Emma-Jean Lazarus Fell Out of a Tree Read Free Page B

didn’t care about things like makeup. And Colleen had to admit that a makeover probably wouldn’t make much difference anyway. There was something a little strange about Emma-Jean, something Colleen couldn’t put her finger on but also couldn’t really ignore, even if she tried. Like the way Emma-Jean was staring at her right now. The weird way she talked. She’d always been a little peculiar. For as long as Colleen could remember, kids had snickered about Emma-Jean behind her back.
    But never Colleen!
    Colleen would never make fun of someone, no matter how weird they acted. Colleen wasn’t the prettiest girl in the seventh grade, or the smartest. She wasn’t the best artist or the best violin player or the best dresser. But Colleen Pomerantz was nice. Really, really, really, really nice. Maybe even the nicest girl in the seventh grade, though she would never want to brag. Colleen had this idea—a faded, crumpled, smudged idea—that being nice counted for something, even in the seventh grade.
    The truth was that Colleen admired Emma-Jean, and not because Emma-Jean was a total genius who got straight A’s.
    Emma-Jean was amazing to Colleen because Emma-Jean didn’t seem to care what people thought of her. This not caring made Emma-Jean seem almost superhuman to Colleen. Truly, if Colleen could be a superhero with just one power, she wouldn’t want to fly or see through walls or lift cars with one finger. Colleen would want the power not to care. And her name would be . . . Super Not-Care Girl .
    Oh, it would be so great to go through one day— one hour!—not worrying that someone was mad at her, or if a joke she told was completely lame. If only she could be more like Emma-Jean. If only Colleen hadn’t cried for three days when she wasn’t invited to Neil Messner’s bar mitzvah. Emma-Jean wasn’t invited (Kaitlin got the whole guest list, so Colleen knew this for sure). And yet Colleen was sure that Emma-Jean didn’t rush home every day praying she’d find a blue and silver envelope in the mailbox.
    As far as Colleen knew, the only party that Emma-Jean had ever been invited to had been Colleen’s own fifth-grade Halloween party. Colleen had invited her whole class because unlike some of the girls, Colleen would never not invite someone just because that person was sort of strange and spent recess staring at trees.
    Emma-Jean had come dressed as Albert Einstein, with a crazy gray wig and glasses and a T-shirt with some math writing on it, like E + 2 = 5. Emma-Jean’s dad had come with her, Colleen remembered. How could she forget? Mr. Lazarus wasn’t like the other parents, who’d dropped off their kids and then waved good-bye. He had come right in and joined the party. He had bobbed for apples alongside Emma-Jean. When Colleen had put on the song “Monster Mash,” Mr. Lazarus had held Emma-Jean’s hands and danced with her. Emma-Jean had laughed so hard, her Einstein wig had fallen off. At first, Mr. Lazarus had seemed a little, well, sort of odd. Like Emma-Jean. But it turned out he was really, really sweet, the way he’d helped Colleen’s mom cut the cake so that there were exactly twenty-four pieces, all perfect squares, and how he complimented Colleen on her hula girl costume, even though her mom had made her wear a T-shirt under it and she looked pretty dorky. When it was time to leave, Emma-Jean’s dad said good-bye to everyone and remembered every single kid’s name.
    Oh gosh! Emma-Jean’s dad!
    Colleen suddenly remembered that just a few days after the party, Mr. Lazarus had . . . He was . . .
    Poor Emma-Jean!
    Colleen actually felt a stab in her heart, like some mini angel was jabbing it, reminding her how selfish she was acting, obsessing over this stupid situation in front of Emma-Jean, who had lost her father! Colleen had to pull herself together!
    “You’ve already helped me so much, Emma-Jean, just by listening to me,” Colleen said. “I’m really lucky you were