Free True (. . . Sort Of) by Katherine Hannigan Page B

she did her homework. “Huh.”
    Sometimes, when Delly couldn’t sleep, she’d go to Clarice.
    About midnight she showed up at Clarice’s side of the bed. The woman was deep asleep.
    Delly crouched so her mouth was near her mother’s ear. “Ma,” she rasped.
    Clarice’s eyes flipped open. “Delly,” she groaned.
    â€œIf I asked Ms. Silcox for brownies, you think she’d give me some?” Delly asked.
    Clarice, still groggy, murmured, “Probably so.”
    â€œIf I asked Clayton Fitch to borrow his canoe, you think he’d let me?”
    â€œNo,” she told her truly.
    â€œIf I asked you if I could take a boat down the river, would you say yes?”
    Suddenly Clarice was wide awake. “Absolutely not,” she shouted.
    â€œWhat if I asked you to take me?”
    That calmed her. “Probably so,” she said.
    â€œAnd I wouldn’t have gotten in trouble.”
    â€œNope.”
    It was quiet. Then Clarice had a question. “Delly?”
    â€œMa.”
    â€œCan I go back to sleep?”
    â€œProbably so,” Delly answered.
    â€œâ€™Night, Ma,” she whispered at the door.
    â€œNnnn . . .” Clarice replied.

Chapter 29
    F riday morning Delly jerked awake. “Bawlgrammit,” she gasped, “I didn’t ask her not to tell.”
    â€œOne, please don’t tell, two, please don’t tell . . .” She counted as she pulled on her pants. Then she stopped. “She won’t tell.” She gulped. “She’ll write it.
    â€œThree, please don’t write, four, please don’t write . . .” She dashed down the stairs.
    She was ricocheting around the kitchen, grabbing her bag and throwing things in her mouth. She had to get to school early and talk to Ferris Boyd, before Ms. McDougal did.
    â€œWhat’s going on in there?” Clarice called.
    Any other day, Delly would have hollered, “I’m out of here!” and run at the door. And Clarice would have arrested her. “Hold it! You go back to your room and begin again.” It would have been ten minutes of starting over, leaving the bad taste of trouble in both their mouths.
    But this day something in Delly’s left pocket pinched her. “Ouch,” she yelped. She pulled the paper out. You didn’t ask, it reminded her.
    Delly chewed the mess in her mouth. Then she asked, “Ma, can I go to school early? I got something to take care of.”
    The question cast a spell on Clarice; she couldn’t say no to it. “All right,” she agreed.
    â€œI’m coming, too,” RB announced.
    â€œI’m running,” she warned him.
    â€œI know.”
    They sprinted all the way, burping up their breakfasts. Delly slowed to drop RB at his door, but he didn’t stop. So she did.
    â€œWhat?” she said.
    â€œWhat what?” he replied.
    â€œGet in there,” she ordered.
    â€œI’m coming with you.”
    The worry was making her wild. She grabbed RB to hurl him into his room. But there it was again, pinching her.
    She took a breath. “RB,” she asked, “will you let me do this on my own?”
    She wasn’t yelling or nocussing him. She was being nice. “What’s wrong with you?” he wondered.
    â€œPlease?” she said.
    The questions charmed RB, too. “Okay,” he told her.
    And she was gone.
    Delly stood by the back exit. The first bell rang, but no pale, skinny girl showed up. The second bell rang.
    I’ll wait, she decided.
    Ms. Niederbaum disagreed. “You don’t want to be late.” She grabbed Delly’s shoulder and guided her to class.
    â€œShe must be out today,” Delly murmured as they got to the room.
    But Ferris Boyd was already there, slouched over her desk.
    â€œShikes,” Delly exclaimed, and started toward her.
    â€œMs. Pattison.” Lionel Terwilliger stopped her. “We are ready to commence. Assume