Donutheart by Sue Stauffacher Read Free Book Online Page B

gloves.”
    “My dishwashing gloves? For…?”
    “Uh…washing dishes?”
    This was an obvious lie, but she shooed me out of the van before I could interrogate her further.
    I sighed. We all had our secrets.
My mother’s fascination with the ice rink, Sarah’s insistence on wearing pants, my feelings for Glynnis…
    “It seems smaller, somehow,” Sarah said as we walked to the front entrance.
    “And quiet,” I added.
    School had dismissed an hour earlier, so we entered through the door by the office. Behind the plate-glass window, we could see Mr. Putnam on the phone. He gave us a cheerful salute. Sarah waved back and we continued down the hall.
    “Hey, I’ve never done this before! Look, Franklin. It’s Ms. Linski’s room.”
    “Never done what? Been in the building after school?”
    “No. Seen my last year’s class. Look, that’s where you sat, remember, on the end, so you didn’t have germs comin’ at you from both sides?”
    “Well, that’s not exactly the reason I sat there….”
    “And I wanted to sit in back, but Ms. Linski made me your partner.”
    Sarah stared through the window at the empty classroom. Peeking in really did bring back memories. There were Ms. Linski’s motivational posters, and her timeline of American history made of cereal-box toys she’d collected on eBay (all carefully sealed in plastic to protect their value). And the wall-mounted hand-sanitizer dispensing unit inspired by yours truly. We cut the incidence of cold and flu outbreaks nearly in half, I might add. And the door to the restroom. I sighed happily, remembering. Yes, every classroom at the elementary school had its own private bathroom.
    “…and you hung your backpack on your chair, and every time you got your calculator or a pencil out of it, you looked over at Glynnis Powell.”
    “Excuse me?”
    “It’s pretty obvious you got it goin’ on for Glynnis, Franklin.”
    “Really? How so?”
    Sarah managed to pull herself away from Ms. Linski’s door. She leaned back against the door jamb.
    “Every chance you get, you’re moonin’ over her. In health class for sure. In the lunchroom. I don’t know…it’s just obvious. Like I-like-skating obvious. Like Mr.-Spansky-spits-on-the-table obvious…”
    “All right, fine. I understand what you’re saying.”
    We continued down the hall. “It doesn’t really matter, now that I know she’s a cheerleader….”
    “Why?”
    “Why? Because cheerleaders hang out with football players, basketball players, soccer players…in short, athletes, Sarah, in contact sports. Cheerleaders do not fraternize with QuizBowl finalists and Mathletes.”
    “How do you know? Did you ask her?”
    “Ask her? I can’t even get within shouting distance without all my blood rushing to my face.”
    Sarah shrugged. “Jeez, Franklin, you give up awful easy….”
    “That’s not true!” I wanted to tell Sarah that if she measured the amount of time I thought about winning Glynnis, the girl would be neck and neck with Franklin Delano Roosevelt, the length of my arms and legs, and keeping my hands clean.
    “I wouldn’t let anything come between me and skating,” Sarah said quietly. “Nothing. You hear that, Franklin?”
    This last line sounded faintly aggressive. As if
I
would suggest such a thing.
    “Well, excuse me for confiding,” I said, dragging my steps so that Sarah could be the first to reach Mrs. Boardman.
    “I could maybe help, you know…with you talkin’ to Glynnis.”
    “Thank you…,” I said slowly, imagining possible Sarah Kervick techniques for getting up close and personal. “But I already have a plan.”
    “You do? What is it?”
    I explained to her that I intended to gradually spend more time in the vicinity of Glynnis, with the goal at the end of three weeks of waving to her without turning red in the face.
    “Jeez…at that rate, you’ll be a geezer before you get a kiss.”
    I thought about telling Sarah that love takes time, but then, what did