Welcome Home, Jellybean by Marlene Fanta Shyer

Author:Marlene Fanta Shyer
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: middle school, tolerance, sibling, piano, special needs, family values, peer pressure, teenage boy, mentally challenged
Publisher: Marlene Fanta Shyer

Chapter 12

At home, after my mother stopped me from threatening my sister with one of my old galoshes to illustrate what I was going to do to her if she ever touched my school stuff again, I tried to peel the food labels off my report and maybe salvage some of it, but the pages tore, so I had to start working from scratch. This time nothing short of an invasion from Mars would stop me from finishing the report and handing it to Mrs. Bowring tomorrow.

If there was time I'd practice the piano tonight, and if there wasn't, I'd have to get up at five in the morning and practice then. If I didn't, I wouldn't have a chance of being in the Follies. I'd go through the rest of my school days alone–the weird kid without a group, wandering around the place like the man without a country.

My mother was in Gerri's room, trying to teach her how to tie shoelaces. When I calmed down I told her three times I couldn't be disturbed. Despite the galoshes, Gerri gave me a big smile and a shriek. Her head bumps looked bluer than ever and I noticed the curtains were down again. My mother said she understood I needed privacy and quiet for studying, and speaking of studying, how was school today?

I started to tell her about cutting English, but at the last minute I changed my mind. My mother was getting those circles under the eyes that old people get and she was hardly smiling any more. I told her school was fine. She told me Gerri would not be starting her school until autumn, which seemed a long way off.

She suggested I go into the kitchen for milk and cookies. She'd wanted to surprise me by baking some with Gerri's help, but when she tried to teach Gerri to break an egg into the batter, Gerri threw the shell in too. In the end my mother had to throw out the batter and go to the store for the cookies. Never mind, I told her, they tasted fine.

I think I cheered her up; a few minutes later she came into the kitchen to show me some pictures she'd taken of Gerri in the park with a Polaroid camera, and she was smiling. One of the pictures, where Gerri's head was turned good side to the camera, came out pretty nice. My mother had brought a really neat frame for it that looked like real white leather, and she said she was going to put it on top of the piano next to the photos of me and Grandpa. Just as she was about to go into the living room with the picture, the telephone rang.

My mother took the receiver off the hook, and although all she said was "Hello," right away I could tell something was wrong. She was standing there with the telephone in one hand and the picture of Gerri in the other and no kidding, her face turned practically the same color as the picture frame.

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