The Waffler by Gail Donovan Read Free Book Online Page A

bit—kind of like doing the slow pull with a Band-Aid. Or he could tell the whole story all at once—kind of like the fast pull. He picked the quick way.
    The story came tumbling out: the writing assignment; how he got a better idea so he tried to start over but his eraser ripped his paper; how he threw his pencil but he didn’t mean to hit Jasmine; and how now Mrs. Tuttle put three Band-Aids on his arm every day, and every time he changed his mind, she pulled one off as a reminder. “She calls them decision-aids,” he said. “I hate her!” Monty felt so mad, he couldn’t stop. “And I hate Sierra, too!” he added.
    Monty knew what would happen now. His mom would give him a lecture about how
hate
was a very strong word, and didn’t he actually mean he was
very angry?
And Sierra wouldn’t get in trouble at all.
    But his mom didn’t give that lecture. “I don’t think I like the sound of this,” she said as she pulled over her laptop. “I’m going to write Mrs. Tuttle and set up a time to speak with her.”
    â€œMom, no!” cried Monty. “You can’t!”
    â€œWhat do you mean, I can’t? Of course I can talk with your teacher.”
    How could his mom not know what a disaster talking to his teacher would be? Mrs. Tuttle would be mad because he had tattled on her. She’d take it out on him in a hundred little ways for the rest of the year.
    â€œJust—no,” he spluttered. “It’s just, like, temporary. I think it’s only for the week, or something. Mom, I’m handling it.
Please
.”
    Monty hoped that adding
or something
made what he said not a lie. Besides, Mrs. Tuttle never said anything about how long it would be. Maybe it really was temporary!
    â€œOkay,” said his mom with a sigh. “I’ll wait on that. But Monty, there’s something I want you to think about for me, okay?” She took hold of his hands. “I haven’t made a decision yet, but something I’m thinking about—and I’m asking you and Sierra to think about this, too—is having the two of you flip-flop.”
    Monty’s nose was starting to itch. He needed to scratch wicked bad. Finally he had to let go of his mom’s hands and scratch his nose. His fingers smelled like the oil she used for her last massage. Peppermint.
    â€œFlip-flop?” he asked.
    â€œInstead of both of you going to dad’s together and both of you coming here together, one of you would be at dad’s while the other one was here, and vice versa. You two could . . . take a little break from each other.”
    It was true Monty got really mad at Sierra sometimes. She bugged him a lot—like today—and when she bugged him, they fought. But that was no big deal. All kids fought, right? It was no bigger a deal than scratching an itch. Thinking about scratching made his nose itch again. He peppermint scratched some more, trying to imagine being here without his sister. Or being without her at Dad’s. It was hard to imagine. No matter how much he hated it when his mom said
you two
, the two of them had always been together. What would it be like if they weren’t?
    Maybe they wouldn’t be lumped together so much. Lumping was one of the bad things about being a twin. If something one twin did made Mom or Dad mad, the other twin could pay the price. Because a mad-at-one-twin parent was a grumpy-with-the-other-twin parent. It was grumpy lumping, and it wasn’t fair.
    But being a twin had tons of perks, too. Both his mom and dad kept pestering Monty to invite a friend over once in a while, but he hardly ever bothered. Because Sierra was always there. Or if she wasn’t there right that second because she was at soccer, she’d be home soon. Monty liked always having somebody to hang out with.
    Basically, there were good and bad things about being a twin. Flip-flopping would mean getting