six

“Hello?” Grace’s dad said cheerfully. They heard Grace’s mom and dad talking. Then, there was a long pause.

“Ugh, April! I think they’re kissing,” Grace said, grabbing her stomach.

“So annoying. My parents do that, too.”

“Gross.” They said at the same time. They both laughed.

“Michael! Grace! Kids, are you home?” They heard footsteps coming up the stairs.

“Oh no, Grace! He’s coming upstairs,” April said, trying to whisper.

“Quick! We have to find a place to hide Austin. I know my dad will ask a ton of questions, and, and, and—”

They both jumped up. April’s body shook from the fear that Mr. Galapagos could find Austin—as a dog.

She ran around the room, looking in every corner.

Grace walked right to her closet door and yanked it open. She picked up something from the floor. “This is the purse I had from Aunt Mary’s wedding a few years ago.”

“Oh, it’s so pretty. Your dress was purple and shiny like that too, right?”

Grace unzipped it and dumped her lip-glosses on the closet floor. “Yep.”

April held Austin with both hands. She turned his face to hers. The beating of her heart slowed. Staring at his wide eyes reminded her of her brother years ago—when he was nice.

She whispered in his ear, “Please be quiet. I am begging you.” She stuffed him into the purse. Grace zipped it back up and dropped him on the closet floor.

“Arrr . . .”

April kneeled down on the floor. Hovering over the purse, she whispered, “Shhhh, Austin. But, uh, sorry about that.” She glanced up at all of Grace’s clothes hanging perfectly in the closet, as the steps grew louder and closer. Hopping to her feet, she closed the closet
door.

“He’s coming,” Grace said in a hushed voice.

Tippy-toe, tippy-toe, tippy-toe. Flop. April landed on Grace’s bed, kicked off her shoes, and crossed her legs. Grace slid back into the desk chair, and started typing, P-R-E-S-I-D-E-N-T.

“Hi, girls,” Mr. Galapagos said, smiling as he opened the door. His smile went away and he tilted his head to the side. “April, why are you sweating? Are you okay?”

“Uh . . .” Grace jumped in.

Say school lunch, thought April. I’m sick from school lunch. No, don’t say that. That would get me a trip to the doctor. Or even worse, a trip to the hospital. Say something. What else . . .

“We did relay races at school. So, I am . . . uh . . . hot and tired,” April said, staring at the closet door.

“Oh, okay,” he said, raising one eyebrow. “Are you staying for dinner, April?”

“Ummm . . .” April said, still staring at the closet. Grace’s dad looked at the closet door.

Grace kicked April.

Ouch! Ok, now stop staring at the closet. April looked at Mr. Galapagos. Breathe. Say something . . . say anything.