Read Serendipity and Me (9781101602805) for Free Online Page B

about.
    Â 
    Thank goodness for Serendipity.
    Â 
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    I find Taylor at the basketball court
    at recess.
    I saw your mom
    at the grocery store yesterday
    I tell her.
    Â 
    Her face looks like—so what?
    Then she gets it
    and her lips get flat and long
    like when she’s making a frog face.
    Did your dad talk to my mom?
    Â 
    No. I kept him from seeing her.
    Â 
    Taylor bounces the basketball six times.
    Maybe I should say something to her
    just in case.
    Â 
    Like what?
    Â 
    She heaves the ball at the basket.
    Like . . . Sara’s got a kitten
    she needs to find a home for.
    You sure we can’t have a kitten?
    Â 
    I nod.
    Then at least she won’t look clueless
    if my dad says something to her.
    Â 
    This is getting too complicated.
    Â 
    I don’t like this plot anymore.
    Â 
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    After lunch, Miss Conglin says
    Remember, everyone—
    tomorrow I want you to bring in
    at least one picture
    of life with your family.
    We’ll be using them as writing prompts
    so having more might help
    if you get stuck.
    Â 
    I raise my hand.
    Do the pictures have to be recent?
    Â 
    Miss Conglin shakes her head.
    No, the age of the photos
    doesn’t matter.
    Â 
    I feel like she’s purposely
    keeping the compassion
    off her face.
    Â 
    Like maybe she knows
    I wish my family
    was normal.
    Â 
    I remember Peter Pan saying,
    Don’t have a mother.
    And me telling him,
    O Peter,
    no wonder you were crying.
    Â 
    Â 

 
    I am not going to ask him.
    Â 
    I should not have to ask my father
    where there are pictures
    of my own family.
    Â 
    I should not have to ask him
    why there is no visible evidence
    our family ever existed.
    Â 
    No.                   I will find them on my own
    if they are there to be found.
    Â 
    I am not going to beg.
    I am not going to plead.
    Â 
    I am not going to do anything
    to make him
    almost
    cry.
    Â 
    Â 

 
    I sneak in the house
    grab up Serendipity
    and let her climb on my shoulder.
    I drop my backpack in the corner
    and head out the door.
    Â 
    Mrs. Whittier’s is the best place
    I can think of
    to unearth family secrets.
    Â 
    I will pretend
    our last conversation
    was easy.
    Â 
    I will pretend
    I never drifted away
    from Mrs. Whittier’s life.
    Â 
    I am pretty sure
    she has forgiven me.
    Â 
    So we will begin again.
    Clean slate.
    Â 
    I knock.
    She opens the door wide
    gauze sleeves fluttering in welcome.
    Â 
    I step inside quickly.
    What can you tell me
    about after?
    Â 
    Â 

 
    Her mouth opens
    but no sound comes out.
    Then, After what, Sara?
    Â 
    I heave a sigh.
    I need a family picture for school.
    I can’t find any.
    They’re all missing.
    Serendipity creeps beneath my hair
    and I put a steadying hand on her.
    Do you know
    what happened to us
    after . . . my mom died?
    Â 
    Mrs. Whittier stretches her arms to me
    then pulls them back
    then looks at her ceramic-rough hands
    as if willing them to move.
    Â 
    She sits down on her couch
    and pats the leaf-print cushion beside her
    then pats my knee as I sit.
    Â 
    I haven’t gotten to hug you for years,
    she says.
    Do you remember when you used to
    lean against me to get a hug?
    Â 
    I shake my head.
    Â 
    Mrs. Whittier says,
    When your mother died
    all four of your grandparents came.
    You were surrounded by family. . . .
    She reaches up to scratch Serendipity
    under her chin and jaw.
    I thought you’d be okay.
    Serendipity leans into her fingers
    claws tightening on my shoulder.
    But when they left
    your dad retreated into himself
    and he took you with him.
    Mrs. Whittier stops petting Serendipity
    and turns her clear eyes full on me.
    Maybe I should have done something sooner.
    But I thought you two just needed time
    to lift out of it.
    But your dad has never smiled much again
    and you . . .
    you just disappeared into . . .
    Â 
    She stops.
    Â 
    Into what? I