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Authors: Toni Gallagher
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figures.
A small red liquid dot—seriously, it’s like the size of a dime—appears above Lisa Lee’s heart. Even though it’s springtime, she’s wearing a tan coat with something that looks like white wool poking out.
Lisa Lee’s mouth opens in a giant O, but no sound comes out.
“How could you do that?” says another voice. “That is suede!”
Wow! Kylie Mae has spoken. It’s only to defend her queen, but it’s still speaking. I’m kind of impressed.
“The coat?” I ask, not sure what she means.
“Yes!” Lisa Lee sputters, as upset as if I’d thrown motor oil or barf on her. “Suede is the material, duh, and it’s made out of lambskin!”
“Well, that doesn’t sound nice at all for the lambs.”
Kylie Mae steps in front of Lisa Lee, maybe protecting her from me. “Lambskin is
very
soft,” she insists. “And it’s very expensive to clean!”
“Look, I’m really, really sorry,” I say. “I love your lamb coat and I didn’t mean it any harm. For real. But I’ve got to go.” I rush away, hearing one more comment from Kylie Mae as I go.
“She didn’t even know what suede is! So lame!”
I almost laugh out loud. I’ve finally found the topic that will make Kylie Mae use her vocal cords: suede.
I turn a corner, hoping to find the aisle featuring Ryder Landry’s head and Samantha’s junk-and-flower sculpture of society, but I end up in the aisle of drawings and paintings…including mine.
I’ve been excited to see my storyboards on display, but now it’s barely the third-most important thing on my mind.
Dad and Terri are right there. Standing together. Pointing at the artwork and talking. Looking nice. Looking friendly. Looking…right together.
And here I am, with a cup full of love potion!
Sure, it’s meant for Sam, but Madison has an extra cup for that.
This is fate. This is meant to be. Isn’t that what people always say about love?
I’m going to make this happen while I can.
I run up to them, making sure not to spill the punch. “Dad! You found Terri!”
“Actually, she found me,” he says.
“Cleo, your storyboard is great!” Terri says. That’s nice to hear, especially from a professional in the graphic arts business, so I take a look. Pandaroo seems right at home on display in an art gallery (even one in a school gym), and usually I’d be much more proud and thrilled to see him and my other characters, but right now I’ve got to focus.
“Hey, I have some punch. Want some?” I ask them both.
They look at each other. Dad asks if Terri wants it. She says, “No, not right now.” So I hold it out to Dad. He shrugs and takes it.
I stare at him—probably a little like a weirdo—as he lifts the cup toward his lips.
Then he stops and nods toward my storyboard. “Cleo, how long did you work on this?” he asks. “You never even showed it to me.”
“A long time. I don’t know. We can talk about it later,” I say impatiently, staring at the drink so passionately that if my eyes were lasers, they’d drill holes in the cup and the punch would spill all over him.
Drink, Dad! Drink, drink, drink!
“It’s so fun and action-packed. I like it.” He raises his cup again. His mouth opens slightly…to speak more words. “Your classmates really worked hard too.”
“Yeah, yeah, I’m sure they all did.”
Who cares, Dad? Aren’t you thirsty? Why are you boring Terri with all this talk of my artwork when the two of you could already be falling back in love?
“I really think you could have a career in this.” Dad gestures at my storyboard with the cup of punch. Why isn’t he drinking it?
“I’m really proud of you,” he says…and finally,
finally
takes a sip. Yes!
He has an uncertain expression for a second but doesn’t mention anything about the taste.
I know time doesn’t really stand still, but it might as well. I’m not hearing the music anymore. I’m not worried about Lisa Lee and the spots on her suede. I’m not thinking about
A small red liquid dot—seriously, it’s like the size of a dime—appears above Lisa Lee’s heart. Even though it’s springtime, she’s wearing a tan coat with something that looks like white wool poking out.
Lisa Lee’s mouth opens in a giant O, but no sound comes out.
“How could you do that?” says another voice. “That is suede!”
Wow! Kylie Mae has spoken. It’s only to defend her queen, but it’s still speaking. I’m kind of impressed.
“The coat?” I ask, not sure what she means.
“Yes!” Lisa Lee sputters, as upset as if I’d thrown motor oil or barf on her. “Suede is the material, duh, and it’s made out of lambskin!”
“Well, that doesn’t sound nice at all for the lambs.”
Kylie Mae steps in front of Lisa Lee, maybe protecting her from me. “Lambskin is
very
soft,” she insists. “And it’s very expensive to clean!”
“Look, I’m really, really sorry,” I say. “I love your lamb coat and I didn’t mean it any harm. For real. But I’ve got to go.” I rush away, hearing one more comment from Kylie Mae as I go.
“She didn’t even know what suede is! So lame!”
I almost laugh out loud. I’ve finally found the topic that will make Kylie Mae use her vocal cords: suede.
I turn a corner, hoping to find the aisle featuring Ryder Landry’s head and Samantha’s junk-and-flower sculpture of society, but I end up in the aisle of drawings and paintings…including mine.
I’ve been excited to see my storyboards on display, but now it’s barely the third-most important thing on my mind.
Dad and Terri are right there. Standing together. Pointing at the artwork and talking. Looking nice. Looking friendly. Looking…right together.
And here I am, with a cup full of love potion!
Sure, it’s meant for Sam, but Madison has an extra cup for that.
This is fate. This is meant to be. Isn’t that what people always say about love?
I’m going to make this happen while I can.
I run up to them, making sure not to spill the punch. “Dad! You found Terri!”
“Actually, she found me,” he says.
“Cleo, your storyboard is great!” Terri says. That’s nice to hear, especially from a professional in the graphic arts business, so I take a look. Pandaroo seems right at home on display in an art gallery (even one in a school gym), and usually I’d be much more proud and thrilled to see him and my other characters, but right now I’ve got to focus.
“Hey, I have some punch. Want some?” I ask them both.
They look at each other. Dad asks if Terri wants it. She says, “No, not right now.” So I hold it out to Dad. He shrugs and takes it.
I stare at him—probably a little like a weirdo—as he lifts the cup toward his lips.
Then he stops and nods toward my storyboard. “Cleo, how long did you work on this?” he asks. “You never even showed it to me.”
“A long time. I don’t know. We can talk about it later,” I say impatiently, staring at the drink so passionately that if my eyes were lasers, they’d drill holes in the cup and the punch would spill all over him.
Drink, Dad! Drink, drink, drink!
“It’s so fun and action-packed. I like it.” He raises his cup again. His mouth opens slightly…to speak more words. “Your classmates really worked hard too.”
“Yeah, yeah, I’m sure they all did.”
Who cares, Dad? Aren’t you thirsty? Why are you boring Terri with all this talk of my artwork when the two of you could already be falling back in love?
“I really think you could have a career in this.” Dad gestures at my storyboard with the cup of punch. Why isn’t he drinking it?
“I’m really proud of you,” he says…and finally,
finally
takes a sip. Yes!
He has an uncertain expression for a second but doesn’t mention anything about the taste.
I know time doesn’t really stand still, but it might as well. I’m not hearing the music anymore. I’m not worried about Lisa Lee and the spots on her suede. I’m not thinking about
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