The Mealworm Diaries by Anna Kerz Read Free Book Online Page A

himself as he walked with his mother to the streetcar stop. She had a day off. The sun was shining, and they were going to spend the time together. At the corner she pulled two streetcar tokens from her purse and slipped them between her lips to hold them as she fumbled to close the clasp.
    â€œMilly says the Queen car runs across the whole city,” she said, her voice high and thin as it came from the side of her mouth. “We can go anywhere.”
    â€œAnywhere?” Jeremy squeaked back, and his mother hurried to take the tokens from her lips. She laughed then, and Jeremy laughed too, and something lifted from his chest. He felt good.
    â€œWe could get off at Yonge Street and walk up to that big shopping mall Milly was telling us about. The Eaton Centre?” She passed him a token. “Or we could go all the way to the other end of the city and see High Park. We could spend the afternoon there. We have time to decide. Let’s make it an adventure.” She smiled.
    When the streetcar came, he got on first and led the way to the back, where he settled on the bench seat. He liked this spot. He could look out through the center aisle and watch people get on, or he could turn and see what he was leaving behind.
    The streetcar rumbled and bounced along, picking up passengers at every stop. There were old ladies clutching purses; women with plastic shopping bags; students with backpacks; moms with little kids clutching their hands; old men with tired eyes; and teenagers with headphones plugged into their ears, their heads moving to an unheard beat. Most of them got on in silence, scanned the car for a seat, swung into an empty spot and then stared out the window.
    It was a quiet ride until a bunch of bigger kids streamed on, laughing, joking, jostling, shoving each other in a friendly sort of way. A couple of the girls dropped into seats near the front, but all the others stood, straddling the aisle to keep their balance as the streetcar rocked along. Some of the passengers glanced at the noisy group, then looked away. Jeremy didn’t think that these city kids looked any different than the teenagers back home. They wore jeans with tattered hems that trailed threads and T-shirts covered with words, or pictures, or both.
    At the next stop the driver called, “Clear the doors,” and a few of the kids drifted toward the back, but they kept calling to each other. Then, out of the jumble of voices, Jeremy heard, “…and after the mealworms… after the mealworms, can we see the mummy? I want to see the mummy.”
    He cringed. Aaron? Yes. There, beside a tall boy who was gripping the upper rail with one hand. His other hand was on Aaron’s shoulder as if to keep him grounded. Aaron had said he was going to the museum with his brother. This had to be him.
    Jeremy slid lower in his seat. Between the bodies of the passengers, he stared at the tall boy. He was wearing a black T-shirt with the image of a gleaming motorcycle, the rider crouched, his head forward, his hands clutching the grips. A Harley, Jeremy thought. The rider’s helmet was black and shiny, the visor down. Only his green eagle-eyes showed.
    â€œDad’s eyes were brown, weren’t they?” he said.
    â€œYes,” his mother said.
    He jumped. He hadn’t realized he had spoken aloud.
    â€œThis is Yonge Street coming up,” she said. “If we’re going to shop at the Eaton Centre we have to get off now.”
    â€œLet’s just go on,” he mumbled.
    â€œCan we see the dinosaurs too? I love the dinosaurs.” Aaron’s voice carried through the streetcar. The tall boy smiled down at him with that happy but tired smile people use with a barking puppy. When he leaned down and said something to Aaron, Jeremy noticed a metallic gleam in his mouth—a silver stud buried on his tongue. Without thinking, Jeremy lifted his hand to cover his own mouth.
    The movement must have caught