Home Free by Sharon Jennings Read Free Book Online Page B

backyard as soon as they told their moms.
    And on the way home, I remembered something.
    â€œWhat happened at Kathy’s? I mean, I saw her call on you this morning. So I know you went out with her. But then you came home. Did you …”
(Oh, hope against hope!)
“Did you have a fight?”
    â€œI don’t like her,” said Cassandra Jovanovich. (
Yes
!)
    â€œShe’s bossy,” said Cassandra. (
Yes
!)
    â€œShe wanted to play go-go dancers. She put on some music and we pretended to be go-go-dancers, but she wanted to be in front and she told me to stay behind her and just follow her. So I told her she was a dumb dancer.”
    (Oh, be still my beating heart!)
    â€œThen she said I was a dumb orphan. So I left.”
    I knew I shouldn’t feel happy that Kathy hurt Cassandra’s feelings, but I couldn’t help feeling a little bit of a thrill. But I said, “I’m sorry she said that. She’s mean now. She didn’t used to be. She was always bossy. She always told me I was wrong about everything. Like the time I told her Julie Andrews is my favorite actress, but she said
Mary Poppins
was a movie for babies.”
    Cassandra Jovanovich stopped walking and I banged into her. “I love
Mary Poppinsl
” she said. “I’ve seen it three times!”
    I knew it. I knew it in my heart of hearts Cassandra was destined to be my kindred spirit!
    â€œI saw the beer mugs. You were right. They’re ewww.”
    And then we were at my backyard.

Chapter 13
    We worked on the play all week. But on Sunday, I had to go to church.
    We go to church every Sunday. I have a bath every Saturday night to make sure I am clean enough. My mother says God doesn’t like dirty little girls. I wonder if this means God doesn’t like Paula. She goes to church, too, but a different one. I wonder if the God there minds that she smells.
    I have to wear my best dress and my hat. Now that I am eleven, I don’t have to wear the hat with the elastic that pinches under my chin.
    â€œI am too grown up for that hat,” I told my mother. “It isn’t appropriate.”
    My mother just sniffed.
    I also have to wear my best shoes. They fit okay in September when we buy them, but they always hurt my toes by April. All of the pictures that my mother takes of me are taken outside on Sundays when I am clean and dressed up. She always says to smile and I do, but if there are daffodils in the picture then I know it’s spring and my shoes are hurting and my smile is fake. By July I have to walk on the backs of my shoes until September.
    We drive to church every Sunday and we always leave at 10:15 sharp so my father can find a parking spot and not say bad words. When my father says bad words my mother glares at him but I bet she doesn’t wallop his beee-hind.
    I have to sit with my parents in our pew for the first few minutes of the service. Then the minister calls the children to the front and lets us all go to Sunday School. I like Sunday School. I didn’t before, but that was before Mrs. McMillan became our new teacher. I think Mrs. McMillan is just like Anne Shirley’s Mrs. Allan. She’s pretty and sweet and she explains lots of things to us and always has cookies and juice.
    â€œShe makes the Bible fun,” I told my mother. “Mrs. McMillan says the Bible is all about real people and real stories, just told in the funny way of talking they had back then.”
    Sniff
. “Mrs. McMillan shouldn’t say such nonsense,” my mother scolds.
    Usually we stay in the Sunday School room the whole time, but sometimes we come back into the Sanctuary when babies are getting baptized. Then we sing the baptismal hymn and we all look at this girl in our class named Sharon when we get to the line about Sharon’s dewy nose and we wipe at our noses. But Mrs. McMillan told us it’s really Sharon’s dewy
rose
and means the plant called the Rose of