Be Good Be Real Be Crazy Read Online Free Page A

toothbrush by the alarm clock on the bedside table and tried to balance on his tiptoes as he walked. He had one foot in the hall when Mia’s drowsy voice stopped him.
    â€œHey, Homer?”
    He turned around. “Yeah?”
    Mia, her eyes still closed, adjusted her head higher on the pillow. “Three questions: What was the worst part of the day, what was the best part of the day, and what”—she yawned—“would you do differently?”
    â€œDo you mean for me, my day, or the day in general?” Homer felt an echoing yawn pull at the corners of his mouth.
    â€œI mean your day, silly,” Mia said, smiling into the pillow. “My favorite sister, Dotts. She’s the one—”
    â€œYou met Dotts at the first place you lived after leaving your mom’s ‘for real.’” Homer took a deep breath and continued. “And you liked Dotts so much that you asked to go with her when she got moved to Mrs. Scott’s—the house of the foster mom with the French bulldog that peed on your backpack and chewed Dotts’s sneakers.”
    â€œI talk about her a lot, huh?” Mia opened her eyes.
    Homer shrugged. “She probably talks about you just as much.”
    Mia stared at him in a way that Homer couldn’t quite place: her eyes a blend of awe and sadness. Then she shook her head and the look was gone.
    â€œAny-who. Dotts and I would play Three Questions if one of the new kids couldn’t sleep or if someone was scared or if Mr. Scott was home and Mrs. Scott was yelling and we didn’t want to leave our bedroom.” She nodded toward Homer. “Gentlemen first.”
    â€œOkay.” Homer struggled to herd his thoughts. “Worst? That’s easy. Your boat, I mean your house, getting destroyed because I didn’t—”
    â€œIt’s not your fault,” Mia interrupted. “Next question. Best?”
    â€œThat you’re safe, I guess.”
    â€œYou’re the sweetest. Differently?”
    â€œI would have explained about the lot better?”
    â€œHey,” Mia said indignantly. “Those were all about me, not you.”
    Homer tilted his head. “Sorry. That’s all I’ve got. Your turn.”
    â€œFine, but you owe me three not-about-me answers.” Mia shut her eyes again. “Best? Tadpole kicked up a storm today. I think she or he likes watermelon. Worst?” She exhaled. “I forgot my best pen in the boat. And I got D.B. and Christian in trouble with Chief Harvey.”
    â€œIt’ll be fine. I’m pretty sure Christian has Chief and Mrs. Harvey in his Beginning Ballroom class at the Rec. You can’t be upset with someone who’s showing you how to waltz.”
    Mia smiled sleepily. “You’re funny, Homer.”
    â€œNot really.”
    â€œSomeday, you’re going to have to learn how to take a compliment.” Mia yawned again. “Would you get the postcard from my bag?”
    â€œSure.” Homer started rummaging through Mia’s black garbage bag of possessions. “Only one? What happened to all the others you had around your bed?”
    Mia’s response sounded like she was speaking through a mask. “Dwidn’t nweed’dem.”
    Homer’s fingers grazed a cardboard rectangle. “Is this it?” He turned the card to look at the picture. It showed a beach at dusk. The sand wasn’t white like it was on La Isla de Plátanosand the water was black instead of turquoise, but there was a dark peacefulness to the sculpted sand dunes and frosted waves. “Glory-Be-by-the-Sea,” Homer read, then added, “It looks pretty.”
    â€œThat’s where I’m going to live. With Dotts. She’ll be so, so happy to see me. She has an apartment and a job and a boyfriend who buys her flowers. . . .” Mia’s voice trailed off.
    â€œBut you have a job here .” Homer felt like he was trying to breathe