Lies and Lemons Page 2

  “Your middle name’s not Susie,” Michael said quietly to Celine.

  Celine shrugged. “You never should have named your vicious tarantula after me. I had to change my name.”

  “Racine’s not a tarantula, and you know it. Besides, I named him after a French playwright from the sixteen hundreds.”

  “You think you’re so smart now that you get to take French in school.”

  “No I don’t. I was always smart.” Michael laughed. “And Racine has always been sweet. Not like you, you little liar.” He shook his head. “Watch out or you’ll become a pathological liar.” He walked away with his hands in his pockets.

  “I’m not . . . ” Celine looked around. Michael was too far to hear unless she shouted. And she wasn’t about to shout the word “liar.”

  But the word shouted, anyway, inside her head.

  Angel Talk

  What’s a pathological liar?” asked the little angel.

  “Someone who lies all the time automatically.”

  “Well that’s not what Celine does. I don’t know anyone who does that. No one.” The littlest angel stamped her foot. “I’ve changed my mind; her brother isn’t nice after all. He should mind his own business.”

  “Michael smelled lemons,” said the archangel with a suspicious glance at the little angel. “Aren’t you the one who made him go over to Celine in the first place?”

  “Oh, yeah.” The Little Angel of Honesty flushed. “I forgot. I led him by the nose with a lemon drop. I thought he might talk to her about her overalls and help somehow.” She held out a lemon drop to the archangel.

  They both popped them in their mouths and thought a while.

  “So why did Celine tell Cara that her middle name is Susie?” asked the Archangel of Honesty.

  “Let’s get this straight,” said the little angel. “She didn’t tell Cara that at all. She merely said that many people go by their middle names, and she let Cara come to the conclusion that her middle name was Susie.”

  “Okay. Be technical about it.” The archangel tossed her hair over one shoulder and divided it into three bunches. She braided it tightly. “Why did she do that?”

  “I don’t know. What she did with her mother at least made sense. She wanted a bagel and she wanted to wear overalls, and her mother didn’t want either thing. But Cara’s different. Cara couldn’t stop Celine from calling herself Susie or anything else she wants. So I have no idea why Celine did that.”

  “Michael can’t figure it out, either.” The archangel finished her braid and patted the tip of it. “She deceives people.”

  “Not all the time, though,” said the little angel. “And I bet not everyone. This is turning out to be a lot harder than I ever expected. Celine’s complicated.”

  The archangel caressed the little angel’s cheek. “Isn’t everyone?”

  Ants

  Celine and Ellen scooted to the end of the bench nearest the window so that they were fully in the sun. They took out their sandwiches and ate in quiet companionship.

  “It’s so nice to be hungry,” said Ellen. “Because then you can eat and feel satisfied and fat.”

  Celine thought about that. Ellen had a point. Celine had never enjoyed hunger before, but now it would become a pleasure. Ha. All because she could look ahead to eating.

  But animals probably didn’t feel that way. Animals probably just suffered when they were hungry. Animals like Racine.

  Celine had been feeling bad about Racine ever since she’d called him vicious when she was talking to Michael. Now she felt even more guilty. Celine hadn’t seen any other insect body parts in his tank. What if Racine had nothing left to eat today? “Do you think spiders can suffer?”

  “Sure. Anything alive can suffer.” Ellen took a bite of carrot. “I mean, even this carrot must have feelings of some sort. So I’m glad it’s dead.”

  “How do you know it’s dead?”

  “Well, look, it doesn’t have any top part on it anymore. It can’t be alive.”

  “I’m not so sure about that,” said Celine. “Maybe if you planted it, it would grow again.”

  Ellen held what remained of her carrot at arm’s length and stared at it. “All right. Let’s plant it and see.”

  Celine put her plum in her right front pocket and her celery sticks in her left front pocket and her bag of peanuts in her right hip pocket. She threw her empty lunch bag in the garbage and followed Ellen out to the playground. Ellen’s pockets bulged nicely, too. Overalls were certainly handy.

  Lunch recess was short, so they had to hurry. They ran to the very corner of the school property.

  Ellen found a sharp stone and dug a hole. She planted the half carrot. Then she sat back on her heels. “Look at all those ants. Do you think the point of ants is to squish them?”

  “What? You just said anything alive can suffer. Ants are alive.” Celine watched the swarming anthill.

  “Sure. But you know what I mean. They make you want to squish them.”

  “Right now I want to catch them.” Celine stood up with sudden determination. “I’ve got to find a container. I know: a milk carton. Stay here and don’t let anything happen to those ants.” She ran back to the cafeteria, snatched a milk carton out of the trash, and came racing to the anthill again.

  Celine put the carton on its side and pushed ants into it. “Help me.”

  “Why?” But Ellen was already scooping ants into the carton.

  “They’ll make a tasty little snack for Racine.” An ant ran up Celine’s arm and under her sleeve. She reached up and brushed it away. “They’re hard to control.”

  “They’re climbing all over me.” Ellen stood up and swept her hands down her arms wildly. She jumped from foot to foot, as though her whole body were crawling with ants. “Yuck.”

  “What’s going on?”

  Both girls spun around.

  Mrs. Marcy, their teacher from last year, stood with one hand shading her eyes, watching them. “Why are you putting ants in that milk carton?”

  “It takes a lot of ants to make an ant farm,” said Celine.

  “Oh. How nice. I love ant farms.”

  Celine knew that, of course. Mrs. Marcy had a giant ant farm in her classroom.

  “Well, I hope you’ve got everything already arranged for them at home. An aquarium and dirt and . . . ”

  “I have everything they’ll need,” said Celine, thinking of Racine’s mouth.

  “Well, good.” Mrs. Marcy smiled and turned to go, then she hesitated. “Have you two been drinking lemonade?”

  “No,” yelped Ellen. “No no no.”

  Celine stared at Ellen.

  Mrs. Marcy looked surprised, too. “I just thought I smelled lemons. Hmm. Well, bye now.” She left.

  When she was out of hearing range, Celine asked, “Why’d you shout no?”

  “I didn’t want to give you a chance to answer,” said Ellen.

  “Why not?”

  “Because you might tell another lie. You’re not making an ant farm. You’re making a meal for a spider.”

  At the word “lie,” Celine winced. Two people had accused her of lying today. “I couldn’t tell Mrs. Marcy that. She loves ants.” Celine pushed an escaping ant back into the milk carton and folded the top shut. “She thinks ants are the best thing in the world.”

  “No one thinks ants are the best thing in the world.” Ellen brushed off her hands. “I hate them now, they’re so crawly. You should have told Mrs. Marcy that Racine needed a snack. She’d understand.”

  “What if she didn’t?”

  “Well, so what?”

  “So what? How can you say that? I’d have to argue, then, and I hate arguing.” Celine took out her celery sticks and jammed the milk carton full of ants into that pocket. She turned it on its side so that her pocket kept the top closed tight. “Want a celery stick?”

  Angel Talk

  Did you make that teacher go up to the girls?” asked the Archangel of Honesty.

&nbs
p; “Yes. It’s so funny how easy it is to make people follow their noses.”

  “Did you know that teacher liked ants?” The archangel’s voice trembled a little. “Because if you did, then you really set up poor Celine to tell a lie.”

  “I’d never do that,” said the little angel. “I swear. She was just any old teacher, as far as I was concerned. I led her to the girls so I could see how Celine would act around her. The more different people I see Celine with, the better chance I have of understanding her.” The little angel pressed her hand to her forehead, which throbbed now, she was so upset. “I never would have chosen that teacher if I’d known.”

  “It’s all right. Don’t fret.” The archangel took the little angel’s hand in one of hers, then smoothed her forehead with the other. “Did you learn anything from seeing how Celine acted with the teacher?”

  “Yes.” The little angel looked up into the archangel’s face. “She doesn’t mean to deceive anyone. She just doesn’t like to argue.”

  “That’s what she said.” The archangel folded her hands behind her and walked.

  The little angel ran to catch up. “But you don’t think that’s the whole story?”

  “Do you?”

  “Now that I think about it, she did sort of argue with her brother.” The little angel folded her own hands behind her, just like the archangel. She took big steps, so that they stayed side by side. “So there’s more to it than just arguing. And I’m going to find out what.”

  Racine

  “Let’s get off here.” Celine got to her feet.

  Ellen looked out the bus window. “But this isn’t our stop. We still have one to go.”

  “We’re getting off here.” Celine walked to the front of the bus. She looked over her shoulder and mouthed “please” as big as she could.

  Ellen got up and followed Celine off the bus. “What’s up?”

  “This way we can go up the block behind your house and cut through Mr. Anton’s yard to your garage.”

  “Why?”

  “In case Ma drives by again.” Celine looked around furtively. Then she turned up Grant Street.

  Ellen walked beside her silently.

  Celine turned onto Mr. Anton’s yard and ran her hand along the hedge as she hurried across into the back of Ellen’s yard. She came up to the rear of the garage and went in through the back door. Safe at last.

  Ellen came in behind her and shut the door.

  Celine changed in the shadows of the rear of the garage. Then she folded her overalls, carefully smoothing each leg and rolling up the straps. She put them in the plastic bag in the corner again. “What’s the matter, Ellen?”

  “Huh?”

  “You haven’t said a word since we got off the bus.”

  “Neither have you.”

  Celine held the milk carton with both hands. “Want to help me feed these ants to Racine?”

  Ellen shook her head. “Do you smell it?”

  “What?”

  “Lemons.”

  At morning recess Michael had talked about smelling lemons. Then he’d called Celine a liar. And at lunch recess Mrs. Marcy had asked about lemonade. Then Ellen had called Celine a liar. “I don’t like the smell of lemons,” Celine said.

  “It’s a nice smell. Clean,” said Ellen. “But I can’t figure out where it’s coming from. It’s like it’s right in front of my nose and it’s been there since we got off the bus.” She walked close and sniffed at Celine.

  “It’s not my fault.” Celine quickly backed up. “I’m not a lemon. I hate lemons.” She went out the front of the garage. “I’ve got to run. See you tomorrow.”

  Ma’s car was gone.

  Celine got the key out of the secret compartment under the mailbox and let herself in. She wasn’t worried about being home alone, because Michael would be back from track practice on the next bus.

  She put her backpack away and went directly into Michael’s room.

  Racine sat in a little well of leaves facing the door, almost as though he were waiting for her.

  Celine put down the milk carton. “Are you hungry?”

  Racine didn’t move.

  “You’re so weird, the way you just wait all day.” Celine took a pencil off Michael’s desk and tapped a leaf beside Racine.

  The spider seemed to jump to attention.

  Celine used the pencil to tap a front leg.

  Racine spun around so his rear faced the pencil. With his hindmost legs he tore hairs off his back and flung them at the pencil.

  Celine laughed. Then she stopped. “Oh, you funny little thing. You think the pencil’s attacking you, don’t you?” She put the pencil back on Michael’s desk. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to frighten you. And I’ve got a treat for you.” She picked up the milk carton, but the top had sprung open and ants crawled out and down the sides and all over the little table that Racine’s tank perched on. “Oh, no.” Celine swept one hand across the table, brushing the ants into her other hand. Then she brushed them off into Racine’s tank. But there were still so many crawling all around.

  “What are you doing?”

  Celine gasped at Michael. “You’re not supposed to be home yet.”

  “Just what are you doing? There are ants everywhere.”

  “I’m giving Racine a snack.”

  “Racine doesn’t need a snack.” Michael dropped the whole milk carton into Racine’s tank. Then he swept the rest of the ants off his table and onto a sheet of notebook paper. He dropped the paper into the tank, too. “You made a mess. Stay away from Racine. I thought you didn’t like him.”

  “He’s sort of nice, with all those eyes. He threw hair at me.”

  “That’s because he thought you were an enemy. You’d better start explaining what you were doing in here, anyway.”

  Celine almost said that a spider could always use an extra meal, when she smelled the sharp odor of lemons. “Do you smell lemon, Michael?”

  “No.”

  “Lemon” starts with “L,” like “liar,” thought Celine. “Racine was right.”

  “What?”

  “I was an enemy. I stole some roach wings and legs from him this morning.”

  Michael looked at Celine as if she were crazy. “Why?”

  “I put them in my oatmeal.”

  Michael’s face sagged. He looked slightly sick. “You didn’t eat them, did you?”

  “No.” Celine laughed. “Of course not, dummy. I just showed my bowl to Ma, and she threw it all out. She didn’t know I put the roach parts there.”

  “Why’d you do that?”

  “So I could have something good for breakfast. She let me make a bagel.”

  “Celine, what is the matter with you? Why don’t you just tell Ma you hate oatmeal and you want to make your own breakfast from now on?”

  “I can’t do that.”

  “Give me one good reason why not.”

  Celine raised her shoulders, then dropped them in exasperation. “You’re the big one, not me. She’d just think I was making trouble.”

  “And roach parts in oatmeal isn’t trouble?” Michael put his hand on Celine’s shoulder. “I hate to break it to you, sis, but you’re totally nuts.”

  Angel Talk

  Have you been whispering in Michael’s ear?” asked the arch-angel.

  The Little Angel of Honesty shook her head. “He just came in on his own. I haven’t seen him since this morning on the playground. But he sure does know the right thing to say.”

  The archangel nodded. “And what was all that about Ellen smelling lemons and Celine shouting she hated them and then Celine smelling lemons?”

  The little angel gave a small smile. “I’m not sure, but I have a guess. I put lemon drops in front of Ellen’s nose. And when Ellen talked about them, Celine got all worried. I think she associates the smell of lemons with being called a liar. So I put lemon drops in front of her nose when she was talking to Michael—hoping the smell would make her not want to be called a liar aga
in, so she’d tell the truth, instead.” The little angel puffed her chest out in triumph. “And she did tell the truth—so my lemon drops work.”

  “You can’t walk around holding lemon drops in front of Celine’s nose all the rest of her life, though.”

  The little angel put her hand in her pocket and came out with a small fistful of spider hairs. She spread them on her other palm. They looked fluffy, but really they felt prickly. She smiled at the archangel. “No, not the rest of her life. But maybe a few more times. Just until she gets used to saying what’s really on her mind.”

  Revelations

  “Celine? Michael? I’m home.” Ma came into the kitchen and rested a big shopping bag on a chair. Then she looked around. “What are you doing? You can’t eat that junk before dinner.”

  Michael spread peanut butter on a square of a Hershey’s chocolate bar and put it in his mouth. Then he prepared another square and handed it to Celine.

  “Stop it, Michael. It’s bad enough you’re spoiling your own appetite. Don’t ruin your sister’s.”

  Michael looked at Celine.

  Celine held the chocolate square in her fingers and hesitated. Then she smelled that smell again. “Lemon!” she shouted. She ate the chocolate and peanut butter.

  “Celine. Honestly, didn’t you hear me?” Ma screwed the lid onto the peanut butter jar.

  Celine took a deep breath of lemon. “I needed it, Ma. I needed this junk food. And you know what? This morning I put those roach parts in my oatmeal so I wouldn’t have to eat it.”

  Ma’s eyes opened wide. Her mouth froze in a little o. Then she slowly sat down. “I didn’t know you hated oatmeal.”

  “I don’t really hate it. Sometimes I love it. But I want to choose what I eat for breakfast.”

  “Oh. Well.” Ma looked relieved. “As long as you choose a good, healthful meal, I guess that’s okay.”

  “Really?” Celine unscrewed the lid of the peanut butter jar again.