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what he was talking about, but Teacher Dustin said, “Ah. You must mean the teachers’ lounge, Kayden. There is a TV in there, practically an antique. I doubt it even works anymore.”
    â€œI could make it work.” Kayden Haley was a second grader at the Friends Choice School in Philadelphia. I’m a fifth grader. Besides being the librarian, Teacher Dustin coordinates the Little Buddies program, where older kids like me tutor younger ones who need extra help. I’vebeen tutoring Kayden twice a week since October. He learns fast but only when he wants to.
    â€œWe better do some dancin’ before we get started then, huh?” I asked.
    Kayden’s frown disappeared. “Can we?”
    â€œOne song only,” I said.
    The dancing idea came to me one afternoon before Thanksgiving when Kayden wouldn’t stop bouncing in his chair. I thought of what my parents told me about Ike, our golden retriever. When he was a puppy they had to take him for a walk or a run to settle him down. It seemed to me puppies and second graders were probably alike.
    Teacher Dustin would have a cow if we danced in the library. So Kayden and I went out in the deserted hallway, and I let him pick a song on my phone, and we danced up a storm!
    I am a terrible dancer, but Kayden thinks that is the best part. Watching me, he laughs and laughs—which makes me laugh too. I think he likes it that he’s better at something than I am, even though I’m older and supposed to be so smart.
    â€œReady for some poetry?” I was out of breath.
    â€œOne more song? Please  . . .”
    â€œTell you what,” I said. “If you do a fantastic job on poetry, then we can do one more before you go home.”
    Kayden is supposed to be memorizing a poem to recite aloud in class. He thinks the memorizing part is easy, but every time he stands up to recite, he gets tongue-tied. That afternoon, we were still trying to find the perfect poem. We had a book by an author named Shel Silverstein. A lot of the poems were funny, and I forgot to look at the clock. It seemed like no time before Kayden’s mom had come up to the library to find us.
    â€œYou said one more song!” Kayden reminded me.
    â€œI’m sure your mom doesn’t want to wait,” I said.
    â€œI don’t mind,” said Kayden’s mom, Mrs. Haley. She is a tall, dark-skinned woman who wears her hair in braids arranged in neat rows.
    Uh-oh.
    Dancing in front of Kayden was one thing. But dancing in front of a mom ?
    â€œWell, okay then. You go ahead and pick a song and dance if you want,” I said. “I’m gonna sit this one out.”
    â€œBut you have to dance!” Kayden said as we made our way out into the hall. “Mama, you can’t believe what a bad dancer Emma is. So funny-y-y-y!”
    â€œKayden, that’s not nice,” his mom said.
    â€œOh, no, Mrs. Haley, it’s okay. He’s right.”
    Mrs. Haley laughed. “What about if all three of us dance, then?” she said. “And I promise not to make fun.”

CHAPTER 20

    Emma
    When my mom was pregnant with me, she read somewhere that the children of families that eat dinner together are more successful than the children of families that don’t. I bet my mom has read a million articles about raising children, but that one she remembered, which is why we eat dinner as a family almost every night.
    My mom is a lawyer, and my dad is the kind of doctoryou go to if you have a problem with your heart, a cardiologist. They both leave for work early in the morning, so my little brother, Benjamin, and I take turns walking Ike, and then we get our own breakfasts, put on our coats, and walk the two blocks to catch the van that takes us to school.
    If we forget to walk Ike, we have to clean up the mess when we get home. If we forget our homework or our mittens, our homework doesn’t get turned in or our hands are cold. Sometimes