Fish in a Tree Read Free Page A

leaves.
    “Me too, sweetheart.”
    “I miss how he’d move from place to place with us whenever Dad got stationed somewhere new or deployed. It’s weird to think he doesn’t know that we’ve moved again.”
    She taps the end of my nose. “I don’t know, sweetheart. I think he knows.”
    Just then, voices I recognize come through the glass doors. It’s Shay and Jessica.
    When I turn around, Shay says, “Well,
look
who’s here. It’s Ally Nickerson.”
    They know my mom works here and have seen me here before. So I figure it isn’t a coincidence that they’re here.
    “Ally,” Shay says. “You never came back to class. We were worried about you.”
    What a joke
that
is. I turn back around while they whisper. Then Jessica asks, “Why don’t you come sit with us?” Her voice reminds me of a pin hidden inside a candy bar.
    My mom motions with her head that I should follow them. “Go ahead, sweetheart. You can take a break.”
    I give my mom the please-just-stop eyes while Shay mimics the word “sweetheart” in a baby voice.
    I guess my mom didn’t hear, because she whispers, “New friends would be good, Ally. It wouldn’t hurt you to at least give them a chance.”
    Someone comes to seat them, but Shay asks, “Can we just sit at the counter?”
    Great.
    Once they sit, there are two stools between them and me.
    My mom leans in and whispers, “Why don’t you move down and sit with them? They’re reaching out, Ally.”
    Reaching out with a bottle of poison.
    I think back to one of our apartments where the landlords kept llamas in their field. I loved them, but Mom said they smelled. I whisper back, “It’s more likely that you’d buy me my own pet llama than me sit with them.”
    She half smiles. “What shall we name the llama?”
    I squint and shake my head.
    She makes that exasperated sound. “So stubborn.”
    Shay and Jessica stare at us like two cats watching birds in a cage.
    My mom takes her pad out and walks over to them. “Hello, girls. What can I get you?”
    Jessica orders strawberry ice cream, but when Shay orders chocolate, Jessica tells my mom, “Oh, that sounds good. I’ll have chocolate instead.” I roll my eyes. Typical Jessica.
    As soon as my mom is gone, Shay asks, “So, Ally?”
    I look over.
    “Why would you give Mrs. Hall that card? That’s, like, really mean.”
    Since there is no good answer to give, I stare at the page in my book. I’ll ignore them. I’ve taken their teasing before.
    Jessica laughs. “Has your mother always been a
waitress
?”
    “No,” I blurt out. “She used to be an
astronaut
.”
    They break into laughter and, over near the kitchen, my mom smiles. She thinks I’m bonding with them.
    “My father,” Jessica begins, “owns his own flower business, and he says—”
    Shay interrupts. “Ally, maybe you can be a waitress when you grow up. But can you read the flavors of ice cream for me? I’m having trouble.” She points up at the slow-turning cube hanging from the ceiling that lists the flavors on each side. The movement makes it even harder to read.
    I feel my face get hot. Oh
no.
Do they know I can’t read?
    As they laugh, I remember how I had to read aloud last year when I first got here. I knew I shouldn’t have, but some stupid voice in my head sometimes says it will be different this time and I try. And I always fail. That day, I read that macaroni can swim up to twenty miles an hour. It was supposed to be a manatee. The class laughed, of course. But so did the teacher, so I tried to pretend I had done it on purpose.
    I get up, walk behind them, around the corner and into the back room. I’m not supposed to be back there but it’s the only place they can’t follow me. I step behind the tall metal shelves with cans of pickles and ketchup and relish that are bigger than my head. Pushing my back hard against the wall, I see words on everything that surrounds me. Boxes and cans and giant plastic bottles.
    Words. I can never get away