Three times a week, we have a class called Library. It’s one of my favorite classes, because you go to the school library, pick out a book, and you get to spend the whole period reading. I don’t even understand why that’s a class, because to me it just seems like fun. But a lot of kids in my class groan about it.

Today, I have picked a book from Louis Sachar. Aside from Lois Duncan, he is my absolute favorite. I have read everything he has written, and now I am rereading everything he has written, because sometimes it’s more fun the second time. Like, you notice things you didn’t notice the first time. Especially in his Wayside School series. That might be my favorite series of all time, even more than Harry Potter. The first and the second one are so good. The third one is good too, but not my favorite. The third in a series usually isn’t that great, so it’s not his fault.

Today I am reading Someday Angeline, which I love, even though it makes me cry. But a lot of books make me cry. I’m only halfway through when Hunter sits down at the table across from me.

“Hi, Ada,” he says.

I don’t look up from my book, but I do say hi.

“Adaaaaa,” he says, “will you go out on a date with me?”

Some of his friends at the next table are listening, and they are snickering at our conversation. I don’t know what is so funny about it. “No, thank you.”

“How come?”

“I don’t want to go out on a date.”

“If you never go out on a date,” he says, “then what are you going to do? Marry one of your books?”

The boys at the next table seem to find this hilarious.

Every time we have Library from then on, Hunter comes over to the table and asks me out on a date. I don’t think he really wants to go out on a date—he is just making fun of me. Or maybe it’s a little bit of both. Nobody at my old school ever talked about dating, but it seems to be a thing here.

“Can you please let me read my book?” I beg him.

“That’s all you like to do,” Hunter notes. “Read books. You know, if you keep reading all the time, you’re not going to be able to see anymore.”

“That’s not true.”

“It is true. If you read too many books, your eyeballs will fall out.”

That is so not true. My mom likes to read, and her eyeballs have not fallen out. Although, to be fair, she doesn’t read as much as I do—most people don’t. Sometimes I think that’s all I want to do with my time. And I wish Hunter would leave me alone to do it.

I think of the pocketknife that my dad gave me. It’s in my backpack right now. It’s all the way at the bottom, where nobody will find it. If any of the teachers knew I had it, I would be in big trouble. It would be smart to just leave it in my desk drawer at home. But Dad told me to carry it around all the time, and the truth is I like to have it.

But I’ll never use it. I can’t even imagine it.

Although at this moment, I would kind of like to. I bet if I took out that knife, Hunter would go away real quick.

“Ada,” Hunter says, “would you marry me?”

The other boys are laughing again. I am sick of this. So I grab my bag and go to the bathroom, where I hide for the rest of the period, reading my book on the toilet.

SIXTY-NINE

Today, we are going to the beach.

I like to swim, but I don’t like the beach that much. I don’t like the feeling of sand on my skin. Also, after a trip to the beach, it feels like sand is everywhere. It’s between my toes, in the cracks of my elbows and knees, and even after a shower, it still sort of feels like it’s there.

“I feel the same way!” Mom replies when I say this to her before we go. “But we haven’t done any family trips since we moved, and I think this will be fun. Anyway, you love to swim, right?”

“I guess.”

She smiles at me. “And you can bring a book.”

I’ve got Someday Angeline in my backpack. The librarian let me take it home, because I don’t get much reading done at school, and I want so badly to finish it. Hunter just won’t leave me alone, and obviously, Dad isn’t around to be scary and make him stop bothering me.

I wonder what Mom would do in a situation like that. Unlike Dad, she deals with everything in a calm and rational way. Maybe she has a solution that will help me deal with Hunter without having to take out Dad’s knife, which would be ridiculous.

“Mom,” I say.

She is digging through my drawer now, looking for a swimsuit that still fits me. I grew a lot this year, and I’ll need all new swimsuits soon. “Mm-hmm?”

“What do you do if a boy is being mean to you?”

Mom drops the swimsuit she’s holding and whips her head around. “Is there a boy being mean to you?”

Her face has turned very pink. I don’t want to upset her. I heard Dad talking to her about some medical problems she has with her blood pressure. I don’t want anything to happen to my mom.

“Not me,” I say quickly. “A friend of mine. I’m trying to help her.”

“Oh.” That seems to calm her down. “A lot of bullies are just looking for attention, and if you ignore them, they go away.”

“And what if ignoring them doesn’t work?”

“Well, the important thing is to make it very clear that you’re not going to tolerate being treated that way.” She hesitates. “Using your words, of course.”

Of course Mom is going to say to use your words, and Dad is going to hand me a big knife.

I end up going to the beach, and I do bring a book with me, although it’s such a nice day and the water looks good, so maybe I won’t even end up reading it much. It will be fun to play in the water with Nico, like we used to when we were little.

But when we get there, it’s not as fun as I thought it would be. Mom seems like she’s almost angry or something. And Nico is acting weird too.

“Hello, Nico, Ada,” Mr. Lowell says to us. He’s wearing a pair of swim trunks and a baseball cap. He’s really white under his shirt, like my mom.

“Hi,” I say, although my brother doesn’t respond.

He doesn’t seem to be upset that Nico didn’t answer him. “Great day for the beach, huh?”

“Yes,” I say politely.

Nico still doesn’t answer, and I’m not sure why. He’d been going over to the Lowells’ house to do chores for a while until they told him he didn’t have to come anymore, so I figure he knows them better than I do. And I don’t think the chores were that bad, since he usually hates chores but he hadn’t complained about it at all.

“Is everything okay?” I ask Nico as we are walking to the water. The sand squishes beneath my feet, and I can feel it getting between my toes. Stupid gross sand.

“Everything is fine,” he says.

“Why do you seem so angry at Mr. and Mrs. Lowell?”