Acting Out by Laurie Halse Anderson Read Free Book Online Page B

another Pop-Tart and refills our glasses. “So what else is there to know, then?”
    I take a big sip of milk and choke on it a little.“My mother hasn’t told me any of this. If I hadn’t overheard her conversation I’d assume I was just here for the rest of the school year. And maybe I am; who knows? But then there’s summer, and she said I can visit on set then. Visit, because I’m living here? Or visit from some apartment Mom and I are sharing in Vancouver?”
    I bang my glass down, and a little milk splashes up and onto the table.
    “Oops,” I say.
    Maggie jumps up from her chair and says, “Lemme get it.” She starts wiping the table with the dishcloth and nods for me to continue.
    I start toying with my napkin. “Filming is stressful for Mom. She loves it, you know? But as time goes by, she becomes less and less of a mom and more of…well, a distracted and messy roommate.”
    Maggie nods. “I guess that’s why it’s good that you’re here.”
    “But for how long? Wouldn’t it be nice to know at least that?”
    “Just ask her,” she says. “Just ask your mom how long she thinks you’ll be here. And if she doesn’t know, ask her when she
will
know.”
    “You don’t understand—”
    “Listen, Gran is great, but if I
had
a mom, Iknow I would talk to her about important things.”
    I shake my head. “Mom—”
    Maggie interrupts again. “Your mom is fun, funny, and bighearted—but she is impulsive. And you? You’re stubborn, like me, I guess. What can it hurt to ask her directly?” She sighs and turns away.
    I don’t know. I guess Maggie’s right. I have a right to know how long I’ll be in Ambler. If Mom gets mad that I’m asking, at least there are three thousand miles between us. She really can’t punish me from Vancouver. What can it hurt?
    I look over at my cousin. She’s petting Sherlock, who has wandered in from another room. I realize that as frustrating as my mom can be to deal with, I should be grateful that I have her. Maggie’s parents died in a car crash when she was a baby. All she has is Gran. A great veterinarian, a wonderful grandmother, but still, Gran is not Maggie’s mother. I’ve heard Maggie tell people that Gran is a great mom
and
a great dad. But Maggie doesn’t really know what it’s like to have a mom who was her own age not so long ago. A mom who knows the latest fashions. A mom who knows which bands are cool and which magazines to buy. A mom like mine, when I have her.
    We finish our Pop-Tarts in silence. Sherlock settles his big old self beneath Maggie’s chair.Soon, he is huffing and snoring away.
    I decide we need to have a big salad for supper after all that sugar and fat. Maggie pulls out the homework she’s been putting off during spring break. She sits down at the kitchen table and huffs just like Sherlock. Bored already, I guess. Maggie has never liked schoolwork all that much.
    I chop vegetables and think about school starting up on Monday. Just two days away. School in Ambler, Pennsylvania, again. And for how long? Most likely I’ll finish out the year here. Will I start school again in the fall with Maggie, or will I be back with my friends in California? Will I be here a couple of years? I chop the celery so hard, Maggie looks up from her math.
    “Need help with that stuff?” she asks.
    “This
‘stuff
’ is celery, and no, I don’t,” I say. “I’ll let you know when supper’s ready.”
    Maggie goes back to her books, and I fling the chopped celery into the bowl of lettuce. I peel and shred some carrots and feel my shoulders relax a little. Carefully, I slice tomatoes and sweet red peppers. Soon I have assembled a beautiful, colorful bowl of vegetables. I might not have any answers about the future, but I feel much calmer knowing that soon I’m going to pin Mom down with my questions.
    Maggie and I eat by ourselves because Gran hasn’t returned from the clinic. My cousin doesn’t even complain about the salad. Maybe my