The Complete History of Why I Hate Her by Jennifer Richard Jacobson

Author:Jennifer Richard Jacobson
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Simon & Schuster Children's Publishing
Published: 2010-08-15T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter 16

Right after lunch we’re sitting in the middle of Horseshoe Pond. I pull up the oars and attempt to untangle the line on Stella’s small fishing rod.

“But, Nola,” she says, “I need something to go on my hook. We forgot to dig up any worms.”

“Hmm, that is a problem,” says Carly, leaning over her shoulder. “You don’t have one of those fancy flies in your tackle box?”

Stella looks as if a fishing lure might suddenly appear. “Uh-uh,” she says.

“Well, drop your line and maybe the fish will bite anyway,” Carly says.

“Why?” asks Stella.

“Why what, Stella Bella?”

“Why would the fish bite anyway?”

Carly looks at me as if to say, You try.

“I have an idea,” I say. “Fish like wiggly things, right?”

“Like worms,” says Stella, nodding.

“And sparkly things?”

She thinks for a moment. “Like other little fish.”

“Then how about this?” I reach down and gently tug the hair elastic with its sparkly bobble out of Stella’s hair.

She pushes her hair away from her forehead and watches me tie the band around the hook.

“What do you think, Stella?” I ask.

Her whole face lifts. “Watch out!” she shouts, and tosses the line into the water.

The sun is shining through the tiniest wisps of clouds, glinting on the pond. Quietly, I take one oar and slip it onto the water to keep the boat from drifting too close to the Robin Hood shore.

“Don’t look now,” whispers Carly, but of course Stella looks right away.

“Harrison!” she yells.

“Harrison, I’m fishing!” Harrison is crouched on the edge of the dock, giving instructions to a group of shivering boys. Then he blows his whistle and directs them up to the bleachers to get their towels. When the last boy has left the waterfront, Harrison walks to the end of the docks and yells to Stella.

“Caught anything?”

“Not yet. I’m feeding them hair bands!”

“Hair bands? What kind of bait is that?”

“Come see for yourself,” Carly calls.

I jump as the oar slips from the lock and crashes down on the seats.

“Such grace,” says Carly.

Harrison loosens a kayak from the end of the dock, crouches into it, and paddles out to us. No tap of paddle against fiberglass, no splashes of water in the air. He’s a reflection shimmering on the surface.

“See?” Stella says, reeling her line in to show off her bait.

“And what will you catch with that?” he asks, resting his paddle across the kayak and looking directly at me.

My flapping fish of a heart tries to leap from the boat.

“Lox,” I try.

He flicks me a wide smile.

“We’re geniuses, don’t you think?” says Carly, resting her hands on my seat and leaning closer to him. Her long hair fans against my bare shoulder. “We didn’t have bait so we improvised.”

The kayak rocks, sending ripples in all directions. “Only you, Miss Tree,” he says slowly, as if not sure what his reaction should be, “could think of something so creative.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” she says. “The best compliment.”

“Even though the hair band was my idea?” I ask. I’m teasing, but maybe only half teasing.

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