“You really like playing in here?” I ask. “It’s so small…”
“Yes, I like it,” Nico says stubbornly. “If you hate it, you can leave.”
I do hate it. And I want to leave. But I haven’t had a conversation with my brother in a long time, and I don’t want him to think I’m some scaredy-cat that he can’t play with.
“No,” I say. “I want to stay.”
I look at the door, hoping that it opens again when we want it to. What if it doesn’t? How will we get out? Will Mom and Dad figure out that we’re in here? My neck suddenly feels cold and sweaty, but I sit down next to Nico on the floor anyway. We won’t get stuck in here. Dad will find a way to get us out, no matter what.
“Remember you said you wanted to have a sleepover?” I say to Nico.
“Uh-huh…”
“Maybe we could do that this weekend?”
He shakes his head. “No.”
“Why not?”
“Because I don’t feel like it.”
My eyes feel watery all of a sudden. I don’t understand what happened. Why is Nico being so mean to me? The worst part is Nico notices and scrunches up his face.
“You’re always crying,” he complains. “Is there anything that doesn’t make you cry?”
I wipe my eyes with the back of my hand. “I’m sorry.”
“If you’re going to cry, then you have to leave.”
I try to stop crying, but it’s not that easy. I wish I could just say to myself, Ada, stop crying, and then it would stop. But Nico gives me some comic books, and then I feel a little better. I try to just read the comic books and not think about anything else. Even though I have a lot of homework to do.
And then Dad finds us hiding here, and he and Mom are all angry at us, so we can’t go in the clubhouse anymore anyway. I’m glad, because I don’t like this clubhouse at all.
SIXTY-EIGHT
Ever since my dad yelled at Gabe, he hasn’t bothered me again. He hasn’t asked me out on a date. He hasn’t even breathed on me.
Unfortunately, now there’s Hunter.
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.
