can,” she says, her forehead wrinkling as she looks at my dad, who just shrugs his agreed permission.
Alfie gives me a look so full of thanks—as I cram one of her sandwich triangles into my mouth and get to work—that I feel even madder at Suzette Monahan than I did before, if that’s possible.
And that stinky little dragon hasn’t even gotten here yet!
“Go away. You’re a boy,” Suzette Monahan tells me from Alfie’s shaggy rug, where she and Alfie are lining up Alfie’s dolls like the dolls are in a contest.
I guess they are. Which unlucky doll will Suzette take home?
“Big duh, I’m a boy,” I say. “Do you think I don’t know that already?”
“That’s my brother EllWay,” Alfie tells Suzette, as if she hopes things will calm down after this introduction. “He’s eight,” she adds, trying to make me sound important.
Alfie’s voice sounds different when she is talking to Suzette, I notice at once. Softer, worried, and like what she’s saying is about to turn into a question.
“I don’t care. Make him go away, or I’m leaving,” Suzette says, narrowing her green eyes as she glares at me.
Amazingly enough, Suzette Monahan looks like a regular four-year-old, I think, standing in the doorway and staring at her. She has curly brown hair that is smoother in front than it is on top, as if she only brushes the parts she can see. She is taller than Alfie, and very thin. She reminds me of a grasshopper, crouched on Alfie’s rug that way. She flexes her hands as if she’s about to spring at me and start scratching.
“EllWay?” Alfie asks, giving me the please-please-please look that usually works.
Sorry, Alfie. Not this time.
“Mom wants you in the kitchen,” I tell my little sister. “To help her make a special snack.”
Alfie turns to Suzette. “You come too,” she says, almost begging. “Maybe we’ll get to fwost something.”
Like there’s going to be frosting. No, Mom is making chocolate chip cookies. And Suzette is either going to like them, or she’ll go home hungry. I don’t care.
“I’m busy,” Suzette says, not even looking at Alfie. She picks up two dolls, one in each claw, I mean
hand
, and jiggles them a little, like she’s weighing them or something. “Hmm,” she says, tilting her head.
She’s choosing which doll to steal from Alfie right in front of me!
“Go on. Mom’s waiting,” I tell Alfie, not taking my eyes off Suzette.
And so Alfie hurries down the hall.
It is time for me to begin my two-part plan.
Part one involves talking to Suzette like she’s a normal person.
HA HA HA HA HA!
That’s funny because—would a normal person mess up another person’s bookcase, and then put a tutu on his soldier action figure? That’s not just rude, it’s unpatriotic! And would a normal person talk back to another person’s mom the way Suzette did that time? Not to mention what she’s doing to Alfie at Kreative Learning? And doing here, now, in our very own house? But I should at least try.
“Look, Suzette,” I say. “You have to stop bullying my little sister. Period.”
“No, I don’t,” she says, sounding calm as she examines two other dolls. “Besides, bullying’s against the law.”
“You’re doing it anyway,” I inform her. As if she didn’t know.
“You’re not the boss of me,” she says.
I think that must be four-year-olds’ favorite thing to say, and it’s
so
not true. Nearly everyone is the boss of them. Or they should be.
“You’re a bully if you hurt other kids’ feelings for no reason,” I tell Suzette. “And also if you makeother girls go along with you. Girls like—like Moany and Gnarly,” I say, wishing for the first time in my life that I’d paid attention to Alfie’s babbling so I could remember her other friends’ real names.
But Suzette must get the idea.
“
Mona and Arletty
,” Suzette corrects me, a tiny smile turning up at the corners of her skinny dragon mouth for the first time. “You just
Alfie gives me a look so full of thanks—as I cram one of her sandwich triangles into my mouth and get to work—that I feel even madder at Suzette Monahan than I did before, if that’s possible.
And that stinky little dragon hasn’t even gotten here yet!
“Go away. You’re a boy,” Suzette Monahan tells me from Alfie’s shaggy rug, where she and Alfie are lining up Alfie’s dolls like the dolls are in a contest.
I guess they are. Which unlucky doll will Suzette take home?
“Big duh, I’m a boy,” I say. “Do you think I don’t know that already?”
“That’s my brother EllWay,” Alfie tells Suzette, as if she hopes things will calm down after this introduction. “He’s eight,” she adds, trying to make me sound important.
Alfie’s voice sounds different when she is talking to Suzette, I notice at once. Softer, worried, and like what she’s saying is about to turn into a question.
“I don’t care. Make him go away, or I’m leaving,” Suzette says, narrowing her green eyes as she glares at me.
Amazingly enough, Suzette Monahan looks like a regular four-year-old, I think, standing in the doorway and staring at her. She has curly brown hair that is smoother in front than it is on top, as if she only brushes the parts she can see. She is taller than Alfie, and very thin. She reminds me of a grasshopper, crouched on Alfie’s rug that way. She flexes her hands as if she’s about to spring at me and start scratching.
“EllWay?” Alfie asks, giving me the please-please-please look that usually works.
Sorry, Alfie. Not this time.
“Mom wants you in the kitchen,” I tell my little sister. “To help her make a special snack.”
Alfie turns to Suzette. “You come too,” she says, almost begging. “Maybe we’ll get to fwost something.”
Like there’s going to be frosting. No, Mom is making chocolate chip cookies. And Suzette is either going to like them, or she’ll go home hungry. I don’t care.
“I’m busy,” Suzette says, not even looking at Alfie. She picks up two dolls, one in each claw, I mean
hand
, and jiggles them a little, like she’s weighing them or something. “Hmm,” she says, tilting her head.
She’s choosing which doll to steal from Alfie right in front of me!
“Go on. Mom’s waiting,” I tell Alfie, not taking my eyes off Suzette.
And so Alfie hurries down the hall.
It is time for me to begin my two-part plan.
Part one involves talking to Suzette like she’s a normal person.
HA HA HA HA HA!
That’s funny because—would a normal person mess up another person’s bookcase, and then put a tutu on his soldier action figure? That’s not just rude, it’s unpatriotic! And would a normal person talk back to another person’s mom the way Suzette did that time? Not to mention what she’s doing to Alfie at Kreative Learning? And doing here, now, in our very own house? But I should at least try.
“Look, Suzette,” I say. “You have to stop bullying my little sister. Period.”
“No, I don’t,” she says, sounding calm as she examines two other dolls. “Besides, bullying’s against the law.”
“You’re doing it anyway,” I inform her. As if she didn’t know.
“You’re not the boss of me,” she says.
I think that must be four-year-olds’ favorite thing to say, and it’s
so
not true. Nearly everyone is the boss of them. Or they should be.
“You’re a bully if you hurt other kids’ feelings for no reason,” I tell Suzette. “And also if you makeother girls go along with you. Girls like—like Moany and Gnarly,” I say, wishing for the first time in my life that I’d paid attention to Alfie’s babbling so I could remember her other friends’ real names.
But Suzette must get the idea.
“
Mona and Arletty
,” Suzette corrects me, a tiny smile turning up at the corners of her skinny dragon mouth for the first time. “You just
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