important having a peer role model would be, but Katani was no longer listening.
She scrunched down in the chair.
“You didn’t even ask me first. This is so typical.”
Her father took a deep breath. He was a large man and when he breathed in deeply he seemed to double in size.
“Katani,” he said in an exasperated voice. “This is what being in a family means—making sacrifices for the people you love. Your mom and I love you as much as Kelley, Patrice, and Candice. But we have to balance everyone’s needs. I know it might not seem fair right now, but things balance out in the end. No one asked Kelley if she wanted to be autistic. But she is, and we all have to deal with it.”
Mrs. Summers closed the argument. “Being in a family with an autistic sister requires that you pitch in, that you do what you can. We’ve all made sacrifices for Kelley.”
Katani was silent. She knew deep down her parents were right. She remembered the summer when her sister’s friends went to camp, and Patrice had to stay home and baby-sit Katani and Kelley.
“Your first lesson is tomorrow afternoon.” Her father got up, patted her on the shoulder, and left the room.
Katani didn’t move.
Mrs. Summers sat quietly with Katani for a while. “I hope that you’ll see this is an opportunity for you as well.”
Katani shrugged and swirled the desk chair so her back was facing her mother. Mrs. Summers got up and leaned over to kiss her daughter on her cheek and left the room.
To: Sophie
From: Charlotte
Subject: Marty
sophie-
marty’s lost! if someone does find him, they won’t know who to call. they don’t know where to return him to! it’s like losing orangina all over again! i’m heartbroken. what should I do?
Ton amie,
charlotte
Avery’s Blog
Friends, family, countrymen, I need your help!
The BSG’s adorable, lovable little dog has run away!
Last seen running toward the creek at the Brookline 300 Festival on Saturday afternoon. He’s not wearing a collar, but answers to Marty.
E-mail me if you have any leads!
CHAPTER
7
Rhyme Time
A very was the last one through the door to English class when the bell rang.
Ms. Rodriguez had poems pinned up all over the room. Some of the poems were funny and some were kind of sad or confusing, especially the ones by poets who lived a long time ago. Some, in Avery’s opinion, were kind of ridiculous. They didn’t make any sense to her at all.
Every teacher since third grade had taught a poetry unit, which Avery usually hated. She had to admit that Ms. R had made her think about poetry in a different way. She said that it didn’t have to rhyme. That poetry could be about emotions and passion or a cause important to the writer. And to think of poetry as a puzzle. What was the writer trying to say? The hints were in the words and images. Ms. R described poems as a wonderful dessert, rich and sweet, full of flavors to nourish the soul. Avery liked the dessert analogy, but she still would rather eat a cupcake than read poetry—no offense to Ms. R.
Avery had struggled with the weekend homeworkassignment. They were supposed to write a poem…something they were passionate about.
At first, Avery considered writing her poem about losing Marty. But she was afraid that if Ms. Rodriguez asked her to read the poem out loud, she might cry. It was bad enough that she had cried at the festival on Saturday. Good thing none of the guys, especially Billy Trentini, had seen her blubbering like a baby over a lost dog. So she decided to pick another topic.
Avery had stayed up late last night working on her poem. She thought long and hard. What was she passionate about? Just as she was about to freak out and say she couldn’t possibly do this, Scott walked into her room and threw a Nerf baseball at her head.
Perfect. The light bulb went on. “Go away, Scott. I have to write a poem.”
When she pulled her homework assignment out of her notebook, it was all rumpled because she had stuffed
She scrunched down in the chair.
“You didn’t even ask me first. This is so typical.”
Her father took a deep breath. He was a large man and when he breathed in deeply he seemed to double in size.
“Katani,” he said in an exasperated voice. “This is what being in a family means—making sacrifices for the people you love. Your mom and I love you as much as Kelley, Patrice, and Candice. But we have to balance everyone’s needs. I know it might not seem fair right now, but things balance out in the end. No one asked Kelley if she wanted to be autistic. But she is, and we all have to deal with it.”
Mrs. Summers closed the argument. “Being in a family with an autistic sister requires that you pitch in, that you do what you can. We’ve all made sacrifices for Kelley.”
Katani was silent. She knew deep down her parents were right. She remembered the summer when her sister’s friends went to camp, and Patrice had to stay home and baby-sit Katani and Kelley.
“Your first lesson is tomorrow afternoon.” Her father got up, patted her on the shoulder, and left the room.
Katani didn’t move.
Mrs. Summers sat quietly with Katani for a while. “I hope that you’ll see this is an opportunity for you as well.”
Katani shrugged and swirled the desk chair so her back was facing her mother. Mrs. Summers got up and leaned over to kiss her daughter on her cheek and left the room.
To: Sophie
From: Charlotte
Subject: Marty
sophie-
marty’s lost! if someone does find him, they won’t know who to call. they don’t know where to return him to! it’s like losing orangina all over again! i’m heartbroken. what should I do?
Ton amie,
charlotte
Avery’s Blog
Friends, family, countrymen, I need your help!
The BSG’s adorable, lovable little dog has run away!
Last seen running toward the creek at the Brookline 300 Festival on Saturday afternoon. He’s not wearing a collar, but answers to Marty.
E-mail me if you have any leads!
CHAPTER
7
Rhyme Time
A very was the last one through the door to English class when the bell rang.
Ms. Rodriguez had poems pinned up all over the room. Some of the poems were funny and some were kind of sad or confusing, especially the ones by poets who lived a long time ago. Some, in Avery’s opinion, were kind of ridiculous. They didn’t make any sense to her at all.
Every teacher since third grade had taught a poetry unit, which Avery usually hated. She had to admit that Ms. R had made her think about poetry in a different way. She said that it didn’t have to rhyme. That poetry could be about emotions and passion or a cause important to the writer. And to think of poetry as a puzzle. What was the writer trying to say? The hints were in the words and images. Ms. R described poems as a wonderful dessert, rich and sweet, full of flavors to nourish the soul. Avery liked the dessert analogy, but she still would rather eat a cupcake than read poetry—no offense to Ms. R.
Avery had struggled with the weekend homeworkassignment. They were supposed to write a poem…something they were passionate about.
At first, Avery considered writing her poem about losing Marty. But she was afraid that if Ms. Rodriguez asked her to read the poem out loud, she might cry. It was bad enough that she had cried at the festival on Saturday. Good thing none of the guys, especially Billy Trentini, had seen her blubbering like a baby over a lost dog. So she decided to pick another topic.
Avery had stayed up late last night working on her poem. She thought long and hard. What was she passionate about? Just as she was about to freak out and say she couldn’t possibly do this, Scott walked into her room and threw a Nerf baseball at her head.
Perfect. The light bulb went on. “Go away, Scott. I have to write a poem.”
When she pulled her homework assignment out of her notebook, it was all rumpled because she had stuffed
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