CHAPTER 1

Daddy burned all Charlotte’s bedding and blankets the day they took her away. Her dolly, her books, and her clothes too. Dang near burned everything.

And I watched as my sissy’s things—and my hope of ever seeing her again—all went up in smoke.

When I first saw Charlotte fall flat as a flapjack, I wasn’t worried. But when I helped her up, I could tell she was sweating out a fever something fierce. That’s when Doc Simpson came and told Daddy she needed to go away to the hospital.

That’s also when all the grown-ups in my life started whispering every time I entered a room.

Then when I overheard Grandma and Granddaddy on the back porch asking Mama, high up in heaven, to hold Charlotte’s hand, I feared my sissy was plain dead.

And I was plain heartsick.

I was heartsick my sissy had died, leaving me all alone after she promised she’d never leave like Mama did. Even after she pinky-swore she’d help me get through fifth grade with Miss Meany-Beany. And she’d never broke a promise before.

After I spent all afternoon being heartsick with sadness, I come to find out she wasn’t dead at all. That made me feel a wash of relief the size of a waterfall.

But seeing how I’m the reason my sister got sick in the first place, I was still plenty upset. Feeling that truth deep down made my insides hurt. And when my insides hurt so much, I wondered if it was because of sadness, guilt, or the same thing Charlotte had. Charlotte would know. She always knew what to say or do no matter what needed saying or doing.

I figured it was ’cause I was feeling extra bad that Daddy and Grandma kept me home from school for a bit after Charlotte took sick. But it turns out that old school didn’t want me there! Daddy had to go all the way down to Center Street and talk to the head of schools to make them take me back.

Imagine that! Begging them to send me to school. I told him not to bother—I’d just as soon walk barefoot in a field of bumblebees than go back to that school again.

My teacher, Miss Meany-Beany, hates me. I know it. Charlotte had her last year and told me she wasn’t mean—but everybody likes Charlotte, ’cause she’s perfect.

So Daddy made me go back to school.

No sooner did I walk in the door than Big-Mouth Berta, whose daddy owns the grocery store, rushed up to me and said, “I heard Charlotte got the polio! Oh, poor, poor Charlotte!”

And that was the first time I heard someone say Charlotte had polio.

Just like the president of the United States of America!

Polio.

’Course that’s the reason she was sick! And I practically wrapped up the polio, put a bow on it, and gave it to her myself.

I started to walk past Big-Mouth Berta when she added in a pretend whisper, “Stay away from Prudence, everyone. She probably has the polio too.”

And that was my welcome back to school.

Miss Meany-Beany told everyone I didn’t have polio. But I don’t think she’s certain herself, since every day she puts her clammy hand on my forehead when I get to school. And even though I’m cool as a cucumber, she makes me sit, every day, by myself in a row of desks only used for kids like Rotten Ricky to sit in when they do something wrong, like let a frog loose in school.

And every day Miss Meany-Beany says, “Class, I’m sure Prudence is fine,” but instead they all must hear, Class, don’t touch her or you’ll catch your death of disease, since not one of my thirteen classmates has mustered up the courage to say boo to me. Not that they’d talked my ear off before—what with me being new to the school last winter. It’s not that I didn’t have any friends; it’s just that when you have a perfect sissy, you already have a perfect friend.

That was all I needed then.

And it’s all I need now.