Never Blame the Umpire Read Online Free Page B

side of the net.
    Across the net my dad and brother
    Stumble amid the sound of laughter
    Trying to return our powerful shots.
    Finally, they sprawl down in defeat,
    Faces red and puffing on the green court,
    While Mama and me, tanned and fresh,
    Barely breathing hard at all,
    Jump the net to congratulate them
    For a good try.
     
    Well, that’s not exactly how our tennis matches always turn out. Mama and I aren’t always partners, and I don’t always win. But Mr. Gallagher said a poem doesn’t have to be true. A poem is one time when it’sall right to lie, he said. Except he didn’t call it lying; he called it “changing reality.” The main thing, he said, is that you should just have fun writing a poem.
    I had fun writing my tennis story poem, even though it wasn’t a “beautiful” poem like Mama suggested. Even so, I think it’s one she’ll like when I show it to her.
    “Hey,” I say to Ginny, “I’ve been rattling on about my day. Tell me about yours. What was your class like?”
    Ginny laughs. “Oh Romeo, Romeo! Wherefore art thou Romeo?” she says in a real dramatic voice. Then, in her normal voice, she says, “I’m glad your class was fun. You know about Romeo and Juliet , by Shakespeare?”
    “I’ve heard of it.”
    “Well, this afternoon I got to play a scene as Juliet.”
    She bus pulls up, and as we walk up the aisle toward the front of the bus, Ginny is already on stage: “What’s in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet.”
    One of the girls up ahead turns around and smiles. “Go girl!” she calls out.
    I can’t even begin to picture myself on stage speaking lines like Ginny does. I’m happier than ever I’m in Mr. Gallagher’s creative writing class.

Six
a change of plans
    The bus stop is almost halfway between our two houses. Instead of going our separate ways, we both walk to Ginny’s. Mama has arranged for me to stay with her every afternoon until the three-week class is over. Mama and Dad both work until about five o’clock and they don’t want me and Ken home alone all that time. They’ve arranged for Ken to spend the day at one of several places: the ballfield, the swimming pool, or a friend’s house. Mama and Dad have a permanent arrangement with Mrs. Loden from across the street to be Ken’s “daytime mom.” Ken has his own cell phone and has to let her know where he is, even if he’s at home.
    Ken doesn’t like that arrangement much, but Dadtold him, “Think about it. It’s better than the alternative.” Which would be for him to have an actual babysitter. Ken realizes he has more freedom this way. And the thought of him having a babysitter makes him so mad his ears turn red.
    Mrs. Loden is about my grandmother’s age. I don’t know if they’re paying her or she does it just because she’s a nice neighbor and hardly ever goes anywhere.
    A few minutes after I get to Ginny’s I get a phone call from Mama.
    “How was school?” she says.
    “Great! Today was the most fun yet.”
    “I’m glad,” she says, but her voice sounds kind of funny. Not funny funny, but different somehow. There’s something in her voice that makes me think something’s wrong. “I’d like you to come home now,” she says. “I would have called you earlier, but this was something your dad and I decided on at the last minute.”
    “What’s up?”
    “A picnic. The four of us are driving to the lake for a picnic.”
    She means Corbin Lake. It’s only about ten miles away. We go there to swim a lot.
    “Now? Aren’t you at work?”
    “You dad and I both got off early today, just so we could have this picnic.”
    It seems a little strange to me. They hardly ever leave work early. Yesterday she was too sick to come to my game, and today she leaves work to go to a picnic. That’s not like Mama.
    “Can I bring Ginny?”
    “Not today,” she says. “Next time, for sure.”
    Things are getting weirder all the time. She usually doesn’t mind