The Steps Page 7

  We walked to the nearby park and sat down under a tree to eat. Lucy’s cookies were rectangle-shaped chocolate sensations called Tim Tams. They were outrageously delicious—better even than Oreos! And no one loves Oreos more than me.

  “This is the best breakfast I’ve ever had,” I said. “What’s for lunch?”

  “Ice cream!” Lucy said.

  After we had finished pigging out, we hung out under the tree, out of the blazing sun, for a good half hour, talking and playing mock drums against the tree trunk and doing handstands and cartwheels on the warm grass. We were wired with energy. Only once did I ask Lucy, “Do you think they’re worried about us?” and she answered, “They probably haven’t even figured out we’re gone yet.”

  I don’t think either of us believed that.

  Chapter 17

  Lucy looked at her watch. “It’s almost ten thirty. The kids will probably be out by the oval about now,” she said. I followed her through the park to the large, round, grassy field, which was ringed by a paved track for running or walking. A group of boys ranging from about age ten to fifteen were playing footy inside the oval. While we were sitting under the tree eating our junk food fest, Lucy had been trying to explain how the game worked. Footy seemed to me like a mixture of soccer, rugby, and American football. All the boys wore striped shirts like the one I had on, but they didn’t wear helmets or padding like in American football, although their actual ball looked like an American football.

  Lucy and I walked toward a group of girls our age who were watching the game from a small row of bleachers. “Lucy!” they cried out. They all started screaming and jumping up and down and hugging one another. I should have expected Lucy’s friends would all be squealers.

  When no one was surprised to see Lucy, I realized they had been expecting her, that she had been planning to run away all along. I realized she was angry at Penny not just for not letting her see her grandmother, but because Lucy wanted to visit with her own friends, her real friends.

  “Great dress! Is that New York on the picture?” one girl called out. She had red hair just like Justine’s, only this girl’s hair was straight, and her face had freckles all over it. I knew from pictures Lucy had shown me on the train ride that the girl was Jenny, Lucy’s BF.

  “It’s Annabel’s dress,” Lucy said to the group. She introduced them all to me one by one, but there was no way I could remember all their names. I called out hi and sat down. The girls all crowded around me, asking questions about America, but I could not concentrate. I was lovestruck by a vision in the center of the field.

  “Who’s he?” I asked of a boy who had just bounced into the air and made an amazing catch, or “mark,” as they say in Australian footy. He had short brown hair that fell long in the front of his face, and his knee-high socks showed off great calf muscles. He was “foine,” as we say at the Progress School, finer than any boy-band boy wonder I’d ever seen.

  “That’s Ben!” Jenny said. “Lucy’s former step.”

  I looked at Lucy. “You didn’t tell me you used to have other steps.”

  Lucy shrugged. “We weren’t steps for long. Patrick and Mum were barely married a year.”

  “He’s soooo cute,” I mumbled, in a daze of wow. If he used to be Lucy’s step, did that make him my step-step?

  “Do you think?” Lucy asked, incredulous. She had obviously never taken any particular notice of Ben. She inspected him as he high-fived his teammates. “He has filled in a lot. Looks like he’s gotten quite tall, actually. He used to be so skinny, even though he ate all the time. I think he just had a birthday. He would have just turned fourteen.”

  Fourteen! That meant he was a high school boy!

  Lucy and Jenny paid little mind to the drool hanging out of my mouth. “Did you bring the stuff?” Jenny asked Lucy.

  Lucy nodded and pulled a pack of cigarettes out of her backpack.

  “Lucy!” I said. “I thought those were for pretend, for last night.”

  Lucy shook her head. “Jenny and I have been promising we would try cigarettes together next time we saw each other. I got them from a secret stash of smokes mum doesn’t think I know about.” She placed a cigarette in her mouth and handed one to Jenny, who did the same.

  They looked so stupid. I couldn’t believe this.

  Jenny lit a match and tried to light Lucy’s cig. Lucy took a big breath and then gagged as she tried to inhale. She coughed like mad. Jenny did the same when Lucy tried to light hers.

  “You’re doing it all wrong,” I advised.

  “YOU SMOKE?” the girls exclaimed.

  “No, but my Bubbe does. Here, if you’re going to do it, let me show you how to do it right.” I crossed my legs on the bleacher and took my left shoe partially off, so it dangled from my foot. I tapped my fingers on the bleachers, extracted a cigarette from the pack, then lightly tapped the tobacco end on the bleacher surface to pack the tobacco. I put the cig in my mouth, ran my fingers through my hair, and lit a match. I took a very small puff and exhaled the smoke.

  “You can’t take really deep drags your first time,” I said.

  “Your grandmother told you that?” Lucy asked.

  “Bubbe let me smoke after she caught me and Justine trying to sneak some of her cigs. She wanted me to see how disgusting it was. She was right! I was sick all night long. You will be too now.” I made a face. “This is totally gross! You guys are dumb to smoke.” I stubbed my cigarette out on the bleacher and coughed up some phlegm. Then I made my voice like Bubbe’s and said, “I told you not to smoke, dahling!”

  Some of the boys were heading our way. Lucy and Jenny quickly put out their cigarettes. I grabbed the pack from Jenny’s hand and took out the remaining cigarettes, broke them in half, and threw them into the trash can.

  The boys were taking a break in the game. You could hear the nervous, excited energy from the girls on the bleachers as the boys approached.

  Ben, love god, led the boys. “Hey, Lucy,” he said.

  “Hey.” She shrugged. She was much smoother around her Melbourne friends than the Sydney kids.

  Up close, Ben was not cover-boy handsome. He had big green eyes and an angular jaw, but his nose was a funny curvy shape, as if it had been broken several times in footy games, and his hair was wild, falling down the front of his face. He was sweaty and dirty from the game. I sighed.

  Ben gestured to me. “Who’s your friend, Luce?”

  “That’s Annabel. She’s my new step. She’s from America.”

  “Cool,” Ben said. He inspected me head to toe. “Excellent hat,” he said.

  The girls all burst out laughing. I think my face turned the color of a tomato. I wondered if everybody could hear my heart pounding. No boy had ever had that effect on me before.

  “Do you barrack for the Carlton Blues?” he asked. When I gave him what was probably a totally stupid, confused look, Ben pointed toward my striped navy shirt.

  “Barrack?” I asked, looking around the oval for military living quarters.

  “You know, who’s your favorite team?” Ben said.

  “Oh, you mean who do I root for?”

  The boys and girls all laughed. Ben blushed. I was confused.

  “That’s a very naughty word here,” Lucy whispered in my ear. “If you support a team, then that’s the team you barrack for.”

  Oh.

  I told Ben, “If that’s Lucy’s favorite footy team, I barrack for the Carlton Blues. But in America I barrack for the Baltimore Ravens.” My favorite American football team.

  “Are they good?” he asked.

  “I don’t know,” I said. “But they have the best-looking uniforms.”

  All the girls broke out in giggles again. Ben looked disgusted with me for a second, then he laughed too. Everyone was listening to our conversation like we were famous lovestruck stars, like we were Romeo & Juliet, Jack & Rose. Like one day we’d be known as Ben & Annabel, not just Ben and Annabel.

  “How old are you?” Ben a
sked.

  “Almost thirteen,” I answered. Thirteen in five months and five days!

  “Your American accent is awesome,” Ben said. “Where in the States are you from?”

  “Manhattan, baby,” I said, and swished my hair over my shoulder. Did I hear myself properly? Manhattan, baby?!?

  “Cool,” Ben said. He turned to Lucy. “You guys should come by later and say hi to my dad. He’ll be glad to see you.”

  Ben checked me out again, grinned, and walked away just as abruptly as he’d stopped the game to come say hi. The pack of boys followed him and resumed the game.

  All the girls on the bleachers were swooning. “He likes you!” they were whispering.

  I was melting.

  Chapter 18

  Did I notice when noon rolled around and the sun was frying us? No. Lucy said we should leave for her grandma’s house. Sadly, Ben didn’t seem to notice when we left. His team was winning. I turned around once to see if Ben was watching us leave the park, but at that exact moment he missed his mark and stomped to another part of the field. Major bummer.

  “I think I’m going to be sick,” Lucy mumbled, clutching her stomach as we walked. “AH the chockie, that cigarette, that sun. Oy!”

  I guess it was lucky we had a place to go rest. I couldn’t imagine how horrible it would be to be a real runaway, with no place to go if you were sick or tired, with no money for food.

  Lucy’s grandmother’s house was only blocks away, on a street filled with rows of small, Snow White-looking houses. The house had gorgeous white iron latticework on the fence and porch trim. An older lady was sitting on a rocking chair as we walked up the sidewalk to the house. Her white hair was wrapped into a bun. She was big and round, not like Bubbe, who can never remind us enough that she may be in her late sixties, but she has not lost her “girlish figure.” The lady had lovely rosy cheeks and big baby blues just like Lucy. She was sitting under a ceiling fan and talking on a portable phone.

  “Here they come now,” her voice crackled.

  Lucy broke into tears and ran into her grandmother’s arms. Her granny was crying too. Now I wanted to cry. Lucy’s granny waved at me as she hugged Lucy. She handed me the phone.

  “Hello?” I asked into the phone.

  “ANNABEL!” Penny’s voice sounded like a combination of rage and relief. “Thank God.”

  “Can I talk to Jack, Penny?” I said. Tears were welling in my eyes, and my voice cracked. There was a silence on the other end of the phone. Finally Penny came back to the phone and said, “Annabel, he’s so furious he doesn’t want to talk to either of you. I think you two have aged your father twenty years over the course of this day. I can barely speak to you. But don’t you worry, we’ll be talking about this for a long time soon enough. Please put Lucy’s grandmother back on the phone.”

  “Sorry,” I whispered, and I didn’t mean sorta. I was crying for real now. I handed the phone back to Lucy’s grandma and turned my back so Lucy wouldn’t see me shaking. I couldn’t believe I could make Jack so furious that he wouldn’t even speak to me. I couldn’t believe how bad I felt, like I had a ton of bricks in my stomach and butterflies twitching all over my nerves. All of a sudden I was so tired.

  When she got off the phone, Lucy’s grandma came over to me and patted my hair. She leaned down to talk into my ear and very softly said, “You must be Annabel. I’m Nell Crosswell. Lovely to meet you. Come inside, you girls must be exhausted.” She kissed me on the head. I thought that gesture was so nice. I could see where Lucy got her kindness from. I really needed that kiss on the head.

  I don’t remember walking into Mrs. Crosswell’s house or lying down to take a nap. So much had happened in the last twenty-four hours. Jack had killed my hopes that he would return home to America, Angelina had dropped her bomb, Lucy and I had run hundreds of miles away and become friends, Ben had crushed into my life with a vengeance. I needed sleep.

  I woke up around five in the evening to find Lucy and Mrs. Crosswell sewing a quilt in the living room.

  “I woke up an hour ago,” Lucy said to me. “We’re making a fish quilt for Angus. Grandma worked it out with Mum and Dad. We can stay another day and then go home.”

  Mrs. Crosswell pointed out, “Being allowed to stay is not a reward for your bad behavior. There are just no flights available for another day because of the holiday week. I’ll take the two of you home myself. We’re not trusting you two on a train ever again.”

  Lucy stifled a giggle. Mrs. Crosswell explained, “The train connie from Sydney went looking for you two when the train arrived in Melbourne. When he couldn’t find you to reunite you with your sobered-up ‘parents,’ he found your ticket stubs and tracked down your reservation number. He called Penny.”

  Pretty clever, that train connie. I was dying to ask, Since we’ve got an extra day until our impending punishment, could we go see Ben again now? Lucy looked too cozy leaning on her gran’s shoulder, though. I kept my mouth shut.

  I looked around the room. It was quaint and pretty, with old-fashioned brocade upholstery and beautiful wood furniture and an ancient rocking chair. It smelled like an old person’s house, but in the nicest way.

  I walked over to the fireplace and looked at the pictures lining the mantelpiece.

  “That’s my real dad,” Lucy said about the picture I picked up. He looked just like her: blond hair, rosy cheeks, intense baby blue eyes, proudly posing with his surfboard standing next to him. I couldn’t believe how young Penny looked in the wedding picture with Lucy’s dad. Her black hair was long, almost to her waist, like Morticia Addams, and her face looked young and alive, not subdued and a little tired, like she looks now.

  When Lucy left the room to go to the bathroom, Mrs. Crosswell came over and wrapped her arms around me in a big hug! You’d think I would have been surprised, but I was learning that Lucy and her gran were very touchy-feely people. “I’m so glad you and Lucy have become sisters. She’s needed a sister. Do you think your Bubbe, as you call her, would mind if I adopted you too? Since I lost my son, I can’t get enough of my grandchildren. They’re everything to me.”

  “I suppose there’s always room for more grandparents, Mrs. Crosswell,” I said.

  “Please call me Granny Nell,” she said.

  One thing Granny Nell had all over Bubbe was she could do some serious cooking. Angelina and I cook sometimes, but mostly Bubbe likes dinner to come from “our friend the deliveryman,” as Bubbe says. Then Bubbe adds, “That’s why we live in Manhattan, darling. We can have food from anywhere delivered anytime!” If only Bubbe had tasted Granny Nell’s vegetarian lasagna and chocolate cake. Yum city!

  When we finished eating, Granny Nell let me do the dishes. In fact, as part of her punishment to us (she promised more later from our parents), we had to spend the whole next day cleaning out her shed. Oy.

  As Lucy and I dried the dishes Granny Nell said, “I’m so glad to have you two girls here with me.” Then her tone changed. “But if you two EVER pull a STUNT like that AGAIN, I will haul you into the police station myself. You have no IDEA what could have happened to you. The WORRY you caused your family. Rascals!”

  That sweet lady meant it too. Lucy and I both looked down at the floor, ashamed.

  Chapter 19

  I tried to drag Lucy out of bed at six thirty the next morning. You know why, too. So we could hurry up and clean out the shed and then go visit Ben!

  “Get up, Luce! Let’s start cleaning!” I pulled the sheet off her.

  She threw her arms over her eyes to block out the sunlight coming in from the windows. I’d thoughtfully opened the curtains and raised the blinds.

  “GO BACK TO BED!” Lucy moaned. “I am.”

  Lucy grabbed the sheet back and rolled over onto her stomach with the sheet thrown over her head.

  I ran into the kitchen. Granny Nell was making coffee.

  “Can I get started on the shed now, Granny Nell?” I asked.

  “What’s your rush, lass?” s
he grumbled. She opened her newspaper.

  Lucy and her grandmother were obviously not morning people. I had so much energy and excitement, I wanted to burst.

  “Is it okay if I go for a run at the oval, Granny Nell?”

  Granny Nell looked up from her paper. “You’ll ask permission to go for a run two blocks away but not to run off unchaperoned on an overnight train from Sydney to Melbourne?” She shook her head and shooed me away with her hand. “Go, child. Be home in an hour. I’ll be in better spirits to make you some brekkie once my coffee’s had time to take effect.”

  I dressed in crinkly running pants and a matching jogging top and sprinted over to the oval. The sun had just risen, and the weather was balmy and warm, beautiful. Flowers were blooming along the sidelines of the oval. I sat down in the grass and smelled the sweet summer air. Ben-Ben-Ben-Ben-Ben-Ben-Ben, my mind hummed. He had probably been sitting on this grass less than twenty-four hours ago. Sweet grass!

  I bent over my extended leg to do the stretching exercises Angelina and I do before we go running around the Central Park reservoir. As I was stretching my torso over my leg, I saw a shadow standing over me. I could not believe my luck.

  “Hey, American girl,” THAT voice said. “Where’s your cool hat?” I had forsaken the “dreadful hat” for a New York Mets baseball cap.

  I looked up and there he was standing. Ben-Ben-Ben-Ben-Ben-Ben-Ben.

  “You made me miss my mark yesterday,” he accused.

  “What?” I asked.

  “Yesterday. I had almost caught the ball, and then you and Lucy got up to leave and I lost track of the game for a second. We lost the game because of you.”

  How big was my grin? I couldn’t tell you, because I didn’t have a mirror, but it felt plastered across my face, and I desperately tried to squash it down so Ben would not see how pleased and flattered I was.

  “What are you doing here so early?” I asked him, trying to think of safe conversation so I would not make a total idiot of myself. I stood up but lost my balance, instinctively grabbing for his arm as I started to fall down. He caught me and helped me up. My skin tingled from his touch. “I’m kinda klutzy,” I blurted out.