Jake Read Free Page B

she said in a let’s-go-to-a-party voice. She was starting to get on my nerves. “Any family living nearby?”
    I shook my head again.
    Stan asked, “Where do your grandma and grandpa live?”
    “North Carolina. Granddad.” Mom calls him Granddad when she’s talking to me, anyway. “The others have all died.”
    You’d think it would be good to have the one. I mean, I’d like to have grandparents like anybody else. I could be happy with only the one, but we don’t visit my dad’s dad and it’s weird talking to somebody you only know by their voice and a few old pictures. I never got around to calling him anything. I’d say hi, we’d go through a couple of the usual
How’s school?
kind of questions, we’d say good-bye politely, and that was it.
    “Well, that’s not too far away.” Stan said. “Granddad. Where in North Carolina?”
    “My mom wouldn’t call him. So I don’t think you should either.”
    Stan said, “Maybe there’s a friend of your mom’s you could stay with?”
    Miss Sahara said, “We need the name of another blood relative.”
    “There’s Aunt Ginny,” I said. “She’s away.”
    “Away?” This was Miss Sahara and she sounded like somehow Aunt Ginny should have known better than to go away this weekend. “Perhaps we should tell her she’s needed here?”
    “We can’t,” I said. “She takes women out for wilderness weekends, and nobody uses a phone. That includes her.”
    “Cool,” Stan said and then frowned. “Cold.”
    “They’re in a desert in Arizona this time.”
    Stan grinned. “Very cool.”
    “Surely they do have an emergency phone,” Miss Sahara said.
    “Nope,” I said. “Well, if somebody gets hurt, Aunt Ginny can call for help, but we can’t phone her. It’s against the rules and she keeps her phone turned off. She gets back on Tuesday, though.”
    “Any close friends?”
    “Suzie. Can’t get her either.”
    “Where might
she
be?”
    “She’s on a Greenpeace boat in the Pacific Ocean.”
    “Really very cool,” Stan said.
    Miss Sahara said, “Any friends from your mother’s workplace?”
    “Mom works at home.”
    “What does
she
do?” This was Stan.
    “She translates books to English,” I said. “Mostly about how people act. Behavioral science, that’s it.”
    “Wow, what languages?”
    “German, Danish, and Swedish.”
    Stan sat back a little. Something about this impresses people. “It’s cool,” I said.
    “It’s the coolest of all,” he said.
    I nodded, glad that Stan got it that Mom did something as interesting as Aunt Ginny or Suzie.
    Even I didn’t get it until this time I caught Mom doing a happy dance of having found just the right words. She was quiet, and there was no music, but the happy dance said it all.
    So did the ice-cream sundaes we made right after. Just thinking about it almost made me cry again. I missed Mom, but mostly I missed the way we felt that day.
    I gave Miss Sahara Granddad’s name. Ned Wexler. He was my dad’s dad and Mom is always careful thathe knows she’s doing a good job with me. She can’t be blamed for breaking her leg, but then, Granddad always sounded a little stiff.
    That was all I knew about him. I started to wish I had a real grandparent, like Matthew’s grandma. I mean, Granddad sent presents at birthdays and Christmas. I had a present from him under the tree. It was always whatever Mom told him I wanted—without her help, he wouldn’t know what I’d like.
    I didn’t know what he’d like either. Mom always sent him cigars.
    I wished I could stay with Matthew Haygood’s grandmother.
    “What about your school friends?” Miss Sahara said. “For one night.”
    There was Joey Ziglar. Mrs. Ziglar liked me. But Joey’s family had already started for Florida, to see more family during the holidays.
    I thought about asking Mrs. Baxter if I could sleep over. The last time I did, Jerry broke a window and I said I did it so he wouldn’t get grounded from hockey practice. I don’t