business.
“Lanyards, yes,” said Mr. Schmidt. “I made a lot of lanyards in my day. Some called me the king of lanyards.”
“Look, Dad,” said Allie, pulling out a long pink-and-yellow braided plastic chain.
“That’s my girl!” said her dad, smiling in the rearview mirror.
“It’s for you,” Allie said, handing the chain to me.
I smiled and lifted my hair out of the way so she could tie it around my neck. I couldn’t help thinking to myself,
This is way better than fudge
.
When we got home, Allie came over to my house and we went straight up to my room.
“What’s that?” asked Allie, pointing at my bed.
I looked and there was O.J., sitting smack in the middle of my rainbow comforter, a note rubber-banded to his neck, completely covering his face. It said:
I’M HUNGRY AND I NEED A WALK .
I groaned and tossed O.J., note and all, off the bed.
“It’s nothing. You know how I’ve been begging my parents to let me get a dog? Well, my grandpa had this crazy idea about what I could do to convince them.”
I stretched out on the bed where O.J. had been, and Allie sat down cross-legged next to me. She giggled. “Did I tell you about the dogs? At camp?” I shook my head. “Well, we were rehearsing for the play and there were these two boys who were supposed to be playing the dogs? You know, on the ark?”
I listened for a while, but to be honest, it was kind of hard. After going to camp to pick up Allie—I mean
Allison
—and having to watch her with all her new camp friends, I was ready for camp to be over and our summer together to finally begin. After waiting as long as I could so as not to seem rude, I said, “Allie? Can we please talk about something other than camp?”
“Sure,” said Allie, looking startled. “I’m sorry.”
“No, I’m sorry,” I said quickly. “I mean, I just … It sounds fun and everything.…”
“No, Zelly, that’s okay. What’s up with you?”
“Not a lot,” I admitted. “I’ve been, uh, playing tennis, I guess.”
“Tennis? Like at a tennis camp?”
“No. Just, you know, playing.”
“With who?”
“Nobody. Just this kid who moved here. From Brookline. His name’s Jeremy.”
“Did you know him there?”
“That’s BrookLYN,” I informed her. “He moved here from BrookLINE. It’s in Massachusetts.”
“Is he cute?” she asked.
“No!”
“Tennis players are cute.”
“Yeah, well, Jeremy’s
not
cute. I mean, he’s not disgusting-looking. He’s just regular.”
“Why? What does he look like?” asked Allie.
“I dunno. He’s got glasses.”
“Uh-huh. What color hair?”
“Dark brown.”
“So, he looks like you?”
“No,” I said.
Allie covered her mouth with one hand and pointed at me with the other. “You’re blushing!”
“I am not!”
“Are too!”
“Can we please talk about something other than boys … or camp … for five minutes?” I asked.
“Yes!” she said, but I could tell she didn’t want to. Still, to prove it, she said, “Do you want to sleep over tomorrow night?”
“Are you kidding? Of course!”
“Great. I mean, let me know if you can, because if you can’t, I might ask someone else.”
“What do you mean, you might ask someone else?”
“It’s just that my mom said I can have three girls sleep over, and I definitely want to have you. But if you can’t come, I might ask someone else.”
“Someone from camp?”
“Maybe. What’s the big deal? You’re still my best friend.”
“You sure?”
“Yes,”
insisted Allie.
But I wasn’t so sure.
Just then, there was a knock on my door.
“Come in,” I said.
“Hi, Allie. Welcome home!” said my mom.
“Thanks, Mrs. Fried,” said Allie, whose parents don’t let her call other people’s parents by their first names, even if they say it’s okay like my parents do.
“Zelly, Jeremy called while you were out.”
“Okay,” I said. Allie gave me a look that said
Jer-e-my
.
“Also, have you taken care of
“Lanyards, yes,” said Mr. Schmidt. “I made a lot of lanyards in my day. Some called me the king of lanyards.”
“Look, Dad,” said Allie, pulling out a long pink-and-yellow braided plastic chain.
“That’s my girl!” said her dad, smiling in the rearview mirror.
“It’s for you,” Allie said, handing the chain to me.
I smiled and lifted my hair out of the way so she could tie it around my neck. I couldn’t help thinking to myself,
This is way better than fudge
.
When we got home, Allie came over to my house and we went straight up to my room.
“What’s that?” asked Allie, pointing at my bed.
I looked and there was O.J., sitting smack in the middle of my rainbow comforter, a note rubber-banded to his neck, completely covering his face. It said:
I’M HUNGRY AND I NEED A WALK .
I groaned and tossed O.J., note and all, off the bed.
“It’s nothing. You know how I’ve been begging my parents to let me get a dog? Well, my grandpa had this crazy idea about what I could do to convince them.”
I stretched out on the bed where O.J. had been, and Allie sat down cross-legged next to me. She giggled. “Did I tell you about the dogs? At camp?” I shook my head. “Well, we were rehearsing for the play and there were these two boys who were supposed to be playing the dogs? You know, on the ark?”
I listened for a while, but to be honest, it was kind of hard. After going to camp to pick up Allie—I mean
Allison
—and having to watch her with all her new camp friends, I was ready for camp to be over and our summer together to finally begin. After waiting as long as I could so as not to seem rude, I said, “Allie? Can we please talk about something other than camp?”
“Sure,” said Allie, looking startled. “I’m sorry.”
“No, I’m sorry,” I said quickly. “I mean, I just … It sounds fun and everything.…”
“No, Zelly, that’s okay. What’s up with you?”
“Not a lot,” I admitted. “I’ve been, uh, playing tennis, I guess.”
“Tennis? Like at a tennis camp?”
“No. Just, you know, playing.”
“With who?”
“Nobody. Just this kid who moved here. From Brookline. His name’s Jeremy.”
“Did you know him there?”
“That’s BrookLYN,” I informed her. “He moved here from BrookLINE. It’s in Massachusetts.”
“Is he cute?” she asked.
“No!”
“Tennis players are cute.”
“Yeah, well, Jeremy’s
not
cute. I mean, he’s not disgusting-looking. He’s just regular.”
“Why? What does he look like?” asked Allie.
“I dunno. He’s got glasses.”
“Uh-huh. What color hair?”
“Dark brown.”
“So, he looks like you?”
“No,” I said.
Allie covered her mouth with one hand and pointed at me with the other. “You’re blushing!”
“I am not!”
“Are too!”
“Can we please talk about something other than boys … or camp … for five minutes?” I asked.
“Yes!” she said, but I could tell she didn’t want to. Still, to prove it, she said, “Do you want to sleep over tomorrow night?”
“Are you kidding? Of course!”
“Great. I mean, let me know if you can, because if you can’t, I might ask someone else.”
“What do you mean, you might ask someone else?”
“It’s just that my mom said I can have three girls sleep over, and I definitely want to have you. But if you can’t come, I might ask someone else.”
“Someone from camp?”
“Maybe. What’s the big deal? You’re still my best friend.”
“You sure?”
“Yes,”
insisted Allie.
But I wasn’t so sure.
Just then, there was a knock on my door.
“Come in,” I said.
“Hi, Allie. Welcome home!” said my mom.
“Thanks, Mrs. Fried,” said Allie, whose parents don’t let her call other people’s parents by their first names, even if they say it’s okay like my parents do.
“Zelly, Jeremy called while you were out.”
“Okay,” I said. Allie gave me a look that said
Jer-e-my
.
“Also, have you taken care of
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