Sarah's Legacy by Valerie Sherrard Page A

wanted, dear?”
    â€œIsn’t that Grammie?”
    â€œNo.” She didn’t look directly at me as she answered. “It’s just someone for me.”
    Well, I knew when I wasn’t wanted! I shrugged to show her I couldn’t care less about her silly old phone call as I left the room. But truthfully, I
was
curious, so I listened carefully as I started slowly down the hall.
    â€œSorry about that, Stan,” I heard her say.
    Stan! The realization hit me that Mom must have phoned him first and given him our number. I quickly told myself that she’d probably only done it in case there was a change in plans for the movie tomorrow, but something in me wasn’t buying that idea.
    I stomped angrily up the stairs to my room.

C HAPTER T WELVE
    When Mom came up to my room a bit later and asked if I wanted some ice cream I just shook my head and refused to look at her.
    â€œHow about a game of cards, then?” she suggested cheerfully, as if she couldn’t see perfectly well that I wasn’t too pleased with her at the moment.
    â€œWhy don’t you see if
Stan
would like some ice cream or a game of cards?” I snapped. I thought I might as well make it good and clear that I wasn’t happy about her talking to him.
    â€œI think it’s a bit late to invite anyone over this evening,” she answered smoothly, like she didn’t know I was being sarcastic.
    That made me madder than ever.
    â€œYeah, well, I guess anyone who wanted a jerk likehim around would have to be pretty desperate for a boyfriend anyway,” I muttered.
    Instead of answering, she got a hurt look on her face and left, closing my door quietly behind her. I didn’t feel one bit sorry for her. In fact, I was quite pleased with myself. After all, she had it coming for not getting rid of Stan right from the start. He didn’t belong in our lives and the sooner she realized it and put an end to the whole thing, the better.
    Right in the middle of imagining how bad she was probably feeling, my thoughts were interrupted by the sound of purring. One of the cats must have followed Mom into my room. Looking around, I found Arthur the Fifth sitting at the foot of my bed. I scooped him up, marched to the door, flung it open, and plopped him down in the hallway.
    That was when I heard Mom singing. The sound of her voice rose softly from downstairs.
    I couldn’t believe it! She was supposed to be upset and there she was singing as if everything was just fine. I strained to listen for a moment but couldn’t quite make out what the song was. It sounded happy, though. I slammed my door good and loud, crossed the room, and flung myself across the bed.
    A few seconds later I felt a small thud on the bed beside me.
    â€œI thought I just put you out,” I mumbled, seeingArthur the Fifth’s furry face staring at me curiously. The dumb thing must have sneaked back in when I was concentrating on Mom’s song.
    He ambled lazily across the comforter and stared at me some more. Now, this might sound stupid, but the expression on his face almost looked as though he was asking me a question.
    â€œWhat do you want?” I gave him a half-hearted pat. His fur was as soft as silk. It was the first time I noticed how nice it felt. He rubbed his face on my arm, purring noisily, then flopped down against me, warm and soft and comforting.
    â€œYou can stay this once,” I told him sternly, “but you don’t need to think you’ll be making a habit of it.”
    Arthur squinted in reply, yawned widely, and promptly fell asleep. He barely moved when I crawled under the covers a while later.
    The next morning I was awakened by a tongue roughly washing my forehead. Sometime during the night Arthur had made his way up to my pillow and sprawled across the top of it, forming a big furry halo over my head.
    â€œWhat are you doing up there?” I couldn’t help laughing at the sight of his face.