True (. . . Sort Of) by Katherine Hannigan Page B

“Come ‘mowr’ at me now,” she dared it.
    But there was no furry witch flying at her.
    The River Bluffs whistle blew five o’clock. Clarice would be heading home.
    â€œBawlgrammit, I got to go,” she grumbled, and climbed out of the ditch.
    As she ran down the road, the corners of Delly’s mouth curled. “Ferris Boyd.” She laughed and shook her head.
    Because following her wasn’t supposed to be fun, but it had turned into a Dellyventure.

Chapter 24
    S he got home just before Clarice pulled in the drive.
    â€œHey Ma,” she hollered. “From now on I’m not coming home right after school.”
    The color left Clarice’s face. “Why’s that?” she asked.
    â€œI got a project.”
    That didn’t help Clarice. Delly’s projects always got a grade of T for Trouble. “What kind of project?”
    â€œIt’s about wild creatures and habitats.” She used Lionel Terwilliger words. “It’s me and a girl doing it.”
    â€œIs this for school?” Clarice kept at it.
    Delly sort of told the truth. “She’s in my class. She’s new.”
    If there hadn’t been a week of no trouble, Clarice wouldn’t have trusted it. But Delly’d been different. “Hmm,” she said.
    Clarice had more questions, like Who’s watching you? and When’s it going to be done? Tallahassee was tugging on her, though, asking, “Can I eat at Fern Teeter’s?” and Dallas was yelling, “Ma, there’s smoke coming from the stove!”
    As Clarice ran to the house, shouting, “Dallas, don’t touch anything!” the Delly questions disappeared.
    â€œAll right then.” Delly grinned.
    RB came to her room after dinner.
    She was lying on her bed, thinking about that invisible Ferris Boyd.
    He stood over her with his arms crossed. “So,” he said.
    â€œHunh,” she replied.
    â€œYou got a project, for real?”
    â€œYep,” she answered.
    â€œWhat’s it about?”
    â€œI already told you. It’s about animals and where they live, how they hide in places you can’t see them.”
    He squinted his eyes. “Who’s it with?”
    â€œFerris Boyd,” she said. “You don’t know her.”
    But RB surprised her. “The one who’s not your surpresent?”
    Delly didn’t say anything.
    â€œWhen are you going to be done?” he asked, because he missed her already.
    She shrugged. “You better keep walking with Cletis. Now I got to count. One, two, three . . . ” she called out, louder than any questions he could ask.
    So RB left. Outside her door, though, he breathed, “You can’t get rid of me, Delly.”

Chapter 25
    W ednesday the counting was still killing Delly. Then there was recess.
    â€œJiminy fipes.” She giggled as squirrels played Ring Around the Ferris Boyd. But mostly she thought about after school. “I’m going to find where you disappeared to,” she rasped from across the playground.
    At three o’clock she watched Ferris Boyd slump out the door and followed her.
    By the time Delly got to the ditch, Ferris Boyd was facing the bushes.
    And there was that black cat, sprinting to her.
    Bawlgram cat. Delly only thought it.
    Still, the cat stopped and turned.
    Delly ducked, waiting for it to tattle.
    But the only sounds were birds singing, then the thump, thump of a basketball bouncing.
    Delly’s head popped up. Just like yesterday, that girl was making the ball do things she’d never seen before. “More bawlgram basketball.” She sighed.
    Ferris Boyd played till Delly’s legs were cramping. Finally, she put the ball down and walked into the woods with the cat.
    â€œHappy Hallelujah,” Delly mumbled, and took off. She ran across the grass and into the darkness. “There you are,” she murmured.
    Up ahead, Ferris Boyd’s pale skin glowed,