Read Online Out of the Box by Michelle Mulder - Free Book Online Page A

help.”
    She’s not asking my opinion. She’s telling me what she thinks of my family. What am I supposed to say to that?
    I shrug, and we keep walking.

T WELVE
    â€œT a da!” Sarah runs out of her house as soon as Jeanette and I turn onto our street.
    My aunt and I haven’t said much to each other the rest of the way home. She’s probably giving me time to let what she said sink in. I’m keeping my mouth shut, because anything I say might be held against my parents and me. I’m grateful for Sarah’s sudden appearance.
    She pounds down the stairs and twirls before us in a skirt I haven’t seen before, a rainbow of neckties sewn together, and I know right away where she must have got the idea. My mother would be pleased.
    Sarah’s feet are bare, her blouse is long and flowing, and her hair is tied back in a bandanna. I tell her she looks great, and I mean it. She could wear a potato sack and still look good.
    â€œThanks,” she says. “Wait until you see the sock bowties!”
    I laugh, and she asks if I want to go thrift-store shopping with her right now.
    â€œYes,” I say without thinking. Thrift stores have book sections for me to explore while she’s trolling the clothing racks, and I couldn’t stand another second with Jeanette anyway.
    â€œHere.” Jeanette digs in the pocket of her jeans and pulls out a ragged ten-dollar bill. “Go to the gelato place afterward and try out some wacky flavor.”
    I can’t tell if it’s an apology or a pledge of ongoing support, but whatever it is, the end result will be gelato, my very favorite dessert. I pocket the cash, leave my bandoneón in my room and take off with Sarah.

    Downtown is crawling with tourists. On the way back from the thrift store, we dodge between shoppers and buskers on the wide sidewalk.
    Ned is sitting with his hat out on the pavement. I stop to rummage around in my backpack and pull out a somewhat squashed peanut-butter-and-jam sandwich. I used to think Jeanette was crazy for always having one with her, but after our morning at the soup kitchen, I started doing it too, and now I see why she does it. The grin on Ned’s face is totally worth it. “Say hi to your aunt for me!” he says as I go back to where Sarah stands waiting for me.
    â€œYou and your aunt are two peas in a pod,” she says when I stoop to pick up one of our bags. We’ve each got a large yellow bag full of colorful dresses, blouses, leggings and skirts, none of which I even noticed until Sarah pulled them off the racks. I did find some great books though. Nestled deep in one of the bags are three books: an old South American guidebook with a big map of Buenos Aires, a novel I’ve been meaning to read, and another book that I waffled about and finally grabbed at the last minute, Mental Health and You. I’m going to need backup to prove to Jeanette how ridiculous she’s being.
    The gelato shop is only a door that opens onto the sidewalk with a lineup half a block long snaking out in front of it. Behind the door, two teenagers stand between long rows of ice-cream freezers. I order chocolate-chip mint.
    â€œOne broccoli with fly specks!” shouts the pimply teenager behind the counter. He rings up the sale while his coworker scoops the gelato.
    â€œBroccoli with fly specks!” the scooper calls back, and I laugh. Alison would have loved that one. She was never much of a gelato fan, but she loved coming here just to hear the crazy names the staff made up.
    Sarah orders caramel apple, and the cashier yells, “One mashed potatoes and mud!”
    Customers laugh, and someone wonders aloud if they come up with new names for the flavors every day. I’m about to answer that yes, they do—I always order chocolate-chip mint and have never heard it called the same thing twice—when I spot the older boy we saw at Victoria Middle School. This time he’s with a