Read Online Brett McCarthy by Maria Padian - Free Book Online Page A

response, especially since he was the only person from school who had bothered to check in with me that afternoon. But I’m not particularly nice when I feel stupid and betrayed.
    “I’ll see you around,” he said, shouldering his filled-to-capacity backpack and heading out the kitchen door. He practically ran over Mom, who was just walking in.
    “Hello, Michael!” she said brightly. “Just leaving?” He muttered something approaching hi-yup-gotta-go, and disappeared. Mom tossed her keys and purse on the kitchen counter, unbuttoned her jacket, and flopped onto the space of window seat just vacated by Michael. She closed her eyes briefly, then smiled.
    “How was your day?” she said. “I hope it was better than mine.”

ob•tuse
    Here’s the thing about parents: Just when you think you’ve got them totally figured out, they surprise you.
    I would have bet my cleats that Mom’s Lecture of a Lifetime would be full of the usual Really Annoying Things Parents Say. What-Were-You-Thinking. I’m-So-Disappointed-in-You. How-Many-Times-Do-I-Have-to-Tell-You. I could go on, but it’s too annoying even to list them.
    Then she went and blew my assumptions out of the water.
    For starters, she didn’t lecture me. First she telephoned Dad (rather than launch into the sad story of my disastrous day, I directed her to Dad’s fridge note). They talked for a long time. After she hung up, she returned to the window seat and got right to the point. No Inquisition, no annoying lead-in.
    “Let me make sure I’ve got this straight,” she said quietly. “You punched Jeanne Anne because she made fun of your grandmother?”
    I nodded and waited for the storm. Instead, Mom wrapped her arms tight around me and held on for probably a whole minute. When she let go, I could swear she looked teary.
    “Good for you,” she said. “Don’t you let anyone make fun of Nonna. Ever.”
    I stared at her in amazement.
    “Whoa,” I said. “Whatever happened to ‘Sticks and Stones Can Break My Bones’? You’d better watch it, Mom, or someone is going to make you attend a Zero Tolerance for Violence assembly. Trust me; they’re no fun.”
    She laughed, wiping her eyes. What’s up? I thought. She’s crying.
    “Tell you what,” she said. “Daddy’s coming home early. I’m going to get started on dinner. Why don’t you head over to Nonna’s and ask her to join us tonight?”
    I looked at her suspiciously.
    “No lecture?” I asked.
    “Nope.”
    “You aren’t angry?”
    She paused.
    “I don’t know what I am,” she said. “I’m in a place so far beyond angry that I can’t quite recognize it. Call it ‘numb.’ At any rate, enjoy it now, because I’ll have plenty of time to get mad at you over the next few days. Now get going. Tell her I’m making pasta. She loves pasta.”
    Obtuse. Means
lacking sharpness or quickness of sensibility.
Also means
stupid. Clueless.
    Because I finally got it. The pasta made it all clear. Here I was, suspended and temporarily banned from soccer, which in my definition is a Big Bad Deal, but all Mom could think about was…noodles. Nonna’s favorite food.
    There had been a zillion signs. Ever since Nonna had returned from Spruce Island. But I had been too obtuse to notice until now.
    Something was wrong with my grandmother, and Mom was worried sick.

an•tip•a•thy
    Nonna was busy at the stove. She promptly turned down the invitation to pasta.
    “I’ve got Beady coming over tonight,” she said. “Tell your mother thanks anyway.”
    I settled into a kitchen chair. Nonna had replaced the clutter on the table with two place settings. The room smelled like something burning. Despite my antipathy for Mr. Beady, I felt sorry for him. Nonna was a world-renowned bad cook. Unless she was cooking with chocolate. It was one of her odd little defining qualities. Her chocolate desserts were amazing, but everything else she cooked…yuck.
    Antipathy:
dislike engendering feelings of extreme