The Many Mysteries of the Finkel Family by Sarah Kapit (best selling autobiographies TXT) 📗

When they say “you’ll understand when you’re older,” isn’t that the WORST? And they keep saying it, even when we get older too!

Definitely! Noah always says that. And my sister is really, really bossy. She thinks being a year older means she gets to be in charge of everything.

Caroline felt a little bad about calling Lara bossy behind her back, but it was true. Besides, she had steered Micah away from the subject of Marissa. That was a success of sorts.

Yeah, that sounds like my brothers. Plus, they use me as the guinea pig for their pranks. So I learned to fight back.

No, no, no. That was not the way Caroline wanted this conversation to go. She searched for a good reply—something that would make Micah forget all about pranks and revenge and other dangerous subjects. But she was too late. Micah continued typing.

That’s how I learned to do pranks. So don’t worry, I’m totally an expert.

We can do something to Marissa. She deserves it.

It’s fun. You’ll see.

Clenching her arms around her chest, Caroline racked her brain for an objection. Something that didn’t sound even a little bit cowardly. Maybe she could . . .

But before Caroline decided on a course of action, something hard hit the back of her head. By reflex, she jumped to her feet and let out a yelp. Her entire body vibrated, and Caroline needed to use all of her energy to keep herself from screaming. No matter how very much she wanted to scream, she couldn’t. Not in front of the entire sixth grade, with Micah sitting right there.

“Sorry, man! I missed,” said a tall boy who came up from behind. “I meant to throw it at my jerk of a friend over there.”

Caroline had no idea why one would want to throw something at a friend, but she supposed that wasn’t really her business. The boy retrieved the unwelcome projectile—a pear, as it turned out—from the floor. To Caroline’s disgust, he looked as though he might still eat it.

Under the circumstances, she could not even think about typing out a reply. She tried to do the deep-breathing exercises her therapist recommended for situations such as these, but all the commotion in the cafeteria made it difficult to concentrate on counting the inhales and exhales.

The boy looked at her strangely, but did not comment any further. Caroline wondered if she was already known throughout the sixth grade as The Girl Who Doesn’t Speak.

Micah sprang into action, giving the other boy a fierce glare. Caroline felt very, very glad that this glare had not yet been directed at her.

“Well, try and watch where you throw your lunch from now on,” Micah said. “’Kay?”

“You got it.” The boy turned to Caroline again. “I really am sorry.”

Caroline nodded and forced herself back into her chair. She managed one big deep breath, then two and three. By breath number eight she felt okay, or at least most of the way there.

Micah smiled at her and a burst of affection swelled within her chest. Grinning broadly, she turned back to her phone and once again opened their text thread.

Thanks.

Caroline’s fingers hovered over the keys as she considered what to type next. There was so much more she could say. Thanks for defending me. Thanks for not freaking out when I freaked out. Thanks for not making a big deal over everything now.

But Caroline wasn’t quite sure how to say any of that without sounding, well, kind of uncool. So she pressed the “send” button, hoping that her single word would somehow communicate everything she really wanted to say.

Micah’s response came back almost instantaneously.

No prob.

Caroline flashed him a thumbs-up and started eating her sandwich again. Somehow it tasted better than before.

While she ate, Micah took out his sketchbook and worked on his comic strip. He didn’t say anything else about Marissa and his plan for the rest of the lunch period.

Still, Caroline thought about it. Micah was an awfully good friend to her. Would it really be so bad to play one teeny-tiny prank?

Yes! Caroline’s conscience screamed.

But another part of her whispered, Maybe not.

*   *   *

By the end of the day, Caroline’s mood was frayed. To make matters even worse, Dad hadn’t shown up, twenty-two full minutes after the end of school.

“Is there some reason why Dad might be late?” Caroline asked her sister as they waited with Aviva by the main entrance.

Some part of Caroline wanted to believe that Dad had just been held up by a super-important meeting. Some adult thing he absolutely could not get out of, no matter how much he wanted to.

Because surely her father would come pick them up if he could, wouldn’t he?

“Well, you know Dad,” Lara said finally. As if that were a real answer.

A few feet away, Aviva shifted from foot to foot in a jittery dance. That only had the effect of increasing Caroline’s nerves. She could tell it made Lara anxious too, but surprisingly, she didn’t say anything about it.

“Let me text him,” Lara said, eyes fixed on her glowing phone screen.

Aviva added a hand-flap to her dance, and Caroline smiled in spite of the uncertainty. She always found it comforting to see her movements, so often mocked by other kids, in other people. In that way she was definitely lucky to have her family. As far as Caroline could tell, not being autistic or having ADHD was weird for the Rosanes-Finkel family. Maybe Noah felt left out sometimes. He was the only Finkel sibling that was remotely normal—whatever normal meant.

As the minutes passed, Aviva’s flapping and pacing sped up. Caroline started flapping herself, and she could tell that Lara was ready to join them soon. Her sister’s hand seemingly had not strayed from the phone for five minutes straight.

“Did you try texting Dad again?” Caroline asked. Maybe he’d missed the ping of his phone the first time.

“Of course I did,” Lara replied. The tension in her voice made Caroline flinch. “I’ve texted him six times since we’ve been here. Right