Absolutely Almost by Lisa Graff Read Free Book Online Page A

didn’t think the book was for babies at all, because for one thing, babies can’t read.
    â€œYou’re in fifth grade, Albie,” Mom said. “You should be reading books for fifth-graders.”
    The timer on the microwave went off then, but Mom didn’t pull out our enchilada dinners. Instead she tossed
Captain Underpants
on a pile of mail on the counter and walked off down the hall. I stood at the table, just waiting. I stared at the enchilada dinner sitting inside the dark microwave. I wanted to take it out and start eating, because I wasn’t sure where Mom went and my stomach was growling again, but last time I tried to pull a dinner out of the microwave, I got burned by the steam and Mom got mad at me for being careless.
    â€œHere,” Mom said when she finally walked back into the kitchen. She was holding a different book, a new one. She handed it to me.
    â€œ
Johnny Tr—
” I tried to sound the title out, but it was tricky looking.
    â€œ
Johnny Tremain,
” Mom said. “I read it when I was in fifth grade, and I loved it. Now
there’s
a book for kids your age.”
    I turned the book over in my hands. It was thick. Long. Too long. I opened it up. The words were tiny, and there weren’t any pictures.
    It did not look nearly as good as
Captain Underpants.
    â€œI want you to read at least one chapter tonight for your reading log, okay?” Mom said. I must’ve been frowning on accident, because then she said, “Just try it, Albie. I bet you’ll love it.”
    I didn’t say anything.
    â€œNow, why are we just standing here? Didn’t the microwave beep? Let’s eat!”
    â€œI was waiting for you to take the food out,” I said.
    â€œWhat, you can’t take food out of the microwave by yourself? You’re a big kid, Albie. You need to start acting like it.”
    My stomach was still growling when I took my first bite of the enchilada dinner, but somehow it didn’t taste nearly as delicious as I remembered.
    â€¢Â â€¢Â â€¢
    I tried to read
Johnny Tremain.
I really did. I read all the words in the first paragraph, and then the second one. Then I started over with the first paragraph.
    That book didn’t make any sense.
    Captain Underpants
was still out on the pile of mail in the kitchen, and that book did make sense. Plus it was funny. But
Captain Underpants
was for babies, and I wasn’t a baby.
    The next morning, when Mrs. Rouse asked for my reading log, I told her I lost it.

east 59th
street tv.

    N o more TV,” Calista said. She was feeling grumpy, I could tell, because some days she’d let me watch for way longer than fifteen minutes, pretending she didn’t notice that the timer in the kitchen had gone off. Those days, she’d just stay on the couch, legs tucked underneath her, and doodle in her sketchbook while I watched cartoons. But I guess not today.
    â€œCome on, Albie,” she said. She snapped shut her sketchbook. “Turn off the TV, okay?”
    â€œAww,” I whined. “But I’m
watching
something.”
    â€œYour show ended two minutes ago,” Calista told me, getting up to grab the remote. “Right now you’re watching a commercial for shower cleaner.”
    â€œBut it’s
interesting,
” I argued.
    Calista zapped the TV off.
    â€œCan I play Xbox?” I asked her.
    â€œThat’s a screen,” she replied. Which meant no.
    I slumped my shoulders down and sunk onto the floor.
    â€œWant to see if Erlan’s home?” Calista said. “Maybe he wants to hang out.”
    â€œThey’re taping a big family meeting today, so I can’t come over.”
    Calista thought for a while. “Want to do an art project?”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œBake cookies?”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œRide bikes?”
    â€œIt’s eight thirty,” I told her. “I’m not allowed on my bike after dark. Plus, only half an