o 3852bd5b2f216136 by Unknown Read Free Book Online Page A

you wished you could take that back. You wished you could catch the words in midair, the way a frog uses its tongue to catch a fly.
    And Sunny was staring at you, her mouth open, and you knew you had just blown it. Your best friendship in the world, flushed down the toilet.
    Before you could say anything, Sunny was on your case. She reminded you that YOUR mom is healthy and she’s only away TEMPORARILY and how could you possibly compare the two —
    and you fell all over yourself apologizing, making excuses, telling her you didn’t mean what you said, you just wanted her to be happy and enjoy life and stop feeling sorry for herself — STOP
    FEELING SORRY FOR YOURSELF, could you possibly have picked a worse thing to say,
    McCrae? — and Sunny went off on a tangent and you weren’t really listening, because all you could think was what a bad friend you were and you never should have agreed to drive Sunny home because YOU DON’T KNOW HOW TO KEEP YOUR BIG MOUTH SHUT.
    And finally Sunny’s voice stopped sounding like words and became more like a noise, like fingernails scraping a blackboard, and you needed to keep concentrating on the road but that was hard because you felt all this pressure, thinking about how you should have been home studying but instead you were solving someone else’s problems, putting someone else’s life first, AS
    USUAL, and don’t your friends see that you’re a person too? And then you thought, how can they when you jump at their requests and act like you’re the happiest person in the world and OF
    COURSE they’re going to take advantage unless you PUT YOUR FOOT DOWN.
    “BE QUIET!” you yelled.
    It was almost as if someone else had climbed inside you and started shouting. And once you started, you couldn’t stop. You blurted out how you were feeling — how scared and tense and worried you were, and before you knew it, you were telling her about the Cro Mags and Alex and Jay. And Sunny was quietly listening and saying “Really?” and “Oh, Ducky,” and “Why didn’t you tell me?” and by the time you turned onto her street your eyes were so misted up you could barely see the road.
    And BOOM, you felt angry at yourself, and guilty, because here was Sunny, all upset about her mom, and you couldn’t just let her vent, could you? Okay, she’s feeling all this self-pity, but you do the same thing and SHE HAS AN EVEN BETTER REASON TO DO IT THAN YOU so you
    shouldn’t judge her, you should let her complain, THIS IS NOT ABOUT YOU, ANYWAY.
    And those last words remind you of Mom and Dad, the way they’d say that to you sometimes when you were upset, and you never understood it, because you thought EVERYTHING was
    about you — and you think of them, and of home, and it’s the last placed you want to go right now, so when Sunny asks you to come inside her house, you say yes.
    Sunny’s mom is lying on a sofa in the Winslows’ living room. Mr. Winslow is on the phone, and the support group friends are making dinner in the kitchen. So you and Sunny sit with her mom, and you begin telling stories about school and doing imitations of various students and teachers, and Mrs. Winslow is cracking up and saying how talented you are and comparing you to Robin Williams (!), which eggs you on — and soon everyone else is in the living room, and they’re all your audience, laughing at all your jokes, and you feel great. You feel APPRECIATED. So when Mr. Winslow asks you to stay for dinner, you say yes because you know the alternative at the McCrae house is Cheerios, in milk that’s probably been left out since Ted came home from school.
    The support groupers are great cooks.
    The meal is the best you’ve had in months.
    And the drive up into Vista Hills — sitting here, writing, with the breeze blowing through the open windows — that’s the perfect dessert.
    In Which You Ask the Question:
    So Why Couldn’t the Day
    Have Ended There?
    You are a maniac.
    Your hands are filthy. Your shirt is