The Rule of Threes - Marcy Campbell (the little red hen read aloud .txt) 📗

the feel of my dad’s hand smoothing the sheet down, missed the way the last smell in the room at night was his after-shave. Did I need someone to tuck me in? No. Did I want someone to? Yes.

I imagined Tony did, too.

The Focal Point

Monday morning, and my mom was driving fast. She was usually pretty careful, following the speed limits and everything. But today she was rolling through stop signs and hitting the gas too hard on green lights, which was giving me a stomachache.

Tony and I were both in the back. He had tried to sit in the passenger’s seat, but Mom shook her head and said, “I’m not totally sure what the height and weight requirements are, Tony. I know Maggie doesn’t quite weigh enough to sit in front yet.”

“I always sat in front in my mom’s car,” he said.

“Yes, well, that may be true, but I just wouldn’t feel comfortable, until I double-check the rules,” she’d replied.

Tony had been frowning ever since. I knew how he felt. I was, like, only five pounds under the recommended weight for sitting in the front. I liked rules and all, but this was one case where I wished we could forget them.

His backpack was on the seat between us. It was red and had a big marker splotch on the front where it looked like someone, maybe him, had colored over another kid’s name.

We could have taken the school bus, but Mom wouldn’t hear of it. For some reason, she wanted to drop Tony off on his first day. She never did that with me, and I didn’t know why she was being so overprotective. Maybe she just wanted to make sure he went inside and didn’t make a break for it.

Honestly, though, this was better than riding the bus. No other kids to deal with. Fewer questions about my “new” brother. And since Tony was a grade ahead of me, I wouldn’t see him at all once we got to school.

“So, Tony, your homeroom is with Mrs. Kauffman,” my mom said. “I’ve already spoken with her. But you need to stop by the office at some point today to pick up some paperwork. Maggie can show you where everything is.”

I felt my chest tighten up at the thought of being Tony’s tour guide. I barely knew where everything was myself, and I’d never even been to the seventh grade wing. Tony didn’t react. He was busy staring into space.

“Did you like your other school, Tony?” Mom asked. She probably just wanted to fill the silence, but I wished she’d focus on the road and quit looking at us in her rearview mirror.

“Sure,” Tony said. “I mean, it was fine.”

“Bircher Middle School, right?”

“Yup.”

He started flipping the zipper back and forth on his bag.

“Do you miss your friends?” I asked. “At Bircher?”

He shrugged.

“You probably played basketball, right?” I had almost expected him to bring his ball to school, but he just had his backpack, and that seemed to be empty, except for the brown-bag lunch I saw my mom zip into it earlier.

“Yeah, I played, for a while,” he said, “but I didn’t have a way to get to practice, and you had to pay for a uniform, and the coaches wanted us to sell all these pizzas or else they said you weren’t ‘pulling your weight.’ ”

“What’s that about pizzas?” Mom called back. Tony was mumbling. Even I was having trouble hearing him, and there was only a foot of space between us.

“Nothing,” we both said at the same time.

“Jinx,” we both said at the same time.

I thought I saw the start of a smile on Tony’s face, but it quickly disappeared. “Did you have friends from the team over to your house or anything?” I asked.

I don’t know why I was so worried about it, but it was the same feeling as when I’d asked Tony if he had grandparents. I imagined him being alone, and it made me feel sad. My mom and dad would probably let him have some of those friends over, if he wanted. I could make myself scarce, go to Olive’s or something. As long as they stayed out of my room, it would be fine.

“My mom didn’t really like me having people over,” he said kind of gruffly.

“So you went to their houses?”

Mom turned into the car loop at school and found a place to pull over.

“No,” he said, quickly exiting the car. “I don’t know! Okay?”

“Have a great day!” Mom yelled to us, way too enthusiastically, especially considering that Tony was starting to lose it. It was kind of Mom’s fault for playing Twenty Questions with him, when he clearly didn’t feel like talking. But I guess I shouldn’t have been asking him about his friends, either.

Mom had said I should show him around, but Tony was already through the doors before I even had a chance to get out of the car. I kind of missed Mr. Friendly Handshake from our middle-of-the-night cereal feast.

I went to the office after morning announcements. I had a feeling Mr. V just wanted to prove Long Branch had as much school spirit as his old employer—now rival—Centerville, because he’d given another pep talk over the intercom about getting as many groups as possible to participate in the contest. Yet there were only five other team captains there to draw our locations.

One of them, unfortunately, was Katelyn, who was representing the cheerleading squad. All the groups were school clubs or sports teams, with way more kids than just our BFF threesome. We were the only friend group participating. But I wasn’t worried. How many of them had studied design? How many of them had been paid, by real clients, to redo a room?

I pulled a slip of paper out of a basket held by Mrs. Abbott, the secretary. Outer office, it read.

“Oh no,” I groaned, then slapped my hand over my mouth.

“Something wrong, Maggie?” Mrs. Abbott asked.

“No, everything’s fine,” I said.