The Squirting Donuts Read Free

say, “Your mother is really lucky to have a job doing something she likes.”
    â€œShe hasn’t started,” Calvin says. “Tomorrow she might come home covered with jelly and flour and complain that it’s too hot with all those ovens on.”
    We’re by my house. Calvin holds my books while I get my key out.
    â€œShe might say her boss is too grumpy or too bossy. Old people like my mother complain a lot. It’s too hot. It’s too cold. There’s too much traffic. Prices keep going up. Their backs and legs hurt.”
    My mom and dad don’t complain about all that stuff, and they certainly don’t complain about their jobs. Dad actually says he likes what he does, and he sells plumbing supplies. How can anyone like selling pipes and plungers?
    I open the door. Calvin gives me back my books and we walk in. Karen is in the kitchen having a snack. She has strange eating habits. She says, “You are what you eat,” and right now she’s a low-fat Greek yogurt.

    Karen’s school starts earlier in the morning and ends earlier in the afternoon than mine so that’s why she’s already home. She’s in the eighth grade. That’s almost high school.
    â€œSomething is going on with Dad,” she says. “He came home a few minutes ago, went to his and Mom’s room, and closed the door.”
    Dad is never home from work this early.
    â€œAnd Mom called. She wants us to set the table and prepare dinner. We’re eating at six.”
    Something is definitely going on. Mom almost never asks us to make dinner.
    â€œI’ll make salad,” Karen says. “You’ll make spaghetti, and we’ll open a can of sauce.”

    Karen once filled a bowl with beans, chopped pickles and onions and tomato chunks, and called it a Health Salad. Well, it didn’t do any good for my health. I didn’t eat it and I don’t think I’ll eat the one she makes today. I’ll just eat spaghetti.
    I tell her about Mrs. Cakel.
    â€œAre you sure it was her? Were you in the right room?”
    â€œIt was her,” Calvin says, “and she was really nice. I don’t think it’s a problem but your brother is worried.”
    â€œYeah, that’s my brother. Danny is a real worrier.”
    â€œDo you know where she lives?” I ask.
    â€œSure. Clover Street. I’m not sure of the number but it’s a small blue house.”
    I pass Clover Street on the way to the library. It’s just a few blocks away.
    â€œWe’ll go later,” I tell Calvin, “after we do our homework.”
    First I have to find the homework that got mixed up with the gardener’s bill and put it in my book bag. Tomorrow I have to show it to Mrs. Cakel. She may no longer be in a lovey-dovey mood.
    My homework is on the small table in the hall. My lunch is there too. I take the gardener’s bill and the bag with Mom’s lipstick, mineral body lotion, face powder, and eyeliner and put in on the table. I put the homework in my book bag.
    Then I deal with my lunch.
    I put my sandwich and apple in the refrigerator. I open the small bag of pretzels and share them with Calvin. Then we sit together by the kitchen table and do our homework.



I tell Karen, “Calvin and I are going for a walk.”
    â€œTo Clover Street?”
    I nod.
    â€œDon’t let her see you. Teachers don’t like kids to know where they live. And be back in an hour, in time to help me with dinner.”
    Before I leave the kitchen, Calvin gives me his homework. “Put this in your book bag,” he says. “You can give it to me tomorrow in school.”
    I look at the top of his homework page. I want to be sure his name is on it. I don’t want to mix his papers with mine. Trust me on this. You don’t want to mix your work with Calvin’s.
    Last week one of our history questions was, “When was Benjamin Franklin born?” Calvin answered,