temporary amnesia and everything would be all right. There was that delusion thing again.
The envelope he'd sent me was once again tucked safely in my backpack. Had it been a coincidence that Stella Zamora had tried to steal it? As much as I wanted to believe that, I just didn't. To do so would break a cardinal commandment about coincidences. Maria sighed again, heavier this time.
My mind whirled, skipping to and from ridiculous theories. The packet had been snapped and zippered into my backpack, and true enough, it would have been the easiest thing for a thief to grab.
Of course, I thought, staring out at the rivers of mud in the backyard, Stella had completely bypassed my wallet, which only fed my suspicions.
Why would a pickpocket choose a manila envelope over a wallet . . . ? Unless it had been the envelope she was after? If that were true, how had Stella Zamora known I had the envelope? Had Nate told her? He was the only one who knew. Maria sighed again.
I gritted my teeth. She had every right to sigh, I suppose. Once. But she tended to wallow for attention's sake. "What am I supposed to with all the wedding gifts? The caterer? The florist?" She gasped. "Mom!"
Ugh! Enough! I couldn't take any more today.
"What's that?" I said, pointing outside, squinting, and acting up a storm. My mother always said I had a face for the movies. She just never specified what kind of face . . . or what kind of movies.
"What?" she said, getting up in one smooth glide.
"That," I said. I gestured toward the horizon. Inwardly, I smiled in glee.
"I don't see anything. Really, Nina." Again the pout. "I was comfy."
If I'd had any reservations about what I was going to do, they scurried off in a flash. I pulled open the back door. Grabbing her arm, I shoved her out. "Shoes!" she shrieked.
Before she could turn around, I nudged her farther out, down the step, off the patio. "Mud's good for the skin, right?" "Eee!" She jumped around, mud squishing between her toes. She threw a dangerous glare my way, her eyebrows dipping low. "Neeee-naaah!" I laughed. "Argh!" Maria yelled.
I looked up just in time to see the fistful of mud heading my way, but not in enough time to avoid it. It landed on my right thigh and oozed down my leg. "Serves you right," she said smugly.
"Oh yeah?" Bending down, I scooped a handful of Ohio's finest sloppy, goopy gray-brown clay and heaved. Maria's mouth dropped open as she took in the Pollocklike affect on her suit. "This is Chanel! Chanel!" She kicked, sending mud flying in my direction.
I ducked, but it splattered my face, my hair. I wiped a hunk from my eye. Out of which I saw Maria smile in self-satisfaction.
That's it! This was war!
Two-handed, I scooped and hurled. Maria pivoted and mud splattered her backside.
She looked over her shoulder with a wicked gleam in her eye. Mud landed square on her mouth. I yelled, "Now you won't have to get a facial this week!"
She sputtered, bent, and scooped. "Neither . . . will . . . you!" She laughed, a hysterical-sounding chuckle. I turned but not quick enough. Thick mud hit like a slap on my cheek.
We both dropped to our knees and started tossing mud pies.
"That's . . . that's for being so—so pouty!" I shouted. "Pouty!? I am not pouty!"
I sighed dramatically, mocking her. Mud flew, hitting my ear and the top of my head. "Poor me," I mimicked. "The gifts. The flowers!"
"Ooooh!"
"You're not the only one with problems, you know! The world doesn't revolve around you!" I tossed, and mud oozed down her cleavage. "Other people have problems too!"
"Like you?" Sarcasm dripped from her words. "Yes! Like me!"
"Aww." Mud hit me on my chest. Unfortunately there was no cleavage for it to slide into. "Riley? He's sneaking out again."
"Boo-hoo!"
I shoveled and tossed. Mud darkened Maria's hair. "And there's a panty thief in the neighborhood."
"You poor thing. Has he not hit your house yet? Is that why you're in an uproar?"
I sent her my best evil sister smile and
The envelope he'd sent me was once again tucked safely in my backpack. Had it been a coincidence that Stella Zamora had tried to steal it? As much as I wanted to believe that, I just didn't. To do so would break a cardinal commandment about coincidences. Maria sighed again, heavier this time.
My mind whirled, skipping to and from ridiculous theories. The packet had been snapped and zippered into my backpack, and true enough, it would have been the easiest thing for a thief to grab.
Of course, I thought, staring out at the rivers of mud in the backyard, Stella had completely bypassed my wallet, which only fed my suspicions.
Why would a pickpocket choose a manila envelope over a wallet . . . ? Unless it had been the envelope she was after? If that were true, how had Stella Zamora known I had the envelope? Had Nate told her? He was the only one who knew. Maria sighed again.
I gritted my teeth. She had every right to sigh, I suppose. Once. But she tended to wallow for attention's sake. "What am I supposed to with all the wedding gifts? The caterer? The florist?" She gasped. "Mom!"
Ugh! Enough! I couldn't take any more today.
"What's that?" I said, pointing outside, squinting, and acting up a storm. My mother always said I had a face for the movies. She just never specified what kind of face . . . or what kind of movies.
"What?" she said, getting up in one smooth glide.
"That," I said. I gestured toward the horizon. Inwardly, I smiled in glee.
"I don't see anything. Really, Nina." Again the pout. "I was comfy."
If I'd had any reservations about what I was going to do, they scurried off in a flash. I pulled open the back door. Grabbing her arm, I shoved her out. "Shoes!" she shrieked.
Before she could turn around, I nudged her farther out, down the step, off the patio. "Mud's good for the skin, right?" "Eee!" She jumped around, mud squishing between her toes. She threw a dangerous glare my way, her eyebrows dipping low. "Neeee-naaah!" I laughed. "Argh!" Maria yelled.
I looked up just in time to see the fistful of mud heading my way, but not in enough time to avoid it. It landed on my right thigh and oozed down my leg. "Serves you right," she said smugly.
"Oh yeah?" Bending down, I scooped a handful of Ohio's finest sloppy, goopy gray-brown clay and heaved. Maria's mouth dropped open as she took in the Pollocklike affect on her suit. "This is Chanel! Chanel!" She kicked, sending mud flying in my direction.
I ducked, but it splattered my face, my hair. I wiped a hunk from my eye. Out of which I saw Maria smile in self-satisfaction.
That's it! This was war!
Two-handed, I scooped and hurled. Maria pivoted and mud splattered her backside.
She looked over her shoulder with a wicked gleam in her eye. Mud landed square on her mouth. I yelled, "Now you won't have to get a facial this week!"
She sputtered, bent, and scooped. "Neither . . . will . . . you!" She laughed, a hysterical-sounding chuckle. I turned but not quick enough. Thick mud hit like a slap on my cheek.
We both dropped to our knees and started tossing mud pies.
"That's . . . that's for being so—so pouty!" I shouted. "Pouty!? I am not pouty!"
I sighed dramatically, mocking her. Mud flew, hitting my ear and the top of my head. "Poor me," I mimicked. "The gifts. The flowers!"
"Ooooh!"
"You're not the only one with problems, you know! The world doesn't revolve around you!" I tossed, and mud oozed down her cleavage. "Other people have problems too!"
"Like you?" Sarcasm dripped from her words. "Yes! Like me!"
"Aww." Mud hit me on my chest. Unfortunately there was no cleavage for it to slide into. "Riley? He's sneaking out again."
"Boo-hoo!"
I shoveled and tossed. Mud darkened Maria's hair. "And there's a panty thief in the neighborhood."
"You poor thing. Has he not hit your house yet? Is that why you're in an uproar?"
I sent her my best evil sister smile and
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