Save the date
Record details
- ISBN: 9781534438309
- ISBN: 1534438300
- ISBN: 9781481404570
- ISBN: 1481404571
- ISBN: 9781534404243
- ISBN: 1534404244
-
Physical Description:
print
viii, 417 pages : illustrations ; 22 cm - Edition: First edition.
- Publisher: New York : Simon & Schuster BFYR, [2018]
- Copyright: ©2018
Content descriptions
Target Audience Note: | Ages 12 up. 900L Lexile |
Study Program Information Note: | Accelerated Reader AR MG 5.9 20.0 197253. |
Search for related items by subject
Subject: | Weddings Fiction Brothers and sisters Fiction Family life Fiction Weddings Fiction Brothers and sisters Fiction Families Fiction |
Available copies
- 33 of 35 copies available at Evergreen Indiana. (Show)
- 1 of 1 copy available at Greenwood Public Library.
Holds
- 0 current holds with 35 total copies.
Show Only Available Copies
Location | Call Number / Copy Notes | Barcode | Shelving Location | Status | Due Date |
---|---|---|---|---|---|
Greenwood PL - Greenwood | TEEN Matson (Text) | 36626103966446 | 1st Floor Teen Room | Available | - |
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Save the Date
THE DAY BEFORE MY SISTERâS wedding, I woke up with a start, like an alarm had just gone off. I looked around my room, heart hammering, trying to figure out what had woken me. I was still half in the dream Iâd just hadâJesse Foster was there, my brother Danny, and there was something about Schoolhouse Rock!, that old cartoon my sister had shown me when I was in elementary school . . .
But the harder I tried to hold on to it, the faster the dream seemed to slip away, and I shrugged and lay back down in bed, yawning and pulling my covers over my shoulders, closing my eyes and halfway to falling asleep again before I realized that an alarm was going off.
There was a persistent beeping coming from downstairs, and it sounded like the alarm that monitored the front and kitchen doors of the house, the one we only ever turned on when we were going on vacation and sometimes not even then. It was loud up on the third floor, so I had a feeling it was probably deafening down on the first.
I reached for my glasses from my bedside table and then stretched over to get my phone from the floor, where Iâd plugged it in to charge last night. I pulled up my group texts, all of which were for different combinations of my family members. There was even one that had all of us and my brother Mike, though I could see that hadnât been used in a year and a half now. I pulled up the one Iâd been using the last few days, which was all the people that were currently in the houseâmy mom, dad, my sister, Linnie, and her fiancé, Rodney.
Me
Why is there an alarm going off?
I waited a moment, then got a series of responses, one right after the other.
Mom
Thereâs something wrong with the panel, we thinkâshould be off in a minute.
Dad
Why did you text? Why not come down and investigate? What if there had been a burglar?
Linnie
IS there a burglar?
Dad
No
Dad
But there COULD have been
Dad
And if the house were being ransacked, Iâm not sure the best course of action would be to text about it.
Rodney
Morning, Charlie!
I was about to text back when the alarm stopped suddenly, and my room seemed extra quiet now.
Mom
Itâs off.
Me
I hear. I mean, I donât hear.
Mom
Coming down? Your dad made coffee and Rodneyâs picking up donuts
Linnie
Wait, Charlie why are you even still here? Did Stanwich High change their start time?
Mom
I called her out
Me
Mom called me out
Linnie
Why?
Me
So I can help with wedding stuff
Linnie
If thatâs the case, why didnât you get the donuts?
Rodney
I donât mind!
Me
Iâll be right down.
I dropped my phone onto my comforter and stretched my arms overhead as I did the time math. My sister was rightâon a normal Friday, I would be between classes right now, heading to AP History, but not in any real hurry. Once our college acceptances had started to roll in, all the second-semester seniorsâmyself includedâwere a lot less concerned about getting to class on time.
Iâd given my mom the hard sell last night, telling her that I could be useful, helping with any last-minute things that might crop up before the rehearsal dinner tonight and assuring her that I didnât have anything big going on at school today. This wasnât entirely trueâI was the editor of the student newspaper, the Pilgrim, and we had our weekly editorial meeting this afternoon. We were also supposed to discuss the final issue of the year. But I knew that my news editor, Ali Rosen, could handle things for me. Normally, I never would have missed a staff meetingâbut all my siblings were going to be here this afternoon, and I didnât want to waste time that I could be spending with them arguing with Zach Ellison about how long his movie reviews were.
I pushed myself off the bed and made it quickly, smoothing back the covers and fluffing up the pillows, then looked around my room, trying to see if it would be considered neat enough in case relatives or bridesmaids wandered by later.
Weâd moved to this house before I was born, so though my two oldest siblings could remember living somewhere else (or so they claimed), this house, for me, had always been home, and this had always been my room. It was the smallest of the bedrooms up on the third floor, where all four of the kidsâ rooms were. It was probably just what happens when youâre the youngest, but Iâd never minded. There was a slope to the ceiling that perfectly formed a nook for my bed, and it wasnât drafty like Danny and J.J.âs room always was. And best of all, my room was connected to Linnieâs room via a long shared closet, which had been perfect both for stealing my sisterâs clothes and for hanging out with her, the two of us getting ready at the same time or sitting on the floor of the closet, our legs stretched out, talking and laughing, the clothes hanging above us.
Figuring that my room was probably as clean as it was going to be, I headed over to my dresser, bent slightly to see myself in the mirror, and ran a brush though my hair. Like all my siblings, I was tallâfive nine, with long light-brown hair and a slightly crooked nose due to a trampoline mishap when I was six. I also had hazel eyes, the only one of my siblings to have themâlike for the last kid, the genetic lottery had been split down the middle. I tugged the brush through the ends, wincingâmy hair had reached the length where it would get tangled in a second. But Iâd also gotten used to having it long, and even as I knew I should cut it, I also knew I probably wouldnât.
I pulled a sweatshirt on over my pajamas and was halfway to the door when I heard my phone buzz, the sound muffled. I looked around and, after a moment, realized that Iâd accidentally made the bed over it. I retrieved it from under the covers and smiled when I saw it was my favorite brother calling.
âHi, Danny.â I pulled the phone away for just a second to check the time. âItâs early out there.â
âWell,â he said, a laugh somewhere in his voice, âsome of us have to fly all the way from California.â
âYou could have come in last night.â This was what Iâd been pressing for for the last few months, since having just a weekend with my siblings didnât seem like nearly enough. Iâd been trying to get everyone to come on Tuesday or Wednesday, so that weâd get some Grant time before relatives and guests descended. But only Linnie and Rodney had come home earlyâboth Danny and J.J. had to work and could only take Friday off.
âNot this again.â I could hear a smile somewhere in my brotherâs voice.
âWait,â I said, my eyes going wide. âWhy arenât you on the plane?â
âIâm calling you from the plane,â he said, and I could suddenly picture him, on the tarmac in San Francisco, kicked back in his first-class seat, a cup of to-go coffee by his side. âYouâre allowed to make calls from planes, you know. We havenât taken off yet and I wanted to check in. Howâs it all going?â
âGreat,â I said immediately. âItâs been awesome to have Linnie and Rodney here again.â
âI mean is everything going okay with the wedding? No last-minute disasters?â
âItâs all good. Clementineâs taking care of everything.â
âGlad Iâm getting my moneyâs worth.â
âYou should be sure to mention that in your speech.â
Danny laughed. âMaybe I just will.â
Clementine Lucas was Linnie and Rodneyâs wedding coordinatorâDanny had offered to pay for a planner for them, calling it his engagement present, when theyâd moved up the wedding date. They had gotten engaged two years ago but seemed in no real hurry to set a date or plan their wedding, and weâd had a running joke that theyâd get married sometime in the next decade. The only thing they knew was that they wanted to get married at our houseâit had been Linnieâs dream since she was little.
Since Rodney was in his third year of law school and studying for the bar and Linnie was finishing up her masterâs in historic preservation, this spring was probably not the best time for them to be attending a wedding, much less planning their own. But when my parents told us they were putting the house up for sale, things on the wedding front suddenly went into hyperdrive.
I looked over at the stack of cardboard boxes that Iâd pushed up against my closet door, like that might make me forget about why they were there in the first place. I was supposed to begin the process of cleaning out my room, because our house had been bought by Lily and Greg Pearson, who would be moving in, along with their three extremely loud kids, as soon as the escrow process was complete. I had secretly hoped there would be no buyers, that our house would languish on the market for months, but when it sold, and fast, I wasnât surprised. After all, who doesnât want a house that had been featured in one of Americaâs most beloved comic strips?
So, in the midst of all this, Clementine had been incredibly helpfulâDanny had found her through Pland, a start-up his venture capital firm had invested in. It had contacts with wedding planners all over the country, and matched couples with the best ones. And apparently, aside from a serious disagreement about the napkin colors, everything with Clementine had gone great.
âWell, I canât wait to see it all myself this afternoon.â
âYouâre still getting in at two?â
âThatâs the plan.â Danny cleared his throat. âAnd Iâll have a surprise when I see you.â
I grinned; I had a feeling I knew what this was. âIs it a Double-Double?â
Danny sighed. âI never should have taken you to In-N-Out when you came to visit.â
âSo thatâs a no?â
âThatâs a âhamburgers shouldnât go for six hours without being refrigerated.â?â There was a small pause, and he added, âYou could have access to In-N-Out constantly if you moved out here next year.â
I smiled and glanced, automatically, at the stack in the corner of my deskâthe bright, shiny folders that were my college acceptances. Iâd applied to eight schools and gotten into threeâNorthwestern, outside Chicago; College of the West, in a small town in Los Angeles; and Stanwich, the local university in town where my dad taught. Iâd decided last week to go to Stanwich, and had told Danny my decision even before Iâd told my parents. Heâd been trying to talk me into joining him on the West Coast ever since. âWell, I really think all major life decisions should be based on fast food chains, so . . .â
âI knew youâd come around.â I could hear, in the background, an announcement about buckling seat belts and making sure all overhead bins were secure. âI should go. See you soon, Chuck,â he said, using the nickname for me that only he was allowed to use.
âWait,â I said, realizing heâd never told me what his surprise was. âDannyââ But heâd disconnected the call. I left my phone on the dresser and walked over to my desk, set aside the orange College of the West folder, and picked up the bright purple one from Northwestern.
Iâd gotten into Medill, Northwesternâs journalism school, which was the whole reason Iâd applied there in the first place. My guidance counselor hadnât believed me, thinking that I wanted to be at the same school where Mike was, not understanding that this was actually a bug, not a feature. I flipped through the brochure from Medill that had been sent to me, looking at the glossy pictures of students in the newsroom, the possible internships with major media companies, the journalism study-abroad program. . . . Before I got too far, I closed the folder and picked up the Stanwich College one, running my fingers over the lamp that was part of the schoolâs crest.
Northwestern had stopped appealing to me right around the time my parents told me they were selling the house. The idea of going away had sounded a lot better when I had a house to come home to. Suddenly, the thought of losing both my house and my town was too much, and Iâd started to think more and more about Stanwich. Iâd practically grown up on the campus, and I loved itâthe tree-lined quad, the stained-glass windows in some of the classrooms, the truly epic frozen-yogurt topping bar. And it just began to seem like the best choiceâIâd get to start something new while still holding on to the familiar. And it was a great school, and I knew it was going to be really, really great.
I hadnât officially accepted or told the other schools I wasnât coming, but Iâd made my decision, and even though my parents had seemed a little surprised by my choice, I knew they were just getting used to itâand that theyâd be happy when my first tuition bill came due and I got the discount for being the child of a professor.
And as soon as the wedding craziness was over, Iâd figure out what the next steps wereâtelling Northwestern and College of the West that they hadnât made the cut, finding out about Stanwich deposits and paperwork. But I didnât want to think about any of thatânot this weekend. After all, right now my sister and future brother-in-lawâand possibly donutsâwere downstairs waiting for me.
I was halfway to the door when my phone rang again, and I picked it up immediately, hoping it was Danny calling backâonly to see the contact picture of my best friend, Siobhan Ann Hogan-Russo.
âHey, Shove-on,â I said, picking up, turning my phone onto speaker. This was the way Siobhan told people how to pronounce her name, which was most people who werenât expecting a name with a silent b in it.
âOh,â she said, sounding surprised. âI didnât think youâd pick up. Why arenât you in history?â
âI got my mom to call me out. Iâm taking the day off so I can help with wedding stuff.â
âI thought all of that was taken care of by Tangerine.â
I shook my head, even though I knew she couldnât see me. âYou know her name is Clementine. You just have a weird prejudice against her.â
âYou know my policy,â Siobhan said. âNever trust anyone named after a fruit.â I sighed; Iâd heard this more times than Iâd wanted to, and could practically feel Siobhan teeing up her punch line. âAfter all . . . they might be rotten.â
âI know you think thatâs funny,â I said, and sure enough, on the other end, I could hear Siobhan laughing. âBut itâs really not.â
âMy dad thought it was funny.â
âWhich one?â
âTed. Steve is still trying to get us into some alumni dinner thing tonight.â
Siobhan had been, with her dads, up at the University of Michigan since Wednesday. It was where she was going next yearâunlike me, sheâd never had any question about where sheâd go. Both her fathers had gone there and had met years later at an alumni networking event. In the Hogan-Russo household, there was a prominently displayed picture of newborn Siobhan in a Michigan onesie, posed with a mini maize-and-blue football. Apparently, there had been a serious discussion about naming her Siobhan Ann Arbor Hogan-Russo to help her chances of getting in. But fortunately, she hadnât needed itâsheâd found out back in December that sheâd been accepted early decision.
âHowâs the campus?â
âItâs amazing.â There was a happy sigh in Siobhanâs voice. âWait,â she said, sounding suddenly sharper, like she was coming out of her Michigan happiness daze. âWhy are you skipping today? Donât you have your editorial meeting?â
âYeah,â I said, âbut itâs fine. Ali can handle things.â There was silence on the other end, and I added quickly, âShe wants to be editor in chief next year anyway, so she should get used to running these.â Siobhan still wasnât saying anything, but I could picture her expression all too wellâarms folded, one eyebrow raised. âI swear itâs fine.â
âYouâre doing the thing you always do.â
âNo Iâm not. What thing?â
âThe thing where your siblings come to town and you forget all about everything else.â
I took a breath to deny this, but then decided not toâit was a fight Siobhan and I had had many times over the years, and she usually won it because, frankly, she wasnât wrong. âThis is different. Linnieâs getting married.â
âShe is?â Siobhan said, her voice sounding overly shocked. âBut why didnât you mention something about it?â
âSio.â
âOh no, waitâyou did. Like every three minutes.â
âItâs going to be amazing,â I said with certainty, feeling myself smile. âLinnieâs dress is so beautiful, and Iâve seen the pictures from her hair and makeup testsâsheâs going to look gorgeous. Youâll see.â Siobhan was coming to the weddingâsheâd known Linnie her whole life, after all. She was flying back from Michigan tomorrow morning, with more than enough time to get ready before the ceremony.
âIs everyone there?â she asked. âThe whole circus in town?â
âNot quite. Linnie and Rodney came in Wednesday night. Danny gets in this afternoon, and J.J. . . .â I stopped and took a breath. âAnd weâre all going to be together.â As I said it, it was like I started to feel warmed up from the inside, like Iâd just taken a long drink of hot chocolate.
âNot exactly.â
I blinked at the phone. âWhat do you mean?â
âMike,â Siobhan said simply. âMikeâs not going to be there.â
âWho wants him here?â I muttered.
âWellâLinnie did, right?â Siobhan asked, and I crossed over to my desk again and started straightening the piles of papers, mostly just to have something to do with my hands. âDidnât she invite him?â
âOf course,â I said quickly, ready to talk about something else. âBut heâs not coming, and itâs better this way.â
âOkay,â Siobhan said, and even through the phone, I could tell that this was her letting the subject go, even though she still disagreed with me. âNow.â There was a getting-down-to-business tone in Siobhanâs voice, the same as sheâd had when we were five and trying to decide who got to be Belle when we were playing Beauty and the Beast and who was going to be stuck being the teapot. âWhat are you wearing on GMA?â
I winced. Good Morning America was going to be coming to our house in two days to interview all of us, because my momâs comic stripâGrant Central Stationâwas, after twenty-five years, coming to an end. And despite the fact that this was rapidly approaching, I hadnât yet gotten as far as deciding what I would be wearing.
Grant Central Station depicted the lives of the five kids, two parents, and a dog that made up the Grant familyâthe fictional version, since those of us who lived in the real world were also the Grant family. It was syndicated in newspapers across the country and around the world. It was about a large family dealing with everyday thingsâwork and crushes and bad teachers and siblingsâ fights. As the years had gone on, it had transitioned away from broad gags and more cartoonish illustrations and had slowly gotten more serious. The humor had become more poignant, and my mother would sometimes trace one story line for weeks. And unlike most strips, in which characters lived in a kind of stasisâGarfield perpetually hating Mondays and loving lasagna; Charlie Brown forever missing the football; Jason, Paige, and Peter Fox stuck in fifth, ninth, and eleventh grade, respectivelyâGrant Central Station followed real time. My siblings and I each had a strip equivalent that was a version of us, and for the last twenty-five years, the strip had charted the progress of the fictional family, moving in step with us in the real world.
The fact that it was ending had come with an onslaught of requests for publicityâmy mom had been doing phone and e-mail interviews for weeks, and taking the train into New York for photo shoots and taped interviewsâbut it seemed the really big ones were happening closest to when the strip was actually ending, probably so she could give her take on how she was feeling, now that the moment had arrived. There had been comic retrospectives in newspapers around the country, and the Pearce, our local museum, was doing a whole show on her artwork. We were squeezing in an appearance tonight at the opening, before weâd all rush to the rehearsal dinner.
But the biggest of all these promotional appearances was Good Morning America on Sunday morning, a live interview with all of us that they were calling âThe Family Behind Grant Central Station.â
When Linnie and Rodney had decided on their wedding date, my mother had set the stripâs end date for the same weekend, so weâd all be together. And apparently, GMA had gotten a lot more interested in doing the piece on us when theyâd found out we would all be available. Linnie and Rodney werenât thrilled about this, and J.J. had commented that if we were expected to appear on national TV the day after a wedding, they might want to change the name of the segment to âGrant Central Hangover.â But I was just happy weâd all be together, that when this thing that had defined all our lives came to an end, weâd see it through as a group.
âUm,â I said to Siobhan now, stalling for time. âClothes?â
âCharlie.â The disapproval in my best friendâs voice was palpable. âJackson Goodman is coming to your house on Sunday.â
âIâm aware of this.â
âJackson Goodman. And you donât know what youâre wearing?â Siobhanâs voice rose sharply at the end of this. She and her dads watched Good Morning America together every morning until she had to leave for school, and Jackson Goodmanâthe laid-back anchor with the wide grinâwas by far her favorite. When sheâd found out that he was going to be at our house, sheâd pretty much lost her mind, then promptly invited herself over for the taping.
âYou can help me pick an outfit, how about that?â
âDeal. And youâll introduce me to Jackson, right?â
âSure,â I said, even though I had no idea how things were going to run on Sunday.
I could hear muffled voices on Siobhanâs end. âI should probably go. This accepted students thing is starting soon.â
âHave fun. Hail to the victorious.â
âHail to the victors,â Siobhan corrected, sounding scandalized. âHave I taught you nothing?â
âClearly not. Um, go Wolverine.â
âWolverines,â Siobhan said, her voice rising. âItâs not like Hugh Jackman is our mascot.â
âSee, but if he was, maybe I would have applied.â
âSteve and Ted are still mad you didnât, you know.â
âJust tell them to be glad I didnât apply to Ohio State.â
I heard the sharp intake of breath that followed whenever I mentioned Michiganâs rival school, which I found ways to bring up as often as possible. âIâm going to pretend you didnât say that.â
âThatâs probably wise.â
âI gotta go. Tell Linnie congrats for me?â
âOf course. See you tomorrow.â I hung up, then after a moment opened my photos and started looking through them. I scrolled past my photos, stopping at the ones with my siblings, trying to find one of us all together.
There I was with Linnie and Rodney last night, picking up pies at Captain Pizza. And then me and Danny and J.J. in front of the Christmas tree, both Danny and me giving J.J. bunny earsâLinnie and Rodney had spent the holiday with Rodneyâs parents in Hawaii. And then me and J.J. and Linnie at ThanksgivingâDanny had had to work, jetting last-minute to Shanghai, trying to save a deal that had started falling apart. There I was with Danny in September, sitting outside at a Coffee Beanâheâd sent me a surprise âCome and visit me for the weekend!â plane ticket, and Iâd flown out to California and back again in less than forty-eight hours. And then there was one from last summer, me and J.J. tryingâand failingâto play Cards Against Humanity with only two people.
But there were none of all of us together, and looking at the pictures was evidence that we hadnât all been together in a while. But at long last, this weekend, we would be. For three days, my siblings were going to be home and it was going to be us againâplaying games and standing around the kitchen laughing and making bagel runs and just being together.
Iâd spent so much time thinking about it, and now it was so close. I was so near to the way it felt when we were all together, like finally things had been put right again. Not to mention that this weekend was the last time that weâd all be together in this house, so it was going to be perfect. It had to be perfect. I would make sure of it.
I headed for the door and was halfway down the stairs to the kitchen when the alarm went off again.
CHAPTER 1
Or, Never Trust Anyone Named After a Fruit
THE DAY BEFORE MY SISTERâS wedding, I woke up with a start, like an alarm had just gone off. I looked around my room, heart hammering, trying to figure out what had woken me. I was still half in the dream Iâd just hadâJesse Foster was there, my brother Danny, and there was something about Schoolhouse Rock!, that old cartoon my sister had shown me when I was in elementary school . . .
But the harder I tried to hold on to it, the faster the dream seemed to slip away, and I shrugged and lay back down in bed, yawning and pulling my covers over my shoulders, closing my eyes and halfway to falling asleep again before I realized that an alarm was going off.
There was a persistent beeping coming from downstairs, and it sounded like the alarm that monitored the front and kitchen doors of the house, the one we only ever turned on when we were going on vacation and sometimes not even then. It was loud up on the third floor, so I had a feeling it was probably deafening down on the first.
I reached for my glasses from my bedside table and then stretched over to get my phone from the floor, where Iâd plugged it in to charge last night. I pulled up my group texts, all of which were for different combinations of my family members. There was even one that had all of us and my brother Mike, though I could see that hadnât been used in a year and a half now. I pulled up the one Iâd been using the last few days, which was all the people that were currently in the houseâmy mom, dad, my sister, Linnie, and her fiancé, Rodney.
Me
Why is there an alarm going off?
I waited a moment, then got a series of responses, one right after the other.
Mom
Thereâs something wrong with the panel, we thinkâshould be off in a minute.
Dad
Why did you text? Why not come down and investigate? What if there had been a burglar?
Linnie
IS there a burglar?
Dad
No
Dad
But there COULD have been
Dad
And if the house were being ransacked, Iâm not sure the best course of action would be to text about it.
Rodney
Morning, Charlie!
I was about to text back when the alarm stopped suddenly, and my room seemed extra quiet now.
Mom
Itâs off.
Me
I hear. I mean, I donât hear.
Mom
Coming down? Your dad made coffee and Rodneyâs picking up donuts
Linnie
Wait, Charlie why are you even still here? Did Stanwich High change their start time?
Mom
I called her out
Me
Mom called me out
Linnie
Why?
Me
So I can help with wedding stuff
Linnie
If thatâs the case, why didnât you get the donuts?
Rodney
I donât mind!
Me
Iâll be right down.
I dropped my phone onto my comforter and stretched my arms overhead as I did the time math. My sister was rightâon a normal Friday, I would be between classes right now, heading to AP History, but not in any real hurry. Once our college acceptances had started to roll in, all the second-semester seniorsâmyself includedâwere a lot less concerned about getting to class on time.
Iâd given my mom the hard sell last night, telling her that I could be useful, helping with any last-minute things that might crop up before the rehearsal dinner tonight and assuring her that I didnât have anything big going on at school today. This wasnât entirely trueâI was the editor of the student newspaper, the Pilgrim, and we had our weekly editorial meeting this afternoon. We were also supposed to discuss the final issue of the year. But I knew that my news editor, Ali Rosen, could handle things for me. Normally, I never would have missed a staff meetingâbut all my siblings were going to be here this afternoon, and I didnât want to waste time that I could be spending with them arguing with Zach Ellison about how long his movie reviews were.
I pushed myself off the bed and made it quickly, smoothing back the covers and fluffing up the pillows, then looked around my room, trying to see if it would be considered neat enough in case relatives or bridesmaids wandered by later.
Weâd moved to this house before I was born, so though my two oldest siblings could remember living somewhere else (or so they claimed), this house, for me, had always been home, and this had always been my room. It was the smallest of the bedrooms up on the third floor, where all four of the kidsâ rooms were. It was probably just what happens when youâre the youngest, but Iâd never minded. There was a slope to the ceiling that perfectly formed a nook for my bed, and it wasnât drafty like Danny and J.J.âs room always was. And best of all, my room was connected to Linnieâs room via a long shared closet, which had been perfect both for stealing my sisterâs clothes and for hanging out with her, the two of us getting ready at the same time or sitting on the floor of the closet, our legs stretched out, talking and laughing, the clothes hanging above us.
Figuring that my room was probably as clean as it was going to be, I headed over to my dresser, bent slightly to see myself in the mirror, and ran a brush though my hair. Like all my siblings, I was tallâfive nine, with long light-brown hair and a slightly crooked nose due to a trampoline mishap when I was six. I also had hazel eyes, the only one of my siblings to have themâlike for the last kid, the genetic lottery had been split down the middle. I tugged the brush through the ends, wincingâmy hair had reached the length where it would get tangled in a second. But Iâd also gotten used to having it long, and even as I knew I should cut it, I also knew I probably wouldnât.
I pulled a sweatshirt on over my pajamas and was halfway to the door when I heard my phone buzz, the sound muffled. I looked around and, after a moment, realized that Iâd accidentally made the bed over it. I retrieved it from under the covers and smiled when I saw it was my favorite brother calling.
âHi, Danny.â I pulled the phone away for just a second to check the time. âItâs early out there.â
âWell,â he said, a laugh somewhere in his voice, âsome of us have to fly all the way from California.â
âYou could have come in last night.â This was what Iâd been pressing for for the last few months, since having just a weekend with my siblings didnât seem like nearly enough. Iâd been trying to get everyone to come on Tuesday or Wednesday, so that weâd get some Grant time before relatives and guests descended. But only Linnie and Rodney had come home earlyâboth Danny and J.J. had to work and could only take Friday off.
âNot this again.â I could hear a smile somewhere in my brotherâs voice.
âWait,â I said, my eyes going wide. âWhy arenât you on the plane?â
âIâm calling you from the plane,â he said, and I could suddenly picture him, on the tarmac in San Francisco, kicked back in his first-class seat, a cup of to-go coffee by his side. âYouâre allowed to make calls from planes, you know. We havenât taken off yet and I wanted to check in. Howâs it all going?â
âGreat,â I said immediately. âItâs been awesome to have Linnie and Rodney here again.â
âI mean is everything going okay with the wedding? No last-minute disasters?â
âItâs all good. Clementineâs taking care of everything.â
âGlad Iâm getting my moneyâs worth.â
âYou should be sure to mention that in your speech.â
Danny laughed. âMaybe I just will.â
Clementine Lucas was Linnie and Rodneyâs wedding coordinatorâDanny had offered to pay for a planner for them, calling it his engagement present, when theyâd moved up the wedding date. They had gotten engaged two years ago but seemed in no real hurry to set a date or plan their wedding, and weâd had a running joke that theyâd get married sometime in the next decade. The only thing they knew was that they wanted to get married at our houseâit had been Linnieâs dream since she was little.
Since Rodney was in his third year of law school and studying for the bar and Linnie was finishing up her masterâs in historic preservation, this spring was probably not the best time for them to be attending a wedding, much less planning their own. But when my parents told us they were putting the house up for sale, things on the wedding front suddenly went into hyperdrive.
I looked over at the stack of cardboard boxes that Iâd pushed up against my closet door, like that might make me forget about why they were there in the first place. I was supposed to begin the process of cleaning out my room, because our house had been bought by Lily and Greg Pearson, who would be moving in, along with their three extremely loud kids, as soon as the escrow process was complete. I had secretly hoped there would be no buyers, that our house would languish on the market for months, but when it sold, and fast, I wasnât surprised. After all, who doesnât want a house that had been featured in one of Americaâs most beloved comic strips?
So, in the midst of all this, Clementine had been incredibly helpfulâDanny had found her through Pland, a start-up his venture capital firm had invested in. It had contacts with wedding planners all over the country, and matched couples with the best ones. And apparently, aside from a serious disagreement about the napkin colors, everything with Clementine had gone great.
âWell, I canât wait to see it all myself this afternoon.â
âYouâre still getting in at two?â
âThatâs the plan.â Danny cleared his throat. âAnd Iâll have a surprise when I see you.â
I grinned; I had a feeling I knew what this was. âIs it a Double-Double?â
Danny sighed. âI never should have taken you to In-N-Out when you came to visit.â
âSo thatâs a no?â
âThatâs a âhamburgers shouldnât go for six hours without being refrigerated.â?â There was a small pause, and he added, âYou could have access to In-N-Out constantly if you moved out here next year.â
I smiled and glanced, automatically, at the stack in the corner of my deskâthe bright, shiny folders that were my college acceptances. Iâd applied to eight schools and gotten into threeâNorthwestern, outside Chicago; College of the West, in a small town in Los Angeles; and Stanwich, the local university in town where my dad taught. Iâd decided last week to go to Stanwich, and had told Danny my decision even before Iâd told my parents. Heâd been trying to talk me into joining him on the West Coast ever since. âWell, I really think all major life decisions should be based on fast food chains, so . . .â
âI knew youâd come around.â I could hear, in the background, an announcement about buckling seat belts and making sure all overhead bins were secure. âI should go. See you soon, Chuck,â he said, using the nickname for me that only he was allowed to use.
âWait,â I said, realizing heâd never told me what his surprise was. âDannyââ But heâd disconnected the call. I left my phone on the dresser and walked over to my desk, set aside the orange College of the West folder, and picked up the bright purple one from Northwestern.
Iâd gotten into Medill, Northwesternâs journalism school, which was the whole reason Iâd applied there in the first place. My guidance counselor hadnât believed me, thinking that I wanted to be at the same school where Mike was, not understanding that this was actually a bug, not a feature. I flipped through the brochure from Medill that had been sent to me, looking at the glossy pictures of students in the newsroom, the possible internships with major media companies, the journalism study-abroad program. . . . Before I got too far, I closed the folder and picked up the Stanwich College one, running my fingers over the lamp that was part of the schoolâs crest.
Northwestern had stopped appealing to me right around the time my parents told me they were selling the house. The idea of going away had sounded a lot better when I had a house to come home to. Suddenly, the thought of losing both my house and my town was too much, and Iâd started to think more and more about Stanwich. Iâd practically grown up on the campus, and I loved itâthe tree-lined quad, the stained-glass windows in some of the classrooms, the truly epic frozen-yogurt topping bar. And it just began to seem like the best choiceâIâd get to start something new while still holding on to the familiar. And it was a great school, and I knew it was going to be really, really great.
I hadnât officially accepted or told the other schools I wasnât coming, but Iâd made my decision, and even though my parents had seemed a little surprised by my choice, I knew they were just getting used to itâand that theyâd be happy when my first tuition bill came due and I got the discount for being the child of a professor.
And as soon as the wedding craziness was over, Iâd figure out what the next steps wereâtelling Northwestern and College of the West that they hadnât made the cut, finding out about Stanwich deposits and paperwork. But I didnât want to think about any of thatânot this weekend. After all, right now my sister and future brother-in-lawâand possibly donutsâwere downstairs waiting for me.
I was halfway to the door when my phone rang again, and I picked it up immediately, hoping it was Danny calling backâonly to see the contact picture of my best friend, Siobhan Ann Hogan-Russo.
âHey, Shove-on,â I said, picking up, turning my phone onto speaker. This was the way Siobhan told people how to pronounce her name, which was most people who werenât expecting a name with a silent b in it.
âOh,â she said, sounding surprised. âI didnât think youâd pick up. Why arenât you in history?â
âI got my mom to call me out. Iâm taking the day off so I can help with wedding stuff.â
âI thought all of that was taken care of by Tangerine.â
I shook my head, even though I knew she couldnât see me. âYou know her name is Clementine. You just have a weird prejudice against her.â
âYou know my policy,â Siobhan said. âNever trust anyone named after a fruit.â I sighed; Iâd heard this more times than Iâd wanted to, and could practically feel Siobhan teeing up her punch line. âAfter all . . . they might be rotten.â
âI know you think thatâs funny,â I said, and sure enough, on the other end, I could hear Siobhan laughing. âBut itâs really not.â
âMy dad thought it was funny.â
âWhich one?â
âTed. Steve is still trying to get us into some alumni dinner thing tonight.â
Siobhan had been, with her dads, up at the University of Michigan since Wednesday. It was where she was going next yearâunlike me, sheâd never had any question about where sheâd go. Both her fathers had gone there and had met years later at an alumni networking event. In the Hogan-Russo household, there was a prominently displayed picture of newborn Siobhan in a Michigan onesie, posed with a mini maize-and-blue football. Apparently, there had been a serious discussion about naming her Siobhan Ann Arbor Hogan-Russo to help her chances of getting in. But fortunately, she hadnât needed itâsheâd found out back in December that sheâd been accepted early decision.
âHowâs the campus?â
âItâs amazing.â There was a happy sigh in Siobhanâs voice. âWait,â she said, sounding suddenly sharper, like she was coming out of her Michigan happiness daze. âWhy are you skipping today? Donât you have your editorial meeting?â
âYeah,â I said, âbut itâs fine. Ali can handle things.â There was silence on the other end, and I added quickly, âShe wants to be editor in chief next year anyway, so she should get used to running these.â Siobhan still wasnât saying anything, but I could picture her expression all too wellâarms folded, one eyebrow raised. âI swear itâs fine.â
âYouâre doing the thing you always do.â
âNo Iâm not. What thing?â
âThe thing where your siblings come to town and you forget all about everything else.â
I took a breath to deny this, but then decided not toâit was a fight Siobhan and I had had many times over the years, and she usually won it because, frankly, she wasnât wrong. âThis is different. Linnieâs getting married.â
âShe is?â Siobhan said, her voice sounding overly shocked. âBut why didnât you mention something about it?â
âSio.â
âOh no, waitâyou did. Like every three minutes.â
âItâs going to be amazing,â I said with certainty, feeling myself smile. âLinnieâs dress is so beautiful, and Iâve seen the pictures from her hair and makeup testsâsheâs going to look gorgeous. Youâll see.â Siobhan was coming to the weddingâsheâd known Linnie her whole life, after all. She was flying back from Michigan tomorrow morning, with more than enough time to get ready before the ceremony.
âIs everyone there?â she asked. âThe whole circus in town?â
âNot quite. Linnie and Rodney came in Wednesday night. Danny gets in this afternoon, and J.J. . . .â I stopped and took a breath. âAnd weâre all going to be together.â As I said it, it was like I started to feel warmed up from the inside, like Iâd just taken a long drink of hot chocolate.
âNot exactly.â
I blinked at the phone. âWhat do you mean?â
âMike,â Siobhan said simply. âMikeâs not going to be there.â
âWho wants him here?â I muttered.
âWellâLinnie did, right?â Siobhan asked, and I crossed over to my desk again and started straightening the piles of papers, mostly just to have something to do with my hands. âDidnât she invite him?â
âOf course,â I said quickly, ready to talk about something else. âBut heâs not coming, and itâs better this way.â
âOkay,â Siobhan said, and even through the phone, I could tell that this was her letting the subject go, even though she still disagreed with me. âNow.â There was a getting-down-to-business tone in Siobhanâs voice, the same as sheâd had when we were five and trying to decide who got to be Belle when we were playing Beauty and the Beast and who was going to be stuck being the teapot. âWhat are you wearing on GMA?â
I winced. Good Morning America was going to be coming to our house in two days to interview all of us, because my momâs comic stripâGrant Central Stationâwas, after twenty-five years, coming to an end. And despite the fact that this was rapidly approaching, I hadnât yet gotten as far as deciding what I would be wearing.
Grant Central Station depicted the lives of the five kids, two parents, and a dog that made up the Grant familyâthe fictional version, since those of us who lived in the real world were also the Grant family. It was syndicated in newspapers across the country and around the world. It was about a large family dealing with everyday thingsâwork and crushes and bad teachers and siblingsâ fights. As the years had gone on, it had transitioned away from broad gags and more cartoonish illustrations and had slowly gotten more serious. The humor had become more poignant, and my mother would sometimes trace one story line for weeks. And unlike most strips, in which characters lived in a kind of stasisâGarfield perpetually hating Mondays and loving lasagna; Charlie Brown forever missing the football; Jason, Paige, and Peter Fox stuck in fifth, ninth, and eleventh grade, respectivelyâGrant Central Station followed real time. My siblings and I each had a strip equivalent that was a version of us, and for the last twenty-five years, the strip had charted the progress of the fictional family, moving in step with us in the real world.
The fact that it was ending had come with an onslaught of requests for publicityâmy mom had been doing phone and e-mail interviews for weeks, and taking the train into New York for photo shoots and taped interviewsâbut it seemed the really big ones were happening closest to when the strip was actually ending, probably so she could give her take on how she was feeling, now that the moment had arrived. There had been comic retrospectives in newspapers around the country, and the Pearce, our local museum, was doing a whole show on her artwork. We were squeezing in an appearance tonight at the opening, before weâd all rush to the rehearsal dinner.
But the biggest of all these promotional appearances was Good Morning America on Sunday morning, a live interview with all of us that they were calling âThe Family Behind Grant Central Station.â
When Linnie and Rodney had decided on their wedding date, my mother had set the stripâs end date for the same weekend, so weâd all be together. And apparently, GMA had gotten a lot more interested in doing the piece on us when theyâd found out we would all be available. Linnie and Rodney werenât thrilled about this, and J.J. had commented that if we were expected to appear on national TV the day after a wedding, they might want to change the name of the segment to âGrant Central Hangover.â But I was just happy weâd all be together, that when this thing that had defined all our lives came to an end, weâd see it through as a group.
âUm,â I said to Siobhan now, stalling for time. âClothes?â
âCharlie.â The disapproval in my best friendâs voice was palpable. âJackson Goodman is coming to your house on Sunday.â
âIâm aware of this.â
âJackson Goodman. And you donât know what youâre wearing?â Siobhanâs voice rose sharply at the end of this. She and her dads watched Good Morning America together every morning until she had to leave for school, and Jackson Goodmanâthe laid-back anchor with the wide grinâwas by far her favorite. When sheâd found out that he was going to be at our house, sheâd pretty much lost her mind, then promptly invited herself over for the taping.
âYou can help me pick an outfit, how about that?â
âDeal. And youâll introduce me to Jackson, right?â
âSure,â I said, even though I had no idea how things were going to run on Sunday.
I could hear muffled voices on Siobhanâs end. âI should probably go. This accepted students thing is starting soon.â
âHave fun. Hail to the victorious.â
âHail to the victors,â Siobhan corrected, sounding scandalized. âHave I taught you nothing?â
âClearly not. Um, go Wolverine.â
âWolverines,â Siobhan said, her voice rising. âItâs not like Hugh Jackman is our mascot.â
âSee, but if he was, maybe I would have applied.â
âSteve and Ted are still mad you didnât, you know.â
âJust tell them to be glad I didnât apply to Ohio State.â
I heard the sharp intake of breath that followed whenever I mentioned Michiganâs rival school, which I found ways to bring up as often as possible. âIâm going to pretend you didnât say that.â
âThatâs probably wise.â
âI gotta go. Tell Linnie congrats for me?â
âOf course. See you tomorrow.â I hung up, then after a moment opened my photos and started looking through them. I scrolled past my photos, stopping at the ones with my siblings, trying to find one of us all together.
There I was with Linnie and Rodney last night, picking up pies at Captain Pizza. And then me and Danny and J.J. in front of the Christmas tree, both Danny and me giving J.J. bunny earsâLinnie and Rodney had spent the holiday with Rodneyâs parents in Hawaii. And then me and J.J. and Linnie at ThanksgivingâDanny had had to work, jetting last-minute to Shanghai, trying to save a deal that had started falling apart. There I was with Danny in September, sitting outside at a Coffee Beanâheâd sent me a surprise âCome and visit me for the weekend!â plane ticket, and Iâd flown out to California and back again in less than forty-eight hours. And then there was one from last summer, me and J.J. tryingâand failingâto play Cards Against Humanity with only two people.
But there were none of all of us together, and looking at the pictures was evidence that we hadnât all been together in a while. But at long last, this weekend, we would be. For three days, my siblings were going to be home and it was going to be us againâplaying games and standing around the kitchen laughing and making bagel runs and just being together.
Iâd spent so much time thinking about it, and now it was so close. I was so near to the way it felt when we were all together, like finally things had been put right again. Not to mention that this weekend was the last time that weâd all be together in this house, so it was going to be perfect. It had to be perfect. I would make sure of it.
I headed for the door and was halfway down the stairs to the kitchen when the alarm went off again.