The Blossoming Universe of Violet Diamond (3 page)

A
t the pet store, the lady told us it was a girl cat and I decided on the name Hazel because of her eyes.

“It's a cute name,” Daisy agreed.

Unfortunately, because I bought a cartload of stuff, I was a few dollars short at the checkout counter.

“You should put back the rhinestone collar,” Daisy said.

“Please,” I begged, grinning. “After all, I am your favorite sister.”

“Vous êtes ma seule soeur,”
Daisy replied as she dug out the extra money I needed and handed it to the cashier.

“In English, please,” I replied.

“You're my only sister,” Daisy translated.

“She's your sister?” the woman asked Daisy.

“Obviously,” Daisy replied.

The woman glanced from me to Daisy and then back at me, doing that thing I hate—like she was trying to figure out the answer to a riddle.

Inside, I felt like a miniature volcano that needed to erupt.

You're an imbecile, an ignoramus, a moron!

Leave the stuff on the counter.

Grab Daisy's hand and leave.

But I didn't cause a scene in the store. Instead, like I do when I'm really mad at someone, I glared at the lady, took a deep breath, breathed out through my nose, and imagined fire shooting out like a dragon.

Outside, Daisy took the change the cashier had given her and dropped it in my hand. “You owe me.”

I threw the bag of stuff in the car, slammed the door, cuddled Hazel, and frowned.

“Please take that poor-Violet-feeling-sorry-for-herself look off your face,” Daisy told me.

“What?”

“The look you always get when someone looks at us weird or asks a ridiculous question like that cashier did.”

So, Daisy does notice . . .

“I don't like it when that happens . . . and it makes me mad,” I said.

“Welcome to Earth. Some people are stupid. She's one of them. You have to get over it.”

I erupted on Daisy. “Get over it? You don't understand! You're not me!”

“And you're not me!” she snapped back.

“You're right! I'm not the breathtaking queen of the world!”

Everything went hush and time froze.

But when we pulled into the driveway, Daisy sighed, said, “Sorry, V,” and reached for my hand.

I jerked away. “Too late,” I grumbled. “Way too late,” I whispered, and was climbing out of the car when Daisy tugged on my jacket and sat me back down.

Softly, she said, “For the record, I don't like it when people do that, either, but that's their problem. This is not about them, it's about us. Try not to let it upset you. You're my li'l sis and I love you, and no brainless zombie creature can change that. Chill.”

Li'l sis. I like it when she calls me that. I took a very deep breath and sighed. “Love you, too,” I told her.

• • •

Later that night, when Mom came into my room, I put aside the book I was reading and we both admired Hazel for a very long time, but I was still upset about the lady in the pet store and it must have shown. Mom cupped my face in her hand and gazed into my eyes. Like the warm sun, so much love shone from her. “Is everything okay, Violet?”

Mom is good at lots of things, especially worrying about me.

Part of me wanted to tell her about some of the stuff I felt inside—that sometimes I had a strange loneliness and that I got tired of idiotic questions and how I hated being the only black kid in class this past year and how I wished there were more African American people in Moon Lake so I wouldn't always stand out so much and how I already missed Athena—but the other part of me decided to keep quiet.
After all,
I thought as I glanced around my pretty purple room with the four-poster bed, flat-screen TV, and computer,
we live in a very nice house and I have more cool stuff than any girl could want.

“Yes,” I replied, “everything is okay.”

“Okay, but if you need to talk—”

I interrupted, “I know . . . you have ears.” It's one of her sayings.

She kissed the top of my head and was about to leave when I asked her, “Where do dreams come from?”

“Sometimes a secret wish or the inner mind's way of working out something from the subconscious,” she replied.

“Deeper than our real thoughts?”

“Yes. Are you having bad dreams, V?” Mom asked.

“No, but I had a very cool one.” The look she gave me told me she wanted me to keep on talking, so I did. “We were on vacation . . . me, you, Daisy . . .” I hesitated. “And my dad. In the dream, he hugged me. We were a real family. So I suppose my inner mind knows my wishes.”

“A real family?” she asked.

“With a dad and a mom. Like Yaz and Athena have.”

“Real families come in many shapes, Violet, you know that.”

“I know. I just wish he didn't die.”

Mom's face turned sad. “I wish that, too, Violet.”

“But it wasn't a sad dream. It was the best dream I ever had. I even wrote it down in my word and wish journal under a new section.”

“It's important for you to understand that some wishes can't come true, Violet, no matter what,” she told me.

“I know.”

“And others can. Like Hazel,” she said as she stroked the kitten. “And sometimes, a wish combined with hard work can make it a reality. Like when I was a girl, I wished I could be a doctor, but then I worked hard to make that wish come true. You understand?”

“I really do.”

“I'm glad. Love you. Good night,” she said. But before she closed my door, she added, “I have the two best daughters in the world . . . wouldn't change either of you for anything. Don't stay up too late.”

“I won't,” I promised.

I showered, climbed into bed, and snuggled Hazel. “I finally got a wish,” I said to the sky.

T
he day I found Hazel was the day I began to believe that some wishes can come true.

Now, I still make wishes, but only for things that I figure are possible, because I don't ever want to go back to thinking that wishing is a waste of time. But like Mom says, sometimes you have to work to make your wishes come true.

Like wishing I could do a perfect Axel at the ice skating rink, and I practiced over and over again until finally one day I did.

“Now try a double,” my friend Yaz encouraged me.

Yaz has light brown skin, braided hair, and six freckles on each cheek. I know because I counted them. Yaz is constantly giving me skin and hair care advice. Stuff my mom spent a lot of online time trying to help me with, but until I told her about Yaz's recommendations, I hadn't been successful. Now, thanks to Yaz, instead of tangles and frizz, my curls are soft and bouncy and my skin is never ashy.

We really don't look alike, but because we're both black, when people see us together, they assume we're sisters. But by now, just like no one thinking Daisy is my sister, I'm used to most people thinking Yaz is. And sometimes when I'm with her and her mom, dad, brother, and sister, people think I belong to them. I would never tell anyone, but I have to admit, sometimes that feels nice.

Yaz plans to be the first African American female to get an ice skating gold medal at the Olympics, and ice skating is her world. For me, ice skating is fun—a small piece of my pie-of-life. Plus, I like to be warm and cozy a little too much to hang out at the rink every day.

“I can't do a double.”

“Watch me, it's easy,” she said.

My eyes followed Yaz as she glided on the ice, vaulted over the toe pick of her left skate, and stepped up into the jump with her right leg. Once Yaz starts, she's unstoppable. She uncrossed her legs on the perfect landing, grinned, and skated toward me.

“You can do it, V, just try once.”

“I'm proud of the single Axel,” I told her. Plus, falling on the ice hurts and I wasn't in the mood.

“Just try,” she repeated.

“No can do!” I replied, and floated off to do something I am extremely good at instead, figure eights.

“Boring!” Yaz called out.

There's more to life than ice skating,
I thought, and wished again that Athena was around. When Athena comes to the rink with us, it's so much better. Even Yaz relaxes and has more fun—the three of us just having a good time gliding around and around on the ice, making a few spins, racing to see who's the fastest, joking, laughing, getting pizza at the snack bar. Athena + anything
usually always
= better fun.

Yaz sped toward me on the ice and skidded to a stop. “You can do a double Axel. I just know it. At least try. Don't be a quitter, Violet,” she badgered. It was worse than being nagged at home to help with the dishes or clean my room.

I made a silent wish.
Please send Athena back. Please.

T
hree days of the first week of summer vacation had been spent at the rink, taking a class. I was never going to win any awards, but like Mom and Yaz finally convinced me, there is always room for improvement. The other days I helped Gam with her vegetable garden, and one day a week was set aside to spend with Poppy learning golf, which is much harder than it looks. Even my favorite thing, putting, takes what Poppy calls great skill.

The following Saturday morning, the doorbell rang. Mom had already left for the hospital, Gam and Poppy were sleeping in late in the spare bedroom where they stay on the nights Mom is on call, and Daisy was in the shower. I put my eye to the peephole and couldn't believe my eyes.

Athena was back!

I screamed and threw open the door at the same time. “You're back!”

We hugged and jumped up and down. “This wishing stuff is really working,” I told her.

“Wishing stuff?” Athena asked.

“I wished that you would come back,” I explained. “And you did.”

“Wishing had nothing to do with it, V,” Athena replied, and went on to tell me that she'd come back early because her mother had given birth to her baby brother more than a month ahead of time and her grandma wanted to be with her mom.

Because of the kind of doctor my mom is, a worry signal went off inside me. I didn't want to start jumping for joy about Athena being back if there was a problem with her new brother. “Is the baby okay?” I asked.

“Healthy and cute,” Athena said.

“What's his name?” I asked.

“Diogenes, after some Greek philosopher.” Athena's parents are into ancient Greek stuff. “But everyone is calling him Dio. I wanted to name him a normal name like Evan or Blake.”

“But Dio sounds kinda cool,” I told her.

“Yeah, if you're in Greece.”

“You're really back! This is too awesome!” I yelled. And as I dragged her to my cave, I informed her, “I have a new family member, too.” I scooped up my kitten. “Introducing Hazel. Do you like the name?”

“I do. Plus she's so adorable,” Athena gushed. “I want a kitty.”

“Just wish for one, like I did,” I told her. “I wish for stuff every night before I go to sleep.”

“You mean pray, right?”

“To God?” I asked.

“Of course, genius, who else?”

Unlike my family, Athena's goes to church every Sunday and prays at mealtime. At my house, Mom mentions God sometimes and Daisy told me that when she was little, my mom and dad used to take her to church every Sunday. But after my dad died, Mom stopped going.

Athena changed the subject. “Did you notice my hair is lighter?” She flipped her hair with her hand.

It was, but only a few smidgens. I like the word
smidgen.
“It's pretty.”

“My cousin in Athens did it for me. She put color on it to make it look sun-kissed. Does it look sun-kissed?”

I nodded.

Maybe if my hair were lighter, people would stop asking stupid questions. Maybe I'd look a little like Daisy and Mom. Maybe I'd be breathtaking.

“Could you color mine—make it sun-kissed?”

Athena stood behind me and fingered my curls.

“Okay,” she agreed. “It'll look awesome. Trust me.”

• • •

The drugstore had so many kinds of hair dye, it was almost impossible to choose. I started getting a little nervous and wished Yaz were here to help. Finally, we decided on a color.

“This for your mother?” the checkout lady asked us.

Athena lied, “Yes,” and handed her the money.

When we got back to my house, I made a silent wish that Poppy was off doing his favorite thing, playing golf, but he was doing his second-favorite thing, cooking. “Where've you been, V?”

I clutched the bag with the hair color tightly. “At the drugstore . . . Gam said I could go.”

Poppy eyed the bag. “Whatcha got?”

Usually it takes me a while to dream up a lie, but this one just came right out. “Kitty stuff.”

“Oh,” he said, and went back to cooking. “Have a seat, little ladies. You're just in time for lunch. I made my famous shrimp quesadillas.”

It smelled so good, we had to say yes. Hair coloring would have to wait.

When we were done, we helped with the dishes and were heading to my room when Poppy called out. He held up the bag from the drugstore. “Hey, V. You forgot your
kitty
stuff.” Something in the way he said it made me think he didn't buy the lie.

And he was opening it up to peek inside when I took it from his hand. “Thanks, Poppy,” I said, smiling sweetly.

Athena laughed.

We cuddled Hazel and read the directions.

“We need something to mix the dye in,” Athena said.

That meant venturing back into the kitchen. I tiptoed down the hall. Lucky for me, Poppy was now in the family room, practicing on his indoor putting green and watching golf on TV.

I retrieved a bowl and small wooden spoon from the kitchen.

“It says if your hair is dark, you have to leave it on a little longer.”

“Okay.”

Athena parted my hair into four sections and said, “You sure have a lot of hair.”

“For real, huh?”

“And it's so pretty and curly.”

“Duh.”

“Maybe I should call you Curly,” Athena joked.

“Not.”

Before long, my hair was covered with dye. We put on the plastic cap, and while we waited we played video games and yakked.

“Was Greece really pretty?” I asked.

“As pretty as Hawaii,” Athena claimed. “But my grandparents' house is way up on the side of a hill, so there were a gazillion steps.”

“What did you do there?”

“We walked around some ancient ruins,” she answered.

“And what else?”

“I met a very awesome boy.”

“For real?” This was getting interesting.

“But he's my first cousin.”

“Oh,” I replied disappointedly.

“But I met another cute boy, too.”

“And?”

Athena cackled. “Also my first cousin.”

“You are so lying,” I told her.

“Am not,” Athena declared.

I doubled over and belly laughed.

We looked at photos she had taken in Greece on the computer, including those of her two very cute boy cousins, and made a pinkie-finger pact to beg her parents and my mom to let me go with her next time she went.

After a while, I asked Athena, “It seems like it's been a long time, doesn't it?”

Athena glanced at her watch. “Oh no,” she blurted, yanked my arm, and led me to the sink. She rinsed out the dye, washed my hair, and said, “Hmm . . .”

“That doesn't sound good,” I told her.

“It's . . . different than I thought it would be.”

I sprang up and stared at myself in the mirror. “No! My hair! What happened to just sun-kissed?”

“Maybe we left it on too long,” Athena said nervously, “but I kinda like it. It's sort of copper colored.”

“I don't want copper hair!” I told Athena.

Athena tried hard to calm me down. “After we blow it dry and flat iron it, it should look cool.”

My mom's going to murder me!

A knock on my bedroom door. “Violet?” It was Gam. Gam didn't believe in closed doors unless you were a teenager. She turned the knob and cracked the door. “Violet?” she repeated.

In a flash, I shut the door to my bathroom, quickly wrapped a towel turban style around my head, and frantically hid the hair stuff in the vanity. “We're in the bathroom. Athena is doing my hair,” I hollered out.

“What's that smell?” Gam asked as she gently pushed the bathroom door open. “Hi, Athena,” Gam added, sniffing the room.

“It's a new hair product . . . from Greece,” Athena said.

“Or maybe the kitty litter,” I added.

Gam glanced at Hazel, who was resting comfortably on the bed, and sniffed again. “Maybe that's it.”

“Athena is going to flat iron it straight.” I scooted past Gam and headed to Daisy's room for the blow dryer and flat iron.

Gam protested, “But your curls are beautiful. I always wished I had curly hair.”

Athena chimed in again, “My mom claims we always want what we don't have.”

“Maybe she's right, but open the window for some fresh air,” Gam said as she left.

Athena turned me away from the mirror while she blew my hair dry and flat ironed it pin straight. “Wow, I never noticed it before . . . you really look like Daisy,” Athena proclaimed.

Finally, someone noticed the family resemblance! About that, I felt happy. I only hoped my hair wasn't ruined.

Athena painted my lips with her pink lip gloss and turned me around to the mirror.

Now that my hair was dry, it was orange. I felt like crying.

And that's when my mom, Justine Diamond, M.D., knocked on my door. “I got off early, V. Want to go to the movies?”

I'm dead.

I hid in the closet.

“Hi, Justine,” Athena said.

“Oh! Hi, Athena. I thought you were in Greece.”

“No, I came back early because my mom had the baby and his name is Dio and he's really cute and plus my grandma is here, too, so you should come over and see them when you get a chance.”

“I'll do that,” Mom told her. “Where's Violet?”

“In the closet.”

I sank to the floor, closed my eyes tightly, and silently wished that this wasn't happening. But when I opened my eyes and looked at a section of my hair, which was still orange, I knew this wish had not been granted.