The Sugar Mountain Snow Ball by Elizabeth Atkinson Page B

began to worry a little. Why did he need to work so much? It just didn’t make sense. Every time I tried to bring it up, Mim changed the subject.
    Lately, I had been fussing around the house, cleaning and decluttering even more because: 1) It made Mim really happy to have the extra help, which I never knew before because she had never asked; 2) it was a lot easier to keep track of all the stuff I used to misplace; and 3) I don’t know why, but I really liked rechecking the clean area over and over again.
    So there was Mim, glowing as brightly as the sunlight beaming through the front door.
    â€œEverything looks so nice, Rosebud!” she said. “Why don’t you call Eleanor and go have fun for the rest of the day? There’s a bluebird sky and the sun feels warm. I bet even the mountains of sugary snow are melting a little.”
    And that’s when I knew I had to take my big chance and ski.
    Even though there were just four weeks left until the Snow Ball, I still needed $16 more to purchase the Snow Bunny lesson and, at the same time, have enough money for the beautiful white gown in the catalog, which said to allow three whole weeks for delivery.
    I ran through a checklist in my head: It was the weekend, so there was no school. Mim was home early, which meant I didn’t have to watch the twins. It was a crystal-clear day. Yep, I was as ready as I was ever going to be. I decided I had to take the risk and splurge on the lesson—and hope that I’d make $16 within the next few days in order to purchase the dress in time.
    â€œThat’s a good idea, Mim. I’ll go by Eleanor’s house and surprise her. And maybe Mr. B will invite me over for one of his delicious curry dinners tonight.”
    I felt kinda bad about fibbing, but I didn’t want Mim to know about the ski lesson—not yet. I wasn’t sure she would understand.
    â€œOh, if you’re going to stay for dinner, you have to bring something,” she said as she searched through the cabinets for gift ideas. “You can’t arrive empty-handed. Now let me see what we’ve got . . .”
    She paused and stared at the organized candy shelf.
    â€œWell, doesn’t this look delightfully neat. But how come nothing’s been eaten? What are you kids having for snacks these days?”
    I don’t know why, but suddenly I felt a little guilty, like I might get in trouble, even though Mim hardly ever got mad about anything.
    â€œEleanor usually brings extra food for us to share down at the playground.”
    â€œWhat extra food? We have plenty of stuff here. You shouldn’t be eating Eleanor’s snacks.”
    â€œBut she has special food that we don’t have.”
    â€œLike what?”
    â€œB’nanas!” yelled Charlie from the couch.
    My stepmother looked confused.
    â€œWhat’s so special about bananas?”
    â€œIt’s not just bananas,” I said. “Like, sometimes Eleanor has dried mango, which is sweet and chewy, and also nuts, mostly cashews. I don’t know what else, but interesting, healthy stuff like that.”
    Mim’s face changed. It was like she had been told something she didn’t want to hear.
    â€œThat’s awfully thoughtful of Eleanor,” she said quietly.
    My stepmom and I could talk about practically anything. She would offer her warm smile and have a big hug ready, no matter how bad I felt, and she’d be ready with advice if I needed it. But somewhere deep inside of me, I knew I wasn’t supposed to talk about this. Food.
    â€œI feel better after eating Eleanor’s snacks. Plus I’m hardly wheezing these days.”
    â€œReally?”
    I nodded. Mim sank down into a kitchen chair.
    â€œWell,” she replied, “we already cut out soda. And I can certainly buy nuts.”
    â€œAnd b’nanas,” Charlie yelled again.
    Mim smiled.
    â€œYou’re right. We need to plan our food better,”