Runt by Nora Raleigh Baskin Read Free Book Online Page A

seventh-grade class photo. Nadine blended in like a leaf bug on a leaf, like a flounder on the sandy sea floor.
    â€œWhy do you care?” Freida answered her sister. She pushed the door to her bedroom closed with her foot.
    â€œBecause you look like a freak and everyone thinks so.” Nadine’s voice trailed off down the hall and into the bathroom where she would spend anywhere from fifteen minutes to half an hour putting on makeup.
    Freida pulled a black sweatshirt that read JUST BECAUSE YOU’RE WEARING BLACK DOESN’T MEAN YOU’RE ONE OF US over her head. She knew no one would get the irony, the double entendre of wearing black herself and not belonging, but she liked the sweatshirt. It was comfortable. It hid her body, hanging nearly to her mid-thighs. It hid her thighs, which had somehow overnight softened and widened and seemed not to fit with the rest of her body.
    â€œMom,” Nadine was now wailing from her bedroom, “I can’t find my blue top.”
    â€œDid you check in your drawer?” Mrs. Goldstein shouted up the stairs.
    â€œGod, Mom. If it was in my drawer I wouldn’t be looking for it, would I?”
    Freida stood and watched Nadine stepping in and out of pants and throwing sweaters on the floor, flinging shoes across her room. It was like that pretty much every morning until Nadine found something she could wear, usually as their mother called out that she could see the yellow of the school bus through the woods behind their house.
    â€œDid you check under your bed, sweetie?”
    â€œDid you wash it? I put it in the laundry last week. Have you done the laundry in, like, forever?”
    Freida gave her sweatshirt a tug and let out a sigh. She would wait for her sister because that’s what sisters do, and a few minutes later they were running down their driveway, each with a warm bagel in their hand. They stopped and stood, panting.
    â€œSo you never gave me an answer,” Nadine said. They could see the bus stopped at the Weavers’ house. It took a while for all four Weaver children to board.
    â€œTo what, exactly?”
    â€œFreida, I love you. I’m your big sister. I know it sounds mean, but people make fun of you. I’m trying toprotect you, but you make it hard. You’ve got that sixth grade dance coming up, don’t forget.”
    Freida knew her sister loved her. But an if-you-can’t-beat-’em-join-’em philosophy didn’t work for everyone. It wasn’t even working for Nadine.
    It was just that Nadine didn’t seem to realize it. Maybe in the end, though, not realizing you’re not “in” amounted to the same thing as being “in.”

HURRICANE HELEN
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    My mother said she wanted to take me shopping for a new dress for Miss Robinson’s wedding. She said that, but she also said if it rains during a wedding that’s good luck for the marriage, and I find that hard to believe. The ceremony is this afternoon and, of course, no shopping, no new dress. And bad weather is forecast.
    The dogs knew it was coming. They huddled around in the kitchen all day, all of them. Patty-Lou didn’t want to go outside to pee this morning, even though it wasn’t raining.
    â€œC’mon, Patty,” I tried, holding open the kitchen door. It was actually sunny and beautiful outside.
    The calm before the storm, my mother said, but she was still in bed.
    Patty-Lou didn’t budge. She was a beagle mix, a hound-ish, long-nosed dog with floppy ears and the sweetest face.
    â€œWhat’s the matter?”
    Patty was one of our regulars. She was always comfortable here, but her owners did say she was terrified of thunderstorms, and requested that Patty-Lou get to sleep with one of us if she got scared. My mother promised and then winked at me when Patty Lou’s mom wiped her eyes and headed to her car to drive away.
    Now I had to get dressed. I had to get ready for Miss Robinson’s