Free Tails of Spring Break by Anne Warren Smith

love my mom’s sparkly vest.

Chapter 23
The Final Tail
    B Y SATURDAY AFTERNOON, MY room looked like me again. Mom’s poster hung next to my dresser. Claire had rolled up her pale blue rug and filled her bags with her blue stationery, her projects, and her clothes. Her mother’s photo stood on the bedside table. She was writing in her notebook. Her face looked somehow softer; she was even smiling.
    “Pen pals?” I asked.
    She looked up and shook her head. “A list. I like those yellow-and-black striped ones, and I want those blue ones with the black eye things. And one of those flat ones. . . .”
    “You’re getting fish?”
    She nodded. “I think we ARE supposed to love things,” she said, “even if they might die.”
    Ruby’s words. That made sense to me, too.
    I looked at Claire. Had she changed? Or was I just getting used to her? “Thanks for being my business partner,” I said.
    She hugged the notebook against her chest. “Thanks for letting me.”
    The doorbell rang.
    Claire started toward the door. “I hope it’s my father. I hope it’s not Sierra.”
    We heard Dad open the front door. “How was Hawaii?” he asked.
    Claire and I froze.
    “Sunshine the whole time,” Sierra’s mom answered. “Look at my tan.”
    “I got a tan, too,” Sierra’s voice said.
    “Rained here almost every day,” Dad said.
    I touched Claire’s arm. “We have to get this over with.”
    In the hallway, we almost bumped into Tyler. “Come on, China,” he said. “Come see who’s here.”
    “Mew,” China Cat said.
    Claire and I stopped short. We stared at China.
    “Mew,” she said again. She waved her tail at us. She wound herself around Tyler’s legs and pushed her head up for a pat as she passed in front of him.
    “Nice kitty,” Tyler crooned.
    China walked down the hall beside Tyler. Her hips swayed. She sang a deep, happy song. “There you are,” Mrs. Dymond said. “Why, you look great, China!”
    I heard Dad drop something on the floor. “Huh?” he asked.
    Claire and I went to stand in the front hall as China bounded into Mrs. Dymond’s arms and nuzzled her head under her chin.
    Sierra grinned at me and handed me a box. “I brought a pretty shell for your collection,” she said. But then, her grin faded as she looked behind me. At Claire.
    “I was at Katie’s house all week,” Claire said. “We’re business partners now.”
    Sierra’s mouth dropped open.
    “That reminds me,” Mrs. Dymond said. “We owe Katie forty dollars.” She passed China to Mr. Dymond and got out her checkbook.
    I went to stand beside her. “Wait,” I said.
    “I suppose you’ll split it with Claire,” Mrs. Dymond said, “since she’s your business partner.”
    She began to write the check.
    “No,” I said. “I mean, yes. But mostly, it’s Tyler’s.”
    Beside me, Claire nodded. Dad cleared his throat and nodded, too.
    Tyler shoved his hands into his pockets. All at once, he looked five instead of four. “China liked me the best,” he said proudly.
    “I’ll write the check to Katie,” Mrs. Dymond said, “and the three of you can decide how to split it.”
    While Claire and Tyler collected cat toys, Sierra and I carried some of China’s stuff out to her car. “Lots to tell you,” I told her as we shoved things into the back seat.
    “Poor you,” Sierra said. “Claire was at your house all week?”
    “It was an awful week,” I answered, “but not because of Claire.”
    “What could be worse than Claire?” Sierra rolled her eyes.
    I tipped my face up and tasted rain on my tongue. “A bunch of things are worse,” I said.
    As Claire came up to us with a bag filled with paper fish and jingly toys, I began a list: “Piddle puddles. Green vomit. Monster cat. Yes, Sierra, your cat went crazy.”
    “But Tyler did too,” Claire said. “And Harry Truman died. . . .”
    Sierra put her hands over her ears. “Next year,” she said, “you guys have to get out of Oregon.”
    I thought about