Sing Something True by Brenda A Ferber

Author:Brenda A Ferber
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Regal House Publishing
Published: 2021-09-15T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twelve

I made another list.

THINGS TO DO AT RECESS WHEN YOUR FRIENDS EXCLUDE YOU FROM THE DANCE CLUB YOU INVENTED:

Walk around, pretending to look for somebody.

Go to the library.

Join the other kids who don’t have friends.

Talk to the recess monitor.

Trade Pokémon cards with your sister and her friends.

Wave hello to a special bird without anyone seeing, and watch him soar.

On Friday, I tried everything on the list except trading Pokémon cards. I liked playing with Sophie at home, but I didn’t like Pokémon cards, and I didn’t want to hang out with my sister at recess. School was school, and home was home. They were different, and I wanted to keep it that way.

Recess seemed to last twice as long as normal.

The worst part of being excluded was Dani. She was acting different. Like she was mad at me. Or like I didn’t matter. Like Lucy was everything.

I had to hurry up and finish my musical so that I could get back in with my friends. The musical would make everything right again.



On Saturday morning, Dad called upstairs to say the cooking lesson was starting.

When I walked in the kitchen, Mom was sitting at the table drinking coffee, but Sophie wasn’t there.

“Soph!” Dad yelled up the stairs.

“No thank you,” she called down.

Mom, Dad, and I looked at each other. Then Dad trudged upstairs.

“Can I smell your coffee?” I asked.

Mom slid the steaming mug across the table until it sat in front of me. I wrapped my hands around the warm cup and took a big sniff. I loved the way coffee smelled but hated the way it tasted. Sort of the opposite of broccoli. I loved the way broccoli tasted, but every time Dad cooked it, the kitchen got all stinky. Weird.

Dad came downstairs with Sophie, but she didn’t look eager to start a cooking lesson. She looked scared.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

“I’m afraid of eggs now,” Sophie said.

Dad jumped in. “But we’re not going to let that stop us because I bought four cartons of eggs. Sophie is going to conquer her fear.” He pumped his fist in the air, like he was a soccer coach or something.

“I don’t think so,” Sophie said. “And now I’m conflicted because I really really really want to be self-reliant in the mornings. But.” She shuddered. “Egg goo.”

“First things first, we’ll wash hands,” Dad said, ignoring Sophie’s protests.

I went to the sink. Sophie stayed slouched at the table. I said, “Come on, Soph. You’re not afraid of washing your hands.”

“Fine. But I’m not touching the eggs.”

“One step at a time,” Dad said.

After our hands were clean, Dad set us up at the table with bowls and eggs. Then he demonstrated the proper egg cracking technique. After breaking a few neatly into his bowl, he showed off, cracking an egg open with one hand. “That’s for master chefs only,” he said.

Mom raised her eyebrows and smirked. Dad wasn’t really a master chef, but he did watch a lot of cooking shows on TV.

It was our turn to try.

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