finished art work, which, in her opinion, was slightly better than Phillip’s.
“Wow, Benny, this is so good. Mommy’s going to like it a lot. You may even get to put it on the fridge,” Sam said.
Benjamin grinned widely.
“How come you’re more enthusiastic about his picture than mine?” Phillip asked, feigning hurt.
“He’s my little brother, and what do you expect? I mean your picture is good, but not art gallery good. Besides, I just thought Ben’s picture was better,” Sam said, smiling.
She liked it when she came up with something clever that made Phillip smile. She loved seeing him smile, it always made her heart skip a beat. She’d much rather think about him than about what had happened at school.
“Ouch, Sam. Your criticism has stabbed me right in the heart,” Phillip said, pressing his hand to his chest.
“Sammy is a good drawer,” Benjamin interjected.
“Yes, I’ve seen one of her pictures,” Phillip replied, tousling Benjamin’s hair.
“What did you see?” Sam asked, dreading his answer.
“Well, that one time in detention—”
“What? You saw my drawing of you? Oh man, I was really hoping you didn’t.”
Phillip looked embarrassed. “It was a great drawing of me, Sam. I was really flattered. And when I saw it, I remembered what good friends we used to be, and I felt bad that I hadn’t talked to you in so long. I hope you know that I really do just want to be friends again.”
Sam eyed him uneasily.
“Sammy drawed all these for me,” Benjamin interrupted. “And she painted my walls.”
The walls were painted in a Thomas the Tank Engine theme. “This is Thomas,” Benjamin said as he walked over to the painting of Thomas. And this is—”
“Henry,” Phillip said.
“You know Thomas?” Benjamin asked, beaming. Phillip had obviously just become his new best friend.
“Yep. You did a good job, Sam. Painting, I mean,” Phillip told her.
“Thanks, I won’t ask how you know Thomas the Tank Engine , though,” Sam said.
“Are you awake, Sam?” Sam’s mother yelled up the stairs.
“Yes, Mother.”
“Ask your friend if he’d like to stay for dinner, then come down because the food is ready.”
Sam turned back to Phillip and Benjamin. “Well, would you like to stay for dinner? I’m not sure what we’re having, but it’s usually good. My mother lives to cook.”
Phillip smiled. “Usually, huh? I guess I’ll just have to take my chances—as long as you’re sure it’s no trouble.”
“Believe me, my mother would love to have someone else at the dinner table.”
“Yay!” Benjamin cheered then took both Phillip’s and Sam’s hands and steered them downstairs.
“Are you going to join us, Phillip?” her mom asked, looking up from the stove.
“Yes, ma’am, I’d love to join your family for dinner. You’re sure it’s no trouble?”
“None at all, please have a seat.”
Everyone sat down at the table, including Sam’s father, who had just walked through the front door.
“Hello, everyone,” Mr. Baker said. “And who is this?”
“I’m Phillip Corinodi, sir.”
“Please, call me Mr. Baker or John, if you prefer.”
“Nice to meet you, Mr. Baker. I’m one of Sam’s friends from school.”
“Well, it’s good to see she has more than one friend.” Her dad chuckled.
Sam's cheeks heated at her dad's comment, she wasn't sure if it was out of anger or embarrassment.
“Tonight, we will be having lasagna, green beans, garlic bread, and of course—”
“We can’t forget the salad,” Sam mouthed along with her mother at Phillip.
He smiled as he passed his plate down at the request of Sam’s mother.
“All right, enjoy,” her mom said after everyone was served.
After dinner, Sam’s mother cleared the table and her father went into the living room to catch the nightly news.
“Like I told your mother, the food was delicious,” Phillip told her.
“Thank you, but my mom deserves all the credit.”
“Do you mind if I
“Wow, Benny, this is so good. Mommy’s going to like it a lot. You may even get to put it on the fridge,” Sam said.
Benjamin grinned widely.
“How come you’re more enthusiastic about his picture than mine?” Phillip asked, feigning hurt.
“He’s my little brother, and what do you expect? I mean your picture is good, but not art gallery good. Besides, I just thought Ben’s picture was better,” Sam said, smiling.
She liked it when she came up with something clever that made Phillip smile. She loved seeing him smile, it always made her heart skip a beat. She’d much rather think about him than about what had happened at school.
“Ouch, Sam. Your criticism has stabbed me right in the heart,” Phillip said, pressing his hand to his chest.
“Sammy is a good drawer,” Benjamin interjected.
“Yes, I’ve seen one of her pictures,” Phillip replied, tousling Benjamin’s hair.
“What did you see?” Sam asked, dreading his answer.
“Well, that one time in detention—”
“What? You saw my drawing of you? Oh man, I was really hoping you didn’t.”
Phillip looked embarrassed. “It was a great drawing of me, Sam. I was really flattered. And when I saw it, I remembered what good friends we used to be, and I felt bad that I hadn’t talked to you in so long. I hope you know that I really do just want to be friends again.”
Sam eyed him uneasily.
“Sammy drawed all these for me,” Benjamin interrupted. “And she painted my walls.”
The walls were painted in a Thomas the Tank Engine theme. “This is Thomas,” Benjamin said as he walked over to the painting of Thomas. And this is—”
“Henry,” Phillip said.
“You know Thomas?” Benjamin asked, beaming. Phillip had obviously just become his new best friend.
“Yep. You did a good job, Sam. Painting, I mean,” Phillip told her.
“Thanks, I won’t ask how you know Thomas the Tank Engine , though,” Sam said.
“Are you awake, Sam?” Sam’s mother yelled up the stairs.
“Yes, Mother.”
“Ask your friend if he’d like to stay for dinner, then come down because the food is ready.”
Sam turned back to Phillip and Benjamin. “Well, would you like to stay for dinner? I’m not sure what we’re having, but it’s usually good. My mother lives to cook.”
Phillip smiled. “Usually, huh? I guess I’ll just have to take my chances—as long as you’re sure it’s no trouble.”
“Believe me, my mother would love to have someone else at the dinner table.”
“Yay!” Benjamin cheered then took both Phillip’s and Sam’s hands and steered them downstairs.
“Are you going to join us, Phillip?” her mom asked, looking up from the stove.
“Yes, ma’am, I’d love to join your family for dinner. You’re sure it’s no trouble?”
“None at all, please have a seat.”
Everyone sat down at the table, including Sam’s father, who had just walked through the front door.
“Hello, everyone,” Mr. Baker said. “And who is this?”
“I’m Phillip Corinodi, sir.”
“Please, call me Mr. Baker or John, if you prefer.”
“Nice to meet you, Mr. Baker. I’m one of Sam’s friends from school.”
“Well, it’s good to see she has more than one friend.” Her dad chuckled.
Sam's cheeks heated at her dad's comment, she wasn't sure if it was out of anger or embarrassment.
“Tonight, we will be having lasagna, green beans, garlic bread, and of course—”
“We can’t forget the salad,” Sam mouthed along with her mother at Phillip.
He smiled as he passed his plate down at the request of Sam’s mother.
“All right, enjoy,” her mom said after everyone was served.
After dinner, Sam’s mother cleared the table and her father went into the living room to catch the nightly news.
“Like I told your mother, the food was delicious,” Phillip told her.
“Thank you, but my mom deserves all the credit.”
“Do you mind if I
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