See You at Harry's (10 page)

O
UR SCHOOL ROUTINE IS NOW THIS
: Sara brings us to school, and Gray picks us up. Sometimes Ran comes to the restaurant with me and sometimes he doesn’t. One thing I notice about the restaurant is that it seems to be getting even busier. During the once-dull time between lunch and dinner, my dad comes out from the back to chat with new customers and fill them in on his version of Harry’s “history.” Sometimes when it gets really busy, he asks me to help scoop ice cream. Even though Sara is supposedly working out back, helping Gil and Patrick, it’s not clear what she’s actually doing. Mostly she just comes out to the dining room, steers people looking for ice cream over to the counter, and then disappears before they can order a cone. As for my mom, she seems to spend more and more time trying to find her inner peace in the upstairs office. I think the busier the restaurant gets, the deeper her peace goes into hiding.

On one particularly busy day, I’m helping scoop when someone says, “Hey! That’s the girl from the commercial!”

I groan. Here we go again.

At that moment, Charlie comes racing around the counter and hugs my leg, making me almost drop the cone I’m holding.

“And there’s the little girl who says ‘See you at Harry’s!’ ” someone yells.

“No, it’s ‘See you at
Hawee’s
!’ ” someone else says.

Everyone laughs.

Charlie squeezes my leg tighter.

I hobble to the counter with Charlie attached to my leg and hand the cone to some old guy. I feel the eyes in the line looking at me.

A tiny kid pops his head up to the counter and peeks at me. “Can I have your autograph, please?” he asks.

You’ve got to be kidding me. I look at Trevor the dishwasher/ice-cream scooper. He shrugs.

“Um, I guess so,” I say.

The boy slides over a napkin. I grab a pen off the counter and start to sign my name. But writing on a napkin with a ballpoint pen doesn’t really work, so I end up tearing the paper a little. It looks horrible, but I slide it back to the kid anyway.

He frowns. “Thanks a lot,” he says in this ungrateful way.

“Where’s Sara?” I ask Charlie.

“Helping Gil,” he says.

“And Mom?”

He points upstairs.

Typical. For someone who is invisible, why am I the only one in this family who can’t seem to master the art of disappearing?

When I finish helping Trevor with the rush, Charlie and I go in search of Sara and my mom. We’re just heading up the stairs to my dad’s office as my mom, Sara, and Gil come out of the room. Sara’s and Gil’s cheeks are bright red.

“What’s wrong?” Charlie asks.

My mom glances at Sara and Gil. “Nothing, baby. I was just having a chat about work with Sara and Gil.”

You mean like how they don’t do any?
I want to ask.

“Uh, I’m gonna go back to the kitchen,” Gil says.

As soon as he’s gone, Sara’s eyes fill with tears. “I can’t believe you, Mom,” she says. “We weren’t doing anything wrong.”

“You’re supposed to be working,” my mom says. “Not sneaking off to make out with the busboy. What if dad caught you instead of me? Do you want to get Gil fired?”

“You kissed Gil?” I ask, surprised. I almost shudder but stop myself.

“Thanks for sharing, Mom,” Sara says. “Could you ruin my life any more?”

“Oh, don’t be so dramatic. Fern won’t tell anyone,” my mom says.

Sara eyes me.

“Why were you kissing Gil?” I ask.

Charlie makes a kissy noise.

“Shut up,” Sara says.

“What did
I
do?”

My mom sighs.

“Why is it OK for you to go off and meditate all the time, but I can’t take a little break once in a while?” Sara asks her.

I can tell that got my mom’s attention by the way she presses her lips together. Like she’s trying to keep from yelling.

“That’s not the same thing,” she says.

Sara crosses her arms. “Whatever.”

“Let’s just get back to work before the rush and forget the whole thing. I won’t tell your father. This time.”

“Um, the rush is
over,
” I say. “I guess you guys were too busy kissing and meditating to notice.”

“Mona can handle things,” my mom snaps back.

“Like watch Charlie
and
take all the orders? What the hell, Mom? Mona can’t do everything.”

“Watch your tongue, Fern!”

“What channel is it on?” Charlie asks. He got that joke from Holden. I don’t think he even knows what it means.

“Charlie, that’s rude.” She turns to me. “And I don’t like your attitude.”

“Well, I don’t like signing autographs!” I say. “Dad’s made us all famous!”

“What do you mean?” Sara asks.

“See you at Hawee’s!” Charlie shouts.

Exactly.

My mom groans and glances back at the office door longingly. I swear, if she goes in there to meditate again, I will scream so loudly, her inner peace will run away for good.

Charlie and I don’t follow my mom and sister back into the dining room. Instead, I take Charlie outside. There’s a grassy area under a huge oak tree near the parking lot with a few picnic tables under it. It’s Gil’s job to wash the bird poop off the tables. This afternoon it’s clear that he’s been too busy hanging out with Sara.

Charlie crawls under the table with Doll and tells me I’m the Big Bad Wolf. I growl once to make him happy.

“That wolf is mean,” Charlie tells Doll in a loud whisper. I know I shouldn’t take it personally, but I do.

“And ugly!”

I wonder if Charlie is in range of my foot so I could “accidentally” kick him.

“That wolf’s gonna eat us up,” Charlie whispers.

As I start to growl again, I hear loud music and feel the bass thumping in my chest as Gray’s car pulls into the parking lot. He drives over to us and rolls down his window. “Hey, Fern!” he shouts. “Where’s your brother?!”

“Here!” Charlie yells, poking his head out from under the table.

“Not you,” I say. “Holden.”

“I haven’t seen him since you guys dropped me off!” I yell to Gray.

“He needs a cell phone!” he yells back. Then he peels out of the parking lot.

“Who was that?” Charlie asks.

“That was Gray.”

“He’s loud.” He pops his head back under the table, then slips out the other side and makes a dash for it.

“Charlie!” I scream. “No running in the parking lot!”

“You won’t get me, Big Bad Wolfie!” He continues his mad dash across the pavement just as a car is backing up.

Brakes screech.

I’m running. Charlie is on his back, still clutching Doll. His face is very calm. “Wolf!” he screams up at me. But he doesn’t move.

The driver gets out of the car and hurries around to the back. It’s Mr. Seymore, a skinny old man who comes into the restaurant all the time for the senior-citizen early-bird discount.

“Jeee-
sus
!” he yells. “Is he OK? I don’t think I hit him. I didn’t feel anything.”

“Charlie?” I ask. Something is happening in my chest. My heart. It’s beating so fast and so hard. I have to press my hands against it. I can’t breathe. I look down at Charlie, who is impossibly still.

Then he blinks.

I bend down to touch his face with my hand. “Are you hurt? Where does it hurt?”

“Can’t catch me, Wolfie!” He rolls away from me and dashes toward the restaurant. “Can’t catch me nevah, nevah!”

I take a deep breath. I still feel like I’m in shock.

Mr. Seymore scratches his head. “Miracle I didn’t hit the kid. I could’ve killed ’im! You shouldn’t let your little brother run in the parking lot.”

“I didn’t! He took off before I could grab him!”

“There are rules!” he yells in my face. He’s shaking. I realize I am, too.

“He was so fast,” I say.

My mom comes running out of the restaurant. “Fern! What did you do to your brother?”

I’m still having trouble breathing.

“Fern!” my mother yells.

Mr. Seymore shakes his head. “Can’t believe I didn’t kill the kid,” he says. “Stupid kids.”

My ears are buzzing.

“Fern? What’s
wrong
with you?” My mom’s staring at me like I’m a child killer.

I gasp for breath.

“He . . . he . . .” I try.

Charlie darts back outside and comes careening into me. “Bad Wolf!” he says, hugging my legs like he always does.

“Did you scare him?” my mom asks.

Sara comes out then, too. “What happened?”

I touch Charlie’s soggy head.

“He darted out,” I say quietly. “I couldn’t stop him.”

My mom gives me a disappointed look.

I pull Charlie off my legs in disgust. “He’s fine,” I say. “Charlie, never do that again! You could’ve been hit!”

He head-butts my thigh. “It didn’t hurt,” he says, rubbing the back of his head.

My mom bends down and kisses him.

And where were you?
I want to scream at her.

“He really could’ve been hurt, Fern,” my mom says as she stands back up.

“I know that! But he’s not
my
responsibility!”

“He’s all of our responsibility. We’re a family.”

“Go, team!” Charlie cheers.

“Then do your share!” I give Sara a dirty look. “I have homework. I can’t watch him all the time.” I’m still shaking from seeing Charlie on the ground like that. Mr. Seymore is right. He could have killed him. But it would have been my fault. Me. The one who’s supposed to save everyone.

Mr. Seymore walks away from us, muttering as he gets into his car.

Sara gives me a look like I am the worst sister on earth. Then she and my mom lead Charlie back inside. I notice they don’t seem to care whether
I
was in harm’s way.

I walk back to the picnic table and sit there, alone. I look at all the names carved and penned into the tabletop. Mostly there are first names with
was here
and then the year. Or else there are things like
Carrie loves Ben 4-evah
. It’s kind of a tradition, I guess, to come here and carve something on the tables, because the tables have become plastered and gouged over the years, and some of the dates go back to when my grandfather first opened the business. People have even carved stuff under the table and seats because it’s so hard to find free space. Holden once suggested we paint over them, and my dad was offended. He said the etchings are what give the tables character and add to the old-timey ambience of the restaurant.

As I study the carvings, I feel a hand on my shoulder and jump.

“Whoa!” Holden says, sitting down next to me. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”

“Where’ve you been? I ask. “Gray was looking for you.”

“He found me. We going home soon?”

“I dunno.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Charlie almost got hit by a car, and everyone thinks it’s my fault.”

“Is he OK?”

“Yeah,” I say quietly.

“So,
was
it your fault?”

“No! Charlie was playing under the table and then just took off and ran across the parking lot before I could stop him. I was trying to do my homework. Mom’s the one who’s supposed to be taking care of him, not me.”

“Well . . .”

“Don’t even think about telling me we’re a team.”

“OK.” He traces his finger along one of the bigger names carved on the tabletop. Then he pulls out the mini Swiss Army knife on his key chain and starts carving teeny-tiny letters inside a peace sign someone else made. I watch while he carefully carves out the almost unreadable words.
Holden was here.
Then he hands the knife to me.

“What am I supposed to do with this?”

“Be creative.”

I slide closer to him and carefully push the tip of the knife into the wood and try to form letters under Holden’s.
Fern 2.

“What are you doing to that table?”

I jump for a second time and almost cut myself.

My mom is walking toward us. Charlie and Sara trail behind.

“Marking our territory,” Holden tells her.

“Me, too!” Charlie yells, reaching for the knife.

I push his hand away just in time.

“You mean!” He pouts at me.

I hate it when he says that. “I didn’t want you to cut yourself — that’s all!”

“Wite my name,” he demands.

“Fine.” I carefully add
& Charlie.
Charlie squeezes in between Holden and me so he can see. His small hand pushes down on my thigh as he leans forward and squints at the letters. He turns and smiles at me. Then he reaches for my ear and pulls it toward his face. I feel his warm little breath in it and cringe, wondering what he’ll do.

“I love you, Ferny,” he whispers. Then he leans back and giggles and kisses Doll’s green hair.

“I love you, too,” I say. Because just at that moment, I really do. Despite how much of a huge pain he is. Seeing him on the pavement, lying so still, I realize just how much I love him.

My mom puts her hand on Charlie’s head and smiles at his cuteness. “Let’s go home,” she says. “It’s been a long day.”

O
N THE WAY HOME
, my mom tells Charlie he can have whatever he wants for dinner because she’s so happy he didn’t get hurt.

I try to exchange eye rolls with Holden from across the seat, but he’s staring out the window with a serious look on his face.