Free Okay for Now by Gary D. Schmidt

looked up at the moon. Then we headed on home by
    way of this ice cream place around the corner and down a block from the library. We had black-and-
    whites, my mother and me. And I paid for them.
    You know how that felt?
    My brother came upstairs later that night, while I was thinking about Audubon's birds, and buying a
    black-and-white for my mother, and planting daisies with Lil Spicer, and looking out the window at
    the spectacular moon.
    Remember how I said that when you're feeling good, something always happens to wreck it all?
    Remember?
    "Hey, Douggo," he said. I think you can figure out for yourself how my brother said Douggo. "Hey,
    Douggo, what are you doing with yourself these days?"
    "Nothing," I said.
    "That's not what I heard," he said. "I heard you were going to the library."
    "So?"
    He started to laugh the way you'd imagine someone with a twisted criminal mind would laugh.
    "So, you don't even know how to read," he said.
    "I do too know how to read."
    The twisted criminal mind laughed again. "Douggo," he said, "if you had to read directions to pee
    in a toilet, we'd be spreading newspapers for you all over the house."
    Okay, here comes this weird moment. I know I should have jumped off the bed and stomped across
    the room and flattened him against the wall and punched his lights out. Now let's see you read, I
    would have said. If Joe Pepitone had been in the room right then, that's what he would have done.
    But I didn't think about that at first. At first, all I could think about was the Arctic Tern, heading
    down into the water, about to crash, his neck yanked back because he knows he's going to smack into
    it. The eye.
    And then—and this is the even weirder part—I thought of Lucas and wondered where he was and
    if he was looking out from wherever he was, if he was seeing the spectacular moon like I was seeing
    it.
    Then my stupid brother took off his stupid sweaty socks and lobbed them over at me. "Hold on to
    these until I need them tomorrow," he said. I threw them on the floor. More twisted criminal laughter.
    "It's all right, Douggo," he said. "Don't get mad. I'm sure lots of kids in the eighth grade can't read."
    I turned over. He was snoring a long time before I finally fell asleep.

    ***
After the deliveries the next Saturday, I decided to see if the Marysville Free Public Library had a
    back door, in case someone with a twisted criminal mind was waiting for me out front.
    It turned out that the library did have a back door—locked, of course. But it didn't matter. My
    brother wasn't waiting out front. Probably the pack had found some new place to prowl.
    So I climbed the six steps and went in by the front door. Mrs. Merriam was at her desk, cataloging
    like crazy because I guess it's the most important thing in the whole wide world. She had her loopy
    glasses on, and when she looked up and saw me, she smiled. Sort of. It was the kind of smile that said
    I know something you don't. The kind of smile my brother would get when he knew that my father
    was looking for me. The smile of a twisted criminal mind.
    But who knows? Maybe something lousy had just happened to her. Maybe she was lonely. Maybe
    she hated stupid Marysville too. Who knows? So maybe I could, once, try being nice to her. Once.
    What did I have to lose?
    "Hey, Mrs. Merriam," I said. Pretty cool.
    "Hey, yourself," she said. "You're not always going to get everything you want, you know. That's
    not what life is like. Maybe after today, you'll understand that."
    See what trying to be nice will get you?
    I went upstairs to see if Mr. Powell was with the Arctic Tern. I held the rolled paper in my hand.
    The one with the feathers.
    "You don't need to run up the stairs," hollered Mrs. Merriam.
    Mr. Powell was by the case, looking down into it. His hands were on the glass like he was trying to
    press it down.
    "Hi, Mr. Powell," I said.
    He looked up. "Hello, Mr. Swieteck," he said. He puffed his breath out and ruffled the light hairs
    all