I hugged Mom goodbye.

“I’ll see you after school tomorrow,” she said, squeezing me. My face was mushed against her, so one ear heard the regular way, and the other one heard through her body. When we let go, I saw her see the rash on my neck, which itched.

“Got your medicine?”

“Yes!” I hated being asked things twice. Even by two different people.

“Don’t shout at me, Bea.”

“I’m not.”

And Sheila said, “Let’s go, Captain.”

—

The medicine is for my skin. I have eczema, which you probably haven’t heard of. Eczema is where your skin itches in a lot of different places, and when you scratch, you get these sore, rashy patches that people look at and wonder if they’re catching. Sometimes people ask if they’re catching, which is better than whispering about it.

Eczema is not something that you get for a week and then it goes away, like a cold. It’s something you have until maybe you grow out of it, like my cousin Angelica’s stutter. Also, eczema hurts.

At Dad’s, Sheila and I walked Rocco and made grilled cheese sandwiches for dinner. We were about to start an episode of Star Trek: The Next Generation when Dad came home.

“You’re early!” I told him. Because he doesn’t usually get back from the restaurant until later.

Dad came right over to the couch and put his palm flat on my forehead like he was checking for a fever. I waited. Sheila waited. We both knew what he was going to do.

When he took his hand away, he pressed it against his own forehead and looked shocked. “Oh no,” he said. “I think I have a fever!”

“Dad!”

He kicked off his shoes. “Kidding. But you don’t seem hot. Tomorrow’s Thursday. Did you guys do spelling?”

Sheila nodded. “I quizzed her.”

She did quiz me. I didn’t get all the words right, even the third time, but she quizzed me.

“Great.” Sometimes Sheila hung out with me and Dad until Jesse got home. But that night she blew me a kiss and left.

—

In fifth grade, I had a spelling test every Thursday. My teacher, Mr. Home, was a good teacher. Mom said his head was on right. Mom remembers all the teachers she’s ever had, starting in first grade. She especially remembers the one who told her she didn’t have “a mind for math.” Mom became a math teacher. Now she teaches other teachers how to teach math.

But even Mr. Home made mistakes. For one thing, he always called my best friend Angus “College Boy,” which Angus hated. For another thing, Mr. Home had lunch parties for spelling experts. If you were not a spelling expert, you were not invited.