Tails of Spring Break Read Online Free

“You’re being kind to lonely pets. Seems like you could be kind to Claire.”
    As I stared out at the wet bushes in the backyard, I saw Claire’s sad face. I should be nicer to her. But then, I remembered all the mean things she said. “I can’t, Dad.” I lowered my voice. “She’s awful.” As I shoved my hands into my jacket pockets, my fingers touched the Andersons’ house key. “Here,” I said, pulling it out. “We need a safe place for this.”
    Dad’s face brightened. “The two of you could . . . ,” he began.
    “No way!” I yelled. “It’s my business.” I threw the key onto the table.
    “You’re sharing with me,” Tyler said. “It’s my bed China’s under.” He slid off Dad’s lap and went down the hall.
    “First of all,” I said, “everybody but us went somewhere good for spring break.” I lowered my voice. “And the worst person in fourth grade is living in my bedroom.” I flung myself into a chair. “And China Cat doesn’t cuddle and purr, the way I thought she would.”
    Dad tipped his head to one side. “Listen to that,” he said. “Tyler’s singing.” I listened as the words to “Three Blind Mice” drifted down the hall.
    Dad began to smile. “Tyler knows how to make a lonely cat feel better,” he said, “and he’s only four years old.”
    I stopped grinning as I figured out what he meant. Since I was older, he thought I could share everything with Claire. Well, he was wrong. I’d have to be an old lady before that would happen.
    “Being nice to a cat is easy,” I told him. “Being nice to Claire is impossible.” I went down the hall to Tyler’s room.

Chapter 7
Talking to Mothers
    L ATER THAT AFTERNOON, CLAIRE finally came out of my bedroom. She sat at the table and wrote letters to her pen pals. Still later, she helped Dad and me fix supper. None of us mentioned Mom’s phone call. Claire reminded us to use place mats and napkins. And forks, as if we would have eaten macaroni and cheese with our fingers. “We should have a centerpiece,” she said.
    “We do centerpieces on holidays,” I told her.
    “Where’s Tyler?” Dad asked. “Still in there with China?”
    “Whatever he’s doing is working,” I said. “She’s not growling.”
    Dad handed the paper napkins to Claire, who set them around the table. “We want you to feel at home with us, Claire,” he said. “What would help you feel comfortable?”
    She sat down at the table, thinking. “I should have brought some games. We could play games.”
    “We have tons of games,” I told her. From the kitchen, Dad sent me a thumbs-up.
    I frowned at him. Playing games with Claire was not my idea of fun. I sighed. Then I remembered her sad face. I would try to cheer her up.
    After dinner, Tyler built things with Legos in his room and talked to China who was growling again. Dad turned on the TV to a basketball game.
    When Claire and I opened the game cupboard, things began to slide out. “I might have known,” she said. “Everything in your game cupboard is mixed up.”
    First, she made us find the Sorry pieces and put them in their box. Then, the checkers. Then, the Chutes and Ladders. Then, the worst thing—the cards. “I might have known,” she said again as she separated the decks.
    I slapped a deck of cards onto the floor. “That’s it,” I said. “Play by yourself.”
    She looked surprised. “I’m going to read to China. I do have a business.” I stepped over all the cards and went to find my book.
    “Big deal,” Claire said. I heard her ask Dad to play Concentration, and I couldn’t believe it when he said yes. As I lay on Tyler’s bed and read my book out loud, I could hear them in the family room, laughing and having a great time. Claire even beat Dad. They came down the hall to tell me.
    I turned my back on them. China growled just then, and I was glad.
    Later when Claire and I got ready for bed, she kept getting in the way. “Excuse me,” I said, as I searched for my