Rule of Three by Megan McDonald Read Free Book Online Page B

cake-off.”
    “Send an e-mail. Paper airplane. Smoke signal. I don’t know. But I do know I’m getting tired of going back and forth and back and forth. What am I, a Human Ping-Pong Ball?”
    “I wish you’d just go ask her one more time,” I whined.
    “You know what I wish?” Joey said. “I wish I had three wishes on Dad’s genie lamp and that all three wishes would be for everybody to stop fighting or singing or whatever and pay some attention to me for a change.”
    “‘My patience, how blue we are!’” I said, getting Joey’s attention by saying Little Women stuff.
    “Please can we finish Little Women ? Did you know Jo gets Plumfield? And she opens a school for boys?”
    “Wait. How did you know? Hey, you’ve been reading ahead.”
    “So? I still want us to finish it together.”
    “Tell you what. Listen to me sing my song for the audition, and then we’ll read the last two chapters straight through.”
    “Swear?”
    “I swear.”
    “Swear on Little Women .” Joey held out the book in front of me. “Put your hand on the book and repeat after me.”
    “Joey!”
    “Just do it.”
    “OK, OK.” I placed one hand on Little Women and raised my other hand.
    “I, Stevie Reel . . .” Joey started.
    “I Stevie Reel . . .”
    “Do solemnly swear . . .”
    “Do solemnly swear . . .”
    “That I will finish reading Little Women . . .”
    “That I will finish reading Little Women . . .”
    “Help Joey with her school project . . .”
    “Hey, did I say I’d help with homework?”
    “Cheerfully measure Joey’s ponytail whenever she asks . . .”
    “Cheerfully measure Joey’s ponytail even though it’s been eight-and-three-quarters inches long forever . . .”
    “Hey! That’s not what I said.”
    “Hey! That’s not what I said,” I repeated after Joey.
    “And stop acting like a turd muffin.”
    “And stop acting like a turd muffin, whatever that is. Hey, wait, that’s like four things! All I said was that I’d read —”
    “Too late. You swore. On Little Women .”

     

     

     

 
    D-day. Day of the Audition.
    I was in the kitchen that morning before school, gulping down a cupcake over the sink when Dad caught me.
    “Stevie, honey. First rule of acting? Eat a good breakfast.”
    “Can’t. In a hurry. Too nervous,” I said between bites.
    “Just remember to breathe,” Dad said for like the one-millionth time.
    “Bye, Dad. Mwa.” I air-kissed him, then picked up my backpack and headed out the door.
    “Have a nice trip!” Dad called after me. The Reel family equivalent of Break a leg.
    Mom drove us to school that day. After we dropped Joey off, Alex and I were especially quiet in the car. I tried to hum my song inside my head without actually moving my lips or making a sound.
    I couldn’t help glancing over at Alex, wondering if she was silently practicing her song in her head, too. “Your lips are moving,” I reported.
    “So?” She scrunched her nose at me, chipmunk-style.
    “For your information, when you do that, you look like Alvin the Chipmunk.”
    “Girls. Don’t start.” Mom pulled up to the curb in front of the school.
    “Mom, don’t say it,” I pleaded.
    “Don’t say what?” she asked innocently.
    “You know, the speech,” I said.
    “May the best man win and all that,” said Alex.
    “And remember,” I added, imitating Mom, “no matter what happens, you’re sisters.”
    “Oh, and sisters last a lot longer than any old play,” said Alex. “Sisters are forever.” I chimed in on that last part, so we both said the same thing at the same time.
    “Very funny,” said Mom. “This may surprise you, but I did not have a speech prepared.”
    “Yeah, right,” Alex and I said at the same time again, cracking up. It felt good to be on the same side for once. To be laughing with my sister.
    As I headed down the hall to the sixth-grade lockers, Alex called after me, “Good luck, Sailor!” I couldn’t help wondering if it was a dig. But I don’t