Free Pack of Dorks by Beth Vrabel

shrugged.
    “Listen,” she said, and closed her book. “No one stares at a picture like that without having something bothering them.”
    I realized my library book was open to the page where the pack is attacking the scapegoat wolf. I sighed. “Things are sort of crappy at school.”
    “Kids giving you a hard time?” Grandma asked. Her voice was gruff.
    I nodded, angry at the way my eyes were about to spill over with tears. I didn’t want to cry because of stupid Amanda and stupid Sheldon. And especially not because of even stupider Henry or Tom. And never because of Becky.
    Almost like Becky knew I was thinking mean thoughts of her, the phone started ringing with her daily guess-who-hates-you-now call.
    “Ignore it,” Grandma said. We didn’t speak until the phone stopped ringing.
    I felt Grandma’s heavy hand on top of my head, but just for a second. Then she swiped my popcorn bowl and scooted closer beside me, munching on the few peanut butter-covered kernels that remained. “Kids can be jerks.” (Well, she used a different word than jerks. But I’m not allowed to say that word.)
    I nodded. “You can say that again.”
    So she did. I laughed a little, and she smiled wide for a second. Then her hand weighed down my shoulder for a minute and suddenly I was crying.
    She let me carry on for a little bit, then said, “The thing is, Lucy, they don’t know they’re being jerks. And they won’t know until they’re a lot older. I was the biggest jerk you could imagine when I was your age.”
    “You were?” Maybe I was surprised at first, but after thinking about it for a bit, it was pretty easy to imagine Grandma as an angry Amanda-like kid.
    She nodded. “I made life horrible for a lot of people who didn’t deserve it.”
    “Why?”
    Grandma shrugged, sending her beaded necklaces rattling. “Because I could.” She sighed. “It made me feel better, stronger, to make other people feel weak.” She pointed again at the picture of the scapegoat attack. “I guess it’s not all that unusual.”
    “But it’s stupid,” I snapped. Just because animals do it, too, doesn’t make it okay.
    “Absolutely stupid,” Grandma agreed. She shifted a little and glanced over at Molly, who was back asleep. “So, how’d they find out?”
    “Find out what?” I asked, confused.
    “About Molly.” Grandma’s voice was quiet and gruff again.
    Again I felt anger rush through me. “They didn’t,” I said. “It’s not about Molly. Believe it or not, it’s about me .” I slammed shut the book, popped off the couch, and stomped as hard as I could to my room. I didn’t even come out when Mom and Dad returned an hour later. I just pretended to be asleep, all through their happy cooing to precious Molly and her whole, healthy heart.

    “Rise and shine! It’s a beautiful day!”
    I pulled my blankets over my head and rolled away from my open door and Mom’s smiling face. “Go away. It’s Saturday.”
    “A bright, sunshiny Saturday!” I heard her humming down the hallway and soon smelled coffee brewing and bread toasting. I don’t like toast, and while coffee might smell good, it tastes like liquid earwax. Or at least how I think liquid ear wax would taste. I’ve never tasted ear wax, though I guess I could ask April if it tastes like coffee. When her nose is empty, she moves on to her ears. Then I remembered that even April wasn’t talking to me at the moment, and I buried myself under my blankets again.
    Whoosh ! The blankets were rudely yanked back and my window blinds pulled up. Bright sunshine and cold air hit me.
    “Huzzah!” Dad yelled. I groaned. “Up and at them, Lucy bean!”
    “What is wrong with you and Mom today? It’s Saturday! The day we sleep in!”
    Dad answered with a tickle attack, his fingers tapping the little triangle inside my shoulders and making me laugh even though I was still mad. He’s very good at making people laugh when they want to be angry instead. “Your mother and I