Amandine Read Free Page B

version of an apology as I got into her car.
    “You hungry?”
    “Not really. I don’t know.”
    “Delilah, you look like the cat that swallowed the canary,” she remarked as we turned onto the highway. “You’re settling in good over there at the new school?”
    “Sort of … with this one girl.”
    “That so?”
    “Yep. She’s kind of different from anyone I ever knew back in Connecticut. But she’s nice.”
    “Nice means a lot.”
    “Yep.” Though now nice seemed like the exactly wrong word to describe Amandine.
    “Melissa MacKnight?” she asked hopefully. Melissa MacKnight was Odie MacKnight’s granddaughter, and Odie was one of Mrs. Gogglio’s favorite patients at Sunrise Assisted. But Melissa MacKnight had all the friends she needed.
    “No. Her name’s Amandine. Amandine Elroy-Bell.”
    “Elroy-Bell. Bell, Bell. Don’t ring one.” Mrs. Gogglio snorted. “Lived here long, those Elroy-Bells? I thought I’d heard most names ’round Alford.”
    “On State Road. In a big stone mansion, is how Amandine described it. Right on the corner, it’s got an iron gate wrapped around it.”
    Mrs. Gogglio’s face knit. “Ah. Those folks,” she said after a pause. Out of the corner of my eye, I watched her face go blank as her thoughts turned private. I waited, nervous with curiosity. Mrs. Gogglio would have the right opinion. Her white Sunrise Assisted nursing uniform made her seem authoritative and reliable.
    Whatever she was thinking, though, she kept it to herself.
    “How about let’s stop off at Friendly’s?” she suggested presently. “Fries and Fribbles. Salty and sweet. I’ve got a two-for-one coupon for it in my book in the glove box. It’ll be my treat.”
    “I don’t know,” I said. “I’m trying to lose … my mother wants …”
    “Delilah,” she said impatiently, “your skinny-miss mother’s got no business trying to alter how you’re built. There’s no shame in a natural, healthy appetite.” Her cheeks blazed with a pink fire of emotion. “Fact is, she should be proud of your nice strong looks.”
    Of course, her little speech didn’t make sense; but when Mrs. Gogglio talked like that, I could actually feel myself settle better into the fit of my skin.
    It would be another week before I met “ those folks,” and saw that big house on State Road for myself. But my parents were pressing too hard for this weekend, wanting proof of Amandine. It was a relief when she agreed to stay over at my house Friday night, exactly one week after we had met.
    “My mom’s taking off early from work,” I told her when I finally caught up with her on Friday afternoon after school. “She’s picking us up out front and driving us to the mall and stuff. If we want movies and pizza.”
    “Pizza.” Amandine rolled her eyes. “Pizza gives me zits.”
    “It doesn’t have to be pizza. Where’s your bag?”
    “In my locker, where else?”
    “Let’s go get it.”
    She yawned an answer. She had been making me uneasy all day. First showing up for school that morning in a full, black-and-white-striped skirt, large gold hoop earrings, and red lipstick. Then ignoring me, not seeking me out at my locker, and being so late to lunch that I had to eat through most of it in excruciating aloneness.
    When I finally caught up to her, she acted indifferent. She had been enjoying the attention of her outfit all day, and the spotlight gave Amandine a strange radiance.
    “Oh, dress it up, Amandine!” I heard some girls laugh as we walked together down the hall. “Look at that skirt! Woweee!”
    “It’s my Natalie Wood from West Side Story costume,” she told me offhandedly. “I’d let you borrow it, but we’re different sizes.”
    “Oh, well.” I made a show of looking disappointed, although I couldn’t imagine risking the whispers and stares that would follow such a weird costume.
    The day before in silent study period, I had overheard girls talking more meanly about Amandine, about her