and they stood on two legs. Corythosaurus were herbivores and . . .”
Maybe I should’ve stood up for April the way she had for me, but I couldn’t seem to move. Even when the bus pulled up and everyone else got on, I stood there. The driver had to honk his horn before I moved. I took a seat next to April, but she just stared at the window.
Chapter Eight
I trailed a step behind April after we got off the bus, trying to think of a way to thank her for sticking up for me without actually making her think we were friends. I know that’s horrible of me and makes me just like Becky, but it’s true. If everyone saw that I was friends with April, I’d have zero chances of ever digging my way out of this Tom and Becky thing. I mean, I hadn’t figured out how to make myself popular again, but I knew hanging out with April was not the way to do it. Making friends with other residents of Dorkdom would be like settling. It’d be like accepting that this is where I belong.
Still, when April turned left to go home and I kept walking straight to my house, I called out, “Bye, April!”
She didn’t even wave.
Great. Now even dorks hated me.
Grandma’s old clunker car was in our driveway. The garage door was open, and I could see my mom’s van wasn’t there.
“What are you doing here?” I asked Grandma as soon as I opened the screen door.
Grandma was sitting on the couch, one ring-heavy hand resting on Molly’s belly. “Well, hi, and how do you do to you, too,” Grandma snapped. She didn’t look up from her book, a paperback with a muscled man holding a fainting woman bulging out of her dress on the cover.
“Okay, fine. Hi, Grandma. How are you? What are you doing here?” I didn’t mean to sound so snappy, but I guess a big part of me was hoping to come home and find Dad waiting to go for a walk. I wanted to come home and have something be like it used to be. But then I remembered. Molly’s appointment with the heart doctor was today. “Is it Molly? Is her heart all right?”
Grandma put the book down on her lap, bending the spine. She squinted up at me through her smudged glasses. “Molly’s fine. I’m more worried about you at the moment.”
“The doctor said her heart’s okay?” I asked again, still standing in the doorway with my book bag.
“Come in the house and shut the door,” Grandma snapped. “Molly’s fine. The doctor had good news. It looks like the heart murmur they saw at the hospital when she was born is going to close just fine. Her heart’s strong. I told your mom and dad I’d babysit my granddaughters while they went out for dinner to celebrate.”
I breathed out slowly. The bricks I didn’t know had been piled on my chest dissolved. Molly’s heart was fine.
But Grandma still stared at me like she was searching for a tick. “I’m more worried about you,” she repeated.
I shrugged off my book bag and plopped onto the couch. “I’m fine. What’s for dinner?”
“It’s four o’clock, Lucy. Respectable people don’t eat dinner until seven.” She smiled then and piled a few pillows around Molly like a nest. Then she hoisted herself up. “I’ll make some popcorn. You find some chocolate.”
We feasted on popcorn and the chocolate Mom had hidden in the cupboard since Easter. It was a little chalky, but still delicious. Grandma’s popcorn is the best. It’s regular microwave popcorn, with a drizzle of melted Nutella and peanut butter. I felt bad for poor Molly, who woke up to just a bottle of disgust-o milk.
For a long time, the only sound in the living room was the munching of popcorn and the turning of Grandma’s paperback pages. I worried about getting chocolate smudges on my library book but figured Sam and I were the only ones who would ever actually check out wolf books from The Goblin and risked it.
“So, what’s up with you, squirt?” Grandma asked. I realized I hadn’t heard her pages turn or popcorn chewing for a while.
I
Maybe I should’ve stood up for April the way she had for me, but I couldn’t seem to move. Even when the bus pulled up and everyone else got on, I stood there. The driver had to honk his horn before I moved. I took a seat next to April, but she just stared at the window.
Chapter Eight
I trailed a step behind April after we got off the bus, trying to think of a way to thank her for sticking up for me without actually making her think we were friends. I know that’s horrible of me and makes me just like Becky, but it’s true. If everyone saw that I was friends with April, I’d have zero chances of ever digging my way out of this Tom and Becky thing. I mean, I hadn’t figured out how to make myself popular again, but I knew hanging out with April was not the way to do it. Making friends with other residents of Dorkdom would be like settling. It’d be like accepting that this is where I belong.
Still, when April turned left to go home and I kept walking straight to my house, I called out, “Bye, April!”
She didn’t even wave.
Great. Now even dorks hated me.
Grandma’s old clunker car was in our driveway. The garage door was open, and I could see my mom’s van wasn’t there.
“What are you doing here?” I asked Grandma as soon as I opened the screen door.
Grandma was sitting on the couch, one ring-heavy hand resting on Molly’s belly. “Well, hi, and how do you do to you, too,” Grandma snapped. She didn’t look up from her book, a paperback with a muscled man holding a fainting woman bulging out of her dress on the cover.
“Okay, fine. Hi, Grandma. How are you? What are you doing here?” I didn’t mean to sound so snappy, but I guess a big part of me was hoping to come home and find Dad waiting to go for a walk. I wanted to come home and have something be like it used to be. But then I remembered. Molly’s appointment with the heart doctor was today. “Is it Molly? Is her heart all right?”
Grandma put the book down on her lap, bending the spine. She squinted up at me through her smudged glasses. “Molly’s fine. I’m more worried about you at the moment.”
“The doctor said her heart’s okay?” I asked again, still standing in the doorway with my book bag.
“Come in the house and shut the door,” Grandma snapped. “Molly’s fine. The doctor had good news. It looks like the heart murmur they saw at the hospital when she was born is going to close just fine. Her heart’s strong. I told your mom and dad I’d babysit my granddaughters while they went out for dinner to celebrate.”
I breathed out slowly. The bricks I didn’t know had been piled on my chest dissolved. Molly’s heart was fine.
But Grandma still stared at me like she was searching for a tick. “I’m more worried about you,” she repeated.
I shrugged off my book bag and plopped onto the couch. “I’m fine. What’s for dinner?”
“It’s four o’clock, Lucy. Respectable people don’t eat dinner until seven.” She smiled then and piled a few pillows around Molly like a nest. Then she hoisted herself up. “I’ll make some popcorn. You find some chocolate.”
We feasted on popcorn and the chocolate Mom had hidden in the cupboard since Easter. It was a little chalky, but still delicious. Grandma’s popcorn is the best. It’s regular microwave popcorn, with a drizzle of melted Nutella and peanut butter. I felt bad for poor Molly, who woke up to just a bottle of disgust-o milk.
For a long time, the only sound in the living room was the munching of popcorn and the turning of Grandma’s paperback pages. I worried about getting chocolate smudges on my library book but figured Sam and I were the only ones who would ever actually check out wolf books from The Goblin and risked it.
“So, what’s up with you, squirt?” Grandma asked. I realized I hadn’t heard her pages turn or popcorn chewing for a while.
I
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