losing patience.”
Cecily raised her eyebrows at me. Normally I might have raised my eyebrows back, but I didn't feel like agreeing with her that my dad was mean. It's one thing for me to notice, but another for her to.
When I didn't make a matching face, Cecily turned her head away.
Dad slammed down the phone and said, “What a bunch of nitwits.”
At least he didn't start cursing.
“What's a nitwit?” Matt asked.
Dad should probably have been a teacher, likeMom, because as soon as he began explaining, he got in a better mood. “Nitwit means dumdum,” Dad said. “The word may come from when the children of Dutch settlers had to go to school even though they couldn't speak English. When teachers called on them, the poor kids kept saying “‘
Niet weten
’” (Neat Vay Ten), which is Dutch for ‘I don't know.’ Pretty soon, other kids started making fun of them and calling them nitwits.”
“That's not very nice,” Matt said.
“Children sometimes aren't,” Mom said as she walked into our room. I couldn't tell if she meant any of us. “Ready to go shopping?” she asked.
“Well, we're dressed!” Cecily said. Everyone laughed because we're always dressed. We go to sleep dressed and we wake up dressed.
Mom said, “Cecily, I'm impressed that your shirt still looks so clean. Can you imagine if Matt had worn white?”
Matt looked down and smiled as though three days of food stains and a big elbow hole are something to be proud of.
We went down to the canal house kitchen for breakfast. There were different kinds of cereal and I started remembering how Mrs. Hausner used to help Cecily and me make Froot Loops necklaces with licorice strings. It was a nice memory, but it made me feel sad. Now Mrs. Hausner is sick (and probably disappointed in me) and Cecily and I act like we're hardly even friends.
I poured myself a bowl of Rice Krispies. The box had Snap, Crackle, and Pop, and some Dutch words on it. Mom studied them as if she were doing a puzzle, then guessed that “
Een goed begin van de dag
” (Ayn Hooot Buh Hin Fun Duh Dahhgghh) might mean “A good beginning of the day.”
Today did begin okay. We got on our rental bicycles and peddled past the Floating Flower Market, which Mom said is usually bright with flowers. Since it's August, though, there were mostly just flower bulbs. Trillions of little brown bulbs that looked like baby onions but with pictures of flowers next to them. I thought it was amazing how something as pretty as a flower could come from something as plain as a bulb. Mom bought afew and said, “Some bulbs make flowers that bloom and die and bloom again.”
Maybe my friendship with Cecily is like that. Maybe it's not really over.
Knowing Mom, she probably
said
the thing about bulbs so I would
think
the thing about friendship. Teachers can do stuff like that!
We bicycled to a department store on a street that doesn't allow cars, and we locked up our bicycles. Mom said we could each buy underwear, pajamas, a bathing suit, and a new outfit—courtesy of the luggage people.
Well, we started trying on clothes a mile a minute so Dad wouldn't get impatient. Cecily and I did not share a dressing room, but we did model all the clothes for each other. She looked great in almost everything and I looked not great in almost everything.
We are now all back in the canal house changing. I can't believe how happy I was just to change.
Mom too. She threw out Matt's old shirt and said she'd been afraid we'd be wearing the same clothes in every one of our vacation photos.
Even though I'm glad to be wearing a new top and new shorts, I'm mad because no one said anything about them. Mom complimented Cecily on her new clothes and went on and on about how pretty she looks in blue. Mom even said, “Royal blue is a wonderful color on you, Cecily.”
Every color is a wonderful color on Cecily.
Every color is a royal color on Princess Cecily.
Doesn't anyone think red is a wonderful color on
Cecily raised her eyebrows at me. Normally I might have raised my eyebrows back, but I didn't feel like agreeing with her that my dad was mean. It's one thing for me to notice, but another for her to.
When I didn't make a matching face, Cecily turned her head away.
Dad slammed down the phone and said, “What a bunch of nitwits.”
At least he didn't start cursing.
“What's a nitwit?” Matt asked.
Dad should probably have been a teacher, likeMom, because as soon as he began explaining, he got in a better mood. “Nitwit means dumdum,” Dad said. “The word may come from when the children of Dutch settlers had to go to school even though they couldn't speak English. When teachers called on them, the poor kids kept saying “‘
Niet weten
’” (Neat Vay Ten), which is Dutch for ‘I don't know.’ Pretty soon, other kids started making fun of them and calling them nitwits.”
“That's not very nice,” Matt said.
“Children sometimes aren't,” Mom said as she walked into our room. I couldn't tell if she meant any of us. “Ready to go shopping?” she asked.
“Well, we're dressed!” Cecily said. Everyone laughed because we're always dressed. We go to sleep dressed and we wake up dressed.
Mom said, “Cecily, I'm impressed that your shirt still looks so clean. Can you imagine if Matt had worn white?”
Matt looked down and smiled as though three days of food stains and a big elbow hole are something to be proud of.
We went down to the canal house kitchen for breakfast. There were different kinds of cereal and I started remembering how Mrs. Hausner used to help Cecily and me make Froot Loops necklaces with licorice strings. It was a nice memory, but it made me feel sad. Now Mrs. Hausner is sick (and probably disappointed in me) and Cecily and I act like we're hardly even friends.
I poured myself a bowl of Rice Krispies. The box had Snap, Crackle, and Pop, and some Dutch words on it. Mom studied them as if she were doing a puzzle, then guessed that “
Een goed begin van de dag
” (Ayn Hooot Buh Hin Fun Duh Dahhgghh) might mean “A good beginning of the day.”
Today did begin okay. We got on our rental bicycles and peddled past the Floating Flower Market, which Mom said is usually bright with flowers. Since it's August, though, there were mostly just flower bulbs. Trillions of little brown bulbs that looked like baby onions but with pictures of flowers next to them. I thought it was amazing how something as pretty as a flower could come from something as plain as a bulb. Mom bought afew and said, “Some bulbs make flowers that bloom and die and bloom again.”
Maybe my friendship with Cecily is like that. Maybe it's not really over.
Knowing Mom, she probably
said
the thing about bulbs so I would
think
the thing about friendship. Teachers can do stuff like that!
We bicycled to a department store on a street that doesn't allow cars, and we locked up our bicycles. Mom said we could each buy underwear, pajamas, a bathing suit, and a new outfit—courtesy of the luggage people.
Well, we started trying on clothes a mile a minute so Dad wouldn't get impatient. Cecily and I did not share a dressing room, but we did model all the clothes for each other. She looked great in almost everything and I looked not great in almost everything.
We are now all back in the canal house changing. I can't believe how happy I was just to change.
Mom too. She threw out Matt's old shirt and said she'd been afraid we'd be wearing the same clothes in every one of our vacation photos.
Even though I'm glad to be wearing a new top and new shorts, I'm mad because no one said anything about them. Mom complimented Cecily on her new clothes and went on and on about how pretty she looks in blue. Mom even said, “Royal blue is a wonderful color on you, Cecily.”
Every color is a wonderful color on Cecily.
Every color is a royal color on Princess Cecily.
Doesn't anyone think red is a wonderful color on
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