Isabel the Invisible by Christine Bush

Author:Christine Bush [Bush, Christine]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2012-06-17T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter 9

That night, my mom and I started painting my room. I guess that once I was agreeable, Mom didn't want to give me a chance to change my mind.

We moved all the furniture to the center of the room, and then covered it with a big grey tarp. It looked really neat, as if a giant, scraggly mountain had suddenly grown in the middle of our house. When I said this to Mom, she said that Gram always said I had a vivid imagination.

Mom thought it looked like a pile of furniture with a tarp over it. Mom's a realist. I love her anyway, though I think she'd have more fun if she exercised her imagination a little. Mom said she'd like to imagine me having a clean room. Mom also thinks she's a comedian.

So the wall paper with the little blue bells was disappearing quickly, drowned in a sea of yellow. The yellow made the room look really bright, even by lamplight. I told her I was going to love it, and she looked really happy.

We got finished everything but a bit of the woodwork, which Mom said could wait. I thought I had done a pretty good job, and to the best of my knowledge, had only gotten a little bit of paint in my hair. Mom helped me to get it out.

I slept in the guest room, since the paint smell was so strong in my room. I felt like a guest (though no one brought me breakfast in bed or anything.)

The next morning, I was actually looking forward to going to school again, which made the third day in a row. This was definitely a world record for Isabel Robbins.

I had a friend, a yellow room, and a job as a tutor. Life was pretty good, in my opinion.

The school day began about the same as usual. There was a lot of work to do, but I was doing it. Since my grades were improving, the work didn't seem to be such a pain. I loved getting those good grades.

When we arrive at school, we put our coats (when it's cold) and lunches in the closet. The coats go on hooks, and the lunches go on the shelf. Most kids bring brown bags, writing their names on in crayon or pencil. Mary brings a bright pink lunch bag. The only other exception is Milton. Milton brings a big black lunch can. It reminds me a bit of a barn, with a big rounded roof. Of course, I have never seen a black barn, but I think you get the idea. "Milton Martin" is written on the side of the can in square white letters.

Now if anyone else in the world were to bring a lunch can like that to school, there would be no end to the conversation. Claire, who was the absolute classroom authority on coolness, would have berated the person for carrying such an "uncool" lunch box, and her army of friends would have joined in.

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