Addie Bell's Shortcut to Growing Up by Jessica Brody
I don’t leave a message.
A few minutes later, there’s a knock on my door and Buttercup and I both turn our heads toward the sound.
“Who is it?” I call out.
“Mom.”
Buttercup automatically jumps down from the bed and curls up on the floor. I stifle a giggle and tell her to come in.
“There’s someone at the front door for you,” Mom says, poking her head in.
I groan and fall back, pulling a pillow over my head. “I don’t want to see her,” I grumble, assuming it’s Clementine back to tell me about yet another idea for the Flower Power vlog. If I have to hear her debate pink or green daisies one more time, I’ll stick my head in the oven.
“It’s not a her,” my mom says, cocking a playful eyebrow.
I turn and look at her. Is it Cute Connor? Why would he come looking for me after the total idiot I made of myself last night?
“Who is it?” I ask, momentarily forgetting about my misery.
“Jacob Tucker.”
I immediately sit up. “Jacob Tucker?”
My mind flashes back to last night and how much fun we had on the dance floor. Then I feel a stab of guilt when I remember how I just left him there once they announced the talent show.
Maybe he’s here to yell at me.
Maybe he hates me now, too.
I certainly wouldn’t blame him.
“Yeah,” Mom says with a shake of her head. “I swear, every time I see that kid he looks different. I don’t think he’s stopped growing since the seventh grade!”
I giggle. “I know, right? He’s as tall as a tree!”
Mom chuckles too and it feels good to at least share this part of my life with her, even if I can’t tell her everything that’s been going on. “It’s amazing how fast you all have grown up. It feels like only yesterday you were in middle school.”
I nod, staring down at my chic black-and-white comforter, tracing the floral pattern with my index finger. “You have no idea,” I mutter under my breath.
Mom sits down on the bed next to me and lifts my chin up with her finger. “Hey. Is everything okay? You’ve been acting a little…off lately.”
I bite my lip to hold back the flood of tears that threatens to spill out. “Yeah. No. I don’t know. Sometimes I feel like time is moving too fast and I wish it would slow down so I could figure things out.”
My mom lets out a jovial laugh. “You? The Queen of Shortcuts wants time to slow down?”
I laugh too, because she’s right. I do love my shortcuts. I always have. “I know,” I say. “I guess it just feels like too many things are changing.”
Her face turns serious. “Like what?”
I shrug. “Like you working and Rory two thousand miles away at school and you and Dad going out to brunch without me.”
“Oh, sweetie. If I had known you wanted to go to brunch, I would have woken you, but you always like to sleep in on Saturdays.”
“It’s fine,” I tell her. The last thing I want to do is make my mom feel bad. “I just…” I let my voice trail off. I can’t think of anything else to say. I’m not sure there’s much else to say.
Mom grabs my hand. “I know Rory leaving for school was hard on you.”
I shrug. Maybe it was. Maybe it wasn’t. How am I supposed to remember?
“That’s why we got you a puppy,” Mom goes on. “To help you with the change.”
That’s why I finally got a dog?
Not because I begged and pleaded and my parents finally gave in? But to replace my sister?
I glance down at Buttercup coiled into a ball on the floor and suddenly feel a wave of sadness wash over me. I never got to see her as a puppy. I saw some pictures on my phone but it’s not the same.
Mom must read the sorrow on my face because she begins to rub the top of my hand with her thumb. “But not everything changes,” she tells me. “Despite what it looks like, some things do stay the same.”
“Like what?”
“Like your dad and I will always love you.”
I roll my eyes. “I know that.”
“Trust me,” she says. “There are some things that will never change. You just have to look a little harder to find them.”
I nod. I’m not sure I believe her but, admittedly, I feel better.
Mom stands up. “Anyway. You should probably go downstairs and rescue Jacob before Dad starts talking about the history of earwax or something and bores the poor kid to death. It’s just so weird to see him here. I don’t think he’s been to the house since your twelfth birthday party.”
I lift my head in surprise. “Jacob was at that party?”
“Yeah,” Mom says. “Remember? But he was so sweet and brought you those cans of Grape Crush soda.”
My eyes go wide. “Did he shake those up, too?”
Mom clearly has no idea what I’m talking about. “Huh?”
“Never mind,” I mutter.
He must have brought them as an apology for the exploding one he gave me at school. He said at the dance yesterday that he felt really bad about that.
“I only did it because I had this huge crush on you.”
I feel my face get hot at the memory. I still can’t believe Jacob Tucker had a crush on me. He was always so annoying!
“Unless” Mom goes on. “Would you prefer not to see him? I can tell him to leave. Or who knows, maybe he wants to hear about the history of earwax. Maybe that’s why he came over in the first place.” She winks at me.
I let out a weak laugh. I remember when Dad used to make all of Rory’s boyfriends listen to his random ramblings. She was always so mortified.
Not that Jacob is my boyfriend or anything.
Obviously.
I’m about to tell my mom yes, I’d prefer not to see him. Because honestly, I’m not sure I want to see anyone right now. I just want to lie here and wallow in my misery. But the idea that Jacob Tucker was at my twelfth birthday party, the day after Grace and I had our big fight in the Hideaway—that he might know something about the collapse of our friendship—keeps niggling at me.
After all, I’ve been looking for someone who might have the answers. And he has been around the past four years.
Maybe he can help me solve this seemingly unsolvable puzzle.
I stand up and slide my feet back into my shoes. “Tell him I’ll be right down.”
Jacob suggests that we go get ice cream. It’s honestly the best idea I’ve heard in a long time. We walk to Happy Cones down the street and we both order a double scoop of mint chip. Jacob even pays for mine, which is kind of sweet.
We find a table outside. The weather is perfect. The sky is blue. The sun is shining. It’s not too hot or too cold. I barely even noticed it when I was out with Clementine earlier. It’s almost like she comes with her very own rain cloud.
As we eat our ice cream, I still can’t get over how different Jacob Tucker—J.T.—looks. He’s changed so much. I know I have too but it almost seems like he’s an entirely different person.
“When did you start going by J.T.?” I ask, praying it’s not one of those things that I should already know and he’s not going to give me that look that everyone’s been giving me for the past two days.
But he barely blinks at the question. “Freshman year. When I joined the swim team. The coach started calling me J.T., then the other guys on the team joined in, and within a few weeks, everyone was calling me that. Even my parents.” He licks at his top scoop. “What about you? When did you switch to Adeline?”
I think back to the Great Name Change Charter that I found this morning. It was dated the summer before I started high school. “Around the same time.”
He nods. “I guess high school is the start of new things for a lot of people.”
I bite my lip, pondering his words. They’re more right than he knows. “Yeah. I guess so.”
Jacob leans back in his chair. “This is nice.”
“I know,” I agree. “It’s such a b
He shakes his head. “No, I mean, you and me, hanging out. It’s nice.”
He smiles at me and I feel my cheeks warm.
“I was honestly surprised when you agreed to dance with me yesterday,” he admits.
“Why?”
He shrugs and takes another lick of his mint chip, avoiding my gaze. “I don’t know. It just seems like you and Clementine kind of…” His voice trails off and I wait anxiously for him to finish the sentence, but instead, he shrugs again and catches a runaway stream of mint chip that is dripping down his cone.
I’m instantly reminded of what he told me last night at the dance.
“You and Clementine have this little popular-duo thing going and I don’t fit into that.”
I feel a cramp in my stomach and suddenly my ice cream no longer looks as delicious as it did five minutes ago.
How many people have I managed to isolate since I started hanging out with Clementine Dumont?
“Jacob?” I ask, and quickly correct myself. “Sorry, I mean, J.T.”
He laughs. “It’s okay. You can call me Jacob. I kind of like it.”
“Okay, Jacob,” I repeat with a grin. “How much do you remember from my twelfth birthday party?”
He looks surprised by my change of topic. I agree it kind of came out of nowhere. “Wow,” he says. “That was a long time ago.” Then he thinks about it for a moment. “That was the party where you and Grace had that huge fight, wasn’t it?”
My whole body goes numb. All I can feel is the cold stickiness of my mint-chip ice cream melting down my hand. Jacob reaches out to wipe it away with his napkin.
“Are you okay?” he asks. “You went kind of zombie eyes there for a moment.”
“We had a fight?”
Another fight?
After the one we had in the Hideaway?
He laughs. “I can’t believe you don’t remember. It was pretty epic.”
I shake my head dazedly. “I…I must have spaced it. What was it about?”
He laughs. “No clue. I just remember you two were screaming at each other. About all kinds of things and then she started crying. It was pretty dramatic. Grace stormed off and then the party just kind of fizzled out.” He’s staring at me now with an almost inquisitive expression. “You really don’t remember this?”
I let out a long sigh. I really don’t. I wish I did. I wish I had all the answers. I wish I could finish this massive puzzle that only seems to get more confusing with each piece that I find.
But obviously, I don’t say any of that. I just shrug and say, “I guess I blocked it out.”
Jacob nods like he understands and points toward my melting cone. “So, am I redeemed? Did I successfully make amends for the seventh grade yet?”
I laugh weakly. “Getting there. Although I still have no idea why I would invite you to my birthday party after you gave me a can of exploding soda.”
Jacob takes a bite of his cone. “I’m pretty sure your mom invited me. You know, because of the whole neighbor thing. You ignored me the whole time.”
I laugh. It feels good. “That sounds more like it.”
My barely touched ice cream has pretty much melted in my hand. I toss it into a nearby trash can and proceed to lick mint-chip goo off each of my fingers one by one.
Jacob watches me closely before cracking up.
“What?” I ask, pausing with my pinky in my mouth.
He shakes his head. “Nothing. You’re just…always surprising me, Addie.” He stops, correcting himself. “Sorry, I mean Adeline.”
I smile, echoing his words from earlier. “It’s okay. You can call me Addie. I kind of like it.”
The next morning, I decide to go straight to the source. Enough is enough. I get dressed and walk the five blocks to Grace’s house. I know the journey well. I’ve only walked it a thousand times before.
Unfortunately, I have to pass by Clementine’s house (and my abandoned car) to get there and I’m really worried she’s going to see me and come running out to yell at me. I already texted her this morning to tell her I wasn’t feeling well and ask if we could film our vlog Monday night instead.
She did not seem happy when she texted me back. All I got was that stupid octopus emoji, which I know, from when she texted Annabelle on Friday, is not a good sign. But I don’t really feel like dealing with her or her octopuses right now. I have too many other things on my mind.
I duck my head and hurry past Clementine’s driveway, holding my breath the whole time. Thankfully, her front door remains closed.
When I get to Grace’s house, I’ve managed to completely psych myself up. This is it. No more dodging the question. No more running away. I will make her talk to me. I will make her believe me. I will make her tell me everything that happened.
And I will not leave until she does.
I jab my finger against the doorbell with persistence. I keep ringing and ringing until the door finally opens.
But it’s not Grace standing there. To my surprise, it’s her little sister, Lily. Except she’s not little anymore. Last time I saw her she was a tiny eight-year-old with pigtail braids and glasses. Now she’s tall and willowy and obviously wears contacts. I quickly do the math and almost gasp when I realize she’s now twelve. The same age as me! Or, as I was, up until three days ago.
“Addie?” she says, squinting at me like she doesn’t recognize me. “What are you doing here?”
Her question is like a punch in the stomach. It confirms all the dreadful things I’ve learned over the past few days. That Grace and I aren’t friends. That we barely speak. And that I obviously don’t come around here anymore.
“I’m looking for Grace,” I say, standing up straight and tall. I need to project an air of confidence. I am someone who will not accept the word no. I’ve come here for answers and I will not leave until I get them.
“She’s not here.”
My whole body sags in disappointment. “Oh,” I mutter, turning to leave. “Okay.”
But just before the door closes behind me, I’m struck with an idea and quickly spin back around. “Lily?”
She opens the door again. “Yeah?”
“What are you doing right now?”
She looks completely astonished. “Me?”
I nod. “Yeah, you.”
She glances around her, as though the answer were written on one of the walls of her house. “Um, nothing. Just watching some TV.”
I bite my lip. “Do you wanna, I don’t know, hang out?”
She stares at me openmouthed and speechless for a long moment. “You want to hang out with me?”
“Yeah,” I confirm. “I want to hang out with you. How about we go get lattes at the Human Bean?”
Her eyes nearly pop out of her head and I have to laugh. I know exactly how she feels. It wasn’t that long ago that I was her age. I remember I used to beg Rory to take me to the Human Bean to hang out with all her cool friends, but she always said no. And every time I’d pass by the coffee shop, I’d stare longingly into the window, counting the days until I was one of those cool people, sitting in a booth, sipping yummy coffee drinks, and gossiping about whatever cool people gossip about.
“The Human Bean?” she repeats, clearly in denial. “You want to go to the Human Bean with me?”
I nod. “It’s been a long time since we hung out. I want to catch up.”
She stands in the doorway for a few more stunned seconds until finally turning and bolting into the house, returning at lightning speed with shoes on her feet and a small purse hanging from her shoulder. She closes the door behind her. “Okay,” she says, completely out of breath. “I’m ready.”
I giggle, feeling a small twinge of longing for the days when something as simple as going to a coffee shop with a sixteen-year-old would have been the most exciting thing to happen to me in months.
The Human Bean is packed with people. It’s actually my first time in here but I’m too busy watching Lily’s reac
“You are like the most popular person on earth!” Lily whispers as we wait in line to place our orders.
I laugh. “Not really.”
She nods vehemently. “Yes, you are. No one even knows who Grace is at school. I mean, besides her band friends.”
We reach the front of the line and I order a latte. Not because I like lattes. I don’t even know what a latte tastes like. I’ve never had one before. But that’s what Rory used to drink whenever she’d come here with Boyfriend of the Week. And the only reason I know that is because I’d often find empty to-go cups in her car with her name written on the side underneath the words nonfat latte.
“Nonfat,” I add quickly.
“Me too,” Lily orders, beaming at me. “This is so exciting!”
I beam back. “I know, right?”
She gives me a strange look. “Don’t you come in here like every day?”
I try to play it off. “Well, you know, not every day.”
The barista returns with our drinks and we take them to an empty table by the window. Lily watches me, waiting for me to take the first sip, probably so she can copy me. The problem is I don’t know what I’m doing either. I need someone to copy. I don’t know how to drink a latte. Do you just drink it? Do you blow on it first? Do you swirl it around in the cup?
But I have to act cool. I have to set an example. I can’t let Lily know that I’m just as clueless as she is.
I smile at her and bring the lidded paper cup to my lips. I really hope it doesn’t taste too much like coffee. I hate the taste of coffee. I tried my dad’s coffee once and I gagged and had to spit it out in the sink. It was so bitter.
I take a tentative sip.
And immediately spit it out all over the table.
Oh, gosh, it’s horrible!
It tastes just like coffee! Maybe even worse than coffee.
Lily flinches, backing away from my projectile latte and looking at me like I’m a total fraud. Which, of course, I am.