Love, Stargirl
light.”
    Dootsie was tugging. “Gimme!”
    Give.
    And what had that loose change been doing in my pocket in the first place? Remember how it used to be, Leo? I never had change because as soon as I got some I would toss it onto the sidewalk to be found.
    What happened to that Stargirl?
    Shed.
    Light.
    Tears don’t bounce. Light does.
    I gave her the feather. She gave it to a man walking his dog. “April fools!”
             
    April 2
    And so I’m me again, Leo. Thanks to the example of a five-year-old. I’m hoping you wouldn’t wish it any other way. Not that you weren’t flattered, right? I mean, to have a girl two thousand miles away going to pieces over you, weeping at the mere memory of you, losing her appetite, losing her self and her self-respect—well, that’s trophy enough for any guy’s ego, huh?
    You occupied my space. But because you were not in my present, when I looked into my future I saw…nothing. Isn’t that sad? And stupid?
    Well, I hope you enjoyed your smuggies while they lasted because it’s over now. Oh sure, I’ll still be missing you as much as ever. I’ll still smile at the memory of you. I’ll still be—OK, I’ll say it again—loving you, but I won’t abandon myself for you. I cannot be faithful to you without being faithful to myself. I’ve reclaimed my future. If we are destined to be together again, be happy to know you’ll be getting the real me, not some blubbering half me.
    So I gave my wagon a booster shot the other day—five pebbles! That’s six now.
    Spring has finally caught my attention. I say, “Good morning!” to daffodils.
    And I’m dropping loose change again.
    As for the paper money in my allowance, I have a new use for it. The local newspaper is called the
Morning Lenape.
(The Lenape tribe—it’s pronounced
len-AH-pay
—used to live around here.) The paper has a section for classified ads. Three lines, three days, fourteen dollars. Most people use the section to advertise yard sales and such.
    Here’s my first ad. It will run Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday next week:
             
    Dootsie Pringle
    is the BEST April Fooler
    in the world!
             
    April 11
    Something happened today that was both disturbing and mysterious.
    Dootsie has been sick with the flu, so I went over to let Cinnamon cheer her up. I had just left the Pringles’ and climbed on my bike to head home when I heard a gruff voice behind me: “Hey.”
    It was Alvina. Charming Alvina. I stopped.
    “Hi,” I said. “Growl at anybody today?”
    She ignored the question. “I’m going home from my job.”
    “I see,” I said.
    The little plastic Pooh Bear around her neck was holding out his arms and wearing a huge smile—unlike the sour face above him.
    She threw a thumb toward Betty Lou’s house. “That lady’s getting wackier.”
    “Mrs. Fern?”
    “Mrs. Wacko.”
    I asked her what happened.
    “I left her donuts on the porch—”
    “This is Wednesday,” I said. “I thought you do that on Mondays.”
    She shot me a disgusted look. “If you stop interrupting me I’ll tell you.”
    “Sorry,” I said.
    “So, yeah, I dropped them off on
Monday.
And they’re always gone by the next day. Only yesterday—
Tuesday
”—she paused and glared, daring me to interrupt—“when I walked by, they were still there. And now today—
still
there.”
    Of course,
I thought.
Dootsie couldn’t take the donuts in because she’s been sick. I should have done it myself. Stupid.
    Alvina went on: “So just now I rang the bell. The lady came to the door, but she wouldn’t open it. I yelled at her, ‘Open the door! I got your donuts!’ Her voice comes back all squealy, ‘I can’t. I’m having a bad day.’ I said, ‘I’ll give you a bad
week,
’ but I don’t know if she heard me.” (I almost laughed.) “‘Can’t you squeeze them under the door?’ she squeals. ‘Yeah,’ I said, ‘if I flatten them with a steamroller.’” (Now I
did
laugh.)

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