coming down with laryngitis.
“Say,” she said, “did you see ‘The Far Side’ this morning?”
I grinned. “Yeah, that was a good one.”
We both liked that comic strip. She always said I had a weird sense of humor for a kid. Sometimes last year when she didn’t get the joke, she’d ask me to explain it.
“How’s fourth grade going for you?”
“Oh, pretty good.” At the moment that seemed true enough. Nobody made fun of me for not being a champion foursquare player at recess, my diorama project was turning out neat, and everybody liked my costume.
“Is that your little brother and sister out there? What a riot!”
The twins had joined the big kids on the dance floor. It wasn’t the polka or Zydeco music but it had a beat—that’s all Freddie and Lucy cared about.
Mom had made Lucy a red-and-white polka-dot dress out of some curtains she got at the thrift shop, and Lucy was real excited about twirling her stiff petticoats. Freddie had red shorts with two big buttons. He was more into stomping.
Mrs. Kassel watched them, her ladle poised in mid-air. “How did you do those noses? They look so cute!”
“Stove black. That was my idea.”
She shook her head, half ready to run out and scoop them up for hugs. I wasn’t jealous, though. I already knew she liked me. Maybe that makes all the difference.
See, sometimes I
do
hate it when people carry on over the twins. When we first started taking them out to the store and stuff, it was shocking, how much attention they got. Ladies we didn’t even know would come up and gush on and on … “How cute! How darling! And
two
of them!” Then they’d push their grocery carts past without ever once even looking at me. What
was
I all of a sudden, the invisible kid?
If Mom tried to kind of draw me into the picture, point out that actually she had
three
children, the other lady would always say to me, “My, I bet you’re a big help to your mother.” I got so sick ofthat! Sometimes I felt like saying, “No, I’m no help at all. Actually I’m a big pain, okay?”
There was only one thing worse—the people who paid no attention to Freddie and Lucy at all …
“Hey, Robby.” It was Jason, dressed as a football player. “Let’s go do the darts and stuff. Ask your dad for some money.”
I robot-walked over to the apple-bobbing corner. Dad was oink-oinking all over the place, adding apples to the washtub while the kindergarteners laughed and splashed and held their stomachs like they ached with giggling.
“Dad, I need money for the game booths.”
“Oink, oink!”
Another burst of giggling.
“It’s for a good cause,” I reminded him as he pulled out his wallet. After the party was paid for, the extra money would go to the school’s Thanksgiving Basket fund. One of the sawmills in Douglas Bay had closed, and this year we wanted to help the families of the people who’d been laid off.
After Jason and Ben and I had done all the different booths, we decided to get in line for the haunted house. But first I detoured by the refreshment table so I’d have something while I waited. I was snagging a popcorn ball when Rose came up to me.
“Your costume looks great,” she said.
“Uh, yours too.”
She was Princess Leia, with a sheet gathered into a flowy dress and her hair in coils over her ears.
“Where you going?” she asked as I turned to leave.
“The haunted house.”
“I’ll go with you.” She took a popcorn ball for herself and followed. “Um, Robby? Thanks for … you know, what you did on the playground today.”
“I didn’t do anything.”
She smiled. “Yes you did. That’s the first time anybody’s ever taken my side in front of Orin Downard.”
“Oh.” Jason and Ben were already farther ahead in line. Rose and I got stuck behind this eighth-grade alien who kept bugging the ballerina in front of him.
“Hey, Rose,” I said, hoping to change the subject. “Have you ever heard of this huge bookstore in Portland
“Say,” she said, “did you see ‘The Far Side’ this morning?”
I grinned. “Yeah, that was a good one.”
We both liked that comic strip. She always said I had a weird sense of humor for a kid. Sometimes last year when she didn’t get the joke, she’d ask me to explain it.
“How’s fourth grade going for you?”
“Oh, pretty good.” At the moment that seemed true enough. Nobody made fun of me for not being a champion foursquare player at recess, my diorama project was turning out neat, and everybody liked my costume.
“Is that your little brother and sister out there? What a riot!”
The twins had joined the big kids on the dance floor. It wasn’t the polka or Zydeco music but it had a beat—that’s all Freddie and Lucy cared about.
Mom had made Lucy a red-and-white polka-dot dress out of some curtains she got at the thrift shop, and Lucy was real excited about twirling her stiff petticoats. Freddie had red shorts with two big buttons. He was more into stomping.
Mrs. Kassel watched them, her ladle poised in mid-air. “How did you do those noses? They look so cute!”
“Stove black. That was my idea.”
She shook her head, half ready to run out and scoop them up for hugs. I wasn’t jealous, though. I already knew she liked me. Maybe that makes all the difference.
See, sometimes I
do
hate it when people carry on over the twins. When we first started taking them out to the store and stuff, it was shocking, how much attention they got. Ladies we didn’t even know would come up and gush on and on … “How cute! How darling! And
two
of them!” Then they’d push their grocery carts past without ever once even looking at me. What
was
I all of a sudden, the invisible kid?
If Mom tried to kind of draw me into the picture, point out that actually she had
three
children, the other lady would always say to me, “My, I bet you’re a big help to your mother.” I got so sick ofthat! Sometimes I felt like saying, “No, I’m no help at all. Actually I’m a big pain, okay?”
There was only one thing worse—the people who paid no attention to Freddie and Lucy at all …
“Hey, Robby.” It was Jason, dressed as a football player. “Let’s go do the darts and stuff. Ask your dad for some money.”
I robot-walked over to the apple-bobbing corner. Dad was oink-oinking all over the place, adding apples to the washtub while the kindergarteners laughed and splashed and held their stomachs like they ached with giggling.
“Dad, I need money for the game booths.”
“Oink, oink!”
Another burst of giggling.
“It’s for a good cause,” I reminded him as he pulled out his wallet. After the party was paid for, the extra money would go to the school’s Thanksgiving Basket fund. One of the sawmills in Douglas Bay had closed, and this year we wanted to help the families of the people who’d been laid off.
After Jason and Ben and I had done all the different booths, we decided to get in line for the haunted house. But first I detoured by the refreshment table so I’d have something while I waited. I was snagging a popcorn ball when Rose came up to me.
“Your costume looks great,” she said.
“Uh, yours too.”
She was Princess Leia, with a sheet gathered into a flowy dress and her hair in coils over her ears.
“Where you going?” she asked as I turned to leave.
“The haunted house.”
“I’ll go with you.” She took a popcorn ball for herself and followed. “Um, Robby? Thanks for … you know, what you did on the playground today.”
“I didn’t do anything.”
She smiled. “Yes you did. That’s the first time anybody’s ever taken my side in front of Orin Downard.”
“Oh.” Jason and Ben were already farther ahead in line. Rose and I got stuck behind this eighth-grade alien who kept bugging the ballerina in front of him.
“Hey, Rose,” I said, hoping to change the subject. “Have you ever heard of this huge bookstore in Portland
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