Free The Cybil War by Betsy Byars

over the head with an umbrella.
    â€œWell, my mom came in then and woke me up and said, ‘Simon, you were having a nightmare.’ And I said, ‘Yes.’ Then I said, ‘Oh, by the way, I have a date this Saturday,’ in a normal voice as if I had been dating all my life. She said, ‘Oh, with that nice little girl who was over here last week—Cybil Somebody.’ And I said, ‘No, with the tub of blubber.’ End of conversation between me and my mom.”
    Suddenly Simon put his arm around T-Bone and buried his face in the fur of T-Bone’s neck. He hadn’t done this in a long time, but the dog smelled exactly the same, felt exactly the same. He himself felt compelled to act as he used to.
    â€œOh, T-Bone, I don’t want to go,” he said, feeling the childish words coming in a comfortable rush. “I don’t want to go on a date with Harriet Haywood. I don’t want to have dates. T-Bone, help me, bite me, do something, anything. Give me a dog disease. T-Bone, do something!”
    Lick.
    Simon sat up and looked at the dog, “T-Bone, I must say that you have been a real help and consolation in my hour of misfortune. Thank you.”
    Thump.

A Date with Harriet Haywood
    T he day of Simon’s date was beautiful and mild, and Simon made his way to the mall under a cloudless sky.
    He began walking more slowly when he got to the mall parking lot. His determination, which he now estimated to have the size and permanence of an ice cube, began to grow even smaller as he crossed the pavement. He stopped beside a van.
    This would be, he thought suddenly, the absolutely perfect moment for his father to kidnap him. His father could leap from the van, beard flying, snatch him up, toss him inside, and roar off to ancient forests and turquoise mines or wherever real day-to-day living didn’t exist. Only Harriet Haywood, cheated out of her date, would mind. Hands on hips, eyes narrowed, she would say, “I knew he wouldn’t behave!” He shuddered slightly as he left the shelter of the van.
    Suddenly Tony Angotti burst through the mall doors. He ran across the parking lot, dodging cars as if he were on the football field.
    â€œDisaster,” he gasped when he got to Simon. The force of his movement caused them to swing around like children on the playground.
    â€œWhat happened?” Simon asked. His voice rose with sudden hope. “Harriet didn’t come?”
    â€œWorse! They’re waiting outside the theater.” He grabbed Simon’s shoulders and shook him to get the meaning to go down. “I told them inside , you know so we wouldn’t have to pay !”
    â€œWell—”
    â€œAnd now they’re outside !” His eyes shifted to Simon’s pocket. “How much money you got?”
    â€œThree dollars.”
    â€œWell, it’s two dollars to get in, and that’s what I’ve got—two dollars! And even for that I have to stoop down and pretend I’m a child!”
    â€œThat won’t work for Harriet. She’s big, Tony. I was thinking about that last night. She’s—”
    â€œShut up and think!”
    â€œMaybe we should just go home,” Simon said while Tony wrung his hands. “Forget it.”
    â€œWe are not going to forget it,” Tony said firmly. He began pulling Simon toward the mall by the front of his shirt.
    â€œWell, if we haven’t got the money ...”
    â€œWe’ll tell them to go on inside,” Tony said with sudden inspiration. “How does this sound? We’ll tell them you have to buy something in Penney’s for your mother. We’ll tell them to save us some seats. All right now, let’s go in and try it.”
    Cybil and Harriet were waiting—Tony was right—outside the theater. They were both wearing skirts and blouses. This alarmed Simon. He thought the only time girls wore skirts and blouses was to church and on special