“Are you coming back to school tomorrow?”

“Yep. How was the spelling test?”

“Easy.” Then he felt bad. “I mean—”

“It’s okay. How was the practice butter?”

I could hear him make a face, don’t ask me how. “Pretty gross,” he said.

“Yeah, Lizette brought me some.”

“She did? It tasted like nothing. No one brought salt.”

I pulled out my folder. “The recipe doesn’t say salt,” I said, thinking of Jesse and his bowl of salt. “Maybe the colonists didn’t have salt?”

“Well, they didn’t have French bread, either. Mr. Home says he’s going to bring salt next time.”

—

In the morning, I sat on the edge of the bathtub and soaked my foot while Mom quizzed me on times tables, which I knew perfectly. Then she patted my foot dry with a clean towel. The cut looked tiny. One Band-Aid covered it.

At school, Mr. Home said I could take yesterday’s spelling test right after lunch, during Drop Everything and Read. He scored it right in front of me, and I got a seven out of ten. At the top of the paper, he wrote Not bad! and drew a smiley face. It was only the first week in October, and I was already uninvited to the next radio party.

The Second Family Meeting

That weekend was a Dad weekend (the weekend = Friday and Saturday), so Sheila picked me up after school on Friday to take me to Dad’s.

“Rough week!” she said. “Fever and injury! How’s your foot?”

“It’s fine.” I waved it around in a circle. Mom had made me wear sneakers and socks, so there was nothing to see.

“You’re good to walk?”

I nodded.

She said, “You heard about the wedding?”

“Yep. In May!”

Sheila grinned at me. “You know what’s great about May?”

I couldn’t think of anything. “What?”

She held her hand up for a high five. “The wedding!”

“You’re weird,” I told her. But I high-fived her anyway.

When we got to Dad’s, I let my backpack slide to the floor, hugged Rocco, and said, “Star Trek?”

She smiled. “I’m leaving early today, Bea.”

“You are?” Dad and Jesse usually came home extra late on Fridays.

I noticed a smell. Popcorn?

“Surprise!” Dad practically jumped out of the kitchen with a giant bowl of popcorn.

Sheila kissed me on the cheek. “See you next week.”

“Parmesan popcorn!” Dad said. Then he told me that Jesse was on his way home, and that we were having a family meeting.

A family meeting.

Right away I figured the wedding was off. I didn’t understand why Dad was bothering with popcorn, because how could I be in the mood for Parmesan popcorn if Dad and Jesse were getting divorced before they even got married in the first place?