Pavi Sharma's Guide to Going Home by Bridget Farr

Author:Bridget Farr
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Little, Brown Books for Young Readers
Published: 2019-09-16T16:00:00+00:00

FINAL PREPARATIONS

The bus stinks. Everyone inside is varying levels of damp due to the light sprinkling outside. The heater being used for the first time this season makes it smell like old closet. I can feel my temperature rising as I sit crammed between two elderly ladies in puffy coats that are meant for the snow we’ll never see here. I sprinted to the bus stop after school, and now my sweaty stink adds to the garbage-dump mixture of the bus. Thankfully, I’ll be at Crossroads in a couple of blocks.

I lean my head back against the window, the metal edge cutting into my neck. Meridee is going to ask for Hambone. She’ll want to know where he is, why he didn’t come to play Ouch with her. She’s already without her mom, and soon she’ll leave her new Crossroads friends. Now she has to lose Hambone, too? I knew I shouldn’t have let him help. My clients have serious problems and can’t be dropped the minute something better comes along.

And it’s not like I needed him anyway: I made the plan. I researched all the symptoms and their correct order. Haven’t I learned anything from years of being on my own? If you want it done well, you’ve got to do it yourself. If you want it done at all, even badly, you have to do it yourself. You’re on your own. I can’t believe I let myself think otherwise.

At my stop, I mutter a thank-you to the driver, grateful the rain has cleared and the sun is starting to break through the gray clouds. I wait for the bus to move before crossing the street, a lesson I learned in one of my first Crossroads workshops on independence. Once an older man finds the right change, the doors close and the bus rumbles past, splashing gutter water onto my shoes.

Then I see him. Across the street, standing beside the chain-link fence is Hamilton, his backpack and his baritone beside him.

“Pavi. Sharma. Get over here!” Hamilton stands with one hand on his hip, the other pointing down at the sidewalk beside him. I look both ways before crossing toward him, keeping my head down, since I’m not ready to make eye contact. Up close, his face is red like a cartoon character ready to blow steam out of its ears. He drops his arms to his sides and stares at me, a dark cloud brewing behind those red glasses.

“Did you walk here?” I ask, and he rolls his eyes, something I’ve never seen him do before. The movement is even more dramatic with his eyes lined in black.

“How would I have beaten you here on foot? Piper’s dad gave me a ride, though he didn’t really want to drop me off in this part of town. I told him I was doing community service.”

“What about Piper’s video?”

“What ABOUT Piper’s video?” Hamilton shouts, his hands flying into the air like a symphony conductor signaling the first note. “You turned that stupid video into this huge deal, and for what? Nothing! Yes, I made a video that became popular.

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