a promise that we’d all have a fun, “rewarding” summer filled with “wonderful surprises.” I almost got excited about that part. Until I remembered that Teddy once told me that he had a nice surprise for me, and it turned out to be nothing but milk toast.
Some of the older girls didn’t bother hiding their horrification (which I decided, if it wasn’t a real word, should be) when they saw what Little Sister they were stuck with. Like Tina, who got Mindy Brewer, a bucktoothed girl with a snarl at the back of her head the size of France. Tina cringed like she suddenly smelled dog poop when Mindy stepped forward after her name was called. Just like the Big Sister with curly hair like mine did when she got stuck with Alice Limpkins, the girl who was a flunky—twice over—and
did
have flea bites on her legs in fourth grade.
Lots of those older girls looked upset when their Little Sister stepped away from the wall to join them—but not Brenda Bloom. She only smiled when she called out my name, like she didn’t even notice that I was afflicted. When she put her hand on my shoulder to lead me to a table, I heard one of the Little Sisters behind me say, “That lucky!” And I almost did feel lucky, too. Because Brenda was the prettiest—and probably the nicest—best girl of the bunch of best girls, so getting paired with her was sort of like drawing the best gift under the tree in the classroom Christmas gift exchange.
When we got to the table—Brenda and I on one end, and someother poor loser like me and a big girl with poufy hair and a shiny necklace sitting across from us—Brenda started paging through her packet for the GETTING ACQUAINTED paper. “I didn’t think you’d show up,” she said as she dug.
“Yeah, well I have my reasons,” I said.
Brenda pulled a page out of her folder. “Care to share?”
“Nope,” I said as I gawked around the room.
One thing I noticed right off was that the big Goody Two-shoes girls sat straight, like they had an invisible rope to the ceiling running right through them that came out the tops of their heads. I couldn’t say the same for us afflicted kids, though. The girl sitting to my left was drooped over, her hand holding up her head like it was too heavy to stay up on its own, which it might have been, since she did have a noggin the size of a standard pumpkin, and me, sitting on one leg, my free leg bouncing. When I noticed, though, I put both my feet flat on the floor and sat up straight.
“Isabella,” Brenda said, looking down at the paper. “I’m going to read a list of activities, and when I mention one you like, you tell me, okay? This is how we’ll find out what interests we have in common.”
Brenda sounded like a schoolteacher as she read the list filled with things like badminton and tennis. Things I never even did once, so how would I know if I liked doing them or not? And then she read things that weren’t even “activities” but just plain work, like cooking and sewing. Things I
knew
I didn’t like.
When the list Brenda was reading got so long I couldn’t listen anymore, I got on my knees and leaned over the table so I could see just how much longer it was going to take. Sure enough, the activities under the pen tip Brenda was using to keep her place was Santa-list long. “How about I save you the trouble of reading that whole thing,” I said, “and just tell you what I like doing. Okay?
“I like riding my new scooter—well, it’s not actually new, but it’s new to me—and playing marbles and jumping rope and jacks. Scrabble, too, but only with Teddy because he doesn’t mind if Idance around and sing while he takes his turn. Those are the things I
like
. But the things I
love
are singing and movies. I sing all the time, and most of the time I don’t even know I’m doing it. Did I hum or sing since we sat down? I’ll bet I did.” Brenda nodded and smiled. “Yep. Figures. It’s an affliction I’ve got, but one I hope I
Some of the older girls didn’t bother hiding their horrification (which I decided, if it wasn’t a real word, should be) when they saw what Little Sister they were stuck with. Like Tina, who got Mindy Brewer, a bucktoothed girl with a snarl at the back of her head the size of France. Tina cringed like she suddenly smelled dog poop when Mindy stepped forward after her name was called. Just like the Big Sister with curly hair like mine did when she got stuck with Alice Limpkins, the girl who was a flunky—twice over—and
did
have flea bites on her legs in fourth grade.
Lots of those older girls looked upset when their Little Sister stepped away from the wall to join them—but not Brenda Bloom. She only smiled when she called out my name, like she didn’t even notice that I was afflicted. When she put her hand on my shoulder to lead me to a table, I heard one of the Little Sisters behind me say, “That lucky!” And I almost did feel lucky, too. Because Brenda was the prettiest—and probably the nicest—best girl of the bunch of best girls, so getting paired with her was sort of like drawing the best gift under the tree in the classroom Christmas gift exchange.
When we got to the table—Brenda and I on one end, and someother poor loser like me and a big girl with poufy hair and a shiny necklace sitting across from us—Brenda started paging through her packet for the GETTING ACQUAINTED paper. “I didn’t think you’d show up,” she said as she dug.
“Yeah, well I have my reasons,” I said.
Brenda pulled a page out of her folder. “Care to share?”
“Nope,” I said as I gawked around the room.
One thing I noticed right off was that the big Goody Two-shoes girls sat straight, like they had an invisible rope to the ceiling running right through them that came out the tops of their heads. I couldn’t say the same for us afflicted kids, though. The girl sitting to my left was drooped over, her hand holding up her head like it was too heavy to stay up on its own, which it might have been, since she did have a noggin the size of a standard pumpkin, and me, sitting on one leg, my free leg bouncing. When I noticed, though, I put both my feet flat on the floor and sat up straight.
“Isabella,” Brenda said, looking down at the paper. “I’m going to read a list of activities, and when I mention one you like, you tell me, okay? This is how we’ll find out what interests we have in common.”
Brenda sounded like a schoolteacher as she read the list filled with things like badminton and tennis. Things I never even did once, so how would I know if I liked doing them or not? And then she read things that weren’t even “activities” but just plain work, like cooking and sewing. Things I
knew
I didn’t like.
When the list Brenda was reading got so long I couldn’t listen anymore, I got on my knees and leaned over the table so I could see just how much longer it was going to take. Sure enough, the activities under the pen tip Brenda was using to keep her place was Santa-list long. “How about I save you the trouble of reading that whole thing,” I said, “and just tell you what I like doing. Okay?
“I like riding my new scooter—well, it’s not actually new, but it’s new to me—and playing marbles and jumping rope and jacks. Scrabble, too, but only with Teddy because he doesn’t mind if Idance around and sing while he takes his turn. Those are the things I
like
. But the things I
love
are singing and movies. I sing all the time, and most of the time I don’t even know I’m doing it. Did I hum or sing since we sat down? I’ll bet I did.” Brenda nodded and smiled. “Yep. Figures. It’s an affliction I’ve got, but one I hope I
Similar Books
