Read Dandelion Clocks for Free Online Page A

it wasn’t my
fault. Anyone else would have known to leave me alone. It’s not a crime to need a bit of space now and again.’
    ‘But Isaac isn’t “anyone else”, is he?’ says Mum. ‘He doesn’t understand what you want unless you tell him, Liv. You know that.’
    ‘Great,’ I say, scowling. ‘So we just have to put up with it, do we, for the rest of our lives? We just accept that Isaac needs everything spelling out for him – even how the rest of us are feeling?’
    ‘Particularly how the rest of us are feeling,’ says Mum. ‘Think how much we communicate using our faces and our bodies, Liv. The minute I walked in here I could tell that you were cross, and that something’s bothering you. You didn’t have to tell me in words – it was clear from the way you were frowning and crossing your arms. It was obvious from the way your lips were squeezed together. But Isaac can’t read that language. It’s like asking you to talk to someone who only speaks Bulgarian. It’d be really hard.’
    I sit up a bit straighter, thinking about what Mum is saying.
    ‘I get all that, Mum – really I do. But can’t he learn to “read” how we’re feeling? He’s learnt to do a whole heap of other stuff, so why can’t he
just learn to look at people’s faces and figure out how they’re feeling.’
    Mum smiles at me. ‘He can, but he needs some help. Don’t you remember, we had those drawings of faces that we used to show him? He was great at remembering what the faces were
supposed
to mean – he just found it a bit trickier to relate that to real, live people. Dad and I have been meaning to try something else, but there’s been a lot of other stuff happening lately and we haven’t got round to it. I will, I promise, Liv. But in the meantime, try to be patient with him. We’re asking a lot of him and it isn’t going to happen overnight.’
    I stand up. I don’t want this conversation carrying on, not if she’s going to start talking about the ‘other stuff’ that’s been going on around here. Anyway, I’ve just had a brilliant idea for helping Isaac and I can get started on it straight away.
    ‘Don’t worry,’ I tell Mum. ‘I can help him. I reckon I’ve got a great plan.’
    Mum looks at me and for a second I think she’s about to burst into tears. Then she takes a few steps towards me and pulls me into a hug.
    ‘Thank you, Liv,’ she whispers. ‘Isaac is really going to need you on his team. I’m so proud of you, the way you look out for him.’
    ‘He’s my brother,’ I say, pulling away from her. ‘That’s what families do, isn’t it – look out for each other?’
    I run up the stairs, taking them two at a time, and dash into my room. My camera is on my desk and I grab it. It’s old and not great but it’ll do the job. I head across the hall to Isaac’s room. His door is half open so I give a quick knock and stick my head round. Isaac is sitting cross-legged on his bed, Pokemon cards spread out all around him. He is smiling.
    ‘You found them then?’ I say.
    He looks up at me and grins, and I fire off a quick shot, the flash of the camera making him blink.
    ‘What was that?’ he asks.
    ‘That was “happy”,’ I tell him, and then I walk downstairs with the hope of seeing Mum or Dad demonstrating an emotion that I can capture on camera.

I’m still plucking up the courage to talk to Mum and Dad about them splitting up. I haven’t done it yet because (a) they don’t seem to be arguing any more, and (b) something massively momentous has happened.
    I was sitting in my science class this afternoon with Alice, pretending to understand what Mr Jackson had asked us to do. I know it had something to do with a Bunsen burner and some liquid, but other than that it was a complete mystery to me. Alice wasn’t being much help either cos she was busy trying to finish her French homework, which was due in next period – Madame Dupont is not universally known for her tolerance and