You Can't Eat Your Chicken Pox, Amber Brown Read online

  I, Amber Brown, really like this . . . movies, television.

  In fact, when we go back to the flat, I’m going to practice my name for someday when I become famous.

  By the time I see my dad tomorrow, I’m going to be able to do my famous signature perfectly.

  Chapter

  Eleven

  I’ve got my signature.

  Now all I’ve got to do is get famous.

  Aunt Pam comes into the living room, carrying her hair dryer.

  There are no electrical outlets in the bathrooms.

  In fact, they don’t call it a bathroom. It’s called a “loo.” I wonder if people named Lou hate that people call it that. I wonder if people in America named John hate that we call bathrooms “johns.”

  I’m glad they don’t call them “ambers.”

  Names are so weird.

  When I’m a grown-up, I’m going to have a COLOR party . . . and only invite people like me whose name is a color.

  While Aunt Pam dries her hair, I make up my party list . . . . . . . . . Brown, Black, White, Green, Greene, Redd, Grey, Scarlett, Violet, Rose, Amber. . . . I try to think of more names.

  There’s a knock on the door.

  Maybe my father is early.

  I rush to the door.

  It’s the porter, not my father.

  “Letter for you, Amber.” He smiles.

  “Thank you.” I take the letter. “See you later.”

  The letter is from my mother.

  I rip it open.

  Dear Amber,

  We’ve been talking on the phone a lot since you’ve gotten sick, so there isn’t much to say.

  I was straightening up your room the other day. . . . I found a chewing gum ball. . . . Honey, it’s really disgusting. But it is yours. We’ll discuss it when you get home.

  Don’t feel too badly that you haven’t had the chance to see London.

  It sounds like you and Aunt Pam have gotten even closer . . . so it isn’t all bad.

  I hope that you and your father have a good time together.

  Just remember . . . this is a visit . . . . you won’t be going with your father to live in France.

  I love you.

  I can’t wait to see you.

  Love,

  “Aunt Pam.” I walk over to her. “Why is Mom talking about my not living in France? Does Dad want me to go live with him?”

  She puts down her hair dryer and says, “May I see the letter?”

  I hand it over and she reads it.

  She looks sad.

  “What’s happening?”

  “Your mom and dad are still working out the divorce. Amber, I don’t want you to worry or think that it’s going to happen to you. . . . Both of your parents love you and miss you when you’re not with them. Your parents have discussed where the best place for you is right now and you should stay where you are. I guess your mother is just feeling a little nervous so far away.”

  “Wow.” I am not sure of what else to say.

  Aunt Pam hugs me.

  “Amber, you have two very nice parents who love you. Don’t worry. It’s a shame that your dad had to go to France for his job.

  He didn’t want to but he needed the job. . . .”

  She sighs. “They both just aren’t very sure of each other. This divorce has been hard on both of them, but you can be sure that they both love you and never want to hurt you.”

  I think about how they have already hurt me . . . how my life is never going to be the same . . . not even if I can convince them to get back together.

  There’s a knock on the door.

  It’s my dad’s special knock.

  I, Amber Brown, am going to see my father for the first time in a very long time.

  I have a lot to say to him.

  Chapter

  Twelve

  “Daddy, I love you.” That’s the first thing I have to say.

  “I love you too.” My father has his arms around me. “I’ve missed you so much, Amber.”

  We hug for a few minutes and we just stand there, looking at each other.

  “You got taller,” he says.

  “And scabbier.” I grin.

  “You really did have the chicken pox.” He grins back.

  Aunt Pam comes over to us. “Hi, Phil.”

  “Pam.” He reaches out and shakes her hand. “How are you?”

  They always used to hug each other before my mom and dad got separated.

  I guess Dad and Aunt Pam are getting a relative divorce.

  “Fine.” Aunt Pam looks at him. “Yes, Amber really did have chicken pox. Did you doubt us?”

  I can’t believe it.

  My dad didn’t think I had chicken pox.

  Maybe I should have sent him a scab in the mail.

  My parents are acting so weird.

  I hate it.

  “I wasn’t sure.” He looks at her. “At first I didn’t think about it and then someone in my office said that his ex-wife used to tell him that his kids were sick and they really weren’t.”

  “Mommy would never do that,” I say. “Daddy, we talked to each other every day. You should have said something to me. I would have sent you a scab.”

  Both he and Aunt Pam laugh.

  Actually, he laughs and Aunt Pam says, “Aaaarg.”

  Then my father gets a serious look on his face and says, “I just don’t know anymore. . . .

  Amber. Let’s not worry about things today. Let’s just have a lot of fun.”

  Well, I, Amber Brown, know. And I need to let him know what I feel. Putting my hands on my hips, I say, “Aunt Pam doesn’t lie. Mom doesn’t lie. And you don’t either. Right?”

  He nods.

  “And you’re not going to take me away to live in France, are you?” I stare straight into his eyes. “Right?”

  He looks shocked.

  Then he looks angry. “No. I’m not.”

  “You weren’t sure that I really had the chicken pox.” I can’t decide if I want to yell or cry. “So none of my relatives believes each other.”

  “Phil.” Aunt Pam speaks softly.

  My father and my aunt give each other the “not in front of the kid” look.

  “Don’t give each other that look.” I stamp my foot. “This is all about me. It’s my fault. If I hadn’t been born, you and Mom could just never have seen each other again.”

  I want to run into my room and slam the door. But I don’t even have my own room here to do that.

  Maybe I should just fold myself up into the sofa bed and let everyone sit on me.

  I flop down on the sofa.

  I, Amber Brown, am one upset kid.

  Why is everyone acting so different?

  Why can’t they all believe each other?

  If they can’t trust each other, how can I trust them?

  I’m only a kid.

  Why do I have to worry about all of this?

  My father sits down beside me.

  For a minute it looks like Aunt Pam is going to sit by my other side but she sits down at the table instead.

  My father ruffles my hair. “Honey. Don’t be so upset. We only have a few days together . . . and then I have to go back to work.”

  “I hate your job,” I say. “Why do you have to go back while I’m here? And anyway, why did they make you move so far away?”

  “Amber, honey. You know all of this already.” He sighs. “I scheduled time off for when you were supposed to be in France. Then when you got sick I had to reschedule. And as for moving away, you know that I had to go to France for a special assignment.”

  “Did you HAVE to go? Or did you just want to go away because you and Mom got separated?” I want to know.

  “I had to go.”

  I look at him.

  He thinks for a minute and then says, “And maybe I didn’t mind because it was a way to escape from having to deal with how bad everything had gotten.”

  “What about me?”

  He says, “
Amber, I’ve missed you so much. I can’t stand not being around to watch you grow up . . . to talk to you all the time . . . to go to things at your school . . . to take you places.”

  “I miss that too.” I start to cry. “And I miss just being a kid who doesn’t have to think about all of this stuff.”

  He gives me a hug.

  I hug back.

  Then we look at each other and smile.

  “Amber. I want you to know I’ve told my boss that when this assignment is finished I want to go back to the New York office so that I can be near you.”

  I clap my hands.

  “Oh, Phil, will they let you?” Aunt Pam asks.

  He sighs. “I hope so. And if not, I’ll find another job back there.”

  “And you and Mommy will try to get back together?” I figure I should go for it.

  He shakes his head.

  “No. But your mother and I will have a talk and maybe work things out so that you won’t have to worry so much.”

  “Will you really? Do you promise?” I want everything to work out, if not perfectly, at least better.

  He nods. “It’s a deal. I’ll call your mother when I get back to France. Let’s just enjoy our time together.”

  “O.K.” I nod.

  “Great.” He stands up. “Let’s go to Madame Tussaud’s. And then we’ll go to the Hard Rock Cafe for lunch.”

  “Great.” I stand up too.

  I look over at Aunt Pam who is sitting quietly and smiling at both of us.

  I look up at my dad.

  He looks down at me and then over at my Aunt Pam.

  “Pam.” He smiles. “Would you like to join us?”

  She looks at him as if to ask a question.

  He says, “Really.”

  She smiles at both of us, nods and gets up. “Wagons Ho.”

  My father laughs and says to me, “She’s still saying that, huh?”

  I repeat, “She’s still saying that, huh.”

  “Some things never change.” He laughs, shakes his head and then bends down and gives me a hug and kiss.

  I guess that some things never do change.

  And sometimes that’s good.

  And sometimes it’s not.

  “Wagons Ho,” the three of us say at the same time.

  And we walk out the door.

  Chapter

  Thirteen

  Dear Mr. Cohen,

  I’m sorry that I haven’t written to you until now but there was nothing much to tell you. I was stuck in my room with chicken pox . . . . very boring . . . very itchy.

  Now so much has happened that I’ll tell you most of it when I get back to school.

  Here’s some of it now.

  Madame Tussaud’s is a wax museum filled with dummies (not dummies like Jimmy Russell and Bobby Clifford . . . but dummies that look like real people) . . . I’ve put some photos of me in here to show you. . . . My favorite part was the Chamber of Horrors . . . it was scary and gross. I loved it!

  The Changing of the Guard at Buckingham Palace is not good for short people like me. . . . I kept getting hit in the head by tall tourists carrying big camera bags. . . .

  The Hard Rock Cafe is very noisy . . . and has a lot of historical stuff like rock and roll things. . . . I think when I am a teenager I will like it more. There were a lot of people waiting in line to buy one of their tee shirts. (Not me . . . I sat down and got an iced tea which I dropped all over me so it was sort of like wearing a tea shirt. . . .)

  We took a canal ride to London Zoo. I really like the big apes best (and I don’t mean Jimmy Russell and Bobby Clifford).

  Guess what? There are lots of McDonald’s here. Did you know that in England, French fries are called chips (potato chips are called crisps) . . . . weird, huh?

  This is the longest letter I’ve ever written so I’m going to quit before my hand gets tired. . . . I have to write two more.

  Your favorite student ever (ha!),

  P.S. I hope that you like my signature for when I get famous.

  Dear Mom,

  I love you very much.

  I hope you had a good time on your date with what’s-his-face . . . . but not too serious a time. (Don’t get angry at me for saying this . . . but I think that maybe you . . . . . and Daddy . . . . . . should take marriage lessons if you ever decide to marry anyone again. . . . Don’t feel bad because I say this. . . . I think lots of parents need marriage lessons . . . . . . .and maybe even divorce lessons.)

  Love from your daughter who loves BOTH her parents very much,

  Dear Justin,

  I didn’t eat my chicken pox.

  Turn the page

  for a preview of

  AMBER BROWN

  GOES FOURTH

  Chapter

  One

  “You’re the kid who has to put her right shoe on before her left.” The salesman comes up to me with the foot-measuring thing.

  “Yup.” I nod. “You remember!”

  “How can I forget?” The salesman puts my right foot into the measurer. “The one time I didn’t do it your way, you refused to get any shoes . . . . and you accused me of ruining your day . . . . and you threatened to report me to the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Children Who Need to Put Their Right Shoe On Before Their Left.”

  I hold out my right foot and wonder why he’s acting like that’s so strange. I’m sure that I’m not the only person in the whole entire world who likes to have some things done a certain way. With the way my life goes, it’s nice to be sure of some things . . . and I’m sure that I like to put my right shoe on before my left. It makes me feel weird if my left shoe goes on first. In fact, it messes up my entire day.

  A little kid comes over and grabs my foot, the left one.

  “Foot,” she says.

  Her mother picks her up. “Sorry she’s bothering you. She’s learning the names for body parts.”

  I’m glad that the foot is the part of the body she decided to name.

  All around us there are kids . . . . trying on shoes . . . . blowing up balloons . . . . . yelling, “I want those”; “I hate those.”

  One kid is throwing a temper tantrum because his mother won’t buy him sandals for school.

  The salesman continues, “And you’ve got that very colorful name.”

  I sigh.

  My mother looks at her watch.

  He thinks for a minute. “Ebony Black . . . . . No, that’s not it. Pearl White. No.”

  “AMBER BROWN,” I remind him, “and I don’t like to be teased about it.”

  “Isn’t there another family that you always come in with to buy shoes for the new school year?” he asks. “With two little boys, one about your age?”

  “They’ve moved away,” my mother says softly.

  All of a sudden, I get this empty feeling inside of me.

  This will be the first time in my life that I’ll be starting school without my best friend, Justin Daniels.

  I try not to think about it.

  I’ve been trying not to think about it all summer, especially since I got back from England with my aunt Pam.

  My mother puts her hand on mine. “She’d like to see the sneakers with the rhinestones on them.”

  The man puts down the measurer and looks up information on a card file. “She’s grown. Up another shoe size . . . . . Oh, well . . . . it could have been worse. She could have grown another foot. Then you’d have to buy three shoes.” He laughs at his own joke. “Just a little shoe-business humor.”

  As he goes to the back of the store, he sings, “There’s no business like shoe business.”

  I look at my mother.

  She looks at me and shrugs. “The shoes are good quality and cheaper here than the other store. I know he drives you nuts . . . but think what you would be like if you had to be with children and their feet all day.”

  “It would be a real feat.” I giggle.

  “You would have to put your heart into it, body and soles.”
r />   We both start to laugh.

  By the time the guy comes back, my mother and I are both singing, “There’s no business like shoe business.”

  He joins in.

  I try on my new shoes.

  They’re perfect.

  My mother smiles at me. “New clothes. New shoes. All ready for a brand-new school year. Fourth grade, get ready for Amber Brown.”

  I think about what she’s just said.

  Not only does fourth grade need to get ready for me . . . . I need to get ready for it.

  I think of how Justin and I used to pretend that we were knights.

  Before we would go off to slay dragons, one of us would yell, “THE BRAVE KNIGHTS GO FORTH!”

  To get ready for my new grade, I’m going to have to say to myself, AMBER BROWN GOES FOURTH.

  It’s not going to be easy without Justin.

  Chapter

  Two

  Sitting on my bed, I look at my “Dad Book.” It’s filled with pictures of my father alone, of him with me, with pictures of the three of us—Mom, Dad, and me. There are even some pictures of just the two of them, before they decided to separate.

  Since my mother doesn’t like to have pictures of my father around the house, I made up the Dad Book.

  If I ever get to visit my dad in France, I’ve decided to make up a “Mom Book” to take with me. Something tells me that he doesn’t have pictures of her around his apartment. He does have pictures of me though. He told me that when he came over to England to see me when I got chicken pox and couldn’t go to him.

  Sometimes I talk to the book as if my dad is really here.

  Today is one of those days.

  “I’m a little nervous about school starting. It’s going to be the first time that you’re not here for the first day of school. And Justin’s not here either.”

  I look at the picture of my dad, which was taken when we went to Great Adventure. He’s grinning . . . . . . and he’s got a piece of cotton candy stuck on his nose.