Read Online Smiles to Go by Jerry Spinelli - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Jerry Spinelli
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laugh out loud.”
She studied me. “I don’t think so. I’ve known you most of my life. If you did, I’d know it.”
“Well, you’re wrong.”
She shaded her eyes with her hand and squinted, as if I was standing in sunlight far away. “No, I don’t think so.” She brought back her normal face, smiled. “Anyway, I think you should just stop caring. So much.”
“Huh?”
“He’s got parents for that. Just be his friend.”
“I am. He’s my best friend. That’s what this is all about.”
“You have a funny way of showing it. And anyway, you’re not caring. You’re meddling.”
Am I? Is she right?
“Don’t you care about him?” I said. And instantly wished I could take the words back. They covered more territory than I meant. Would she think I was thinking of the star-party kiss?
But she was cool. Impy. Mi-Su. She plastic-forked salad into her mouth, chewed, stared at me, fingered the amber sea horse at her throat, grinned. “Of course.”
What did she mean by that?
“So?” I said. Whatever that meant.
“So,” she said, munching, “I’m along for the ride.” The bell rang. She laughed, pointed at my sandwich. “You never took a bite, you moron.”
The Big Snap has knocked me off my planning for the kiss. I need to refocus.
PD109
A long for the ride…along for the ride…
PD110
L ooking in the mirror. Smiling. Laughing out loud.
PD111
plink…plink…plink…
PD113
I ’m at the top of a hill. Dead Man’s Hill. Black Viper wobbles beneath me. Wind whistles. I’m scared. Nothing but air beneath me. I want to go back but I can’t. Something pushes me. Ispill off the edge, I’m heading down. I can’t stop. There’s nothing to hang on to. My body drags back while my toes point straight down like a ballet dancer. Black Viper’s wheels are stuttering, skipping. The wind is screaming. I can’t stop. The wheels lose contact. I’m surfing space. Black Viper goes drifting off, like a jettisoned fuel tank. I’m falling…falling…the wind is screaming… Wally ate a potato every day…Wally ate a potato every day…
I opened my eyes.
Tabby was straddling my chest, wearing her snooty I-can-read face, saying over and over, “Wally ate a potato every day.”
I bucked, I swatted, but she was faster. She flitted from the bed like a grasshopper. On the way out the door she bumped the bookcase. My chess trophy tottered, toppled, crashed to the floor.
The pewter King Arthur lay by himself, broken off at the ankles. I cradled it in my hand. The only trophy I’d ever won.
PD118
T he trophy is fixed. I got it back from Hicks’ today. It’s not on the bookcase by the door anymore. It’s high. On top of my dresser.
I put a hook-and-eye lock on my door. I use it at night.
PD119
V alentine’s Day! Perfecto! That’s when I’ll do it.
I’m drawing up a plan.
PD120
S aturday. The dormer. BT and me.
He had to take his little twin chipmunks to the dentist. Then they came here. They were all playing in Tabby’s room, the three of them shrieking beneath us.
We sat on the floor, eating hoagies fromthe deli. BT pointed to the wedding gifts. “When are you gonna open them?”
I shrugged. “Me? Never. Maybe nobody ever will. Or maybe some archaeologist someday.”
He wagged his head. “Crazy.”
“Why?”
“They’re both dead, right? The newlyweds?”
“Yeah. Andrew and Margaret. Long dead.”
“So open them.”
“They’re not mine. They’re like a memorial. It’s a family tradition to not open them.”
“Open them.”
“No.”
He reached. “ I’ll open them.”
I slapped his hand away.
“If they were in my house—”
“Yeah,” I said, “I know.”
“I’m surprised Tabby hasn’t ripped into them.”
“Yeah,” I said, “I am, too. It’s a mystery.”
It seemed impossible that the shrieking below could get any louder, but suddenly it did, followed by stampeding footsteps. Threeminiature girls burst into the dormer. The first, one of
She studied me. “I don’t think so. I’ve known you most of my life. If you did, I’d know it.”
“Well, you’re wrong.”
She shaded her eyes with her hand and squinted, as if I was standing in sunlight far away. “No, I don’t think so.” She brought back her normal face, smiled. “Anyway, I think you should just stop caring. So much.”
“Huh?”
“He’s got parents for that. Just be his friend.”
“I am. He’s my best friend. That’s what this is all about.”
“You have a funny way of showing it. And anyway, you’re not caring. You’re meddling.”
Am I? Is she right?
“Don’t you care about him?” I said. And instantly wished I could take the words back. They covered more territory than I meant. Would she think I was thinking of the star-party kiss?
But she was cool. Impy. Mi-Su. She plastic-forked salad into her mouth, chewed, stared at me, fingered the amber sea horse at her throat, grinned. “Of course.”
What did she mean by that?
“So?” I said. Whatever that meant.
“So,” she said, munching, “I’m along for the ride.” The bell rang. She laughed, pointed at my sandwich. “You never took a bite, you moron.”
The Big Snap has knocked me off my planning for the kiss. I need to refocus.
PD109
A long for the ride…along for the ride…
PD110
L ooking in the mirror. Smiling. Laughing out loud.
PD111
plink…plink…plink…
PD113
I ’m at the top of a hill. Dead Man’s Hill. Black Viper wobbles beneath me. Wind whistles. I’m scared. Nothing but air beneath me. I want to go back but I can’t. Something pushes me. Ispill off the edge, I’m heading down. I can’t stop. There’s nothing to hang on to. My body drags back while my toes point straight down like a ballet dancer. Black Viper’s wheels are stuttering, skipping. The wind is screaming. I can’t stop. The wheels lose contact. I’m surfing space. Black Viper goes drifting off, like a jettisoned fuel tank. I’m falling…falling…the wind is screaming… Wally ate a potato every day…Wally ate a potato every day…
I opened my eyes.
Tabby was straddling my chest, wearing her snooty I-can-read face, saying over and over, “Wally ate a potato every day.”
I bucked, I swatted, but she was faster. She flitted from the bed like a grasshopper. On the way out the door she bumped the bookcase. My chess trophy tottered, toppled, crashed to the floor.
The pewter King Arthur lay by himself, broken off at the ankles. I cradled it in my hand. The only trophy I’d ever won.
PD118
T he trophy is fixed. I got it back from Hicks’ today. It’s not on the bookcase by the door anymore. It’s high. On top of my dresser.
I put a hook-and-eye lock on my door. I use it at night.
PD119
V alentine’s Day! Perfecto! That’s when I’ll do it.
I’m drawing up a plan.
PD120
S aturday. The dormer. BT and me.
He had to take his little twin chipmunks to the dentist. Then they came here. They were all playing in Tabby’s room, the three of them shrieking beneath us.
We sat on the floor, eating hoagies fromthe deli. BT pointed to the wedding gifts. “When are you gonna open them?”
I shrugged. “Me? Never. Maybe nobody ever will. Or maybe some archaeologist someday.”
He wagged his head. “Crazy.”
“Why?”
“They’re both dead, right? The newlyweds?”
“Yeah. Andrew and Margaret. Long dead.”
“So open them.”
“They’re not mine. They’re like a memorial. It’s a family tradition to not open them.”
“Open them.”
“No.”
He reached. “ I’ll open them.”
I slapped his hand away.
“If they were in my house—”
“Yeah,” I said, “I know.”
“I’m surprised Tabby hasn’t ripped into them.”
“Yeah,” I said, “I am, too. It’s a mystery.”
It seemed impossible that the shrieking below could get any louder, but suddenly it did, followed by stampeding footsteps. Threeminiature girls burst into the dormer. The first, one of
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