Tails of Spring Break Read Online Free Page A

pajamas that were lost because of cleaning up my room.
    “Excuse me ,” she said as she pushed past me with her toothbrush in her hand.
    “Excuse ME,” I said when we both ended up at the sink.
    “Excuse ME,” she said and turned off the bathroom light before I was done.
    I flopped on my bed while Claire rubbed something smelly into her hair and started brushing it. “You’re dropping yellow hair all over my room,” I said.
    “Your hair would look nicer if you brushed it now and then.” She held up a blue-and-white plastic mirror and smiled into it.
    I stared at the empty space on the wall where my poster used to hang. Most nights, I pretended Mom and I were having a talk before I went to sleep. Now, because of Claire, I couldn’t even do that. I wondered if Mom was singing right that minute. In Tulsa, Oklahoma.
    Claire fluffed her hair and set the brush in her lap. “What does she say when she calls?” she asked.
    How could she know I’d been thinking about Mom? I twisted my sheet into a flower in my hand and pushed my face into it. “Not much,” I said into the flower. “Stuff about where she’s performing.”
    “I can hardly hear you.” Claire picked up her hairbrush. “My mother had a bad accident. She’s dead.”
    “I know that,” I said into the sheet flower. I patted the sheet flat and looked over at Claire. “I’m sorry,” I told her. My mom wasn’t at all dead. But still. She wasn’t here. She was never here when I needed to talk about things.
    Claire’s blond curls bounced as she began to brush again. “I wish I’d been sick that day. If I’d been sick, she would have stayed home.” She laid the brush on the bedside table and pulled her covers up to her shoulders. “She’d still be alive.”
    “It wasn’t your fault it happened,” I said. “You didn’t know she was going to have an accident.”
    “I talk to her after I say my prayers,” Claire said. “Since she’s in heaven, I figure she can hear me. Do you say prayers?”
    “No,” I answered, and then I thought about my pretend conversations with Mom. “Actually, I talk to my mom, too,” I said. “Are you done littering my room?”
    She rolled her eyes and nodded.
    I snapped off the light. Then, I got down beside my bed and reached under it to touch Mom’s poster. I closed my eyes and thought about what to say. “Hi, Mom.” My voice was a breath, not a voice. I whispered to her about my awful spring vacation and how China’s growls were kind of scary.
    Muffin will like you , Mom’s pretty voice said inside my head.
    “But she piddles,” I whispered. I’d been trying all day not to think about that. Tomorrow, when I went to take care of her, I was going to have to wipe up piddle. What if I got piddle on my hand? How disgusting!
    I could almost hear Mom’s voice answer. It’s only a week, honey, she said. And then, she surprised me. Claire would like to be your friend , she said.
    I stiffened. Grownups never understood anything.
    In the other bed, Claire was making annoying noises, whispering and breathing funny. “You better quit doing that,” I said. “You better not keep me awake.”
    I touched Mom’s poster one more time and crawled into bed. I could still hear Claire breathing. Then, I heard China growl in Tyler’s room. I pulled the pillow over my head to shut everything out.

Chapter 8
China Speaks Up
    S UNDAY MORNING, AS I woke up, I looked toward the wall where Mom’s poster usually hung. The wall was empty. I gasped. Then, I remembered.
    I turned my head and, sure enough, Claire Plummer was sleeping in the other bed. Claire Plummer, sharing my room. I peered over at her and saw something hard sticking out from under her pillow. In the dim light, it looked like a pencil case. Weird. Just then, she opened her eyes.
    I jumped out of bed, pretending I hadn’t been looking at her.
    At breakfast, Tyler reported on China. “I slept in my own bed last night,” he said. “I think China likes me