I, Emma Freke by Elizabeth Atkinson

Finally, they had me call Donatella.
    No one answered, of course. It was the machine:
Did you miss me? I miss you too. Please leave a message or a blessing for Donatella or members of her staff after the sound of the tam-tam gong. Peace!
    That “members of her staff” part always irritated me. I was the only member of her staff.
    â€œShe’s not there.”
    Mrs. Snug suggested, “Cell phone?”
    â€œShe never has it on,” I muttered.
    Two scary men, the mean lady, and nice Mrs. Snug all told me to sit down (again) and wait while Wanda showed them every piece of identification in her wallet. Then the next thing I knew, Wanda was on the phone apparently trying to reach Jim and Nancy in the emergency room. My hands were now sweating from trembling so much.
    What a mess.
    I wondered if these ridiculous things happened to most people, even just a few other people. Or was it just me? It seemed like for every little step forward I took, something or someone pushed me back two gigantic steps. What if my whole life ended up being like this? I’d never get anywhere.
    â€œEmma?” cried Mrs. Snug as she scurried over to me.
    â€œYah?”
    â€œGood news! We’ve been able to verify Wanda’s story. You’re free to go, pumpkin.”
    â€œI am?”
    â€œHave a lovely weekend at the reunion!” she cried as she scurried back to the desk and took the next person in line.
    I watched as the official adults headed off in different directions. My mind was twirling as Wanda strolled over. She picked up my sleeping bag and swung my heavy backpack over her shoulder.
    â€œReady, kid?”
    I couldn’t move. I had been so positive that this would end badly that I had convinced myself I would be flying immediately back to Boston. Now everything was so upside down. And the day was only half over.
    Wanda sunk into the chair next to me.
    â€œThese obstacles in life,” she said slowly, “they’re all good.”
    I turned my head and stared at her.
    â€œThey are?”
    â€œSure they are.”
    Silence.
    â€œUm. How are they good?”
    â€œWell, just think about all the knots you dealt with today,” she replied as she nodded her head. “Now the next time you have a problem, it will be easier to figure out and solve.”
    I guess that was one way of looking at it.
    Wanda stood up, and I followed her toward the glass doors heading outside. From behind she resembled a skinny scarecrow in her old jeans with that messy gray hair sticking straight out. I think she even had a couple pieces of hay tucked behind her ear. I felt a little anxious wondering who this person was exactly. And was this what all the Frekes were like?
    â€œSo, are you like a cousin or a close relative?” I asked.
    â€œPretty much,” she mumbled, “but not exactly in a relating way.”
    What was that supposed to mean? Was she the kind of relative who was actually a family friend but seemed as close as a cousin?
    â€œI’m a cousin too, but I guess I’m related.”
    Wanda cracked a thin smile. “I can see that.”
    As we passed an island of pay phones, I realized I should try calling home one more time. Wanda waited by the windows as I turned on my emergency cell phone and dialed. Again, no one answered. I waited for the gong.
    â€œHi, it’s me. I tried calling earlier because everything, as usual with my life, was the opposite of what it should be. Anyway, I’m here but someone else is driving me to the reunion. Her name is Wanda, and she’s some kind of cousin. I remembered to call you, Donatella, so remember to pick me up on Monday.”
    We climbed into Wanda’s run-down pickup truck, which was parked on the top floor of the airport garage. The dark vinyl seat was blazing hot from the sun. I had never met a real farmer before, but I was pretty sure that was what Wanda did for a living. Aside from the way she was dressed, there