When Life Gives You O.J. Read Online Free

dad, like this solved everything.
    When Allie called later that night, I told her what had happened.
    “Bring me back some fudge, okay?” I said.
    “We get to make fudge?” she asked. “Julia never said anything about fudge.”
    “Yeah, well, maybe it’s one of those camp secrets.”
    “It’s not fair,” said Allie. “I don’t want to go if you can’t go.”
    “Maybe you can stay home,” I suggested.
    “Hey, yeah!” said Allie. “Oh, except my parents are having our kitchen renovated while we’re gone, so they’re staying with my aunt.”
    “You could stay with me,” I offered. “A three-week sleepover! How good would that be?”
    “The best!” said Allie. But then she was quiet, probably because she was thinking the same thing as me:
No way are my parents going to go for that
.
    “Well, if they make you go anyway,” I finally said, “you have to promise you won’t get a new best friend there.”
    “Yeah, well, duh! You neither.”
    “Oh, right. Like who? Nicky Benoit?”
    “I think I’m gonna hurl,” said Allie.
    I replied by making noises like Allie’s cat makes when it’s going to be sick:
ulp, ulp, ulp
.
    Allie laughed. Then she said, “Hey, I know! I have Julia’s old camp trunk. We could hide you in it.”
    “Yeah! I’ll just curl up real tiny,” I said.
    “Exactly! And I’ll put all my towels and camp stuff over you to hide you.…”
    “And we can poke some holes in the side.…”
    “Yeah, and pack snacks and stuff.…”
    “And then by the time anyone finds out, it’ll be too late.”
    “Yeah!” I felt a rush of excitement. “It’s a plan.”

    Even though we were just kidding around, the day before camp started, we actually tried to see if I’d fit in her trunk. Even with most of the clothes pulled out, and my knees tucked up under my chin, it didn’t quite work.
    “Take your shoes off,” suggested Allie, standing over me.
    “O-kay?” I said carefully, because my head was pretty tightly wedged in. I shifted a little onto my back and stuck one foot in the air. Allie was pulling my shoes off for me when Julia walked in.
    “What are you two—”
    “Nothing!” we yelled. I unwedged my head and sat up, embarrassed.
    “A stowaway?” Julia looked amused.
    “NO!” protested Allie. Piles of her shorts, T-shirts, and bathing suits surrounded the camp trunk. In which I was sitting.
    “Here’s an idea,” suggested Julia. “Why don’t you just
sign up for camp
?”
    “My parents,” I said.
    “Oh,” said Julia, nodding knowledgeably.
    “It’s so unfair!” said Allie.
    “Yeah, whatever.” Julia shrugged. “It’s not for everyone.”
    “What are you talking about?” asked Allie. “You love camp.”
    “Yeah,” said Julia. “But Zelly might not.”
    “Well, I’m not going if Zelly can’t go!” insisted Allie, looking at me.
    “Yeah, you are,” said Julia, laughing.
    Allie shook her head, folded her arms, and planted her feet. I nodded back, equally defiant. I could tell we were both thinking the exact same thing.
    She just had to get a bigger trunk.
    Unfortunately, Allie’s parents didn’t get her a bigger trunk. Julia’s old trunk—and Allie—left for camp the next day. Without me. So while I was stuck getting ready for “family time” picking cherries, she was probably doing drama or computer clubhouse or making fudge … or who knows what else? I didn’t know because I hadn’t gotten a single letter from her yet.
    I’ve always loved getting mail, and I was pretty sure Allie knew it. The first time she ever passed me a note in class, she wrote “Special Delivery” on the outside, and drew lines to make the folded-up paper look like a tiny envelope. I couldn’t help wondering,
Why hasn’t she written to me from camp?
    Back when we still lived in New York, my grandma, Bubbles, sent me letters all the time. She was a painter, so she wrote on sketchbook paper with little doodles crowding out the words. The letter I remember best