Amber Brown Is on the Move Page 6

  I blink. I am not used to Dad apologizing without me getting mad at him first.

  He takes a sip of his coffee, then says, “But it was fun, wasn’t it?”

  I smile at him. “Yep, it really was.”

  Chapter

  Fourteen

  Dad gets lost taking me to the new house. “These places all look alike,” he grumbles. “And so do these curvy streets.”

  I want to help him, but I’m lost too. And he’s right about the houses. . . . . I’ve already seen three that I thought were mine, but weren’t. After some wandering around, he punches the address into his GPS. It turns out we were only two blocks away.

  When we pull into the driveway, Dad gives me a kiss and says, “See you next weekend.”

  Part of me would like him to see the inside of where I live now, but I can tell he doesn’t want to. And I’m pretty sure Mom and Max don’t want him to come in yet.

  I wish we had some ritual for saying good-bye. I think we’re going to need it now that I’m in the new house. That will be my job. . . . . Dad doesn’t think of that kind of thing.

  I’m feeling like one of those math problems from the practice tests. Amber traveled x miles from her dad’s house and is back with her mom and her new stepfather. How many different emotions does Amber have now?

  But my life is not a math problem, and my feelings aren’t numbers.

  I watch as Dad pulls out of the driveway.

  When I go inside, I am amazed. It’s starting to look like home. Mom and Max have done a lot of work over the weekend. Max grins when he sees me. “Glad you’re back, Amber! Your mom is in the kitchen. . . . . You’ve got to see it.”

  Mom is at the kitchen table with a cup of tea. She looks more relaxed than I’ve seen her in a long time. And there’s not a box in sight.

  “Welcome back, honey. Did you have a nice weekend?”

  “Except for Saturday Academy it was great,” I say. I decide not to tell her about Miss Isobel.

  “Let me give you a tour of the cabinets.”

  This is not as interesting as she thinks. However, I realize it is important. I always used to know where the cereal was and how to find a spoon. Now I have to learn all over again.

  When I go up to my room, I see that the ceramic plaque Mom and Max made for me is on the door. It says AMBER BROWN’S ROOM and has cartoon pictures of the three of us, along with a beautiful rainbow. I love this plaque.

  “Max put it up,” Mom says. “He thought it might help you feel at home.”

  My room is still piled high with boxes. It is definitely not looking like home yet.

  Mom comes in. “I know you didn’t have much time before you had to go to your dad’s for the weekend, Amber, but you’ve really got to get started on your unpacking. Would you like some help?”

  I decide I would.

  We look for the box that Kelly labeled AMBER’S TREASURES. It’s the most important one, and my room definitely won’t feel right until my favorite things are out where I can see them.

  Despite the label, the movers managed to put the treasure box at the bottom of a stack. Good thing it was sturdy.

  We open it. Right on top is the box with the chewing gum ball.

  Mom sighs. “I had hoped the movers might lose this.”

  “Not funny. And it’s not going in the closet.” I lift the box and talk to the ball directly. “Chewing gum ball, in this new house you have a place of honor on the shelf.”

  “You are a very strange child,” Mom tells me.

  “That’s part of why you like me,” I reply.

  Mom pulls out the good-luck troll Aunt Pam sent me to help get through math tests. I like him, even though he is not very effective.

  Next is the pig-taking-a-bubble-bath alarm clock/bank.

  “This is getting heavy,” Mom says. She sounds a little surprised.

  It goes beside my bed. Gorilla is already on the bed. He did not get packed. . . . . I carried him here personally. Now the rest of the stuffed toys join him.

  “Pizza’s here!” Max calls.

  Mom and I head downstairs.

  Max is smiling. “Our first pizza from the new place! Don’t worry, Amber, I told them to hold the anchovies.”

  Max and I pinch our fingers together as if we are holding wiggly anchovies. This is something Justin and I always did, and I taught it to Max.

  We eat on the new plates. I like them.

  I do not like the pizza.

  I make a face and say, “This tastes wrong. It’s not like from the old place.”

  “It’s perfectly fine,” Mom says.

  How does she know if it tastes fine to me? Pizza is a very personal thing, and it is very important to me since it is my favorite food group.

  “There’s another pizzeria nearby,” Max says. “We can try that one next week.”

  Back in my room, I make my way through the boxes to my bed. The pizza situation is really bothering me.

  I start making a list of things I don’t like about this new house.

  1. Pizza tastes funny

  2. Don’t know where anything is

  3. Don’t know my neighbors

  I stop. I suddenly realize this is going to be a big problem when Halloween comes. It took Justin and me years to map out the best route in our old neighborhood.

  I add that to my list:

  4. Don’t know who gives out best Halloween candy

  5. My room has too many boxes in it

  All right, I know it’s full of boxes because I haven’t unpacked them yet. But secretly I also know that when I do unpack, it will mean that I really, really, really have moved here. I don’t think I’m ready to face that.

  I wrap my arms around Gorilla. He and I both refuse to open one more box.

  Chapter

  Fifteen

  Mom is standing in my doorway, looking cranky. “Amber, you’ve really got to finish unpacking. I understood you being tired on Sunday, but it’s Thursday now and you’ve hardly begun. Even if it isn’t bothering you, it’s driving me slightly nuts. Every time I see all these boxes, it makes me feel like we’re still moving in.”

  I don’t want to admit it, but the boxes are starting to drive me slightly nuts too.

  “Come on,” Mom says. “Unpacking is better than packing. For one thing, I’m not asking you to throw anything away.”

  “Okay. But I want to do it myself.”

  I actually don’t like the fact that I wasn’t around for the kitchen unpacking because I’m still having trouble finding things. In my room I want to know where everything is.

  Mom helps me cut open the boxes, and I get started.

  It turns out unpacking is not as bad as I thought. The books are easy. I like putting them on the shelves and there’s even room for new ones . . . . . . which I didn’t have at the old house.

  It turns out that unpacking is like eating peanuts . . . . . once you get started, it’s hard to stop. I actually manage to empty every box.

  By the time I am done, I’m pretty grubby.

  One thing I definitely do like about our new house is that I have my own bathroom. Or maybe it should be called a shower room because it does not have a bathtub, just a shower. It is a tile stall with a glass door.

  It’s definitely time to degrub myself.

  I get in and turn on the water. Looking out through the glass door makes me feel like I am in an aquarium. I’ve been worrying about being at the bottom of the aquarium. But actually I kind of like aquariums.

  I wonder what it would be like to live in a real one. What kind of fish would I be? Not an angelfish. Not a guppy. Not a goldfish. Oh, I know. An Amberfish!

  An Amberfish will need more water. I wonder if it is possible to fill the shower like an aquarium.

  I sit on the drain to find out. This will be a
n experiment.

  The water starts to rise. It’s working!

  I am feeling very scientific.

  Of course, I can’t fill the whole shower because then I would end up totally underwater. I decide I will stop when the water gets up to my waist.

  I wonder how long that will take.

  That makes me wish I had brought in a clock. Of course, it would have to be a waterproof clock.

  I decide to count instead. I know that adding the word Mississippi to a number is a good way to count seconds.

  Mississippi feels like a good word to add since I am sitting in water.

  I close my eyes and start to count. I do not count for long. Instead, I start thinking about the Mississippi River. What kind of fish would I, Amberfish, meet in the Mississippi? Would I be able to teach them to spell M-I-S-S-I-S-S-I-P-P-I?

  The water is getting higher. I am feeling very clever for having thought of this.

  That feeling ends when Mom flings open the bathroom door and screams, “Amber, what’s going on up here? There’s water coming through the kitchen ceiling!”

  I scramble to my feet and turn off the shower.

  My experiment is going down the drain.

  Mom is standing at the shower door. She has a horrified look on her face. When the water is below the edge of the door, she pulls the door open and hands me a towel.

  Then she turns and runs back down the stairs.

  I hear Max yelling. He is using words I have never heard from him before.

  I wrap the towel around myself. I am terrified to see what is happening, but I know I have to find out.

  When Mom and I go into the kitchen, I see Max staring at the ceiling. I look up and see a stain that was not there when I went upstairs. Even worse, it is dripping.

  There is a puddle on the table. What’s left of the pizza is sitting in the middle of it.

  Max turns to us and says, “What happened? Did a pipe break?”

  Mom looks at me.

  I can feel myself blushing. “I was taking a shower,” I say.

  “I’m calling the broker,” Max says, getting to his feet. “If there’s something wrong with the shower, it’s the builder’s fault and they’ll have to pay for it.”

  Mom coughs. “I don’t think there’s anything wrong with Amber’s shower.”

  Max stares at me.

  I wish I could imitate the water and go through the floor. That doesn’t happen.

  “I was doing an experiment,” I say at last.

  “An experiment?”

  “I wanted to see if the shower could be an aquarium.”

  “What were you doing, sitting on the drain?”

  I don’t answer. I don’t have to. My face tells him that he got it right.

  Max starts to say something, then closes his mouth. He points to the ceiling. His mouth opens again, but he snaps it closed.

  “Max,” Mom says, “it’s not such a big deal.”

  “Not a big deal? If we hadn’t been sitting here, the whole ceiling might have come down before we knew what was happening!”

  “I’m sorry,” I say.

  Max flings down the towel he was holding and stomps out of the room. We hear the front door open and slam shut.

  I start to cry.

  “Go to bed, Amber,” Mom says. She doesn’t tell me that everything is going to be all right.

  I go upstairs.

  I go to bed . . . . . but I do not go to sleep.

  I, Amber Brown, have made more than one mistake in my life. But this may be my biggest mess ever.

  Chapter

  Sixteen

  When I go downstairs in the morning, Max is sitting in the kitchen, staring up at the ceiling. I look up and swallow. I had hoped that when the ceiling dried out, the stain would go away. It didn’t . . . . . it is bigger than ever.

  Even worse, the ceiling is starting to bulge.

  “Morning,” Max says.

  I notice he does not say “Good morning.” Also, he is not cheerful the way he usually is.

  “I put Cheerios, milk, and a banana out on the counter for you. I don’t want you sitting at the kitchen table . . . . some of that ceiling might come down at any time.”

  “Where’s Mom?”

  “She’s getting ready to drive you to school.”

  He’s still staring at the ceiling.

  It’s like he doesn’t want to look at me because if he does, all he’ll see is the leak.

  I pour myself some cereal, but I do not eat much of it. My stomach is in no mood for it.

  Mom comes into the kitchen. “Let’s go, Amber.”

  We get in the car.

  “Max is really mad at me, isn’t he?” I say.

  “He’ll get over it,” Mom tells me.

  That must mean that he really is mad because otherwise he would not have to get over it. I want to ask what time he came back last night, but I’m not sure that’s a good idea.

  Mom sighs. “It’s just that this is Max’s first house, Amber, and he is so proud of it. He’s really upset that something like this happened when we’d only been here for a week. I know you didn’t mean to do it, but honestly, sitting on the drain was a foolish thing to do.”

  I know that now. I just wish I had known it last night!

  I also realize that it was so foolish I don’t want to tell anyone else about it, not even Kelly and Brandi. I don’t want anyone to know I did something so dumb.

  I’m so distracted that I keep messing up in the dance lessons that afternoon.

  Finally Bobby says, “What’s the problem, Amber? You were starting to get this step last week. Now it’s like your head is somewhere else.”

  I do not, do not want to tell Bobby Clifford of all people that I sat on the shower drain and almost flooded our new kitchen. I know I will be called Leak Freak for the rest of the year . . . . . or maybe the rest of my life.

  But I do feel like I need to talk to somebody. I wonder if I can tell Dad about it.

  As it turns out, I don’t have much chance to talk to him at all that night. That’s because when we are walking to his car after school, he says, “Guess what?”

  I am not in the mood for guessing games.

  Dad does not notice. “We are making Friday movie night a party this week. Isobel is cooking a big dinner and the Marshall clan is coming down to join us.”

  I wish Dad had asked me if I thought this was a good idea or not. But before I can say that, Miss Isobel joins us. Like last week, her car is parked right next to Dad’s. “This will be much fun,” she says. “Good friends, good food, good talk. This is what life is all about, Carnelian.”

  When we get to Dad’s house, I notice that Miss Isobel doesn’t bring in any cooking equipment like she did the last time. In fact, Dad’s kitchen is filled with things I’ve never seen before.

  “What’s that?” I ask, pointing to a ceramic thing that has beautiful designs on the outside and is shaped like an upside-down funnel.

  “It is a tagine pot. I brought it home from Morocco, Sapphire.”

  “You do know my name is Amber, right?”

  Miss Isobel laughs. “I know only that you are the jewel of your father’s eye. You are precious in his sight, so every gem seems right for your name.”

  I feel better than I have all day. I’m sure not precious in Max’s eyes right now. If Miss Isobel gave me a name based on how Max feels about me, it would probably be Mud.

  I don’t want to think about that right now, so I say, “Can I do anything to help, Miss Isobel?”

  She looks at me. “How about at school I am Miss Isobel, but when we are with your dad, you simply call me Isobel. And yes, you can help. The tagine is all made, but there are many finishing touches for us to do before dinner is ready.”

  Just then the M
arshalls come through the door. There are four of them . . . . . Steve, who is the dad, then Polly, who is in high school, Dylan, who is in sixth grade, and Savannah, who is a year younger than me.

  The tagine is delicious. . . . . . . It’s a mix of chicken and vegetables and fruit that have cooked together for a long time. Even Dylan, whose basic food group, like mine, is pizza, asks for seconds. And then thirds.

  Everybody helps with the cleanup, so it goes really fast. Then we watch The Band Wagon. Dylan gets a little disgusted by the mushy parts, but when three of the stars dress in baby bonnets and sing about being triplets who “hate each other very much,” it’s so funny that we watch the song three times in a row.

  It’s a wonderful night. There is only one problem. I didn’t need a party. I needed to be alone with my dad to talk. But by the time everyone has left, I am way too tired to tell him about the leak.

  When I go to bed, I stare at the ceiling, which is not bulging. As I keep staring, I wonder how to make things right with Max. Then I realize it’s probably not a good idea to talk to Dad about Max being so mad at me. It might just make things worse.

  I am more confused than ever. Which may be why I don’t do very well at Saturday Academy the next day.

  Mr. Poindexter tells me that my practice tests are getting better. “Better, but not yet good enough. This is our last time together. You will need to focus intensely when you are taking the tests next week, Amber. And remember the things I told you about how to take a test.”

  Dad is alone when he comes to pick me up.

  “Where is Miss Isobel?” I ask.

  “She’s at her studio, giving some lessons. I thought we could go to the park for a while, just take a walk. It’s such a beautiful day.”

  I like this idea. And while we are walking, I get another idea. I won’t tell Dad about my problems at home, but maybe I can still get some advice from him.

  “You know those dad lessons you’ve been taking?” I say.

  He smiles. “Well, yeah, I can hardly forget since I go every week.”