Now the ’cyclopedia is open on the katydid page. Katydids are in the order Orthoptera, and they’re really neat. They can be as big as five inches, and their antenna can be twice as long as their whole body. But I still don’t know why the book’s open to that page. I look down at Marco, and my mouth kind of opens by itself.
“No way!” I say to Marco. “You didn’t, not really, did you?” I mean, I like The Velveteen Rabbit and all, but deep, deep down in my heart of hearts, I know Marco’s stuffed and isn’t real and couldn’t have gotten off the bed and looked in my ’cyclopedia, even if I pretended he could. But now . . . I mean . . . it’s like Daddy says, the proof’s in the pudding.
“You wanna look for katydids today, Marco? They hatch in spring, but I guess you already know that since you were reading about them. Let’s get some chow and then we can start looking.”
I put on clean unders and throw my dirty ones and my pj’s in the hamper, then put on some shorts and a T-shirt that has the Avengers on it. I’m not old enough to see that movie yet, but Daddy says he can’t wait until I am, ’cause he thinks I’m gonna love it and he’s gonna watch it with me.
Mommy and Daddy’s door is closed all the way, and Eden’s is mostly closed. I tiptoe down the stairs. Shadow is at the bottom, tail wagging, happy to see me, like he always is. I tell him, “Good boy,” and scratch his neck. He licks my hand and my face, then sniffs at Marco and even gives him a kiss.
I go into the kitchen, and Shadow follows me. He sniffs at me, then trots back to the living room.
I’m not ’llowed to cook anything—the stove is off-limits—but that’s okay, ’cause Mommy makes the best eggs ever. But since she’s still sleeping, and my tummy feels kind of growly, and Marco and me wanna get started on our bug hunt, I’m gonna have to find something to eat that doesn’t need to be cooked.
I carry Marco to the fridge. The door is hard to open, but I finally do it. Then me and Marco kind of just stare at all the food inside. There’s a plastic tub with leftover Auntie Ruth lasagna, and it’s so good I’d eat it, even cold, but I’m not sure about lasagna for breakfast. I pull the orange juice carton from the door and set it on the counter. A bag of bread is on the second shelf, but I’m too short to get it. I wish Marco would turn real right this minute so he could climb up and get the bread. I ask him if he will, but he just smiles at me, and I know that he won’t turn real until I’m asleep, if he even really did, which I don’t know if I believe for sure, but then how did my ’cyclopedia pages get turned?
I grab the step stool from the pantry and put it in front of the fridge, then Marco and me climb on it and I grab the bread. I’m not ’llowed to use the toaster, either, at least not without a grown-up in the room. But that’s okay. I can just eat the bread without toasting it. Toasting takes time, and Marco and I are in a hurry.
I’m also not ’llowed to go out front of the house if Mommy and Daddy are asleep upstairs. But that’s okay, too, ’cause Marco and me can start in the backyard. But, for sure, if Mommy and Daddy aren’t awake by the time Marco and me finish scoping the backyard, I am gonna start to make some real big noise.
SIXTY-THREE
EDEN
Wouldn’t you know it? Every morning Mom has to wake me up to get ready for school, but the first official day of vacation, I’m awake at seven thirty. I so do not want to be up right now. I’m supposed to be sleeping in. That’s one of the vacation rules.
Jonah’s up already. I heard him leave his room a few minutes ago, whispering to that silly stuffed monkey like it’s real. Duh. That is so kindergarten.
I feel a teensy bit bad about how mean I was to Jonah yesterday. Mom and Dad always say that if you feel bad about something, you should apologize. Maybe when I get up, I’ll go downstairs and tell him I’m sorry. Mom and Dad also say “there’s no time like the present.” I groan and pull one of my pillows over my head. It’s dark under the pillow, but after a few seconds I, like, can’t even breathe, so I shove it away. I groan again, big and loud this time, then shove my covers off and get out of bed.
The good thing is, even though it’s only seven thirty, I don’t have to get dressed. I can stay in my nightie all morning if I want. That’s a Saturday rule and a vacation rule, so it’s a double rule.
I go into the bathroom and pee, and even though I didn’t think I really needed to, I pee for a really long time. I brush my teeth and look at myself in the mirror, and after I spit out the toothpaste, I start making funny faces at myself. I like doing that. It’s fun. Dad likes to make funny faces at me, but I don’t know if he practices them in the mirror. That doesn’t seem like a very Dad thing to do, but he can be really weird and silly and even though it’s kind of embarrassing, I like it. I would totally die if he made one of his faces in front of my friends, but in private, it’s okay.
When I’m done with my teeth, I go back into my room and take off my undies, get a fresh pair, and put it on. This pair is my favorite—pink and yellow with little blue stars—and I’m glad Mom washed it because it is the perfect pair of undies for the first day of vacation. I know that sounds dumb, but it’s true. These ones are comfy and totally cute; they don’t ride up or cut across my waist or anything.
I could probably get dressed, but, no, it’s Saturday and vacation, so I’m not going to, just on principle.
I walk down the hall and see that Mom and Dad’s door is shut. I go down the stairs and see Shadow standing by the window in the living room, his head covered with the curtains, staring outside. When I get to the bottom of the stairs, he turns and sees me, then snorts, like he always does, and races over to me.
Carlee has a Chihuahua, a little dog named Cretin who looks kind of like a rat. Ava doesn’t like dogs at all. She says she got bit by one when she was three, but I kind of don’t believe her, because I don’t remember anything from when I was three. I think she just doesn’t like dogs, and I can’t wrap my brain around that, because how can you not like dogs?
Shadow kisses my face and my arm and puts his paw in my hand. I pat his head and stroke his fur and tell him I love him. I used to tell Mom and Dad I loved them, like, all the time, but I kind of stopped doing that. But I always tell Shadow I love him. I don’t know why I stopped with Mom and Dad. Maybe because my friends made fun of Isabelle Cook because she told her mom she loved her right in front of everyone in line for class.
I realize that’s pretty stupid, that I should tell Mom and Dad I love them, because I do, and I think it would make them happy, even more happy than it makes Shadow, who doesn’t really understand the words but kind of understands the meaning.