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called Aunt Stella again and started complaining about how advanced homophones were. For some reason, this made my head itch, so I scratched it. After talking about homophones, my mom startedtalking about carpet. She was so happy her voice sounded like it was singing. This made me look at the walls. They were too purple to try to study spelling in the kitchen anymore. I grabbed all my homework and hugged it to me.
    “Where are you going?” my mother asked.
    “My room,” I said.
    I walked down the purple hallway and locked eyes on my purple door. Inside, my room was still painted its normal color: white with some dirt smudges. I sat on my bed and finished my homework and tried not to listen to my mom talking to Aunt Stella about essential home repairs. Because I knew that painting your house purple was not an essential home repair. Then I heard her hang up. And walk down the hallway to my room.
    “I think we should have vegetarian lasagna for dinner,” my mother said.
    “Does it have eggplant in it?” I asked.
    “No. Why do you always ask about eggplant? You’ve only eaten it one time.”
    I lifted my finger in the air.
    “I only needed to eat it one time,” I said.
    My mother put her hands on her hips.
    “When it comes to eggplant, I think you’re being a little unfair,” my mother said. “Eggplant isn’t evil. In fact, the paint I chose for the house is called Majestic Eggplant.”
    That’s when my mouth dropped open. I hadn’t realized this, but our house did look exactly like an eggplant. This was so terrible. My head felt dizzy, and I lay down. My books and papers slid off my bed and crashed sloppily to the floor.
    “I feel very doomed,” I said.
    “Don’t worry, Camille. I’ll drive you to school and talk with Mr. Hawk first thing tomorrow morning.” She leaned down and kissed me. “You’re not doomed. You’re a McPhee.”
    But staring up at my ceiling, I couldn’t see the difference.

Chapter 7
My Blue Butterfly
    “I can’t drive you today, because I have to teach aerobics,” my mother said.
    It was Monday I sat at the kitchen table eating my cereal.
    “The gym just called and the regular instructor aggravated her shin splints. It looks like I’ll be teaching this class for a while.”
    My mother sat down next to me looking very thrilled.
    “It’s an advanced abdominals class, which mainlyutilizes inflatable balance balls. It’s a fantastic opportunity for me to learn more ball work.”
    “Ball work?” I echoed.
    My mother stood up and placed her hands on her newly flattened stomach.
    “Ball work targets the core like you wouldn’t believe,” she said. “In fact, modified ball work replaces a lot of outdated moves—sit-ups, push-ups, leg lifts, the plow.” My mother shook her head. “If women understood how overrated sit-ups were, they’d embrace the ball in a heartbeat.”
    I sighed. Then I set my spoon down next to my bowl. And I lovingly touched the kitchen table.
    “I think school is overrated,” I said. “And this spot would be a great place for me to learn everything. Math. Social studies. Science—”
    My mother cut me off.
    “Camille, you’re not getting homeschooled at the kitchen table. But don’t worry. I’ll visit Mr. Hawk soon and have a talk with him about toning down the advanced material.”
    My mother swept her hair back into a ponytail.
    “Hurry up!” she said. “You don’t want to miss the bus.”
    I carried my bowl to the sink.
    Yes, I do want to miss the bus , I thought. Yes, I do!
    Outside, the whole world felt like a Popsicle. I setmy cooler down in its usual spot and tried not to listen to anybody. Manny and Danny kept telling me to watch my step. And Polly never looked at me. When the bus finally rolled to a stop, I crossed in front of it at a very slow rate of speed. At the top of the stairs, Mrs. Spittle put her hand out and made me wait. She wanted to remind me that she hadn’t run over me and that I shouldn’t tell people that she