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 What s that?
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 It s this organization that provides used instruments and supplies to kids who want to take music or art
classes but don t have the money. I already gave them my old harp. And Carter gave them the tuba he
stopped playing when he got braces.
She carefully nudges one spoon that s slanting away from the rest and then heads over to the couch,
where the other kids are crowding around Mrs. Pratt. I hang back.
 Maggie? Are you going to join us? Mrs. Pratt calls out, tapping a stack of papers against her knees to
straighten them.
 I don t know. I think I should be getting back home, I reply. I really don t want to be here anymore.
I m all sweaty and mucky from our morning in the park, and the egg salad isn t sitting well in my stomach.
Besides, something s wrong. It all feels a bit too chummy after my face-off with the Bippies, as if we re
suddenly brothers-in-arms.
Mrs. Pratt gives me another probing stare.  This won t take long, but it is very important.
 Come on, Maggie. Don t go, Drip says, motioning me toward them.  The dance is our big thing. And
this year we re getting a really cool DJ named Master-Man!
 Yeah, Hank mumbles.  Maybe more than forty kids will show up this time.
 Please stay, Mrs. Pratt adds.  We have such a small club, one person s absence makes a big
difference.
The others join in the urging.
They convince me. Feeling icky is too lame a reason to take off, and my overwhelmed brain can t come
up with anything better. Anyway, if Mrs. Pratt gets all disappointed in me, she might not write a letter of
recommendation like I need her to. She has major power over my future and whether I ever get
reunited with Trevor.
I yank my reluctant, weighed-down-with-egg-salad body over to their corner of the living room and sit
down next to Penny. As Mrs. Pratt starts going on about the price of sodas and the cost of hiring a
cleanup crew, my mind starts to wander. I m in complete zonk-out mode when I suddenly hear my
name.
 Huh? I say stupidly.
 What do you think? Drip asks me.
 Uhh&  I consider faking it, realize I can t, and finally say,  I m sorry. I was thinking about something
else. Could you repeat that?
 They want to know if we should serve just soda, or also a healthy alternative, like punch, Penny says.
 Whatever. Doesn t matter to me. I m trying to be all easy-breezy but I can tell they re let down.
 Well, I guess that s all we need to cover today, Mrs. Pratt says, rising to her feet.  This meeting is
officially over, but you all are free to hang around. I m certainly not eating the rest of that food. She
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laughs heartily and then trots over to me.  Maggie, could I speak to you a second in the kitchen? Her
ultraquiet tone tells me this is serious. Again I ransack my mind for a way out of it but come up empty.
 Sure, I reply.
I follow her through a swinging door into her tile and stainless steel kitchen, where I somehow manage to
stand and face her.
Mrs. Pratt gets right to it.  I m worried about you, she says.
 What? I practically choke on my own tongue.  Why?
 It s obvious something is wrong. I ve been watching you. Not just here today, but at school too. And I
hear things in the teachers lounge. She cocks her head, and her eyes narrow thoughtfully.  I have to
ask, are you having a tough time fitting in?
 No! Not at all!
 Are you sure? It s just that you seem rather& aloof. I know it can be hard moving to a new place and
finding friends.
 No. Everything s great. I have friends. Like& the Helping Hands. They re great. The Stabbies are on
the assault, whacking away at my insides. How is it that she can sense all this about me? Have I been that
obvious?
 Well, good. It s nice to know that. These are the sweetest kids. You ve picked a good bunch to hang
out with.
I nod vigorously.  Yeah.
 I m sorry to pry into your business. I just wanted to be sure something serious isn t going on. She
smiles at me a warm, motherly smile and it almost makes me want to cry.  You know, if there s
anything you want to talk about, you can always come to me, or any teacher you trust.
 Nothing s going on, I say, making myself smile back even as a cloudy glaze covers my eyes.
But whatis going on? First Norm, now Mrs. Pratt. Is Austin full of nosy psychics?
Suddenly the door swings open and Jack strides in.  Sorry, he says, looking from me to Mrs. Pratt.
 Didn t mean to interrupt.
 No, no. Come in, Mrs. Pratt says.  I was just getting to know Maggie a little better. Did you need to
speak with me?
 Actually, I& uh& I wanted to talk to Maggie.
 Go right ahead. Mrs. Pratt turns and walks toward the sink.  I m going to get these brownie pans
soaking.
 Those were delicious, Jack says, never missing a chance for brownie points. In this case, literally.
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 I know, Mrs. Pratt says, smiling wryly.  Why do you think I look like this?
As soon as she turns the water on, Jack faces me. I figure he s going to start nagging me again, so I m
completely struck stupid when he says,  Uh& I was just wondering& would you like to go out to dinner
with me tonight?
A voice inside me starts screaming. This is thelast thing I need right now especially after Caitlyn and [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]