Read A Life of Bright Ideas for Free Online Page B

returned, Monkey dangling from a yarn leash, a ball of ratty yarn in each hand, and his elbow wedging another two skeins against his belly. Yarn Aunt Verdella had unraveled from old afghans so he’d leave her new skeins alone, since those were for making the blankets and clothing and appliance “cozies” she’d sell at the Community Sale again this summer.
    “You didn’t wake your Uncle Rudy, did you?” Aunt Verdella asked.
    “No. He wouldn’t get up. Even when I tried to wake him ’cause somebody was on the phone.”
    “Oh? Who was it, Boohoo?”
    “Probably Crackpot,” Boohoo said as he headed out of the room.
    Aunt Verdella and I exchanged glances and I stifled a laugh.
    “Crackpot?” she said, then hurried after him. Boohoo was right, she didn’t go any faster when she ran, only higher. I followed them both. “Boohoo,” she was saying. “You shouldn’t call people crackpots.”
    Boohoo was thumping up the stairs, Monkey banging behind him, stopping only when he dropped the ball of yellow yarn and it bounced down the steps. “Oh dear, not my new Harvest Gold,” Verdella said. I grabbed it, holding it like a baseball. “Stay out of Aunt Verdella’s new yarn,” I scolded. “And don’t talk rude about people.”
    Boohoo stuck out his chin, which wore a glossy finish of dried, dribbled milk. “That’s what Uncle Rudy calls people on the phone!”
    “Boohoo, honey. All Auntie wants to know is who called.”
    “I told you. A lady. Now give me my string, Evy, or I’m gonna kick you.”
    “This is new yarn, Boohoo.”
    Aunt Verdella took the ball from me and gave it a high toss. Boohoo caught it on the first bounce. “Who did she ask for? Me, or Uncle Rudy?”
    “Not you or him. Somebody else.”
    I rolled my eyes. “Just tell them, ‘Sorry, you have the wrong number,’ next time.”
    “No. I’m just gonna tell Crackpot to stop calling us all the time.”
    Boohoo came downstairs a few minutes later, with Monkey and a couple of Matchbox cars and asked Aunt Verdella if they could go “home” now.
    I made my voice sound as fun as it could. “You could stay here tonight, Boohoo.”
    Boohoo walked past me, without even a pause in his step. “No. I’m gonna go home.”

CHAPTER
4
    BRIGHT IDEA #17: If you don’t give your ma a hug before you go to school because you’re mad at her for not letting you wear your good dress, she might die while you’re at recess. Then you ain’t going to be able to give her that hug ever.
    The next morning, bright sunshine pried my eyes open. I startled, thinking, just for a sleepy second, that I’d missed the bus. I flopped back down, wondering how many days it would take before my mind caught on that I didn’t have to go to school anymore. A fact for which I’d be eternally grateful, since my love for school died shortly after Ma did.
    I’d returned three days after her funeral, feeling foggy, achy, and weak—like I had the flu. There was a group of freshman boys standing inside the door when I walked in, and I knew by the way they suddenly hushed and bowed their heads, that just seconds ago they were simulating Ma’s death the moment the lightning struck her.
    Every group of girls that passed me that morning, glancedat me with pity-eyes that made my skin flush. A few of them stopped and awkwardly told me they were sorry, then flew off like flocks of starlings. All except Lydia Marks, who had tears in her eyes when she hugged me. Tears swelled in mine then, too. Her older brother had died in a car crash the year before, and I hadn’t said a word to her because I hardly knew her.
    Most of the teachers gave me their condolences. A couple of them offered to help me catch up on the work I’d missed—as if the issue at that point was simply that my grades shouldn’t suffer.
    And then there was Jesse. He came up to me first thing when I got to school and told me he had something for me. I followed him, while his new girlfriend Karen waited nearby with