6 A Dry Run

I am so stunned I almost swallow the carrot bits. Aldeen turns away and swipes somebody’s cookies. When she turns back, I try to argue. She shakes her head. Crumbs fall. It’s hard to argue with a snot-pounder-outer.

Then things get worse. After school, Charlie says he doesn’t want to do papers.

“Why not?” I ask, even though I know why not. “We’ve got a deal.”

“Well, what good is it if I can’t pass the test?” Charlie says.

He’s right. I go home and get a little luckier. Mom has done my papers because we’re going to Aunt Jane’s for dinner and there’s no time to wait. Even better, my cousin Andrew has Skateboards on Mars. After dinner I get to the next level.

Then my luck flips back. On Saturday everybody goes tobogganing in the park, but I have to do papers first. I slog around by myself. It’s so cold my cheeks sting. It’s not fair, I tell myself. I can’t help it if we have a math test — tough noogies for Charlie. And why do I have to pay Aldeen? I am so grumpy I don’t notice at first I have a paper left over.

“Did you count?” asks Mom.

Oh no, not this again. When the phone rings, Mom and I drive the paper over because Dad isn’t back from the grocery store yet. As soon as we get in, the phone rings. Someone doesn’t have a comics section.

Mom grabs ours. “Come on.”

I say, “But I haven’t even read those yet.”

Mom doesn’t say anything. I don’t see why she’s so bugged — they’re my papers.

When we get back, I’m cold and it’s too late for tobogganing. Mom makes me take a hot bath. I get out, still mad about papers and Charlie and Aldeen. What I want now is my favourite comfy pants and sweatshirt. Mom says they’re in the dryer.

I grab some cookies and go downstairs in my underwear. Upstairs, I hear the doorbell ring. There are voices. They get louder as people come in. The voices sound like Charlie and Aldeen. Oh, no. What do they want?

“He’s downstairs,” I hear Mom. “C’mon.”

What? I don’t want to see them. Plus I’m in my underwear. I can’t see my clothes in the basket. So I do the only thing I can think of — I dive into the dryer and pull the door almost shut.

“He’s probably in the family room,” Mom says from the hall. “Go on in, I’ll take care of your snow suits.”

I hear footsteps. The dryer door opens. Something cold and soggy hits my face. The door slams. Mom starts the dryer.