Friends of a Feather by Lauren Myracle Read Free Book Online Page B

thighs and lean over, breathing hard.
I’m not a little boy
is the first thing I think, but it doesn’t bother me too much because I know adults are bad at guessing ages.
    The second thing I think is,
I did it. I saved Mr. Marconi. Maybe he didn’t want to be saved, but I saved him anyway—and it
did
feel good.
    The third thing I think is,
Joseph
.
    Thinking about him makes me sad and happy. Sad because our best-friend-ness isn’t back to normal, but happy because it can’t be
all
the way gone, not if he’s the first person I want to tell about my crazy afternoon.
    And he is.

CHAPTER SEVEN
    M om calls Dad from the nursing home parking lot and tells him the whole story. She laughs as she tells it, and I hear Dad laughing on the other end. I’m not sure how I feel about this, because I didn’t know it was a funny story.
    But as I listen, I start to smile. I guess it was pretty funny, with Mr. Marconi scowling and motoring forward and the nurse flapping her arms around.
    If Mr. Marconi had gotten hit by a car, it wouldn’t be. But he didn’t.
    â€œAbsolutely,” Mom says after she’s reached the end of the story. “I know. I agree!” She listens for a moment, then laughs again. “If you say so. Bye, baby. Love you, too.”
    Mom ends the call and twists to face me. Her eyes are soft and shiny. The softness is because she loves me, and the shininess is because her very own son rescued an old man in a wheelchair from escaping from Collindale Care Center.
    Her very. Own. Son.
    â€œYour dad is very proud of you, and so am I,” Mom says. “In fact, I think we should go out and celebrate.”
    â€œYeah!” I say.
    â€œYour dad’s busy, but how about I take you to Chipotle for dinner? Sandra and Winnie can fend for themselves.”
    â€œCan I get a Coke even though it’s after two o’clock? Can we invite Joseph?”
    Mom laughs. “No to the Coke, but yes to Joseph.” She taps some buttons on her phone and hands it to me. “Here—you do the asking. If he says yes, I can talk to his mom after.”
    Joseph does want to come with us, and we drive straight from the nursing home to pick him up. He sprints out of his house wearing his fuzzy red hat, and when he slides into the backseat, he grins. I grin back. I’m glad it’s just the two of us. I mean, Mom and Baby Maggie are here, but they aren’t kids. They aren’t Lexie or Taylor or Chase or Hannah or any of those people.
    â€œHi!” he says.
    â€œHi!” I say, and since it’s the first time Joseph has EVER MET MAGGIE, who’s sitting between us because the middle seat is the safest place for her car seat, I make her say “hi” to him, too.
    I pick up her bitsy hand and flap it at Joseph. “Hi!” I say in a baby voice.
    Joseph waves. Baby Maggie kicks her cute little feet.
    â€œShe sure is pink,” Joseph says.
    I tilt my head. “I guess she is.”
    Maggie
pluhs
at him, which means that she poofs out her lips and goes
pluh
and spits out a tiny spit bubble.
    â€œThat means she likes you,” I say. “Also, she has hair sprouts now, which she didn’t even a week ago.” I fluff up a tuft of Maggie’s pale brown hair. “See?”
    â€œMe too,” Joseph says, and he pulls his hat partway off.
    â€œAwesome,” I say. His hair is super short, but unlike Maggie’s hair, which so far grows only in patches, Joseph’s short hair covers his whole head. He looks like an army guy.
    After that, Maggie wiggles and Mom drives, and I tell Joseph the Mr. Marconi story.
    â€œWhere did Mr. Marconi want to go?” Joseph asks.
    â€œI don’t know. Back to his old house?”
    â€œBut he can’t go back to his old house,” Joseph says, but there’s a bit of a question in his eyes.
    â€œI guess not. I guess he’s too old.”
    â€œHe probably can’t live