Two Naomis by Olugbemisola Rhuday-Perkovich Page A

or if she just doesn’t know any better. Or maybe she’s following my example, like a little sister should. Something almost like the hopies flutters in my belly. Maybe Shelly Ann’s caramel cake will be magic and make the Other Naomi nice. And then she’ll go home and be nice there, where I won’t have to see it but I’ll know I helped. Maybe if I keep being so mature, I can make all this go away and then I can be myself again. The one and only Naomi.

CHAPTER TEN
Naomi E.
    The little one, Brianna, reaches out to hold my hand, and before I even know it, the other Naomi and I are swinging her the way Mom and Dad used to swing me on my way to Kinder Kinder (which almost rhymes with finder splinter , but everyone calls it Kinda Kinder) when I was little. It’s weird to be the older one, the big one. I’ve never been the one who swings before. It’s fun, but only for about a minute. And it seems like Brianna would like us to keep swinging her until our arms fall off our bodies.
    And she won’t stop singing!
    Everyone else is pretending it’s adorable. The other Naomi sometimes chimes in—in harmony. Dad might even be— Yes, he is. Dad is singing along.
    We turn left at the corner instead of going straight, the direction of Morningstar. “Dad!” I call out. He and Valerie got far ahead of us because they don’t have to swing a four-year-old.
    He turns and smiles.
    â€œDad, Morningstar’s that way,” I remind him.
    Valerie, who I wasn’t talking to, answers. “We thought it would be fun to try someplace new.”
    â€œShelly Ann’s?” the other Naomi says. “I think we might really need her caramel cake today.”
    â€œToday we’re trying Yumi’s,” Valerie says. “It opened two weeks ago.”
    I’m not going to act like a brat, but I feel like one inside. Because all I want is to be at Morningstar. I kind of need the way everyone smiles at Dad and me when we walk in. And the table in the corner that’s almost always waiting for us. Plus a bagel. Or a croissant. It’s almost like our home away from home, especially since Mom left.
    I stop swinging my arm, but Brianna pulls my hand back, trying to force another swing. The other Naomi and I do one more quick swing and then I drop Brianna’s hand before she can try for more. We’ve been swinging her for two whole blocks already!
    â€œEverything’s good at Shelly Ann’s,” Brianna sings in the same way she was singing that “Sally Go Round” song, but the words don’t fit the melody. “We’ll go there next time because it’s the best bakery in the wor-er-er-erld!”
    â€œYou’re something else, Brianna,” Dad says, laughing.
    Finally, we stop in front of a storefront with a little blackboardeasel sign out front that says Open for Business. It’s new looking and cute, and when we open the door, a delicious buttery-cinnamon-apple smell greets us. There’s something about it— Oh. Ow, oh. It smells like the apple crisp my mom makes. She says it’s the one recipe she’s never messed up, and it makes me miss her in a really big way. Shoot, my eyes are tearing up and everything. From a stupid smell!
    â€œDad,” I whisper, “do you think there’s a bathroom here?” I don’t want to cry in front of everyone.
    â€œIt may be only for the people who work here, but I can ask.”
    â€œNaomi! LOOK!” Brianna runs over to the display case. “They have the biggest cookies! That one is bigger than Rahel!”
    A bald guy who’s lining up cupcakes on a low shelf stands up. Whoa. He’s very tall, and his smile somehow makes me feel better. I wipe my eyes with the back of my hand, relieved no one saw.
    â€œWhat can I get for you?” he asks.
    â€œYour bathroom?” Valerie asks.
    I always forget that I’m a lousy whisperer.
    â€œI’m