Chapter 2

Sorting. That’s what Juliet did to relax. While others lit candles, played music, and took warm baths, Juliet sorted through the many strange collections she kept in her bedroom. For the record, she owned

• an eraser collection (numbering 143 in total);

• a dried-cicada-shell collection (fifty-one);

• a book filled with license plate numbers (Any car that parked in Juliet’s street was recorded in this book);

• ribbons for perfect attendance at school (twelve at last count);

• a box of used bus tickets (sixty-seven as of Tuesday);

• Piranha, her Venus flytrap.

She also had a row of tiny cactus plants she’d been collecting since the spring. She liked the way they kept growing even without the rain. She liked the way they managed on their own.

Juliet pulled out a bright blue box. Written on the lid in thick silver marker were her initials: JJJ, just like three fishhooks in a row. Juliet kept her collection of teeth inside, lying on white cotton wool, just so they’d be comfortable.

How should I sort them today? she wondered. Color (white, whitish yellow, yellowish white, gray); shape (fat and square, sharp and pointy, those with fillings, those with holes); or owner (Dad, Oaf, herself, or her best friend, Lindsay)?

She sat down on the carpet, crossed her legs neatly and balanced the box on her lap. “I think shape,” she said. She took hold of the lid and lifted it up. She looked inside. The teeth were not there! Juliet’s mind raced to one grim conclusion: “Oaf!”

Shortly afterward, Mom found the two sisters arguing in the bedroom.

“Why can’t you leave my things alone?”

“Mm?” said Oaf.

“I know you took my teeth.”

“Teeth?”

“Yes, teeth! The ones from my collection!”

“Ohhhh, thoooose,” said Oaf. “I borrowed them to make a set of false teeth.”

“What?!”

“With some modeling clay.”

“Oaf!”

“And some Super Glue.”

Juliet’s skin itched like mad. She let out a long, loud shriek.

“All right, girls,” said Mom. “No more fighting today. It’s not helpful.”

As a psychologist, Mum had a great understanding of Conflict and Sibling Rivalry, which is another way of saying fights between sisters.

“But, Mom—” began Juliet.

“I mean it, you two. Shouting and screaming won’t solve a thing. I think it’s time the three of us sat down and talked things through.”

Juliet and Oaf groaned. Talking Things Through was never a pleasant experience.

“I reckon she’s going to make us Name Our Feelings,” muttered Oaf.

Please, no, thought Juliet.

“I’ve been thinking things over,” said Mom, “and I’ve decided we should all name our feelings.”

Oaf raised an eyebrow. “Told you,” she said.

The girls had been through this naming exercise before. The idea was to say things like “I feel X when you do Y.” For example, “I feel angry when you lick all the cookies, then put them back in the package,” (message from Juliet to Oaf) or “I feel frustrated when you follow me around with binoculars taking notes” (another message from Juliet to Oaf).

“So, girls,” said Mom, looking from one daughter to the other, “who wants to go first? Anyone? Anyone at all? No? Well, all right then, why don’t I start things off?”

Mom settled herself on the carpet and folded her hands. “When you girls fight and shout at each other, I feel upset and frazzled and the noise makes me feel tense and unhappy. Now,” she said, turning to Juliet, “what do you have to share with us, Worrywart?”

Oaf pricked up her ears. “Juliet has warts? We should probably all wear flip-flops in the shower.”

Juliet’s skin throbbed. She was very, very tired of Oaf and her so-called Humor. Maybe it was time she named some of her feelings.

“When Oaf,” she said, looking down at the empty box, “takes my things without asking, again and again and again and again, I feel like punching her in the face.”

“Juliet!” said Mom. “That’s not in the spirit of the exercise.”

Juliet crossed her arms.

“All right then, Oaf,” said Mom, “you name your feelings.”

Ophelia looked thoughtful.

“Wendy and Brian,” she said.

“Very funny, Oaf,” said Mum, looking exasperated. “You know that’s not what I meant. I think we’ll skip the naming exercise today. What you two really need are your own rooms.”

“Really?” said Juliet. “But doesn’t that mean—”

“Yes,” said Mom. “It does. Hold on to your hats, girls!”