“How’d it go, girls?” Brooke’s mom says after we are buckled in.
“Can Kate come over for dinner?” Brooke asks, which is a very diplomatic answer.
“Not on a school night.” Then Mrs. Johnson turns on NPR and seems to have forgotten her own question.
When my mom asks, I say it went deplorably. It is kind of a gamble since I haven’t had a chance to look up “deplorable” yet.
My mom shakes her head, half smiling. “You have to give Mrs. Staughton a chance. Let her get a few meetings under her belt—”
“Under her fanny pack!” Robin interrupts from the table side of the kitchen.
“You’re not helping.” My mother hands Robin a stack of napkins. “Mrs. Lawrence is a hard act to follow.”
“How’d our friend Nora do?” my dad asks.
“Fine.” I decide to save her from any further embarrassment.
I give Rocky his dinner (without being asked) and go up to my room.
My mom says, “Deplorable, huh?” I look up.
“No more closing circle. No more pod squad leaders. We’re having presidents, a different one each month. I got February, which Mrs. Staughton says is important because of the father-daughter dance.”
I know what she is thinking: “Please do NOT volunteer Dad to take Nora.”
“That isn’t what I was thinking. How about leaving off the ‘father-daughter’ and just calling it a dance? Girls can bring their fathers or another special grown-up.”
Then Rocky barges in on the conversation. “I’m taking Rocky,” I say.
“Uh-oh, something deplorable’s happened to deplorable,” my mom says, pointing at my dictionary. Rocky’s dance has defaced my “department” to “derive” dictionary page.
“There was another thing,” I say, in case my mom is thinking about leaving the room. “Heather decided that Fall Fun Day is going to be the same Saturday as my sleepover.”
“Slumber parties don’t usually start until late afternoon, Monkey. We’ll work it out.” She squats down to mess up my hair. “Hey, if you’re not too busy, Fernie could use a little help with her fort downstairs.”
“Rocky and I are extremely busy. Did you say something, Mom?” She went straight for my tickle spot.