“I’m always hungry,” she said, which from what I knew of her seemed to be true. She lifted an onion ring and took a big bite out of it. After swallowing she asked, “What are you doing tomorrow?”

“Same as today. School and work.”

“That doesn’t sound fun.”

“It’s not supposed to be.”

“Do you ever play hooky from school?”

I hesitated. “Sure,” I said coolly. “Who doesn’t?” If I sounded like the liar I was, she didn’t seem to notice. The truth was I had won three awards for perfect attendance.

“Great, then let’s play hooky tomorrow.”

I was trapped by my own lie. The truth was I was proud of my perfect attendance awards. That sounds pathetic, but they were the only awards I’d ever received. Now I felt pressured to throw them aside like yesterday’s casserole just because I didn’t want to look dumb for some girl. I wondered if I got caught playing hooky, if my awards would be taken away like Jim Thorpe’s Olympic medals.

Even worse than losing my awards was my terror of getting caught by a truant officer. I had never actually seen one or was even sure that they existed, but I’d heard about them and I didn’t want to take any chances.

“I can’t miss work…”

“That’s okay,” she said. “It’s just until school’s out.”

“What if you’re still sick?” I asked hopefully.

“I’ll be okay.”

I sighed. “Okay,” I said. “I better go.” I got down on my knees to crawl out.

“Mañana,” she said.

“What?”

“Tomorrow, silly. We learned it in Spanish.”

“Oh. Yeah.”

I walked back to the house with dread in the pit of my stomach. If my parents ever found out I had played hooky, I was dead and buried.

CHAPTER Ten

I met Eric’s mother at the grocery store. I think
it’s peculiar that she rang up my groceries and
had no idea that I was taking them to her home.

GRACE’S DIARY

TUESDAY, OCT. 16

The next morning I got ready as if I were going to school. Mom made us Cream of Wheat for breakfast and, as usual, Joel put so much raspberry jam in his bowl that his cereal was crimson.

“Like a little Cream of Wheat with your jam?” I asked.

He took a mouthful, reading the back of a cereal box. “I like it this way.”

“I’m going to work early,” my mom said. “We’re counting inventory. Want a ride to school, Eric?”

Not once since school started had my mother asked if I wanted a ride. It’s like she knew I was up to something. “Uh, no. Thanks. I’m meeting someone on the bus.”

She looked at me with pleasant surprise. “You have a new friend?”

My mother was always concerned over my lack of friends.

“Yeah.”

“What’s his name?”

“Who?”

“Your friend.”