“Nothing.”

“Hmm. Then why are you lying facedown on your bed?”

Sighing, I sat up. “It’s just—Rafe got his progress report today. He got one lousy A, and Mom is acting like he just got into college. He even got a C! Do you know what would happen if I got a C?”

Dotty clapped. “An A is marvelous!”

“But I get straight A’s all the time!” I wailed. “And Mom never made me a pie!”

Grandma Dotty looked thoughtful. “She never made me a pie for my report card either.”

What? Mom wasn’t even alive when Grandma got her report card. Well, maybe that’s Dotty’s point—that life isn’t fair.

“I want pie too,” I grumbled.

“Well, maybe Rafe will let you have some.” Dotty smiled and took my hand in her wrinkly old one. I knew she was trying to help, but she wasn’t really getting my point. “It’s good that your brother is doing well in art school,” Dotty went on. “He’s never been the greatest student, you know.”

“Tell me about it.” I rolled my eyes.

“He’s like your mother in that way. They’re both born artists. They aren’t much good at regular school. They’re a lot alike, in good ways and bad.” Grandma Dotty smiled, and her brown eyes twinkled.

“Am I like my mom?” I asked. “Like she used to be?” I was hoping Dotty would say that both Mom and I were smart. Or musical. Or kind, maybe.

Dotty shrugged. “How should I know?” she asked. “I don’t know what your mother was like when she was your age.”

What? She doesn’t know my mom?

I wanted to say it out loud, but I thought it might be kinda cruel. I mean, Dotty’s memory is kind of Swiss cheesy. There are holes. There’s nothing she can do about it. Why make her feel worse?

Let’s face it: That’s what makes Grandma Dotty a little… dotty. Or more like completely dotty. And we all love her anyway.

Completely Insane

I have to tell them, I thought as my fingers plucked the strings of my electric guitar. I have to tell them. I’ll tell them right after this song.

The song ended. I didn’t tell them.

Mari, Nanci, and Patti still had no idea that Rafe had signed us up for the Battle of the Bands yesterday. I wished I could put off telling them forever, but I knew I couldn’t. For one thing, Rhonda was watching our rehearsal, and she was dying to tell my friends about our upcoming “gig.”

More like a gag.

If I didn’t say anything, I knew Rhonda would. And that wouldn’t be pretty.

Okay, I couldn’t let that happen.

“I’m beat,” Mari announced when the next song ended.

“Yeah, I have to get home,” Patti added, wrapping a scarf around her neck. “Mom needs me to mow the lawn.”

“So, we’ll rehearse again next week?” Nanci asked. She shoved her drumsticks into her back pocket and dug her hand into a bag of chips. “Same time, same place?”