The Rule of Threes, Marcy Campbell [short novels to read .TXT] 📗

of quit talking a while back. I haven’t seen her since I was maybe five or something.” He looked at me quizzically. “Are Robert’s parents . . .”

“Oh, his parents both died. Before I was born,” I said. “He has a brother out in California, but we never see him.”

Tony brought his hand back to his mouth to chew on his thumbnail. I noticed the skin around it was red and jagged. I felt bad, all of a sudden realizing that I’d just told Tony his half-grandparents were dead. I wished Tony had more living relatives around him, more people looking out for him, though maybe I felt that way because he looked so small and helpless at the moment, being eaten by the beanbag and all.

I was surprised that I was already getting used to Tony being in my room. But I had homework to finish, so I sat down at my desk and opened my science book. I always liked to do homework on Saturdays, sometimes Friday nights, even. Otherwise, I couldn’t enjoy my Sundays.

“Maggie!” Mom called up the stairs. “We need to get ready to go to Grandma’s.”

“Coming!” I yelled to Mom, and then said to Tony, “I guess I better go.”

He struggled to get out of the beanbag, so I held out my hand to him.

“Thanks,” he said. “Have fun at dinner.” He followed me out of my room.

“Yeah, you, too,” I said, stupidly. “I mean, have a good talk with your mom.”

He gave a little wave, then disappeared into the spare bedroom. I started downstairs, then came back up, closed the door to my room, and went back down again to meet my mom.

In the car, Mom told me Grandma was getting more forgetful, and that she might have to look into an assisted living facility soon, but we weren’t going to worry about that tonight. I didn’t really know what my mom was talking about.

“Are we going to tell Grandma about Tony?” I asked.

“No!” Mom said quickly. “Not tonight. Okay? Let’s just . . . have a nice evening.”

The restaurant was great. It was just like I remembered from Grandma’s last birthday, and I ordered the same thing: never- ending penne pasta with marinara sauce. I ate two bowls.

“Don’t you want to be a little more adventurous?” Mom asked.

“Nope,” I said, smiling with a mouthful of bread.

“She knows what she likes,” Grandma said, and winked at me. “That’s important.”

I did miss Dad being there, though honestly, Grandma always acted a little more formal when Dad was around, so it was actually nice to have her so relaxed. Dad joked that Grandma acted that way because she’d always wanted Mom to marry her first serious boyfriend, but Mom said that wasn’t true, so whatever. It wasn’t so bad having a girls’ night.

I talked a lot about the contest, and Grandma asked me a bunch of questions, like when would I find out which room or hallway we’d have (this week) and how was the voting being done (every student would have a chance to see the rooms and hallways and cast a vote, and Mr. V said he wanted 100 percent participation) and who would be helping me (Olive, and, hopefully, Rachel).

“Will you have any kind of theme?” Grandma asked. She hated when rooms were “matchy-matchy.”

“I don’t know. I guess it depends what room we have.” I was still hoping for the main hallway because every kid in the school would see it, multiple times, so that was sure to help get us votes.

Grandma didn’t eat much, just a salad, and I’d noticed Mom frown when she ordered. Grandma was already pretty skinny; she could have used some all-you-can-eat breadsticks. We did talk her into a big slice of chocolate cake, though, and Mom and I got one, too.

“As long as you don’t tell them it’s my birthday,” Grandma whispered. “I don’t want any ridiculous spectacle from the waiters.”

So we kept it a secret, but before Grandma took her first bite, I squeezed her hand under the table and said, “Make a wish.” She smiled and closed her eyes, then opened them and pretended to blow out an invisible candle. Then we all dug in, and for the rest of the night, I wondered what she’d wished for, but I knew she could never tell me because then it wouldn’t come true.

On the way home from the restaurant, after dropping off Grandma, I had an idea about decorating lockers. What if I did some kind of mural that was removable? I could use that peel-and-stick wallpaper. Grandma had decorated a dresser with that once, and it looked awesome. I decided to give her a quick call and ask her advice.

The phone rang for a while. Grandma didn’t have a cell phone, and her landline didn’t have an answering machine, so it was hard to catch her. Plus, she sometimes took her hearing aids out and didn’t even realize the phone was ringing. I’d heard Mom get angry with her about that recently. She’d said, “How am I supposed to know you’re okay when you don’t pick up the phone?”

Eventually, Grandma answered.

“Grandma, I had so much fun tonight!” I said loudly, just in case she didn’t have the hearing aids in.

“Who is this?” Her voice was thin and watery.

“It’s Maggie, Grandma.” She didn’t say anything. “Your granddaughter?” Did she know more than one Maggie? “We just had dinner together!”

“My what?” came the weak voice. Was she joking?

I just stood there. What was I supposed to say now? “Um . . . I said, it’s your granddaughter . . . Maggie.”

“My granddaughter?” she replied, after a long pause.

I didn’t know what to say. I made my way downstairs, my phone to my ear. I walked past the living room and saw my dad and Tony sitting on the couch, staring at Dad’s cell phone on the coffee table as though they were expecting it to do a trick.

“Who is this?” Grandma said, and I quickly answered, “Just a moment, please.”

Mom was in the kitchen. I handed her my