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

easy for her. They had lessons like “How to Make a Bed,” as if Ima hadn’t taught her how to do that when she was five. When the school finally decided she could move to regular classes, Caroline had cheered. Silently, of course.

Even then, a paraprofessional had shadowed her every move. Sometimes that was helpful, like when things got too loud, too bright, too everything. Still, Caroline would have preferred not to have the help. Not many kids invited the autistic girl with a speech device and paraprofessional to play tag with them during recess.

Middle school was going to be different. After much talk and pleading on Caroline’s part, it was decided that she could be on her own. There would be no paraprofessional hovering, offering help and high fives and bad jokes. She, Caroline Finkel, would be in charge.

And maybe, just maybe . . . she could be more than just the girl who didn’t talk in the normal way.

It was all very exciting, if more than a little terrifying. Visiting ahead of time was a good idea. New places tended to make Caroline nervous. Still, she couldn’t help but wonder if normal kids—the ones who spoke with their mouths—visited school the week before it began. She suspected not.

“Exactly what am I supposed to do while we’re there?” Lara asked. Obviously she was still cross about who-even-knows-what. “I know where everything is already.”

“Exactamundo, Lara-bear. I was hoping you could give your sister a tour. You know, show her all of the cool hangouts. I’m sure you know much more about that than us old people,” Dad said.

“Dad, no one calls places ‘hangouts.’”

“See? You’re already proving my point.”

Caroline glanced at her sister. Maybe a tour would help them fix their sort-of fight.

“I would like you to give me a tour, Lara,” she typed.

Lara gave her a small smile. “I guess I can do that.”

And so Caroline soon found herself in Principal Jenkins’s office, listening to the small blond woman ramble on about how Pinecone Arts Academy was an inclusive environment. Caroline wondered why it was necessary to repeat this statement seven times in fifteen minutes, but did not say so out loud.

Luckily, Dad saved her from being subjected to more boring talk.

“Caroline’s sister is outside,” he said. “I was hoping that Lara could give her a tour of the school.”

“Oh yes, of course!” Principal Jenkins said. “Please do take a look around. And don’t be a stranger! I know you won’t be getting in trouble and ending up here, but I’d love to shoot the breeze with you sometime.”

Caroline agreed, although she had little desire to chat—or shoot the breeze or whatever you called it—with Principal Jenkins.

And why was the principal so sure that Caroline wouldn’t get into trouble? She frowned. Perhaps it was silly, but now she almost wanted to prove Principal Jenkins wrong and do something just a little bit naughty. Caroline filed the thought away for further consideration. Right now, she needed to focus on learning how to get around this place by herself.

“Finally,” Lara said when she saw Caroline. Her irritation appeared to have faded, much to Caroline’s relief. “What were you doing in there, anyway?”

“Boring stuff. Now are you going to show me all of the cool places around here?”

Lara rolled her eyes. “There are no cool places around here, and even if there were, I certainly wouldn’t know them. But I can show you all the big things. Where do you want to begin?”

There were lots of places Caroline wanted to see, especially the art rooms. Pinecone Arts Academy was known for its arts programs, as Dad and Ima mentioned approximately eight million times over the past week. And art, after all, was her thing. But that’s not what she asked to see first. “What’s your favorite place?” she asked her sister.

“Here?”

“Yes.”

“I really haven’t thought about that,” Lara admitted. “I don’t exactly consider school one of my favorite places at all.”

“There has to be a place here that you think is less bad than the other places,” Caroline pressed.

For several moments Lara didn’t say anything else. But she soon took off at a brisk walk, forcing Caroline to take large strides to keep up.

If Caroline had been forced to guess her sister’s favorite place at school, she probably would have selected the library. But that wasn’t it at all. Lara led her through several series of doorways before reaching a courtyard. Once there, she marched right up to a scraggly old tree along the courtyard’s edge.

“This is my tree,” Lara said.

“It’s a nice tree,” Caroline told her, even though there wasn’t really anything special about it. “Why do you like it?”

Stroking the bark, Lara chewed on her lip. “It’s . . . it’s just a good place to come and think. When I want quiet, you know. Especially when it rains. That’s the best time to come out here.”

Caroline had never known her sister to have a particular fondness for trees. But she could picture Lara coming out to the courtyard to be alone. There was something very comforting about that picture.

“When I’m at school, can I come here too?” she asked.

Something flashed across Lara’s face, and Caroline regretted asking the question.

“I like to be alone here,” Lara said.

“Okay.”

It was, Caroline supposed, only fair. But when she thought about going to school—in a week!—and facing all of the students and teachers and their noise, she couldn’t help but get antsy. No wonder Lara came here for quiet.

“If I really, really needed it, could I come?” Caroline said, hesitating only slightly.

“If you really, really need it, then it’s your tree.”

Caroline beamed. She probably wouldn’t come to her sister’s tree. But knowing that it was here for her made her feel just a little bit better.

“We should continue our tour,” she said.

Lara made a face. “Honestly, the stuff around here is hardly tour-worthy. What exactly do you want to see—the fine linoleum tables in the cafeteria? Or maybe the sweat-scented gym?”

“The cafeteria,” Caroline replied, ignoring Lara’s sarcasm. Perhaps the sights of Pinecone