Chapters (38)
- one
- two
- three
- four
- five
- six
- seven
- eight
- nine
- ten
- eleven
- twelve
- thirteen
- fourteen
- fifteen
- sixteen
- seventeen
- eighteen
- nineteen
- twenty
- twenty-one
- twenty-two
- twenty-three
- twenty-four
- twenty-five
- twenty-six
- twenty-seven
- twenty-eight
- twenty-nine
- thirty
- thirty-one
- thirty-two
- thirty-three
- thirty-four
- thirty-five
- thirty-six
- thirty-seven
- epilogue
“When you finish this book, Ronni, I want to know what you think of it.” She saw the immediate anxiety on my face and chuckled softly. “No, honey, not in a book report way. I want to know if you like it, that’s all.” She patted my arm. “When I need notes delivered to the office or papers collected, I may call on you to help. Would you mind?”
“No, ma’am. Thank you.” I clutched the book to my chest and hurried to the car line before Mrs. Randall sent a search party.
Two days later I tried to return the book to Mrs. Whitley. “I loved it so much,” I told her. “It’s the best book I’ve ever read. Honestly, it made me cry, Mrs. Whitley.” I pushed the book across her desk and smiled. “I feel like every word was meant for me.”
“I thought you might,” she said. “I’m so glad you enjoyed it, Ronni. Now, I want you to keep this copy and promise me you’ll read it to your children someday.”
It’s still one of my favorite novels.
She introduced me to Miss Sasso, the school librarian, and explained my “book tastes.” Miss Sasso hurried up one aisle after another, gathering the stories that would spark a lifetime love of reading.
I started collecting something of my own: words. Whenever I found a new and intriguing one, I’d look it up on the school’s computers or in the Randalls’ fat dictionary. Each was written with its definition in a red spiral notebook I kept under my mattress. Danielle had her horses and trolls, but I had “prevaricator” and “rendezvous” and “ephemeral.”
One Saturday in December Danielle and I had our thousandth argument over private space in our small room. I stood firm on the imaginary center line as she screamed I was on her side. She lunged past me and grabbed my red notebook. I chased her down the hall and watched in horror as she flung it into the fireplace. All that work―my entire collection―disappeared in seconds. Danielle stood glaring at me, arms crossed in defiance. Then slowly, little by little, she started to smile.
I ran back to our room and grabbed her new pink sequined sweater from the Gap and her favorite purple-haired troll. I threw them into the flames before she could stop me, mainly because she didn’t think I’d actually do it. The next thing I knew, Danielle was hitting my face and I grabbed her long, lovely hair and shoved her to the floor. I sat atop her and hit as hard as I could. Mr. Randall pulled me off and sent Danielle to her room.