Free Molly McGinty Has a Really Good Day by Gary Paulsen Page B

Braves’ emergence in the nineties.”
    Just as Molly began to worry that she wouldbe saddled with her grandmother's bag all day, she heard the kitchen door open downstairs.
    She took a deep breath and braced herself for the invasion of the Marys.
    Mary Margaret Blake, Mary Pat Montgomery and Mary Bridget Sheehan burst through Molly's bedroom door in a blur of navy blue plaid school uniforms.
    “Hi, Molly.”
    “Hi, Molly.”
    “Hi, Molly.”
    “Mary Margaret. Mary Pat. Mary Bridget. Have any of you seen my notebook?”
    Molly and the Marys had spent their school days together since kindergarten and rode on the same bus because they lived in four houses in a row on their street. At least one of the Marys was in every one of Molly's classes.
    “Good morning, Mary Margaret—” Irene started.
    “Mary Pat.”
    “Whatever.”
    “Excuse me, but we were trying to figure out if anyone had seen my notebook,” Molly reminded everyone.
    “Sweetie, you're going to have to learn how to go with the flow. It's the secret of life,” Irene said.
    “I thought you said the secret of life was having the right shoe for every occasion.” Mary Bridget gazed doubtfully at her own scuffed loafers.
    “No, the secret of life is going with the flow,” Irene said firmly. “But you can never have enough shoes—that's true. I think you mixed up what I said, Mary Pat.”
    “Mary Bridget.”
    “Whatever.”
    “About my notebook …”
    The oven timer rang at that moment and Irene dashed downstairs to the kitchen, calling, “Breakfast is ready.”
    Molly took another deep breath. Before the day was over, she was sure she'd have to hyperventilate just to get enough air to stay calm.
    “Mary Margaret. Mary Pat. Mary Bridget. As you know, my notebook disappeared yesterday and I
still
can't find it.” Molly paused, waiting for the full impact of her words to sink in.
    Mary Pat turned pale, Mary Bridget let out asmall squeak of horror and Mary Margaret sat down hard on the bed.
    “Oh, Mol… that's, well… that's just about the worst thing I ever heard. I was just sure the notebook would have turned up before school this morning.” Mary Bridget looked as if she might actually burst into tears.
    Mary Pat said carefully, “You had it yesterday in science. I know because I asked if I could look at that laminated periodic table of elements you have. But,” she quickly added, “I gave it back to you. I did. I know I did.” She looked frantically at the other Marys for support. They nodded vigorously.
    “I've retraced my steps,” Molly said as she began to pace. The Marys sat silently, barely breathing, only their eyes moving as they watched Molly walk back and forth.
    “And I know that I brought my notebook home. I clearly remember setting it down by the back door when I got home from school yesterday. It was a Thursday, so that means I had to bring the empty garbage cans back to the garage.”
    The Marys nodded solemnly. Being neighbors, they had trash collection on the same day.
    “But”—Molly wheeled around to face them— “when I returned to the house, before I could check off ‘return cans to garage’ on my Thursday to-do list, I got distracted. You know Irene fixes Mrs. Fritz's hair in our kitchen every Thursday before bingo.”
    “How's she doing?” Mary Margaret interrupted. “My great-uncle Charlie told me Mrs. Fritz has the most bingo wins at the weekly sixty-and-over game in the church basement. Great-uncle Charlie says that everyone swears that her good luck is because your grandmother does her hair every week. Maybe”—she looked thoughtful—“we should ask her to do
our
hair before big tests and things. Maybe Mrs. Flynn has the lucky touch.”
    Molly crossed her arms in front of her chest and tapped her foot impatiently. “That's not the point, Mary Margaret. The fact that my notebook has been missing for”—she checked her watch—“sixteen hours, seventeen minutes and four, no, five seconds now is