By Monday morning I was seething. And all because of Charles!

So at the bus stop, when Dana Carpenter, a ninth grader who also lives at Palfrey’s Pond, said, “I hear your brother’s back,” I wasn’t exactly thrilled.

“Is he going to the high school next year?” she asked.

“I really don’t know.”

“I hope he does … he’s so cute … and I love his sense of humor.” Dana has been going with Jeremy Dragon since Christmas. They fight a lot and sometimes break up, but they always get back together. So why this sudden interest in my brother?

The bus came along then and I got on with Stephanie and Alison.

“Now I’m really curious,” Alison said, as we took our usual seats. “I’ve got to meet this brother of yours!”

“How can you be so cruel and hateful?” I spoke louder than I’d intended and some kids turned to look at me. So I lowered my voice to a whisper. “You’re supposed to be my friend.”

“I am your friend,” Alison said. “And I think it’s cruel and hateful of you to accuse me of being cruel and hateful, because I’m not!” She looked at Stephanie, who kind of shrugged at her.

“I just don’t think I can take any more of this!” I felt very weak and leaned back against my seat, closing my eyes for a minute.

“Any more of what?” Alison asked.

“I think she’s depressed about her brother,” Stephanie told Alison, as if I couldn’t hear.

“I know that,” Alison said. “I’m not stupid.” She fussed with her bag for a minute. She carries this huge canvas tote stuffed with all kinds of junk. She pulled out a roll of Life Savers and offered one to Steph, then to me. I shook my head. Steph popped one into her mouth.

At the next stop Jeremy Dragon got on the bus. “Hey, Macbeth …” he said as he passed us. Last Halloween the three of us went to his house dressed as the witches from Shakespeare’s play. When Jeremy came to the door, instead of saying trick or treat, we’d recited a poem.

And ever since, he’s called us Macbeth. Sometimes it means all three of us—sometimes, like in math class, it’s just me.

When we were moving again, Alison said, “I wonder what my brother’s going to be like?”

“Your brother’s going to be a baby,” Stephanie reminded her.

For some reason that made me laugh. But my laugh came out high-pitched, not at all like my regular laugh.

“I wasn’t trying to be funny,” Steph told me. “I was just making a point.”

“Are you saying that baby brothers aren’t as depressing as older ones?” Alison asked.

“Not all older brothers are depressing,” I said. “Just some.”

Stephanie sighed. “Maybe you should see Mrs. Balaban.”

“The school counselor?” I asked.

“Yeah,” Steph said. “I saw her once … when I found out …” She hesitated for a moment. “When I found out my parents were separating.”

“You went to Mrs. Balaban?” Alison said, as if she couldn’t believe it.

Stephanie nodded.

“So did I!” Alison told her.

“You?” Steph said to Alison, as if she couldn’t believe it. “Why did you go to Mrs. Balaban?”

“Because of the … when I found out about the …”

“Pregnancy?” I guessed.

“Right …. When I found out my mother was pregnant.”

“How come you didn’t say anything about seeing Mrs. Balaban?” Steph asked Alison.

“How come you didn’t?” Alison asked Steph.

“I thought we were talking about my problem,” I said, and they both looked at me.

The next morning Mrs. Balaban sent a note to my homeroom teacher, saying she wanted to see me. I was really angry. How could Alison and Stephanie betray me this way? If I want to see Mrs. Balaban, I will. But that’s my business and nobody else’s. I intended to tell them exactly that at lunch, which is our first and only period together except for gym, which we have twice a week but not today.

I stopped at Mrs. Balaban’s office on my way to the cafeteria. “I’m Rachel Robinson,” I said. “You wanted to see me?”

“Oh, Rachel … yes … I’m very glad to meet you,” she said. “Sit down.”

Mrs. Balaban is young and good-looking. The boys think it’s great to be called to her office. One time she brought her baby, Hilary, to school. The girls oohed and aahed over her, while the boys oohed and aahed over Mrs. Balaban.

“I only have a minute,” I said, standing in front of her desk. “I have to go to lunch.”

“Well, let’s see how fast I can explain this to you.” She poured some sparkling water into a mug decorated with Beatrix Potter rabbits. “Want some?”

“No thanks.”

She took a long drink. When she finished, she burped softly, her hand covering her mouth. “Sorry,” she said. “Have you heard anything about Natural Helpers, Rachel?”

“I’ve heard of Natural Lime Spritzers,” I answered.

She laughed. “This isn’t a drink. It’s a program we’re going to try next fall. It’s called Natural Helpers.”

I felt my face turn hot. That’s the kind of mistake Stephanie would make, not me. And it happened because I was worrying instead of listening.

“It’s a kind of outreach program,” Mrs. Balaban continued. “You know … kids helping other kids.”

I waited to hear what this program had to do with Charles.

Mrs. Balaban took another swig from her cup. “I asked the teachers to recommend a group of mature seventh and eighth graders … people other kids would relate to … and you were one of them.”

“So this doesn’t have anything to do with …” I began.

“With …” Mrs. Balaban repeated, looking at me.

“Never mind. I was confused for a minute. I thought you wanted to see me because …”

“Because …”

I was so relieved this didn’t have anything to do with Charles, I started to laugh.

“What?” she asked, curious.

“Nothing,” I said, trying to keep a straight face.

She twirled her wedding band around on her finger. “Do you think you’d be interested in participating in this kind of program, Rachel?”

When I didn’t respond right away, she said, “Of course I want you to take your time and think about it. Because the training will be fairly intense. And I know you’re already involved in other school activities, not to mention your schoolwork.”

“Schoolwork is no problem,” I said.

She shuffled some papers on her desk. “Straight A’s,” she said, smiling up at me. She must have had my transcript in front of her. “Very impressive. But you know, Rachel, there’s nothing wrong with a B now and then.”

“I prefer A’s,” I said.

She laughed. “Remember, I don’t want you to feel pressured to take this on, unless it’s something you really want to do … okay?”

“Okay.”

“We’re having an introductory meeting next week, and Rachel …”

“Yes?”

“There’s no rule that says Natural Helpers can’t have their own problems … so if there’s something on your mind that you’d like to talk about …”

“No,” I said, “there’s nothing.”

“But if there ever is …”

“I have to go now,” I told her. “This is my lunch period.”

When I got to the cafeteria, Stephanie and Alison were already eating.

“Where were you?” Steph asked.

“Mrs. Balaban,” I said.

“You actually took my advice?” she asked.

“Not exactly …”

Steph turned to Alison. “I knew she’d never admit she took my advice!”

My life at home is falling apart and Mrs. Balaban wants me to help other kids. What an incredible joke! What makes her think kids would come to me with their problems? I’m not very popular, except right before a test when everyone suddenly needs extra help. And when Steph’s parents were separating, she didn’t even tell me and I’m supposed to be her best friend! We had a huge fight when I found out she’d been lying to me. We didn’t speak for seven weeks. And did Alison come to me when she found out her mother was pregnant? No. She went directly to Stephanie. So, it seems to me Mrs. Balaban doesn’t know much about finding Natural Helpers!

That night I had too many what ifs. I knew I’d never get to sleep if I couldn’t clear my head. So I went down to the kitchen to make myself a cup of herbal tea.

Charles was at the table, stuffing his face with cold mashed potatoes and leftover salmon with a big glob of mayonnaise on top. He’d refused to have dinner with us earlier. The thought of all that mayonnaise at ten o’clock at night was enough to gag me. I looked away and thought about going back upstairs. But then I changed my mind. Just because he’s in the kitchen doesn’t mean I can’t have my tea. I took a few deep breaths and put the kettle on. While I was waiting for the water to boil, I opened the cupboard where we keep the teas and chose Grandma’s Tummy Mint. Burt and Harry were sniffing around the table, begging for salmon.

“Come on, you guys,” Charles said to them, with a mouthful of mashed potatoes. “Not while I’m eating.”

“Cold mashed potatoes are disgusting,” I muttered.

“To each his own,” he said.

I didn’t respond.

“You know … I’m worried about you, Rachel.”

“You’re worried about me?”

“Yeah … it’s not normal for a girl your age not to have friends.”

“I have plenty of friends.”

“So where are they? How come they never come over?”

I chose my favorite mug, decorated with pink and lavender hearts, and poured boiling water over my tea bag. Then I set the mug down so the tea could steep. It’s amazing how few people know how to make a good cup of tea. They think they can hand you a cup of hot water with a tea bag on the side and that’s it.

“I asked you a question, Rachel.”

“My friends are none of your business,” I told him.

“I think you’re trying to hide something.”

I spun around. “I am not trying to hide anything. And I don’t have to explain my friendships to you!” I knew better than to continue this conversation. So I took my tea upstairs, to the privacy of my own room.

The next day I asked Stephanie and Alison if they wanted to come over after school.

“Sure …” Alison said. “Will Charles be there?”

“Probably,” I told her. “But don’t get into a long conversation with him. Don’t start telling him about your dog and how she can talk.”

“Would he believe me if I did?” Alison asked.

“No, but he’d lead you on and then he’d never let you forget you said it.”

“Fine … I won’t say anything,” Alison said.

“No … that would be even worse. Then he’ll think you can’t talk.”

“Okay … I’ll just say one or two things.”

“And nothing personal,” I told her. “Don’t tell him your mother’s pregnant.”

“Got it,” Alison said. “Nothing personal.”

“And no questions!”

Alison repeated that. “No questions.”

“You, too,” I told Steph.

“All right,” Steph said. “Stop worrying! I’ve known Charles since I was seven … remember?”

“I’m not worrying,” I said.

The cats were sleeping outside the kitchen door when we got home. Burt woke up and stretched when he heard us. Harry didn’t even move. I gave them fresh water from the outside faucet. Then I opened the door. Charles wasn’t in the kitchen, so I poured three glasses of cranberry juice and set out a box of Dutch pretzels.

“The way you eat pretzels is so weird,” Stephanie said to me.

“To each her own,” I answered. It’s true that I have a special way of eating pretzels. I like to lick off all the salt first. Then, when the pretzel is very soft, just before it’s actually soggy, I chew it up. I didn’t always eat pretzels that way. But a few years ago I broke a tooth on one, and ever since I eat them very carefully.

“Well … are we going to see him or not?” Alison finally asked.

“All right,” I said. And I started down the hall to Charles’s room, with Alison and Stephanie right behind me. I knocked and called, “Charles, I’m home with my friends!”

We waited but he didn’t answer.

“Maybe he’s not here,” Steph said.

“I couldn’t be so lucky,” I mumbled on the way back to the kitchen. Just when I decided he probably wasn’t home he appeared, fresh out of the shower, barefoot, with wet hair. He was wearing cutoffs and a T-shirt that said ELVIS IS DEAD.

“Well, well, well …” He smiled, surveying the scene.

I said, “Alison, this is my brother, Charles.”

“You’re Charles?” Alison said, like she couldn’t believe it. What was she expecting … Dracula?

“None other,” he answered, turning on the charm. “And who are you?”

“Alison Monceau.” She practically drooled. “From L.A. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“I can imagine,” Charles said. “I’m one of my sister’s favorite subjects.”

“Not from Rachel,” Alison said quickly. “Rachel doesn’t like to talk about you.”

“What?” Charles said. “Impossible! Rachel, is this true? You don’t talk about me anymore? You don’t tell people how I bit you on your leg when you were two?”

“He bit you?” Alison asked me. Before I could answer, Stephanie waved her arms, trying to capture Charles’s attention. “Hey,” she called, “remember me?”

He looked her up and down. “No!” he said. “I don’t believe it! This can’t be Stephanie Hirsch!”

Stephanie suddenly grew self-conscious, touching her hair, her mouth, then crossing her arms over her chest. She tried to smile at him without showing her braces.

He was doing such a number on them! And they were just eating it up. Fools! I wanted to shout. He’s just using you. He’s just playing games.

“I was beginning to think the child prodigy had no friends,” Charles said, making me cringe. “Why, just last night I accused her of being friendless. Right, Rachel?”

“That’s it!” I said. “The party’s over!”

I opened the screen door and let it slam behind me, expecting my friends to follow. But they just stood there, enthralled by my brother, until he said, “ ‘Parting is such sweet sorrow …”’ and disappeared down the hall. As soon as he was gone, Stephanie and Alison burst out laughing.

“I don’t see anything funny!” I told them from the other side of the screen door.

“That’s your problem, Rachel,” Stephanie said. She pushed the screen door open and she and Alison joined me outside. “Maybe if you treated him better, he’d treat you better.”

“Why are you taking his side?” I asked. “You’re supposed to be my friend.”

“I am your friend,” Steph argued.

“No,” I said, “a friend is someone you can depend on!”

“You can depend on me. It’s just that you always think everything’s going to be a disaster!”

“Not everything,” I told her. “Just some things!” But it was useless. They’d never understand. I turned and ran to the top of the hill. Then I lay on the grass with my arms hugging my body, and I began to roll. I rolled all the way down, like I used to when I was small, stopping myself just short of the pond.

Alison and Steph, thinking I was playing some game, followed, rolling down the hill after me, laughing hysterically. Steph stopped on her own, but I had to grab Alison or she’d have rolled right into the water. When she stood up, I steadied her. “Well …” I said, “are you satisfied?”

“About what?” she asked. Sometimes Alison is so dense!

“About Charles,” I said.

“Oh, yeah … I guess.” She and Steph exchanged looks. “I mean, based on what I just saw, I can see how he’d be a pain as a brother … but as a boy …”

I held up my hand. “I don’t want to hear it, Alison!”

“All she’s saying is—” Steph began.

But I didn’t let her finish. “I am not interested in either of your opinions about my brother.”

“It’s getting hard to be around you, Rachel!” Steph said. “You’re so … intense!” She turned to Alison. “Come on … let’s go.” And they walked off together.

I wanted to call after them, to tell them I needed them. But I couldn’t find the words.

Instead I went home and rearranged my dresser drawers, folding and refolding each sweater, each T-shirt, each pair of socks. Then I started on my closet. When everything was in order, when everything was perfect, I sat down at my music stand, picked up my flute and began to play.