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out onto the porch. At first it’s kind of nice, like your first gulp of cold water, but then I start to shiver a little.
    “Hi, Mr. D. Is Benji around?”
    Benji’s bulk of a dad points a thumb over his shoulder. “He’s here, on the phone. Tying up the line, again.”
    Again? How many nights does Benji spend on the phone? Who could he possibly be talking to? I’m the one he calls most of the time, and we haven’t talked on the phone for a while.
    “Who’s he talking to?”
    “Don’t know for sure. Probably one of those dramarama people.” The Dentonator has not yet fully embraced Benji’s new-found passion for theatre. I think the poor guy was still holding out for the day Benji decided he did, in fact, like hockey. Adults can be seriously delusional.
    “Charity?” I ask, feeling a little twinge of not-quite jealousy. After all, Charity and I are friends now, even if she is older, prettier and generally better at life than I am.
    “Could be. I don’t know. Do you want to come in and wait? It’s a sweatbox out there.”
    “No, thanks.” I’d rather sweat to death than sit on a couch-Popsicle making small talk with the Dentonator. “Can you tell him to call me when he’s off the phone?”
    “Will do.”
    I go home to wait for Benji’s call. Doug is doing the lunch dishes. I have to admit, Doug is learning the ropes pretty quickly. He has learned, for example, that Annie Delaney will not tolerate dirty dishes in the sink. Still, the sight of him wearing yellow rubber gloves and singing under his breath stops me in my tracks. I wonder if I’ll ever get used to seeing him doing normal house things.
    “Hey there, Clarissa. Shouldn’t you be out living it up with your pals?”
    “They’ve all deserted me to die of boredom.”
    “Well, that will never do. Give me half an hour to finish up here and shower, then we can take Suzy-Q for her walk.”
    “Actually, I’m waiting for Benji to call. We were going to hang out.”
    “Tell you what, if he doesn’t call before walk time, you’re more than welcome to join us.”
    I’m so bored, I agree to this plan. Then I head downstairs to watch TV while I wait for Benji to call. I flip through channels, not really watching anything.
    It feels like the whole world has better things to do, except me. Hurry up, Benji! I concentrate on sending him get-off-the-phone vibes. I don’t really believe in things like that, but freaky coincidental things used to happen to us all the time. Like, I’d pick up the phone to call him and there would be no dial tone, only dead air. After a second a voice would say hello, and it would be Benji on the other end,calling me. That hasn’t happened in a while. We don’t see each other as often as we used to, so maybe the connection has broken. Or not broken, but worn thin over time, like an old rope on a tetherball.
    Half an hour later, Doug is standing at the back door with Suzy tugging at her leash.
    “Any word from Sir Benjamin?” he calls down the stairs.
    “No,” I admit.
    “Well, Suzy and I would love the pleasure of your company.”
    “Just a second.” I call Benji one more time, only to be thwarted by the voicemail once more. I slam the receiver in the cradle. Seriously, who is he having half-hour conversations with?
    “Dog train is leaving the station,” Doug says.
    “I’m coming, I’m coming.”
    “So what’s up with you and Benji?” Doug asks as we hit the sidewalk.
    “He’s obsessed with drama camp.”
    “That’s understandable. He’s found his passion.”
    “I know. It’s just that, usually, we spend all summer together. We go on these missions …” I trail off, thinking about the things Benji and I used to do. They’d probably sound stupid to Doug.
    “I like the sound of missions,” Doug says. “Give me an example.”
    “Well, one summer we vowed to watch every single Judy Garland movie we could find in the library.”
    Doug looks confused. “Judy Garland?” he asks.
    “The