.”
    â€œPete’s going to get her?” Nell asked. “You know, we went out on Wednesday.”
    No. May did not know that. However, this was probably the best day to get this news. Listening to the story about Pete and Nell’s date—as nauseating as it was sure to be—would at least shift the focus away from her.
    Not only was it kind of ironic that her father should have died over the Memorial Day weekend, it also made it easy for people to remember when it had happened. That morning it had seemed like everyone in homeroom was watching May out of the corners of their eyes. Linda had shadowed her all day, constantly asking if she was all right. Her English teacher had quietly mentioned that May was exempt from her homework for the weekend. The guidance counselor had pulled her aside to ask