“OH MY DURLING, OH MY durling, oooooh my durling Clementine, you are lost and gone forever, dreadful surry Clementine,” I sing to Patches, Western-style. But no matter how much I sing, he just won’t go to sleep.
He should be tired, because he helped me practice my lines over and over. AND he has to listen to me say them for ten more days.
“Come on, Patches,” I say. We tiptoe down the hall and I hold on tight to Patches’s collar. Me and Patches don’t believe in ghosts. But it’s easier when you have a buddy.
I open Mom and Dad’s door and creep in. Tap, tap. Mom leaps straight up.
“Lola, you scared the dickens out of me,” Mom yowzas. Yowza is not a real word unless you know Grampy Coogan.
Dad snores away.
Mom takes a big breath. “Sweetheart, what’s the matter?”
“Patches can’t sleep,” I explain.
“Oh, he can’t? Well, maybe he belongs downstairs in his dog bed,” Mom says. And right in the middle she yawns. A yawn is what you do when you’re tired but you want to see what happens next.
“No, he doesn’t,” I say really fast. “’Cause he likes it better in my room.”
“Well, not if he’s keeping you awake,” Mom says. She climbs out of her bed and puts on her robe and slippers because that’s what oldish people do when they miss their cozy beds. Mom ushers me and Patches out of her room, down the hall, and back into my bed.
Mom tucks the covers up to my chin. “Why do you think Patches can’t sleep?” she asks.
“He feels bad that he slobbered on the mac and cheese. And that he’s always chasing Dwight White and causing a ruckus.”
“Hmm. Yes. But then I think he feels sorry. And we forgive him, don’t we, Lola?”
“But he can’t say he feels sorry, Mom.”
“No, but he shows it. And remember what Mrs. D. told you? Showing you’re sorry is just as important as saying you’re sorry.”
“But Jessie and Amanda are so so mad at me, Mom,” I say. And my voice goes this-a-way and that-a-way. “And maybe it was the final straw.”
“Lola,” Mom says, “I’ve known Amanda Anderson for a long time, and I believe she has a very big heart. And I’ve known you even longer, Lola dear. Your heart is just as big. When two friends have big hearts, they can get through a lot of problems.”
“What about Jessie? Do you think she has a big heart?”
“Yes, I do think so.”
Mom reaches down and kisses me on the forehead and on each cheek.
“Goodnight, Lola. Tell Patches not to worry. We love him and we forgive him.”
