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Fortune-Telling Ball
    When my brother, Max, and I got home from school that afternoon, my dad was in the kitchen.
    Some days Dad works at home.
    He says it makes him appreciate the office more.
    â€œDad!” I yelled. “We are going on a fieldtrip! My whole class!”
    â€œGet a chocolate doughnut when you go,” Max said. “The jelly ones are stale.”
    â€œWe aren’t going to a bakery,” I said. “We are going to an apple maker.”
    â€œYou mean an orchard?” Dad said. “Cool.”
    Max made a face. “Better luck next time.”
    â€œSounds like fun to me,” said Dad. “Roscoe will get to pick apples, I’ll bet. And who knows? Maybe they’ll have free taffy apples. Or free pie.” He got a big smile on his face. “I do love a good apple pie. Especially a free one.”
    My little sister, Hazel, came into the kitchen. She was wearing a black pirate eye patch, overalls, a fluffy pink ballet tutu, and a pair of my dad’s old sneakers.
    â€œHazel, my dear, as always you are looking very fashionable,” Dad said.
    If you ask me, little kids should not be allowed to dress themselves.
    â€œDid somebody say pie ?” Hazel asked.
    â€œI’m going on a field trip to an apple-growing place,” I explained. “They might even give away pie and applesauce.”
    â€œApplesauce is my favorite,” Hazel said. “Except for gummi worms and broccoli.”
    Hazel pulled a small red ball out of one of her pockets.
    Hazel loved that ball. She carried it everywhere she went. And she refused to share it.
    Of course, it wasn’t just a plain old everyday ball. It was a magic ball that could tell the future.
    All you had to do was shake it. Thenask it a yes-or-no kind of question.
    When you turned it over, there on the bottom, in a little bitty window, was your answer.
    Hazel can’t read yet. I think she just liked the ball because it was so shiny.
    And because Max and I wanted to play with it.
    â€œMagic ball, will I ever get to go on a field trip and eat pie?” Hazel asked.
    She turned the ball over. “What does it say?” she asked Dad.
    Dad looked at the bottom of the ball. “It says, ‘YOU BETTER BELIEVE IT!’”
    â€œCan I borrow your ball for one second?”
    I asked Hazel. “I just want to ask it about my field trip.”
    â€œNope.” Hazel shook her head.
    â€œPlease?” I begged. I smiled my best smile.
    The one that makes Grandma say, “You old charmer, you!”
    It works on grandmas.
    But not so much on little sisters.
    Hazel shook her head again. “Nope.”
    She tossed her ball in the air. Whenshe tried to catch it in her tutu, the ball dropped onto the floor.

    It rolled behind the refrigerator.
    â€œI’ll get it for you, Hazel,” Max said.
    â€œNo, wait! I’ll get it!” I said quickly.
    Because I am a helpful brother.
    And also because I really wanted to get my hands on that ball.
    â€œI have dibs,” Max said.
    â€œYou just want it ’cause I want it,” I said to Max.
    â€œYou just want it ’cause Hazel says you can’t have it,” Max replied.
    It was hard to argue with that one.
    â€œBesides,” Max added, “you had a ball like that and you lost it.”
    â€œI didn’t lose it,” I said. “I accidentally dropped it in the garbage disposal when I was giving it a bath.”
    â€œWe paid three hundred and twenty dollars to repair the disposal, if I recall correctly,” said Dad.
    â€œI don’t want to get my tutu dirty,” Hazel said. “Whoever gets the ball can play with it.”
    Max and I dashed to the refrigerator.
    He took one side. I took the other.
    We both reached for the ball.
    I had to lie on the floor and s-t-r-e-t-c-h my left arm extra far.
    When I stood up, I had dog hair, dust balls, and three Froot Loops stuck to my shirt. But I also had the ball.
    I