Two Naomis Read Online Free

it.
    â€œIs this cupcakes?” she asks, sort of grabbing the box away from me.
    â€œNo, really great cookies,” I say, looking to the other Naomi, hoping she can help.
    â€œI love cookies,” she says. “Almost every kind.”
    â€œMe too!” Maybe this Naomi and I can escape the little sister. This is all weird enough without having to worry about hurting someone’s feelings just by having a name.
    â€œExcept,” she says, and then at the same time we say, “peanut butter.”
    Dad and Valerie laugh way too loud.
    â€œBut wait a minute,” the other Naomi says, her eyes on the box of cookies. Then she looks at her mom and stops.
    Valerie gently shakes her head.
    â€œBut what?” I ask.
    â€œNothing . . . did you ever meet another Naomi before?” she asks me.
    â€œOne time,” I say. “At my cousin’s Bat Mitzvah. She was a great dancer.”
    That makes Brianna jump up and start dancing. Naomi looks ready to join her, but she glances at me and then at her mom and asks, “Can we eat now?”
    Then it’s all sorts of time-for-lunch action as Valerie asks her daughters to help, leaving me with Dad, standing near the table, already set for five, not knowing what to do. Would it feel less weird if they were at our house for lunch? Because here they know everything and I don’t even know where to sit. Or where the bathroom is. But then, if we did have them over for lunch,there’d be a good chance Dad would completely forget to give them any food. And then that baby might cry even more.
    Valerie, Brianna, and the other Naomi bring out an amazing feast—enough food for fifteen people, I bet. Really cheesy mac and cheese, big soft rolls, colorful salads, rice and peas, chicken! I wonder if maybe they only have meals once a day like Dad and I sometimes do, though with us it’s usually by accident.
    I serve myself plenty of everything because it all looks so delicious. And beautiful too on my big yellow plate.
    We’re all busy eating when Dad reaches for a second roll and asks, “How’s that new program at the library going, Naomi?”
    I try to remember what program at the library. And it’s quiet while everyone waits for me to answer.
    Finally, Valerie says, “Naomi Marie? He’s talking to you.”
    The Naomi that’s her daughter asks, “How’d he know about that?” She looks down at her food.
    How is anyone supposed to know who they’re talking about, or to? But also, why does Dad know about some program Valerie’s kid is doing at a library? He can’t even remember which days I have gym.
    The Naomi he was talking to, the one who isn’t me, shrugs. We eat in quiet for a little while. Then Valerie says, “I hear you like playing checkers, Naomi,” which I think she said to me.
    What is she even talking about? Did Dad tell her how I beat his friend Loofie three times in a row? Who even cares? I mean, if someone is going to know one thing about me, it shouldn’t have anything to do with checkers.
    It could be that my mom is working on a cool movie, and I can’t wait to visit her and maybe even go on the set. Or that I read Charlotte’s Web four times last summer. Or that Annie and I once wrote a play called You’re Too Tall and We Don’t Understand! and we sold tickets and performed it in her backyard.
    Checkers is something like 832nd on the list of important things about me.
    â€œYeah,” I say. And then I get really serious about eating. Because I can’t be expected to talk when I’m eating.
    â€œCan I be escused?” Brianna asks, and I want to say, “It’s excused ,” and would you believe that’s exactly what the other Naomi says?
    â€œWell, I suppose you could,” Valerie says. “But then you’d miss those delicious cookies Tom and Naomi brought. So why don’t you help clear the dishes?”
    I