Free Me and Fat Glenda by Lila Perl Page A

irritated. “Did you tell her I was to blame?”
    â€œOh Sara. Never! What made you think that?”
    â€œWell, I know I was in a way. If I hadn’t tripped you by accident. . .”
    â€œUh-uh. I told her it was all my fault. I honestly did. In fact, I’m giving up three weeks of my allowance money to pay for having that lamp fixed. Sara, what kind of a friend do you think I am?”
    That was a good question. What kind of friend was Glenda anyway? A jealous friend? A possessive friend? A sneaky friend? Or really a good friend?
    â€œBut you still didn’t say what you told your mother about how it happened?”
    â€œOh . . .” Her voice dropped. “Like this . . . I wasshowing you around the house and my arm accidentally brushed something off the table and then when I bent down to get it . . . you know.”
    â€œBut why, Glenda? I know you said you weren’t supposed to open the front door without looking, but you could have said you did look first and it was this boy you knew. I mean, it really was this kid Roddy’s fault, so why should you take the blame for him?”
    â€œLook Sara,” Glenda said indignantly, “I don’t squeal on people. Even on people like that. So forget it. It’s okay. Really.”
    Funny. That was exactly what Mary Lou had called Glenda—a squealer.
    I was anxious to know what Glenda meant about “some things” my mother had said to her mother. But we didn’t have a chance to talk about that until Wednesday afternoon after school.
    We were sitting on the front steps of our house. Glenda leaned confidentially toward me and said, “Well, when Mom came back from your house yesterday, I could tell her feelings were hurt.”
    â€œAbout what?”
    â€œThe beef stew she brought over. It seems your Mom told her right off that she and your Pop wouldn’t be eating it.”
    â€œI know. But I ate it and it was great. I’ll be sure totell your Mom and thank her.”
    â€œOh, she’ll like that,” Glenda said absently. “Another thing, though. She said your Mom acted kind of snippy. Did she?”
    I sighed. “Well, Inez is like that sometimes. She doesn’t mean anything by it. I guess she got upset because your Mom criticized a lot of things. Not directly. But in a sort of roundabout way. And I could tell it was annoying my Mom.”
    â€œLike what things?”
    â€œOh you know. The way the house is fixed up inside, the junk my Pop collects for his sculpture, the garbage truck. Your Mom even thought my Pop was in the junk-collecting business to make extra money because he wasn’t getting paid enough at the college!” We both spluttered into laughter at that one. “She said it when my Mom was out of the room, but I know Inez heard it.”
    Glenda was shaking her head. “I guess maybe they won’t be friends,” she nudged me with her shoulder, “like us.”
    â€œI guess they won’t.”
    â€œWell, don’t worry about it, Sara. Your family may be different, but I like the way you call your Mom and Dad by their first names. And it really must be adventurous, sleeping on mats on the floor and all that. Almost like camping out, instead of having everything so stiff and . . . and arranged. Like we do.”
    I sat there thinking over what Glenda had just said. I suppose she meant it. But she didn’t have to live in my house.
    â€œCamping out and all that is fine,” I said. “But there comes a time, for me anyway, when I want to go home . So I’ll be happy to change places with you any day, Glenda. You can come and live in my house and eat raw food and sit on the floor. And I’ll go over to your place and take my chances on breaking lamps. Just think, if I were there I could be stuffing myself with chocolate cake made from secret recipes, beef stew, fried chicken, barbecued spare-ribs, and cherry-cheesecake ice