Tomorrow Starts Today Page 2

  “Hmm,” Celia said, cool as ever. “Why now?”

  Bex looked at Andi and smiled. Reaching out, she tickled Andi’s sides, making the younger girl laugh as she tried to squirm away. “Well, I don’t want this one to grow up before I do.”

  “Too late for that,” Celia said. Without another word, she turned and walked back up the stairs. A moment later, a door slammed.

  Bex sighed. She walked to the staircase and peered up at the empty hallway. “Wow! Very dramatic exit, Mom,” she shouted. “You still got it.” She sighed. Then she looked back at her father and Andi, who were standing there silently. She shrugged. She hadn’t been home even twenty minutes and already she wanted to run away. But she tamped that feeling down. She was staying. She hadn’t been lying about her plan, even if her mom didn’t like it.

  A part of Bex knew she should have been prepared for that reaction. But a part of her had hoped that maybe, just maybe, this time things would be different. She wanted a fresh start. For her and for her mom. Most important, she had come home because she wanted a fresh start with Andi. But she wasn’t sure that could ever happen if her mom was going to keep this up….

  Andi loved her room. She loved the big canopy bed and the soft purple paint on the walls. She loved the bookcases, lined with books and the odds and ends she had collected over the years, like her buffalo stuffed animal and the birdhouse she had made in second grade. But most of all, she loved that the room wasn’t perfect. It was perfectly imperfect. Her mom had agreed to let her decorate the way she wanted to, so unlike the rest of the house, her room was a bit bohemian. A little like Bex, Andi thought as she sat on her bed, making a bracelet. When things got tense, or she just needed to get away, that was what Andi did: she made things.

  Hearing a knock on her door, she looked up. Bex was standing in the doorway. “Hey, you busy?”

  “No,” Andi said, smiling, “just messing around.”

  Taking that as an invitation to come in, Bex walked over and jumped onto the bed with Andi.

  “Oh!” she said, seeing the combination of red plastic and string in Andi’s hand. “What’s this?”

  “It’s a straw and a shoelace,” Andi said. She had cut up a red straw into one-inch pieces and woven the shoelace back and forth through them. The result was a bracelet that looked a lot more punk rock than drinking instrument.

  Holding it in her hand, Bex ran her fingers over the plastic and bent it back and forth, surprised by how well put together it was. “You just turned a straw and a shoelace into a bracelet?” she asked, looking up at Andi with admiration.

  Andi smiled proudly. She never got tired of making things or of people liking them. Buffy and Cyrus teased her whenever she said it was easy. They pointed out that they couldn’t just pick up an old shoebox and turn it into a fantastic jewelry box. They didn’t see objects that way. But Andi did. She always had. She jumped off the bed and grabbed a few things off her desk. “Look at this,” she said, joining Bex again. “Anything can be a bracelet. Comic books, soda tabs.” As she spoke, she showed her sister some of the other bracelets she had made. The comic book bracelet was one of her favorites. She had cut the bright panels out in strips and used colorful duct tape to connect them all. The result was a wide bangle she could slip on and off her wrist. She held out one last bracelet. It was thin and wiry. “I think this is my old retainer,” she said, then quickly added, “which, if Mom asks, I’m still wearing at night.”

  Bex laughed. “What do you do, just take stuff out of the trash?” she asked.

  Andi nodded. “Hello! Carbon footprint? Future generations? And bonus: it drives Mom crazy.” As she spoke, she turned to make sure her mother wasn’t standing outside the door. It was one thing to say something like that when her mom couldn’t hear, but she was pretty sure that was not the day to get caught.

  Her sister laughed again and nodded. “Yeah, I’ll bet.” Holding the red straw bracelet up, Bex hesitated. Andi watched, wondering what would make her usually outgoing and fearless sister seem suddenly shy. Was it the mention of Mom? Had her mom shown up in the doorway behind her? Turning again, she let out a breath. No one was there. Still. Phew. Finally, Bex spoke. “Could I have this?”

  Andi was surprised. That was not what she had expected to hear. She shook her head. “No, let me make you something special.”

  “This is special,” Bex said, lifting the bracelet. “I love it.” She placed it on her wrist. Next to her leather and silver bangles, it seemed super bright. But it looked perfect on her. Leaning on the arm with Andi’s bracelet, Bex looked at the top of the bed. Dozens of scarves crisscrossed over one another, combining to form a riot of colors and a warm and cozy canopy. “Did you make this, too?” Bex asked, drawing her finger along one of the scarves.

  “Yeah,” Andi said. Now she was the one to act a bit shy as she added, “Out of the scarves you sent me.” Every time Andi had gotten a scarf, it had been a way to connect with her sister. No matter how far away Bex was, or how different her life was, Andi could look up at her canopy and feel like they were together. Bex looked touched as Andi began to recall the various places the scarves had come from.

  “Look,” Andi said, brushing her fingers against the bright material that hung over them. “Mardi Gras, the Texas state fair, that music festival where people supposedly get naked…” Bex quickly looked away.

  “Did you?” Andi asked, unable to help herself.

  Bex flushed. “No, come on!” she protested. “You know me better than that!”

  Andi frowned. “I really don’t,” she replied, saying out loud what she had been thinking just moments earlier.

  Andi realized that while she had pieces of Bex’s life and travels literally hanging over her, she really didn’t know her big sister. Not that well, at least.

  “That’s true,” Bex said, looking thoughtful. “You don’t. But I can fix that.” She jumped off the bed and ran out of the room.

  Confused, Andi watched her go. Why, if her sister was trying to help Andi get to know her better, would she run away?

  Bex dashed down the hall toward her bedroom. Or rather, the room that used to be her bedroom. Andi hadn’t been kidding when she said that their parents had turned it into a home gym. A giant elliptical machine took up most of the space, and instead of books on the bookshelf, there were sets of weights, a yoga mat, and some strange-looking circle things that Bex thought might have something to do with Pilates.

  Walking in, she saw her mother pedaling and pulling frantically on the elliptical. Not even saying hello, Bex beelined for her brown duffel bag. What she was looking for was right on top. She picked up the old wooden box and clutched it to her chest. She couldn’t wait to show Andi what was inside. The box held so many memories—and secrets.

  “No, no, no!”

  Celia leapt off the elliptical, her shouts startling Bex. Pushing past Bex, she shut the door before her daughter could leave. Bex rolled her eyes. Leave it to her mother to be overly dramatic. She could paint the walls a tranquil blue and play spa music all she liked, but the woman was strung as tight as a tightrope.

  “Andi never sees what’s inside this box,” Celia said, tapping the brown lid.

  Bex furrowed her brow. “It’s just pictures,” she said, though she knew even as she said it that her mother would disagree—which she did, quickly.

  “They’re not just pictures.” Celia gave her daughter a meaningful look. “It’s secrets. Things she doesn’t need to see…or know….” Her voice trailed off, and for a moment the room was silent.

  Bex looked down at the box in her hand. Her mom was right. The box did hold secrets. But what if it was time to share some of them? Didn’t she have the right to show Andi? She felt her mother’s hard gaze on her and looked up. Sighing, she nodded. “Okay, Mom,” she agreed, holding up her hand. “I won’t show her the box.”

  “Thank you,” Celia said as she watched Bex walk over, put the box back in the bag, and then leave the room. Satisfied her daugh
ter had made the right decision, Celia followed, then headed downstairs for some water.

  She didn’t see Bex turn and dash back into the room as soon as she was out of sight. Bex grabbed the box and headed back to Andi’s room. Was it really that big of a deal that she had told a teensy, tiny, little white lie? It wasn’t the first time, and it probably wouldn’t be the last. What her mom didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her. And it wouldn’t hurt Andi, either—she hoped.

  Bex burst back into Andi’s room, leapt onto the bed, and presented the box. “This is like my diary,” she said, placing her long fingers on the lid. “You can’t tell anyone anything you see in here. Okay?”

  Andi nodded, her eyes wide. Bex had never, ever done anything like that before. Her visits had always been short. Andi had never had the chance to go deep with her sister, to really get to know her. Now she was sharing her “diary”? It was awesome.

  Slowly, Bex pulled back the lid. Inside the box was a collection of odds and ends. A woven bracelet, ticket stubs, a sparkly frog sticker, and pictures. Lots and lots of pictures. Andi looked down at them, her mind racing. She wanted to know everything—and everyone. She reached in and pulled out a random Polaroid. “What about this guy?” she asked.

  Bex looked at the photo and smiled. “Oh, that’s Fletcher,” she said, as though it were obvious. “He’s a pirate, so I don’t see him very often.”

  Andi’s eyes narrowed as she tried to figure out if her sister was being serious. A pirate? Like Jack Sparrow? Or did she mean one of those horrible pirates who boarded oil tankers like in that movie with Tom Hanks? “A pirate?” she asked out loud.

  Her sister gave her a teasing look. “I’m kidding,” she said. “But he does have a boat. And a pet bird.”

  “So…pretty close?” Andi said, teasing her sister right back.

  The two began to laugh, and Andi felt an unfamiliar rush of emotion. She wasn’t sure what it was or what to call it, but it felt sort of like home. Or like finding out things about someone that made the picture of them much more focused. It was like, Andi finally decided, when a video stopped buffering and became clear. “Your life looks so amazing,” she said.

  “Uh, so does yours,” Bex said, looking around the room.

  Andi rolled her eyes. “Which part?” she asked. “The stuff I’m not allowed to do, the stuff I’m not allowed to eat, or the stuff I’m not allowed to wear?” As the words poured out of her mouth, Andi felt a twinge of guilt.

  “Is it that bad?” Bex asked, concern in her eyes. There was a semiserious moment as she waited for Andi’s answer.

  The younger girl smiled, pushing away the self-pity. She was never one to feel bad for long. Life was too short. That was something she had learned from her big sister. “It will be better with you here.”

  Bex nodded. “We’ll hang out!” she said excitedly, putting the picture of Fletcher back in the box.

  “It’ll be fun,” Andi agreed. “Maybe not Mardi Gras, music festival fun…but we can get pizza.” She paused. “Well, sometimes. When Dad’s in charge.” Her mom considered pizza beneath her palate. She had even gone as far as to say it shouldn’t be classified as food. Andi wholeheartedly disagreed. Pizza, in her opinion, was the food of gods.

  “You know what? I’m already having fun,” Bex said. “You made me a bracelet. I like your friends. I like your room.” She jumped off the bed and landed in front of Andi’s desk. Andi’s laptop was open to her favorite social media page. The profile picture she had stopped on was of a cute boy. He was wearing a sports jersey and running across a grass field. “Ohhh…this guy looks like fun.” Bex leaned down so she could get a better look. “‘Jonah Beck,’” she read out loud.

  Andi leapt off the bed. Grabbing the computer, she slammed it shut. “You didn’t see that,” she said, suddenly all nerves. “And I have homework.” Andi held on to her computer as she sat back down on her bed.

  “Okay, cool,” Bex said, trying not to laugh at the girl’s obvious reaction. She knew exactly why Andi had been looking at that picture and exactly why she was suddenly a mess. Somebody had a crush. But she wouldn’t push it. She also knew Andi would tell her about that Jonah guy when she was ready. “Andi, calm down.”

  As Bex leaned over, Andi pushed herself back against the headboard, clutching the computer to her chest. She was pretty sure that her heart was beating so hard it was making the laptop bounce.

  “Okay, okay, I’ll go unpack,” Bex said, raising her hands in surrender. At the door, she turned and added, “Enjoy your picture of Jonah Beck.” Laughing, she left.

  Behind her, Andi sighed. That had been too close for comfort. Bex was not supposed to have seen that. No one was supposed to have seen that. Jonah Beck was like her own version of Bex’s diary box. He was a secret. Or at least her crush on him was supposed to be a secret. True, Buffy and Cyrus knew that she had been crushing on him since the first day she had seen him. But who wouldn’t have a crush on Jonah, with his brown hair that fell in front of his gorgeous blue eyes—and the dimples?

  She opened the computer and stared at the screen in front of her. Yup, Jonah Beck was dreamy. And for then, at least, he was still her secret.

  “You didn’t have to get me a birthday present.”

  Andi was officially thirteen. The sun was shining. The sky was blue and the air was perfect—not too warm but warm enough for shorts and her favorite T-shirt, the white one with the dog face on the front.

  So far the day was shaping up to be exactly what she wanted. She and her family had had breakfast—together—and then she had gotten her presents, and then, to her surprise, Bex had told her to get in the car. Now she found herself walking through the big park at the center of town, not sure what was going on but enjoying more time with her sister.

  “Well, I’m not sure it’s going to top what Mom got you…” Bex started. Then she stopped and laughed. Her mother had gotten Andi The Unabridged History of Math. “Oh, wait, it is going to top that.” She looked toward a small rise in the field. As if on cue, the present appeared at the top of the rise. “Here it comes…” she said, smiling.

  As Andi turned to follow Bex’s gaze, her mouth dropped open. Then it closed. Then it dropped open again. She felt like a fish out of water. She couldn’t breathe. Because there, running toward them with a huge smile on his perfectly dimpled face and a Frisbee in his hands, was none other than Jonah Beck.

  “Wh-wh-what did you do?” Andi stammered, dragging her eyes from Jonah to look up at Bex. Her heart was pounding, and her palms suddenly felt sweaty, and she was pretty sure she was going to throw up.

  Bex, apparently oblivious to the torturous effect her “present” was having on Andi, grinned. “He’s going to teach you how to play Frisbee. I got you a lesson. That’s your present!”

  Andi felt her head shaking back and forth, but it was as though she had no control over the motion. Nor did she have control over the string of noes that poured out of her mouth. Was her sister serious? This was the worst idea ever. In the history of ideas. The absolute worst.

  “Just relax,” Bex said, realizing that the stammering and headshaking were indications that Andi was having her own version of a meltdown. Andi got out another no. “Great. Just like that. Only the exact opposite.” Before Bex could offer up any more advice, Jonah stopped in front of them.

  Andi tried to act normal. But it was hard. Up close, Jonah Beck was even more perfect. He was smiling broadly, revealing straight white teeth, and his dimples were even more…dimply. Despite his sprint across the field, he was breathing evenly, and not a hair was out of place on his head, except for the adorable bangs that fell over his right eye.

  “Hi,” Bex said, ignoring the sounds of hyperventilating coming from Andi. “You Jonah?” The boy nodded. “Great, I’m Bex. And this is your student, Andi.”

  Jonah’s smile grew broader. Pushing up the sleeves on his zip-up hoodie, he nodded. “Dude,” he said, “I know you. You go to Jefferson, right?”

  Andi opene
d her mouth and tried to answer. But to her horror, nothing came out.

  Luckily, Bex was able to say yes for her, and Jonah didn’t seem to notice the sudden onset of mutism. “Cool,” he said. “Some people never forget a face. I never forget a foot.”

  Andi followed his gaze to her feet. She was wearing a pair of sneakers she had put her own touch on by covering them completely with different colors of duct tape. The result? A pair of one-of-a-kind kicks that stood out in any crowd. At the compliment, Andi’s heart stopped, which, given the intense pounding it had only moments before been doing, felt both great and terrible. Before she could even say thank you, Jonah went on.

  “So what do you say? Ready to hurl?” he asked, holding up his bright orange Frisbee.

  Andi’s eyes grew wide. Was it that obvious?

  To Andi’s surprise, she spent the next hour of her thirteenth birthday not hurling. Instead, she found herself playing Frisbee—or at least trying to play Frisbee. And to her even greater surprise, she wasn’t totally terrible at it. In fact, as the afternoon wore on, she realized that she was enjoying herself. And that Jonah was even cooler than she could ever have imagined.

  He showed her how to throw the disk forehand, then backhand. He showed her how to lunge without pulling every muscle in her body. And while at first she really was bad—like throw-the-Frisbee-in-the-pond bad—with Jonah’s help she got better. Soon she was jumping and chucking the disk like she had been doing it for months, not minutes.

  As she exchanged a high five with Jonah after a particularly awesome catch, he lowered the Frisbee. “You’re joining the team,” he said excitedly. His dimples were even deeper, and his bright blue eyes were twinkling. “Say yes. Right now. Say it. Say ‘Yes, I’m joining the team.’”