Fish in a Tree Read Online Free

finally gets home, I’ve already microwaved my dinner and I’m watching TV while I sketch pictures of a pet llama named Butch Cassidy. With a name like that, I give him a cowboy hat, a bandana, and a holster. But in the holster he carries an ear of corn.
    When my mom comes in from work, she turns off the TV and I can feel it coming.
    “So,” she begins. “When are we going to really talk about today?”
    “On my ninety-fifth birthday.”
    “Funny one.” She shifts her weight. “I’m trying to be patient, honey. I really am. But today was a
party.
How could you get into trouble at a
party
?”
    “I don’t have to do anything. They all hate me,” I blurt out.
    “I doubt that. But can’t you see why they’d be tired of your behavior? These shocking things you do and say to get laughs?”
    She doesn’t get it. Being funny when you don’t mean to be is terrible. Having to laugh at yourself along with everyone else is humiliating.
    “Oh, Ally . . . you’re too smart for this. School is too important to joke about. I don’t want you working long hours on your feet for a bunch of tips like me. I want more for you. And you’re so smart. Good at math. A gifted artist. Don’t you think it’s time to stop clowning around?”
    “I’m not that smart. You say that, but I’m not.”
    “Now, we know that isn’t true. You could stand to work a little harder, though.”
    I’m so tired of this conversation. We’ve had it a hundred times, even though my third-grade teacher told her that I might just be slow, that my mom shouldn’t expect too much of me. My mom’s eyes got all wide and shiny when she heard that, and I felt sad and embarrassed for her having to be my mom.
    But my mother’s never bought what that teacher said. I sometimes wish she would, but most times I’m grateful that she hasn’t.
    She bends over to look me dead in the eyes. “I know that moving as much as we have has been hard for you. And I know I work all the time and can’t keep tabs on your schoolwork. It has made it hard for you to keep up with some subjects, and I understand that. I really do. But you’re going to have to make more effort, Ally. Things worth having are worth working for.”
    “I’ll do better,” I tell her. I used to say this and mean it. Now it feels like I’m just making up one of my stories.
    Her smile is sad. “Okay, then.” She kisses the top of my head.
    “Can I turn the TV back on now?”
    She unties her apron as she stares. “Did you take your bath yet?”
    “No.” I sigh. The tiredness in her voice says there’s no use arguing. I trudge toward the hallway.
    “By the way, I don’t want to hear you say that people hate you,” she calls out. “How could anyone on earth possibly hate
you
?”
    I wish she could understand my world. But it would be like trying to explain to a whale what it’s like to live in the forest.

CHAPTER 6
    T r i p l e - S i d e d C o i n
    Travis opens the door of the pawn shop in town and waves me in ahead of him. The bell on the door announces our arrival as it hits the glass. The dusty smell of the place triggers a bunch of memories. Good times. Together times. When Dad and Grandpa would take Travis and me out looking for coins. Numbers and money are something Travis and I can do well. So we took to it fast.
    Grandpa loved the dustiest stores best because they were the ones that would have uncracked rolls of coins in the backs of their safes. When the store owners would trade the old rolls for new bills, we’d open them at home to see what was inside. Sometimes we’d find a buffalo nickel, a Mercury dime, or an Indian head penny. It was like a little bit of Christmas. Being here makes me ache to go back in time.
    The man behind the counter doesn’t say hello. He rolls a toothpick back and forth in his mouth with his tongue. In one way it is completely impressive, and in another, the grossest thing I’ve ever seen.
    Travis rests his fingertips on the glass counter,