13 Gifts by Wendy Mass Read Free Book Online

trying all these different ones and suddenly one fits!” She looks over her shoulder at her posters with obvious admiration. “Like Einstein said, ‘As far as the laws of mathematics refer to reality, they are not certain; and as far as they are certain, they do not refer to reality.’”
    I have only a passing acquaintance with what she just said,but clearly I won’t have to worry about my little cousin eating glue sticks anymore. “Um, you’re interested in fencing, right? So it’s not all about math.”
    She glances at the open door then leans closer. “Fencing’s okay. I’m just doing it to prove I can be as well-rounded as the next kid at my school. Anyway, I wanted to thank you. Since you’re here now, I don’t have to go to camp this summer.” She shudders. “I hate camp.”
    “You shouldn’t say ‘hate,’ ” I tell her, surprised — and kind of annoyed — that Mom’s words come so easily.
    She laughs. “You sounded just like my babysitter Rory when you said that. Okay, I
strongly dislike
being told I have to swim in a cold lake infested with all sorts of bacteria and fungi, and forge lifelong friendships with my bunkmates only to turn on them when color war starts.”
    It occurs to me that my cousin talks a lot. “You have a boy babysitter?”
    She tosses all her fencing garb into the middle of the floor. I watch the helmet roll off and thump against the dresser. “Why would you think I have a boy babysitter?”
    “Isn’t Rory a boy’s name?”
    “Not in this case.”
    “Oh.” And that’s where the conversation peters out. My mind drifts to the meager contents of my suitcase, and how there’s barely space in this bedroom for the few things I brought with me.
    “I know what you’re thinking,” Emily says, tossing her fencing medal over a bedpost stacked high with them.None, I notice, better than fifth place. Maybe she should stick to math.
    “You’re thinking I’m a little old for a babysitter,” she says.
    Actually, I had been thinking about how silly my Jake Harrison poster would look next to Emily’s white-haired geniuses. Not that Jake isn’t smart. I hear he gets straight A’s from all his on-set tutors.
    “I’m at that awkward age,” Emily explains, even though I didn’t ask. “Too young to stay home alone, too old to need someone to watch me. Anyway, Rory’s more like a friend. She’s in seventh grade, same as you.”
    I want to tell her that officially, I’m not in seventh grade anymore, having been kicked to the curb by an oversensitive principal. But I’m not sure what mom told Aunt Bethany, so I keep quiet and Emily keeps talking.
    “I’m sure you’ll like Rory a lot. She’s funny without trying to be. And she’s kind of klutzy, too. We know you’ll want to socialize with your peer group while you’re here, so Mom planned a party for you to meet everyone.”
    I don’t think I’ve heard anyone other than my mother use the words
peer group.
Well, maybe the school social workers. But I’ve never heard an eleven-year-old who sounds as grown up as she does or who talks as
much
as she does. The words
party
and
for me
are enough to make me want to crawl under the blanket (if I could find it) and sleep for two months. “You really don’t have to plan anything for me, I don’t really like —”
    Aunt Bethany walks in as I’m about to say
parties.
“All unpacked?” she asks.
    A little knot forms in my stomach. It’s probably homesickness, but since I’ve never been away from home before, I can’t be totally sure. “I’m about to start,” I reply, kneeling down next to my suitcase and knocking over a stack of CDs in the process.
    Aunt Bethany frowns. “Emily! I told you to clean up this room before Tara arrived!”
    “But, Mom, I thought I had longer and then —”
    My aunt holds up her hand. “Just clean it now.”
    “Fine,” Emily grumbles and begins tossing things from her bed to the floor.
    “When Tara’s unpacked, the two of you can