#7 A Twist of Fate Read online

  © 2016 by Laurie Friedman

  All rights reserved. International copyright secured. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise—without the prior written permission of Lerner Publishing Group, Inc., except for the inclusion of brief quotations in an acknowledged review.

  Darby Creek

  A division of Lerner Publishing Group, Inc.

  241 First Avenue North

  Minneapolis, MN 55401 USA

  For reading levels and more information, look up this title at www.lernerbooks.com.

  Main body text set in Janson Text LT Std 12/17.

  Typeface provided by Linotype AG.

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Names: Friedman, Laurie B., 1964- author.

  Title: A twist of fate / by Laurie Friedman.

  Description: Minneapolis : Darby Creek, [2017] | Series: The mostly miserable life of April Sinclair ; #7 | Summary: “When fourteen-year-old April’s grandma reveals she has cancer, the family decides to spend some quality time together on a ski trip. Matching ski outfits and a week together in Utah should be stress-free family time... right?”— Provided by publisher.

  Identifiers: LCCN 2015044788 (print) | LCCN 2016021808 (ebook) | ISBN 9781467785907 (th : alk. paper) | ISBN 9781512408997 (eb pdf)

  Subjects: | CYAC: Family life—Fiction. | Grandmothers—Fiction. | Skis and skiing—Fiction. | Diaries—Fiction.

  Classification: LCC PZ7.F89773 Tw 2017 (print) | LCC PZ7.F89773 (ebook) | DDC [Fic]—dc23

  LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2015044788

  Manufactured in the United States of America

  1-37943-19401-3/7/2016

  9781512419351 ePub

  9781512419368 ePub

  9781512419375 mobi

  For Tillie,

  Thanks for being one of April’s best fans!

  Love, Aunt Laurie

  I’d rather regret the things I’ve done than the things I haven’t done.

  —Lucille Ball

  Saturday, February 28, 10:02 p.m.

  I know how the saying goes—you can’t believe everything you read. But does that apply to fortune-cookie fortunes?

  Tonight, Mom, Dad, May, June, and I went to Happy China for dinner, which in many ways made me extremely happy: (a) I love Chinese food, (b) Happy China has the best Chinese food in Faraway, Alabama, and (c) Dad let me order for everyone. Ever since he opened the Love Doctor Diner, he’s been the one who orders for us when we go out. He says he likes to pick what we get because he wants to try things that might inspire him to create new dishes at his restaurant. I say he likes to order so we get what he likes to eat.

  Either way, I was surprised tonight when he said I could do it.

  “We’ll have the spring rolls, garlic shrimp, chicken in black bean sauce, and beef lo mein, please,” I said to the server when she came to take our order.

  “Excellent choices,” Dad said.

  When the food came, it was clear he wasn’t the only one who liked my order. My family ate every bit of food on the table.

  After we’d finished, the waitress brought a plate of fortune cookies. Everyone leaned in and took one. It’s a Sinclair family tradition to go around the table and read our fortunes.

  “Me first,” said May. We all waited as she peeled the plastic wrapper from her cookie. “Romance is in your future.” May frowned when she was done reading. “That’s ridiculous,” she said. “I don’t like one boy at my school.”

  I poked her in the ribs. “C’mon,” I said. “You’re telling me there’s not one boy at Faraway Middle that you like just a little bit?”

  June rolled her eyes at May and me like we were both missing the point. “Read it carefully. ‘In your future’ could mean a long time from now, like when you’re a grown-up.”

  “That’s true,” Mom said. “Also, romance doesn’t only apply to relationships with other people. It could mean that you find something you have a passion for. Like a new sport.”

  May, June, and I all looked at Dad like we were waiting for him to give his opinion on Mom’s loose definition of romance. Before he opened the Love Doctor Diner, he wrote a relationship column for the Faraway newspaper. But Dad just opened his cookie and read his fortune.

  “You will enjoy travels and adventures soon to come.” Dad laughed when he was done reading. “The only place I’ll be going anytime soon is to the diner and back home again.”

  Mom read her fortune next. “Your love of the arts is one of your great gifts.”

  “That’s true,” I said, and everyone nodded.

  Mom opened Flora’s Fashions, a boutique of her clothing designs, in the fall. She’s sold lots of clothes, not only to shoppers in Faraway but also to a big department store in Atlanta. I know she looks to the arts for inspiration.

  “June, what does yours say?” asked Mom.

  “Shoot for the moon. You are a star.” June smiled when she was done reading. She’s the top student in her grade at Faraway Elementary and an indisputable star.

  “April, your turn,” said Dad.

  I unwrapped my cookie. “There is much rain before a rainbow.” I frowned. “What kind of fortune is that?” I asked. “Is it saying I have a stormy future?”

  Dad shook his head. “I take it to mean that a rainbow is on the horizon for you.”

  I reread my fortune. “But you can’t have a rainbow before you have rain,” I said.

  “You can’t believe everything you read in a cookie,” said Mom.

  Maybe Mom was right. Who knows who makes up the sayings that go in all those cookies? And really, I could have just as easily picked one cookie over another. So what’s the point of getting worked up over some dumb fortune?

  The answer: There is no point.

  Is there?

  Sunday, March 1, 9:12 p.m.

  There may be more to fortunes than I thought.

  Tonight, my whole family went to Gaga and Willy’s house for dinner. Nothing seemed unusual. It was just Sunday night dinner with my aunts, uncles, cousins, and Sophie and her mom, Emma.

  But in retrospect, there were signs something was wrong. For starters, Gaga got dinner from Lester’s, which happens to serve the best barbecue in Faraway. But usually whenever Gaga invites her family to dinner, she cooks it herself.

  And when we got there, dinner was already on the buffet. Gaga always waits for my mom and her sisters to help put the food out. For as long as I can remember eating at her house, the routine has been that they set everything up while the dads and kids hang out in the den, joking around and trying to guess how long Gaga has had the same mints in her candy dish.

  But tonight, Gaga said she wanted to eat as soon as we’d all arrived. I guess in my head, and probably everyone else’s too, dinner from Lester’s was hot and ready, so we went ahead and ate it. But I definitely should have seen it as a sign. When everyone finished eating, Gaga stood up and tapped her spoon on her glass of iced tea. “May I have your attention please?”

  My cousin Harry, who was sitting next to me, poked me in the ribs. I tried not to laugh. We’re all used to Gaga making speeches about the meaning of life or unexpected announcements, which over the past few years have ranged from slightly entertaining to downright weird. I’m taking up jogging. My friends and I are forming the Happiness Movement. Willy and I are getting married. You never know what she might say.

  Gaga waited until everyone was quiet. “I’ve always been honest and open with my family,” said Gaga.

  Uncle Drew gave Uncle Dusty a here-she-goes-again look. Gaga’s meaning-of-life speeches can get pretty long-winded.

&nb
sp; Gaga paused and looked at Willy, who reached over and squeezed her hand. “What I’m about to share with you isn’t easy for me.”

  “Mom, what is it?” asked Aunt Lilly, sounding concerned.

  Gaga cleared her throat and gave us all an uncharacteristically weak smile. “I have cancer.”

  Harry and I looked at each other, openmouthed. I have a very talkative family, but everyone sat there in complete silence, too shocked to know what to say.

  Aunt Lila was the first to speak. “Are you sure?” she asked.

  Gaga nodded. “I’m sure.” Her voice was patient and steady, even though I was certain she thought the question was as dumb as I did. Why would she announce to her whole family that she has cancer unless she does?

  Then questions erupted around the table. What kind of cancer do you have? Which doctor have you been to? Have you gotten a second opinion? What kind of treatment is necessary? How long have you known? Everyone was talking at once, asking Gaga questions. The room felt too loud and too warm.

  Gaga tapped her spoon on her glass again and motioned for us all to settle down. “The cancer has spread throughout my body,” she said.

  Izzy raised her hand like we were in school. “What’s cancer?” she asked.

  Aunt Lila wrapped an arm around each of her six-year-old twins. “Mom, I don’t think this is an appropriate conversation to be having in front of the girls.”

  Gaga ignored Aunt Lila and focused on Izzy. “Cancer is a sickness in your body. My cancer is in many parts of my body, which means my body is very sick.”

  “Do you need aspirin?” asked Charlotte.

  Gaga smiled at Charlotte. “No, sweetie, I don’t need an aspirin right now, but I’ll let you know if I do.” She looked at the rest of the family. “I know you have lots of questions,” she said, like she was talking to a slew of reporters. “But this is not a complicated matter. I have cancer. At this advanced stage and at my age, surgery is not an option. I could get chemotherapy and radiation, but I’m not going to do that.”

  “Mom!” said Aunt Lilly. “You have to get treatment. You can’t give up—”

  I think the word she was going to use was hope. But Gaga held up her hand stop sign–style. She had more to say.

  “The side effects of aggressive treatment just aren’t worth the risk. Headaches. Muscle aches. Stomachaches. I’m sure there are a bunch more aches I don’t even know about.” Gaga paused and then continued listing symptoms. “Fatigue. Nausea. Vomiting. Diarrhea. Hair loss. Dry, itchy, blistery, peeling skin. Do you want me to keep going?”

  “No,” said Amanda. “We get the picture. I wouldn’t want those things either.”

  Aunt Lilly shot her daughter a look like she shouldn’t have said what she did.

  I got up and got a tissue. I brought the box back with me and set it down on the table. Sophie, Emma, and Mom took one. Everyone looked upset. The idea that Gaga was so sick was awful, but what she was describing didn’t sound good either. It was like someone had given her two bad choices and told her to pick one.

  “I hope you all understand that I don’t want to lie around, sick and uncomfortable, in a hospital bed with a bunch of needles stuck in me,” said Gaga.

  “Mom!” said Aunt Lila. “The kids don’t need to hear any more.”

  But that didn’t stop Gaga. “I’m eighty years old. I want to spend the little time I have left doing things I’ve always wanted to do. Haven’t you ever heard of a bucket list?”

  “I have,” said June.

  “Me too,” said May.

  Gaga smiled at my younger sisters. “Good,” she said. “Then you’ll understand what I’m about to say. Going skiing with my family is at the top of my bucket list. I’ve always wanted to learn to ski, and it’s high time I got around to it.”

  She paused. “Willy and I have rented a large condo in Park City, Utah, for the week of spring break. We want all of you to come skiing with us. There’s plenty of room, and we’ll take care of everything—transportation, gear, ski school. All the arrangements will be made. All you have to do is say yes.”

  I saw my uncles smile at each other. Cancer or not, Gaga was still being Gaga, and I think they were both relieved to see it.

  “Mom, do you really think this is a good idea?” asked Aunt Lilly.

  “I think it’s a great idea,” said Gaga.

  “What about the altitude? Is it even safe to travel in your condition?”

  “A change of scenery does a body good,” said Gaga. It wasn’t an answer to Aunt Lilly’s questions, but it was a very Gaga thing to say. She put a hand on Willy’s shoulder. He stood up, wrapped an arm around Gaga, and gave her a quick peck on the cheek. Harry and I always joke that their public displays of affection are kind of nauseating, but neither of us said a word.

  Gaga cleared her throat. “Willy and I are going skiing with or without you,” she said. I honestly thought she was going to ask for a show of hands to see who was in, but she didn’t. All she said was that she understood it was a lot to take in and that we should get back to her and let her know if we’re planning to go.

  Then she picked up a stack of plates and carried them into the kitchen. It was her way of saying we were dismissed.

  When we got in the car to go home, everyone was very quiet.

  June finally broke the silence. “Dad’s fortune last night at the restaurant said he would travel soon. It’s coming true,” she said.

  “No one has made any decisions about the trip yet,” Mom said.

  “Is Gaga going to die?” asked May.

  “Everyone dies,” said June.

  Mom got teary-eyed. Dad reached over and squeezed her shoulder. “Flora, it’s going to be OK,” he said.

  Dad is usually pretty good about saying stuff that makes a person feel better, but I thought what he’d said was lame. How was that supposed to make Mom feel better?

  Gaga is the backbone of our family. She’s what holds it all up. As we drove the short distance home, I kept asking myself one question.

  When something happens to Gaga, how’s it going to be OK?

  10:02 p.m.

  Sophie called

  Sophie just called, and I got the after-report. “After you all left, it was bad,” she said. “Gaga started crying.”

  Since Sophie’s parents split at the end of the summer, Sophie and her mom moved to Faraway to live with Sophie’s grandpa, Willy, and Gaga. That makes Sophie my best source for inside information.

  “Do you think she was crying because she doesn’t feel well?” I asked.

  “Do you mean physically well?” asked Sophie.

  “I guess.” I wasn’t really sure what I meant.

  “I think it upset her to tell her family,” said Sophie. “And it upset my grandpa to see her upset. I heard him tell my mom he’s not ready to lose her.”

  I don’t blame him. They’ve only been married a little over a year. “It’s unfair,” I said to Sophie.

  “It is,” she said. Then she paused like she was thinking. “Maybe it’s fate. You know, maybe they met later in life so they’d have someone to spend their last few years with.”

  “Yeah,” I said. “Maybe.” But as I hung up the phone, I wasn’t so sure.

  I’ve always thought of fate in a fairy-tale sort of way. The beautiful princess meets the handsome prince. They fight off an evil witch or a pack of bad guys and live happily ever after.

  I guess when you get married at eighty, you know your happily ever after is limited. Still, that’s pretty different from knowing it’s right around the corner.

  10:54 p.m.

  Just called Leo

  After I talked to Sophie, part of me didn’t want any other friends to know about Gaga being sick. I felt like it would make it more real if other people knew. But a bigger part of me needed to talk about it, so I called Leo.

  He’s still my go-to person, even though he’s off in college, at age sixteen. Especially lately, since Brynn and I aren’t friends anymore, and Bill
y and Sophie started going out. I figured Leo would know what to say. No matter what the topic, he always has some insightful bit to add. But when I finished telling him what I found out at dinner, Leo was uncharacteristically quiet.

  “That sucks,” he finally said.

  What else is there to say?

  Nothing is creepier than a bunch of adults being very quiet.

  —Tina Fey

  Monday, March 2, 9:17 p.m.

  In my room, thinking about what I heard

  And what I didn’t

  When I got home from dance practice, Aunt Lilly, Aunt Lila, and my mom were at the kitchen table. Mom had her laptop open, and there were papers, pens, and coffee cups everywhere. I imagine it’s what a presidential campaign strategy session might look like, but given what Gaga told us last night, I was pretty sure Mom and her sisters weren’t discussing politics.

  “April, there’s pizza,” Mom said, motioning to the box on the counter. “Take a slice and you can eat dinner in the family room with May and June.”

  I knew that meant she wanted me to take my pizza and go because they were discussing something she didn’t want me to hear. But in my opinion, a kitchen in a house full of people is no place to carry on a private conversation. Plus, I was curious about what they were saying.

  I put a slice of mushroom pizza on a plate and then filled a mug with water and put it in the microwave. As the sound from the microwave filled the room, everyone at the table looked at me like they wanted an explanation as to why I was still there.

  “I’m making tea,” I said.

  “Tea with pizza?” Aunt Lilly asked, like that was an unheard-of combination.

  “I like tea with pizza.” I turned around to face the microwave. As I watched the clock counting down the time, I hoped they’d forget I was there and keep talking. It seemed to work.

  “We have to intervene,” said Aunt Lilly. “We’ll just tell Mom we’re taking her to the medical center in Birmingham for a second opinion. I already have a list of doctors we can call.” I heard the shuffling of papers.