The Whole Stupid Way We Are by N. Griffin

Author:N. Griffin
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Atheneum Books for Young Readers

I paved the way for us to make cookies, but only by shouting for permission from upstairs,” says Dinah when she opens the front door for Skint a few minutes later. “I haven’t been brave enough to go in there yet.” She nods toward the kitchen.

Skint looks awful. His eyes have circles under them and crusty things in the corners. She bets he hasn’t slept.

“I’m just being dumb,” she says, taking his wrist. “Come on. Come eat breakfast foods with me.” And she leads him into the kitchen.

Dinah’s father is stretched out on the kitchen floor with his hands over his eyes.

“There is no hope,” he is saying hollowly to Dinah’s mother as they enter. “Every time I give the sopranos their starting note, Mrs. Wattle shakes her head and gives them another one that isn’t even in the same key and they follow her because she terrifies them with that scowl. And Ken Vaar can’t keep his hands off the thermostat because he feels there is a precise and narrow temperature band his vocal cords need in order to achieve the emotive depths for which he believes himself famous. The altos can’t carry a tune between them. And the basses! So loud they could signal the distant shores. We are an accidentally atonal collection of foghorns with a lunatic screamy woman leading us into the cliffs.”

“Awful,” says Mrs. Beach, clutching a straining Beagie in her arms.

“Good morning, Dad.” Bareface it, thinks Dinah. Test the waters with normalcy. “I’ll help. I’ll come sing. Extra loud, to drown them all out.”

“If you ever,” says Mr. Beach, peeking at her through his fingers.

“In fact,” Dinah continues, “I could start right now.”

“Please don’t,” says Skint. Dinah fixes him with a look as beaky as an irritated egret’s and gazes down at her father on the floor.

“Say hello to Skint, Dad.”

Mr. Beach drops his hands from his face. “Someone’s in the kitchen with Dinah?”

“Grr,” says Dinah, with slitty eyes.

“Dinah Beach and Skint Gilbert,” says Mr. Beach, staring up at them, “if either of you ever repeats a word of what I have said on this kitchen floor, I will creep into your rooms in the night and steal your most-loved things and then jump on them.”

“If you do that,” says Dinah, “I will call the police and have you brought up on burglary charges and then I will laugh when they put you in jail.”

Skint stirs.

“Good morning, Skint,” says Mr. Beach at last. “It’s nice to see you.”

“It is,” says Dinah’s mother. “Hello, Skint.”

“Good morning,” says Skint, and pats Beagie on the head. Dinah’s mother is very haggard-looking this morning, and there are splotches on her front from where Beagie must have barfed.

“You smell awful, Mrs. Beach,” says Dinah.

Her mother’s cheeks grow scarlet. “You are awful, Dinah.”

“Dinah Beach!” Her father scowls and hauls himself creakily to his feet. “Give me the baby, Penny.”

“I’m sorry,” says Dinah quickly. Better not to rack up debits in her character account before she even finds out if her parents have heard anything about the Friendly.

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