My Life in Dioramas Read Free

they weren’t working, they weren’t making money. Not like Stella’s dad, who drove to Poughkeepsie every morning and got on a train to New York City. Not likeNaveen’s dad, who managed a bank, and mom, who was a professor at the state university in town.
    I shifted in my seat and Stella said, “Oh, careful,” then moved a bag she was holding by her feet so it was farther away from me. “Hey, where’s your diorama?”
    â€œDidn’t do it.” The empty box was still on the floor of my room. Was Angus still lying there on the rug, or had he moved to the front porch to get some sun? Had he sniffed the shoebox? Scared the stinkbug away?
    â€œNagano’s gonna flip,” Stella said.
    â€œConsidering that my whole life is ruined, that’s the last thing I’m worried about.” I’d never skipped any homework before, but didn’t want to admit being nervous. “What does it matter anyway? Somebody could buy my house like this weekend and I won’t even be around long enough to fail her class.”
    Stella said, “Maybe it’ll take a while. You know, to find someone who wants to buy it?”
    I nodded, feeling the tears start to back off.
    â€œ I know! If you have to, you can move in with me to finish out the school year.”
    I nodded again. “You’re the best.”
    But it wasn’t about finishing out the school year.
    It was about the rest of my life.
    And anyway, my parents would never go for it. Stella and I had been best friends since before we could evenremember, and our parents were friends, too. But even after all these years, Mom and Dad were still always saying things about how Stella’s parents were “a little intense” and I didn’t think they meant it as a compliment.

    I liked the spirit of Stella’s suggestion, though. I liked the idea that I wasn’t totally powerless.
    â€œMaybe I can get them to change their mind,” I said.
    The bus yanked to a stop in front of school. It was just one story high—red brick and windows—spread out wide on a large grassy piece of land, with a big circular driveway in front. Some of the windows, where the lower grades were, had cutouts of flowers and other projects taped to them, which probably looked cute from the inside—macaroni art, no doubt—but from out here it was just clutter. I closed my eyes for a long, hard second and pictured my school in miniature, a diorama in a shoebox that I could take with me wherever I went.
    â€œOh man, look at Kate.” Megan Tinson was one thing I would not miss if and when we moved. She was standing in the aisle. “Did you even brush your hair today?”
    â€œOh, what do you care,” I said, and I linked my elbow around Stella’s as we got off the bus.
    How do you stop life from moving so fast and out of your control?
    There had to be a way.

3.
    â€œI’m disappointed, Ms. Marino,” Mrs. Nagano said. “I always look forward to your projects.”
    I was disappointed, too. I didn’t love social studies but I liked Mrs. Nagano because she treated us like people, not pesky kids. I’d really wanted to do the project. So as she walked away from my desk I said, “Wait! What if I do two dioramas by tomorrow? To make up for it?”
    â€œI guess that’d be something.” She turned to me. “Of course, even with a second diorama I’d still have to tick you down a mark for tardiness.”
    â€œI understand.”
    Stella and I met eyes across the room and she pretended to wipe sweat off her forehead.
    I did the same back but I wasn’t out of the woods, notyet. I’d have regular homework plus everything at home to deal with and there were only so many hours in the day. And it was Thursday, which meant dance class—I’d forgotten my dance clothes. I was pretty sure I was doomed.
    We were supposed to go around the room and pick a diorama