“Did the Pied Piper bite off more than she can chew again? She needs help with homecoming?”
“Yeah, it’s pitiful to watch her struggle though. And besides that she’s so darn persistent, I think she’s part honey badger. She never takes no for an answer. It’s one of her best qualities.” I lovingly roll my eyes.
This makes my dad laugh again. “Yeah, but we love her anyway.”
I smile, too. “Yeah, we do.”
I put the cinnamon roll pan in the dishwasher and hurry back downstairs to apply some mascara and do something with my hair. I decide to avoid the blow dryer and pull it back in a ponytail to save time.
I grab my bag and the list of books to check out from the library. When I arrive back upstairs my dad is heading out to the garage, so we walk together.”Bye Dad, love you.”
“Love you, too, Ronnie.” He winks. “Have fun and don’t be too hard on Pied Piper. Tell her I said hi. I haven’t seen her in a while.”
“I will.” I jump in Jezebel, turn my key in the ignition, and back down the long drive.
• • •
The homecoming planning meeting doesn’t take as long as I’d expected. It’s a follow-up to the meeting on Thursday afternoon that I missed, and it seems like everyone already knows what they need to do. Piper puts me in charge of selling tickets before school the week of the dance and taking tickets at the door the night of. I’m pretty pleased. It could have been much worse. I could’ve ended up with decorating duties. Decorating duties
suck
.
I head to the library, list in hand. I’m definitely a list maker. I make a list for everything. It comes to me naturally, too. I’m a second-generation list-maker, just like my mom.
The library isn’t very busy so I decide to take my time and look around after I find the books I need. Time gets away from me and before I realize it, it’s almost eleven o’clock.
During my drive home, I think about the books and the book report that looms ahead of me. Although I enjoy English and I’m a good writer, I always get anxious when I have a paper due. The satisfaction doesn’t come until the paper is done. The entire process up to that point is nerve-wracking.
As I turn the corner and drive up my street I notice a car parked in front of our house. It isn’t unusual to see cars in front of our house; we often have visitors, especially when my dad’s home. But I’ve never seen this car before. It’s nice—really nice. It looks out of place on our street. It’s a shiny black Porsche with dark tinted windows. Maybe it’s Daniel’s car. He’s a friend of my dad’s, a car collector who’s always got something new to show off.
I park in the driveway instead of pulling in the garage, because I still need to drive to the auto parts store for oil. I stack up the books and balance them in one hand while I put the strap of my bag over my shoulder with the other. My mom’s in the kitchen making sandwiches for lunch when I walk in the back door.
“Hi Ronnie.” She’s flitting around the kitchen. My mom usually operates at 100 miles an hour. She doesn’t know how to relax. She kisses me on the cheek as she breezes by.
“Hey, Mom. What’s up, where’s the fire?” She’s making me dizzy.
Her laugh is nervous, giddy even. “I’m just making some sandwiches to take out to the garage. Do you want one?” The smile on her face could not be any wider.
I shake my head. “No, I’m not hungry right now, maybe later.” I’m confused. I set my books on the counter and hang my bag on the hook by the door. “So, whose car is that outside?”
“That’s funny, Ronnie.” She looks at me and realizes I’m not laughing. She’s confused. Good, now I’m not the only one. “You really don’t know?”
“No, did Daniel get a new car? It’s really nice.”
She smiles again, “I think you better take these sandwiches out to the garage,” and hands me two plates.
Her behavior is kind of freaking me out, but I take the plates
“Yeah, it’s pitiful to watch her struggle though. And besides that she’s so darn persistent, I think she’s part honey badger. She never takes no for an answer. It’s one of her best qualities.” I lovingly roll my eyes.
This makes my dad laugh again. “Yeah, but we love her anyway.”
I smile, too. “Yeah, we do.”
I put the cinnamon roll pan in the dishwasher and hurry back downstairs to apply some mascara and do something with my hair. I decide to avoid the blow dryer and pull it back in a ponytail to save time.
I grab my bag and the list of books to check out from the library. When I arrive back upstairs my dad is heading out to the garage, so we walk together.”Bye Dad, love you.”
“Love you, too, Ronnie.” He winks. “Have fun and don’t be too hard on Pied Piper. Tell her I said hi. I haven’t seen her in a while.”
“I will.” I jump in Jezebel, turn my key in the ignition, and back down the long drive.
• • •
The homecoming planning meeting doesn’t take as long as I’d expected. It’s a follow-up to the meeting on Thursday afternoon that I missed, and it seems like everyone already knows what they need to do. Piper puts me in charge of selling tickets before school the week of the dance and taking tickets at the door the night of. I’m pretty pleased. It could have been much worse. I could’ve ended up with decorating duties. Decorating duties
suck
.
I head to the library, list in hand. I’m definitely a list maker. I make a list for everything. It comes to me naturally, too. I’m a second-generation list-maker, just like my mom.
The library isn’t very busy so I decide to take my time and look around after I find the books I need. Time gets away from me and before I realize it, it’s almost eleven o’clock.
During my drive home, I think about the books and the book report that looms ahead of me. Although I enjoy English and I’m a good writer, I always get anxious when I have a paper due. The satisfaction doesn’t come until the paper is done. The entire process up to that point is nerve-wracking.
As I turn the corner and drive up my street I notice a car parked in front of our house. It isn’t unusual to see cars in front of our house; we often have visitors, especially when my dad’s home. But I’ve never seen this car before. It’s nice—really nice. It looks out of place on our street. It’s a shiny black Porsche with dark tinted windows. Maybe it’s Daniel’s car. He’s a friend of my dad’s, a car collector who’s always got something new to show off.
I park in the driveway instead of pulling in the garage, because I still need to drive to the auto parts store for oil. I stack up the books and balance them in one hand while I put the strap of my bag over my shoulder with the other. My mom’s in the kitchen making sandwiches for lunch when I walk in the back door.
“Hi Ronnie.” She’s flitting around the kitchen. My mom usually operates at 100 miles an hour. She doesn’t know how to relax. She kisses me on the cheek as she breezes by.
“Hey, Mom. What’s up, where’s the fire?” She’s making me dizzy.
Her laugh is nervous, giddy even. “I’m just making some sandwiches to take out to the garage. Do you want one?” The smile on her face could not be any wider.
I shake my head. “No, I’m not hungry right now, maybe later.” I’m confused. I set my books on the counter and hang my bag on the hook by the door. “So, whose car is that outside?”
“That’s funny, Ronnie.” She looks at me and realizes I’m not laughing. She’s confused. Good, now I’m not the only one. “You really don’t know?”
“No, did Daniel get a new car? It’s really nice.”
She smiles again, “I think you better take these sandwiches out to the garage,” and hands me two plates.
Her behavior is kind of freaking me out, but I take the plates
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