Read Online The Cybil War by Betsy Byars - Free Book Online Page B

went away.
    And in his date with Harriet Haywood, Simon thought, the first terrible social obligation of his life, an event so complicated and awful it made him feel sick, in this was the final proof of his difference. It had never once occurred to him to run.
    It was odd. The original reason for accepting the date was so that he could be there to keep an eye on Cybil and Tony. But this was no longer true. He didn’t want to see what they did. And yet here he was, going on the date as bravely as Daniel went into the lion’s den.
    But then maybe his father had done this too, he thought—gone on dates he didn’t want to go on, done things he didn’t want to do, until one day ...
    He turned abruptly and walked into the living room. T-Bone was lying on the hearth.
    Simon lay down beside the dog with his cheek against the cool slate. “T-Bone, I’ve got some unfortunate news. I have a date with Harriet Haywood.”
    He was pleased that his voice was calm, normal, nothing in his tone to alarm the dog.
    T-Bone opened his eyes but did not lift his head. He thumped his tail once on the hearth.
    â€œShe’s as big as a woman, T-Bone.”
    Thump.
    â€œA grown woman.” He paused. “Make that an over grown woman.”
    As he said that, a picture of Harriet Haywood came to his mind, bigger even than life and with the kind of stern authority of an adult. He remembered her, hands on her hips, saying, “You two better not cause any trouble,” at the pet show. It was like having a date with Miss McFawn, he decided, and shuddered.
    At almost the same moment, he thought of Cybil. He remembered her running out of her house once with Clara’s diary. It was during second grade, the peak—he thought then—of his love.
    And Clara had come after her, and Cybil had scooted up in the mimosa tree and, legs dangling in the sunlight, pretended to read from the diary.
    â€œMom! Cybil’s got my diary.”
    â€œCybil!”
    â€œMom, you ought to read this yourself, especially Saturday, September ninth!”
    â€œCybillllll!”
    â€œOh, here’s your old diary,” Cybil said, dropping it. “Anyway, if it makes you feel any better, I can’t read cursive writing yet.”
    Then she had seen Simon standing at the edge of the street. “Simon, come on up!”
    He had climbed up, feeling better and stronger with each limb, as if the air itself were getting cleaner, rarer, less polluted. When he got there at last, she said, “I don’t like Miss Ellis, do you?”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œYou know what my sister calls her?”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œDeviled Egg.”
    That alone—the perfect assessment of Miss Ellis—would have made the climb worthwhile.
    â€œYour sisters,” he said, paying them his highest compliment, “remind me of you.”
    â€œYes, we all look alike, and you know what? My mom is beautiful. Have you ever seen her?” He shook his head. “Well, she’s beautiful , only she has very weak genes. We got my father’s eyes, my father’s skin, my father’s hair, my father’s legs, everything. Guess what we got from my mother?” He shook his head again. “Skimpy earlobes. Look!” She lifted her hair. “None of us can ever wear earrings.”
    He had been so charmed that he almost fell out of the tree like a drunken bird.
    Simon glanced over at T-Bone, who was asleep again. He said, “I had a nightmare about my date with Harriet, T-Bone. I was on a TV show called ‘Take Your Pick,’ and I had to decide whether I would go on a date with Harriet or with a gorilla and I couldn’t decide and the clock was ticking and they were in glass booths—Harriet and the gorilla—and I was running back and forth, from one booth to the other, and by accident the gorilla’s door opened and Harriet thought I’d picked the gorilla and she came out and hit me