Falls who pass around bad news seemingly as soon as it happens. It’s like they have gossip radar or something. These ladies rarely have cell phones or even know how to use computers, so it’s a wonder to me how they disperse news so quickly.
“So now she has even more ammunition to convince everyone we need to sell,” I said sadly.
Mom nodded. “She said that Fleur is going to continue taking away our business unless we take a new approach. She wants Dad to start looking at new spaces with her. This Saturday.”
I looked around the store, a lump forming in my throat. The place was so sweet and homey, from the creak of the wooden floorboards to the chipping paint on the walls. It was just so
comfortable,
like a cozy bathrobe orslippers. It was my favorite place in the world. And there was a really good chance I could be losing it.
It was finally Friday. Another nice thing about being an eighth grader (besides the adulation of the younger students) is the extra free period you get. Luckily, Amy had a free period at the same time, so we had met at the library to catch up on homework and hang out.
We sat at a table in the corner, Amy cramming for a science test. I was all caught up on my schoolwork, so I was inputting the phone numbers I had accumulated all week.
Amy looked up from her notes. “I know I’m not supposed to mention his name, but um, you-know-who is at the checkout counter,” she said softly. “He must have the same free period as us.”
I looked up to see Hamilton and Mike Hurley checking out two big stacks of books.
“And I also think he saw you,” Amy warned me. “Not that I’m mentioning his name or anything,” she added.
Without even thinking, I stood up and darted up the stairs to the balcony.
I had a bird’s-eye view of the entire library. I could see Carmine Belloni and Penelope Peterson passing each other notes and giggling. I spotted Bob Zimmer, the school bully, drawing an anchor tattoo on his arm in ballpoint pen. I stifled a laugh. Who did he think he was, Popeye the Sailor Man? And then I saw Hamilton and Mike heading right over to my table. They chatted with Amy for a bit. I guess one of them asked her a question because I saw her shrug in response. After what seemed like forever, the boys finally left the library.
When the coast was clear, I came back down the stairs.
Amy’s face was bright red. “Oh my God. I made such an idiot out of myself!” she whispered. “I meant to say ‘How are you guys?’ but I was thinking about his conjunctivitis, so I ended up saying, ‘How are your eyes?’ instead. Like he wants to be reminded about his pink eye! And then when I tried to explain, it just made it worse. How embarrassing.”
“I bet he laughed it off,” I said wistfully.
“He did,” she agreed. She looked at me searchingly. “Del, he’s a really nice guy, you know.”
“I know,” I said sadly. He was. That’s why I liked him in the first place. (Plus, there were those piercing blue eyes….) But it was just too complicated for me. And at this point, I wasn’t even sure I wanted to go to Homecoming anymore, anyway. Maybe I’d just admire the Tupperware with Nicholas instead.
“How many appointments do you have with the realtor today?” Mom asked Dad on Saturday morning as we headed out to the store. Rose, Aster, and Poppy were coming, too.
I bent to tie my right, pink shoelace. I had an orange one in my left sneaker. A small gesture, but it cheered me up a little.
Dad looked up from his bean harvest and smiled. “Four,” he said.
“Ask a lot of questions,” I told Dad as I stood up. This whole thing was giving me a major headache.
“I will,” he said, already returning to his game.
“We planted pinto beans this morning!” Poppy reminded him as we walked out the door. “They’ll beready to harvest at three o’clock. Don’t let them wither! We need those snozzleberries!”
As soon as we got to the store, I put Rose and Aster to work
“So now she has even more ammunition to convince everyone we need to sell,” I said sadly.
Mom nodded. “She said that Fleur is going to continue taking away our business unless we take a new approach. She wants Dad to start looking at new spaces with her. This Saturday.”
I looked around the store, a lump forming in my throat. The place was so sweet and homey, from the creak of the wooden floorboards to the chipping paint on the walls. It was just so
comfortable,
like a cozy bathrobe orslippers. It was my favorite place in the world. And there was a really good chance I could be losing it.
It was finally Friday. Another nice thing about being an eighth grader (besides the adulation of the younger students) is the extra free period you get. Luckily, Amy had a free period at the same time, so we had met at the library to catch up on homework and hang out.
We sat at a table in the corner, Amy cramming for a science test. I was all caught up on my schoolwork, so I was inputting the phone numbers I had accumulated all week.
Amy looked up from her notes. “I know I’m not supposed to mention his name, but um, you-know-who is at the checkout counter,” she said softly. “He must have the same free period as us.”
I looked up to see Hamilton and Mike Hurley checking out two big stacks of books.
“And I also think he saw you,” Amy warned me. “Not that I’m mentioning his name or anything,” she added.
Without even thinking, I stood up and darted up the stairs to the balcony.
I had a bird’s-eye view of the entire library. I could see Carmine Belloni and Penelope Peterson passing each other notes and giggling. I spotted Bob Zimmer, the school bully, drawing an anchor tattoo on his arm in ballpoint pen. I stifled a laugh. Who did he think he was, Popeye the Sailor Man? And then I saw Hamilton and Mike heading right over to my table. They chatted with Amy for a bit. I guess one of them asked her a question because I saw her shrug in response. After what seemed like forever, the boys finally left the library.
When the coast was clear, I came back down the stairs.
Amy’s face was bright red. “Oh my God. I made such an idiot out of myself!” she whispered. “I meant to say ‘How are you guys?’ but I was thinking about his conjunctivitis, so I ended up saying, ‘How are your eyes?’ instead. Like he wants to be reminded about his pink eye! And then when I tried to explain, it just made it worse. How embarrassing.”
“I bet he laughed it off,” I said wistfully.
“He did,” she agreed. She looked at me searchingly. “Del, he’s a really nice guy, you know.”
“I know,” I said sadly. He was. That’s why I liked him in the first place. (Plus, there were those piercing blue eyes….) But it was just too complicated for me. And at this point, I wasn’t even sure I wanted to go to Homecoming anymore, anyway. Maybe I’d just admire the Tupperware with Nicholas instead.
“How many appointments do you have with the realtor today?” Mom asked Dad on Saturday morning as we headed out to the store. Rose, Aster, and Poppy were coming, too.
I bent to tie my right, pink shoelace. I had an orange one in my left sneaker. A small gesture, but it cheered me up a little.
Dad looked up from his bean harvest and smiled. “Four,” he said.
“Ask a lot of questions,” I told Dad as I stood up. This whole thing was giving me a major headache.
“I will,” he said, already returning to his game.
“We planted pinto beans this morning!” Poppy reminded him as we walked out the door. “They’ll beready to harvest at three o’clock. Don’t let them wither! We need those snozzleberries!”
As soon as we got to the store, I put Rose and Aster to work
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