It was a big mistake to have wished for a twin.
The very next day after snacks, Mr. Dayberry pulled me aside.
“Mimi, you and the new boy, Boris, seem to have a lot in common. . . .”
I could see Boris behind Mr. Dayberry’s back. He was hunched over the snack table, stuffing the last of the cheese crackers into his pocket.
“What do we have in common?”
“You like to play the drums. Boris does too. And you love to draw. Boris loves to draw too. Would it be all right if he helped you with the scenery?”
I must have felt a tiny bit ashamed about what had happened yesterday with the triangle, because I said yes.
That afternoon as I was repainting the fountain, Boris walked over, dragging a humongous piece of cardboard.
“Mr. Dayberry said I could help you. I like dinosaurs. Is it all right if I make a stegosaurus?”
At least he’d asked politely, so I said okay.
Tonya wandered over.
“Mr. Dayberry! Boris is making a dinosaur. Did dinosaurs visit the manger?”
“Mimi and Boris are the artists, Tonya. Let’s let them do their job.”
Mimi and Boris are the artists? I did not like the sound of that at all.