table turn into Mr. Holloway’s class?
“Sorry, I meant yes.”
Mum smiled and reached over to mess up my hair. “I’m glad you like it, honey.”
“I was hoping for chicken or something,” Wendy sighed. She hated meatloaf, but I was pretty sure it had more to do with the name than the taste.
Meat.
Loaf
.
She was picky like that. She hated Guy LaCroix from the Leafs, just because she couldn’t pronounce his name right. And he was an amazing hockey player! She wouldn’t touch the milk if she saw me drink from the carton. She wouldn’t let me have the front seat in Mum’s van. Ever. She wouldn’t say hi to me in public.
After the day I’d had, I was in no mood to deal with my big, moody sister. I squirted more ketchup onto my plate and dipped a juicy hunk of meatloaf into it.
“Ugh. How gross is that?” Wendy asked.
I thought about the time I’d walked into the living room and caught her by surprise.
“Less gross than swapping spit with Scott Cody,” I told her.
Wendy dropped her fork with a clang. “What?”
“Or maybe it’s Scott Cootie?” That was a good one! And I’d thought of it on the spot. I couldn’t wait to tell Kenny.
“Jonathan,” Dad warned.
“What?” I shrugged. “Meatloaf is way less gross.”
“You are such a twerp,” Wendy sneered.
“Just because I play ice hockey and you play tongue hockey?” Yes! Another zinger!
She gasped, then just sat there with her mouth hanging open.
If Eddie Bosko had seen her, he would have thought looking like flounders ran in my family.
“Are you going to let him get away with this?” Wendy asked, looking first at Mum, then Dad. Her braces were clogged with bits of green beans. Now
that
was gross, but I knew better than to point it out.
“Everyone just settle down and enjoy the meal,” Dad said.
“Did you even hear what he said?” Wendy asked. Her eyes were all bugged out and her face was bright red.
“Jonathan, I think you owe your sister an apology,” Mum said.
“For what?” I asked.
“Uh, being born?” Wendy snapped.
“Wendy,” Mum warned.
“What, he can say whatever he wants and I can’t?”
“These potatoes are fantastic,” Dad said, passing Wendy the bowl. “Didn’t Mum do a great job with dinner?”
Wendy ignored the bowl. “I can’t eat another bite until he apologizes.”
Mum and Dad both looked at me.
“Sorry,” I finally said. “Can you pass the beans?”
“That’s it?” Wendy asked.
I thought about it for a second. “And the pepper, please.”
“I meant your apology,” my sister growled.
“You can do better, Nugget,” Mum told me.
“J.T.,” I reminded her, then turned toward Wendy andput on my most sincere expression, “Wendy, I’m sorry you sucked face with Scott Cody.”
“That’s it!” she shouted, shoving her seat back and standing up. “I’m not putting up with this.”
“Wendy, have a seat,” Mum said.
“Forget it,” she said, stomping upstairs like a typical teenage drama queen. When she slammed her bedroom door, the table was totally silent.
I started to take another bite of meatloaf, but stopped when I saw Mum staring at me.
Uh-oh.
“What on earth did you do that for?” she asked.
“What?”
“You know perfectly well what,” Dad said.
“I don’t know,” I sighed. The truth was, part of me wanted to take my rotten day out on someone else, and Wendy was the closest target. Of course, I knew Mum and Dad wouldn’t understand that kind of explanation, since they thought being eleven was easy.
Ha!
“Well, as soon as you’re finished with dinner, you’re going straight to your room.”
I checked the clock and saw that it was 6:37.
“Until the game starts?” I asked.
Mum actually snorted with laughter. “You aren’t watching the game tonight.”
“What?” I couldn’t believe what I was hearing!
“After what you just pulled with your sister, there’s no way you’re watching hockey.”
All of the air left my body. She had to
“Sorry, I meant yes.”
Mum smiled and reached over to mess up my hair. “I’m glad you like it, honey.”
“I was hoping for chicken or something,” Wendy sighed. She hated meatloaf, but I was pretty sure it had more to do with the name than the taste.
Meat.
Loaf
.
She was picky like that. She hated Guy LaCroix from the Leafs, just because she couldn’t pronounce his name right. And he was an amazing hockey player! She wouldn’t touch the milk if she saw me drink from the carton. She wouldn’t let me have the front seat in Mum’s van. Ever. She wouldn’t say hi to me in public.
After the day I’d had, I was in no mood to deal with my big, moody sister. I squirted more ketchup onto my plate and dipped a juicy hunk of meatloaf into it.
“Ugh. How gross is that?” Wendy asked.
I thought about the time I’d walked into the living room and caught her by surprise.
“Less gross than swapping spit with Scott Cody,” I told her.
Wendy dropped her fork with a clang. “What?”
“Or maybe it’s Scott Cootie?” That was a good one! And I’d thought of it on the spot. I couldn’t wait to tell Kenny.
“Jonathan,” Dad warned.
“What?” I shrugged. “Meatloaf is way less gross.”
“You are such a twerp,” Wendy sneered.
“Just because I play ice hockey and you play tongue hockey?” Yes! Another zinger!
She gasped, then just sat there with her mouth hanging open.
If Eddie Bosko had seen her, he would have thought looking like flounders ran in my family.
“Are you going to let him get away with this?” Wendy asked, looking first at Mum, then Dad. Her braces were clogged with bits of green beans. Now
that
was gross, but I knew better than to point it out.
“Everyone just settle down and enjoy the meal,” Dad said.
“Did you even hear what he said?” Wendy asked. Her eyes were all bugged out and her face was bright red.
“Jonathan, I think you owe your sister an apology,” Mum said.
“For what?” I asked.
“Uh, being born?” Wendy snapped.
“Wendy,” Mum warned.
“What, he can say whatever he wants and I can’t?”
“These potatoes are fantastic,” Dad said, passing Wendy the bowl. “Didn’t Mum do a great job with dinner?”
Wendy ignored the bowl. “I can’t eat another bite until he apologizes.”
Mum and Dad both looked at me.
“Sorry,” I finally said. “Can you pass the beans?”
“That’s it?” Wendy asked.
I thought about it for a second. “And the pepper, please.”
“I meant your apology,” my sister growled.
“You can do better, Nugget,” Mum told me.
“J.T.,” I reminded her, then turned toward Wendy andput on my most sincere expression, “Wendy, I’m sorry you sucked face with Scott Cody.”
“That’s it!” she shouted, shoving her seat back and standing up. “I’m not putting up with this.”
“Wendy, have a seat,” Mum said.
“Forget it,” she said, stomping upstairs like a typical teenage drama queen. When she slammed her bedroom door, the table was totally silent.
I started to take another bite of meatloaf, but stopped when I saw Mum staring at me.
Uh-oh.
“What on earth did you do that for?” she asked.
“What?”
“You know perfectly well what,” Dad said.
“I don’t know,” I sighed. The truth was, part of me wanted to take my rotten day out on someone else, and Wendy was the closest target. Of course, I knew Mum and Dad wouldn’t understand that kind of explanation, since they thought being eleven was easy.
Ha!
“Well, as soon as you’re finished with dinner, you’re going straight to your room.”
I checked the clock and saw that it was 6:37.
“Until the game starts?” I asked.
Mum actually snorted with laughter. “You aren’t watching the game tonight.”
“What?” I couldn’t believe what I was hearing!
“After what you just pulled with your sister, there’s no way you’re watching hockey.”
All of the air left my body. She had to
Similar Books
