Is She for Real? Page 5

  It’s just one song, it’s just one song, Bethany thought over and over. It’ll be over soon. She concentrated on keeping her expression neutral, not wanting anyone to see how upset she was. She thought about all the politicians’ wives throughout history and the sacrifices they had to make for their husbands’ jobs. I’m going to be supportive, she thought, because that’s my job.

  That first dance ended quickly, and the rest of the night was great. Bethany and Nate danced plenty, as did Lissa and Teddy. Olivia and Lily danced with guy friends, and everyone took breaks at the cookies-and-punch table.

  At the end of the evening, after the Carlsons had driven them home, Nate walked Bethany to her door.

  “It was a great night, right?” Nate asked Bethany.

  “Totally!” Bethany said, and she meant it. She couldn’t believe how upset she’d felt earlier when Nate had danced with Zoe.

  Then Nate leaned over and gave her a kiss on the cheek. And Bethany felt sure this had been the best night ever.

  But the good feeling didn’t last long. Once in bed, trying to sleep, Bethany replayed the evening over and over. The happy memories were gradually replaced with mental images of Zoe and Nate dancing, and Bethany became convinced that Nate had really enjoyed his dance with Zoe. She imagined their conversation, which she was positive had gone something like this:

  Zoe: So you’re here with Bethany?

  Nate: Yeah, Lissa made me ask her because she has a huge crush on me.

  Zoe: That was nice of you.

  Nate: I know, well, what can I say, I’m a nice guy. So do you want to go to the movies with me next weekend?

  Zoe: Oh, Nate, I’d love to.

  She finally fell asleep, fading into a haze of paranoia and heartbreak.

  BEEP, BEEP, BEEEEEP! BEEP, BEEP, BEEEEEP!

  A car horn was blaring at Bethany—the headlights blinding her as she opened her eyes—and she was standing in the middle of the road.

  She had sleepwalked again.

  Again, again, again, it happened again, she thought.

  This time she’d passed Nate and Lissa’s by about a block and was standing in front of a mailbox, which she leaned against after the car had passed. Her heart was throbbing in her ears, in her throat, and in her toes.

  Bethany wanted her mom. Badly. She hadn’t felt this way since she was little and woke up with nightmares in the middle of the night. But both of her parents were spending the night in Manhattan. She knew she could go to Aunt Mimi if she wanted to, but she didn’t want to.

  She wiped her sweaty palms on her pajama pants and walked home. And then didn’t sleep at all.

  Bethany felt terrible in the morning. The combination of the stress from sleepwalking and the overall lack of sleep made her feel absolutely awful.

  She twisted her ring around her finger, obsessing over the idea that Nate was going to break up with her and start going out with Zoe. She couldn’t take her eyes off the ring.

  Enough, she thought. I have to snap myself out of this. Maybe if I take the ring off, it will take my mind off Nate. She did, and put it in her night-table drawer. Finally she went downstairs for breakfast. Her parents were due home tonight, and she realized how much she was looking forward to seeing them. I’ll tell Mom all about the sleepwalking, and she’ll know what to do, Bethany thought.

  She chose a banana to cut up into her cereal. She realized that her mood was definitely lifting. I was being totally paranoid. Nate really likes me, she thought. I don’t know what my problem is sometimes.

  She spent the day reading a novel and downloading photos from the night before. There were some great ones in there, including some of Nate looking happily at Bethany—aha! Photographic evidence! She even made a few scrapbook collages with her online photo program, writing funny captions and featuring each of her new friends: Lissa, Olivia, and Lily. Nate got his own page.

  At four o’clock, she was due to go over to Lissa’s so they could work on some homework together. She fixed her hair and put on lip gloss, and after a moment’s hesitation, put the ring back on, since she knew she was going to see Nate.

  But when she got to Lissa’s house, Nate wasn’t there. Suddenly the good feeling disappeared, and she felt the terrible heaviness again.

  “Where’s Nate?” Bethany asked Lissa, trying to sound nonchalant.

  “I’m not sure, actually,” Lissa said, just as casually. “Let me know when you’re ready to start those math problems … they are really confusing!” As Lissa talked about math, Bethany’s mind wandered.

  Now that I think about it, Nate hasn’t been here the last couple of times I dropped by on the weekend. Where has he been? Is he out with someone? Does Zoe live around here? Is he out with her? She could barely concentrate on her homework.

  “I’m not feeling so well. I’m going to go home and rest, okay?” Bethany said suddenly to Lissa. Without waiting for a response, she began gathering up her books and papers.

  “Um … okay, but do you need anything? Do you want me to get my mom?” Lissa could see that her friend looked shaky and pale, and she certainly looked like something was bothering her.

  But Bethany just shook her head no, and not trusting herself to speak anymore, she walked quickly from the room and then ran all the way home.

  When she got home, Bethany barely even noticed her parents, who had gotten back early. She ran right by them and straight into her room. Her mom was at her door in seconds.

  “What’s the matter, honey?” she asked, obviously concerned.

  “I’m just having a bad day,” Bethany said. But her voice cracked as she said it, and tears filled her eyes.

  “Oh, Bethany, come here.” Her mom came over and gave her a warm hug. That helped, a little. Bethany sat in comfortable silence with her mom for a few moments and then pulled herself together and managed a brave smile.

  “Welcome home!” she said, laughing. Her mom smiled and hugged her again. As her mom patted her back, she wound a strand of Bethany’s hair around her finger absently.

  “Your hair’s getting darker,” she said. Seeing Bethany’s horrified expression, she quickly added, “But it’s still as pretty as ever. And that’s a normal part of adolescence, having your hair get darker.”

  “But it’s also losing some of its curl,” Bethany said mournfully. “And it’s getting harder to part on the side. All of a sudden it has a mind of its own and wants to part itself down the middle. Lissa and Olivia and Lily said it looks 1970s.”

  “Well, aren’t the 1970s very chic again?” her mom said with a grin. Then her voice grew more serious. “Listen, honey, is there anything you want to talk about?”

  Bethany suddenly didn’t feel like talking to her mom anymore. I’ll talk to her about the sleepwalking and my problems with Nate later, she promised herself.

  “Nope, everything is great. I think I’m just tired. You know how I get when I’m tired.”

  Her mother looked unconvinced but let the matter drop.

  The day of the history class field trip to the graveyard and historical society arrived. Nate had texted Bethany the night before:

  MILADY, TOO BAD WE CAN’T JUST MEET THE CLASS AT THE GRAVEYARD. WE COULD HAVE BREAKFAST AT MY HOUSE FIRST AND JUST WAIT FOR THEM TO ARRIVE.

  Bethany’s heart skipped a beat. She wrote back:

  I KNOW, RIGHT?

  Nate wrote back:

  MR. PARMALEE LOVES THIS FIELD TRIP. IT’S LEGENDARY! SEE U TOMORROW, MILADY!

  Again, her heart skipped a beat. She tried to wait a few minutes before she texted back:

  TILL TOMORROW, THEN, MILORD.

  And now it was tomorrow. Bethany and Nate sat together on the bus on the way to the graveyard and listened to Mr. Parmalee.

  “First stop is the old town graveyard, where we’ll do gravestone rubbings,” he said. “I know Nate and Bethany are probably familiar with it, given that they live next door, but most of you haven’t had a close look. I’ve got the paper and charcoal here and will distribute
them and do a demonstration when we arrive. You can do as many rubbings as you want, but be sure to capture the names and dates on the gravestone you’re recording. The student who finds the earliest date will get a prize.” He really did seem excited.

  “Afterward, we’ll go to the historical society, where there’s something I know you’re all waiting to see: a lock of Lady Warwick’s hair in a glass vial.”

  The kids reacted to this bit of information with a combination of intrigue and disgust. Centuries-old hair!

  When they arrived at the graveyard, Mr. Parmalee passed out paper and charcoal sticks. As promised, he demonstrated how to do a gravestone rubbing: You placed the paper on the gravestone, then rubbed the charcoal over the whole paper until you saw the words on the stone “appear” on the paper. He chose Lady Warwick’s gravestone, which, he explained, didn’t mark an actual grave but was just a memorial site, because Lord Warwick had requested that her stone be moved next to his when he was buried.

  “Also, there was no body to bury,” Nate added with a grin.

  Mr. Parmalee smiled. “Right, Mr. Local Legend,” he said. “The story goes that she wasn’t in her coffin when it was dug up. And let’s not forget about the scratch marks inside the coffin. But there’s no historical evidence of either of those ‘facts’ anywhere. All we know is that Lord Warwick moved Lady Warwick’s gravestone when he moved. Then when he died, he was buried here, and her gravestone was moved here. Too bad he’s not here to explain, right?”

  “Totally,” Nate said.

  Mr. Parmalee pointed out the dates and had the kids do the math. Lord Warwick had lived another forty-one years after Lady Warwick died. Since he was buried next to her stone and there was no one else buried on the other side, it was safe to conclude that he’d never remarried. Bethany listened with interest. It’s nice that he never remarried, she thought, a warm feeling of happiness spreading over her.

  The group dispersed to do their gravestone rubbings. Nate chose a grave from 1699.

  “The first names on the graves are so interesting,” Bethany said, coming up next to him. “Obed. Josiah. Mercy. Amos. Ephraim.”

  “Right?” Nate said. “And there are so many with the same last name. Pratt. Spencer. Lowell. Adams. Smith. Pretty different from our phone directory now, with plenty of Gionfriddos, Horowitzes, and McManuses. Guess things have gotten more diverse here in Old Warwick over the centuries.”

  Soon it was time to go. Everyone rolled up their rubbings carefully and got back on the bus to go to the historical society. Mr. Parmalee sat in front of Nate and Bethany on the way.

  “Bethany, did you know that Lawrence Reiney, the last president of the Old Warwick Historical Society, used to live in your house?” he asked Bethany.

  “Yes, I heard that,” she said.

  “He was a wonderful man,” Mr. Parmalee said. Bethany nodded respectfully as the bus pulled up to an old colonial home with a plaque on it: BUILT IN 1710.

  “Math quiz!” Mr. Parmalee called out to the class. “How old is this building?”

  Everyone did the math in their heads. Everyone except Bethany, who couldn’t concentrate when she was sitting this close to Nate.

  But she liked the exhibit inside. Besides the vial with a lock of Lady Warwick’s straight black hair inside, which was a big hit with the group, it turned out that the exhibit had a lot to do with Bethany’s research topic of women’s role in colonial Old Warwick.

  There was a lot of framed embroidery that Bethany learned were called samplers. Women were supposed to show off their sewing skills to potential husbands, and the sampler was like their portfolio. Bethany was glad she didn’t have to do a sampler for Nate, or knit any of the handmade lace that was on display. I don’t think I’d be very good at that, she worried silently.

  The last day of school finally arrived. Lissa had announced that it was the perfect occasion for a sleepover. She, Olivia, and Lily had celebrated the end of the school year last year with a last-day-of-school sleepover too, so this would be the second annual one. The girls, excited that it was almost time to initiate Bethany to the Sandy Lady club, were thrilled to add yet another tradition to their roster. But that morning Bethany texted Lissa to say she was staying home from school and wouldn’t be able to come to the sleepover because she wasn’t feeling well.

  “What’s wrong, honey?” Bethany’s dad asked as he stuck his head into her room first thing in the morning. She should have been getting dressed for the last day of school, but she lay in bed, eyes open, staring at the ceiling.

  “I really don’t know where to begin,” Bethany said slowly and softly. Her dad looked concerned. “I just feel bad everywhere,” she added.

  Her dad came over and felt her forehead. “You don’t seem to have a fever. I wish your mom was still here, but she’s left for work already. Maybe you ought to stay home. Do you really want to miss the last day of school, though?”

  “I think I have to,” she said.

  “Okay, then,” her dad said. “Go back to sleep. You haven’t been sleeping very well lately, have you?”

  “No,” Bethany admitted. She tried not to start crying.

  “Well, Aunt Mimi will be here in case of an emergency. But call Mom or me at work around lunchtime and let us know how you’re doing, okay?”

  “Okay,” Bethany whispered, closing her eyes. She really did feel horrible, though it wasn’t anything she could put her finger on, like a sore throat. It was just all-over horrible.

  She fell back asleep and woke up at noon feeling exactly the same way. She reached for her cell phone and called her mom at work.

  “Hi, Mom,” she said. She was surprised at how weak her voice sounded.

  “Bethany, you sound terrible,” her mom said kindly. “Do you feel as bad as you sound?”

  “Yes,” Bethany said. “I don’t know what’s the matter with me.”

  “Can Aunt Mimi make you some lunch?”

  “I don’t think so,” Bethany said. Everything was so sad. Now she couldn’t stop the tears from coming, and she sobbed into the phone.

  “I’m so sorry you feel so bad,” her mom said. “I’m going to come home from work and take you to the doctor.”

  Even though Bethany felt awful, she remembered to take her ring off before going to the doctor. Her mom still hadn’t said anything about it, and Bethany wasn’t sure if her mother had even seen her wearing it. She didn’t want to run the risk of having the doctor ask her about it.

  Bethany had never been to this doctor before, having moved to town so recently. Dr. Coppola was a nice guy, giving her a full checkup and asking lots of questions. Her mom sat in the room during the exam.

  Finally Dr. Coppola took off his stethoscope and said, “Has anything been bothering you lately, Bethany? Are you stressed out in your new school, anything like that? Are you making new friends here in town?”

  “Um, no,” she mumbled. “I mean yes, I’m making friends, and no, I’m not stressed out.” The doctor raised his eyebrows, and Bethany realized he thought she was faking being sick.

  “She’s awfully pale, isn’t she, Doctor?” Bethany’s mom asked. Bethany was pleased that her mom was sticking up for her.

  “Probably nothing a little fresh air can’t fix.” Dr. Coppola smiled at both of them. “I can’t find anything wrong with her. But call me if she starts running a fever.”

  In the car on the way home, Bethany’s mom said, “You’ve been upset about Nate, haven’t you, honey?”

  Bethany felt trapped. Her mom always did this: started serious conversations in the car when she knew her daughter couldn’t escape.

  “Did something happen at the dance? Something that’s been bothering you?” her mom continued.

  “No, Mom.” Bethany tried to keep her voice level. The truth was, she felt like she was going crazy, and if she started talking, her mother would know how crazy she was, and might even suggest she not see Nate anymore if he was upsetting her so much.

  Now would be a go
od time to mention the sleepwalking, Bethany thought. “There is one thing,” she said slowly, and her mom raised her eyebrows and nodded for her to continue.

  “Something really weird has been happening. It’s happened twice.” Bethany took a deep breath and continued. “I’ve been sleepwalking,” she said.

  Her mom smiled gently. “That used to happen to me when I was your age too,” she said.

  “Really?” Bethany said, flooded with relief.

  “Yes. My parents took me to the doctor, and he said it was normal and I’d grow out of it. And I did. It can be scary, but you’ll grow out of it too. Did this happen while Dad and I were out of town?”

  Bethany nodded, and her mom looked at her with so much love and concern that Bethany wished she had told her weeks ago. “I’m so sorry. You must have been so scared! You didn’t fall down or anything, did you?”

  “No, nothing like that,” Bethany assured her mom. She thinks I just walked around the house. I am definitely not telling her I woke up down the street!

  She suddenly felt better than she had all day. When they got home, she accepted a Popsicle from her mom and went straight back to bed, where she slept till dinnertime. She heard her parents eating downstairs and went down to join them.

  “There she is,” her dad said, putting his fork and knife down. “Let me feel your forehead.” The back of his hand felt cool on her face. “You’re not warm,” he said, relieved.

  “Honey, maybe Dr. Coppola’s idea about fresh air is a good one,” her mom said. “Why don’t you get dressed and take a little walk?”

  “You’re going to insist on this, aren’t you?” Bethany sighed.

  “I’m afraid so.” Her mom nodded. “Too much time in bed is bad for your mood.”

  “Okay, maybe you’re right,” Bethany said. Her parents seemed surprised and delighted by her new attitude. She went upstairs and put on comfy shorts and a T-shirt. And then she realized her finger was still bare, and she put her beloved ring back on.