Friends of a Feather Read Online Free PDF Page A

idea. Actually, two ideas.
    First, I go to my closet and pull out my secret candy bag, which is filled with candy from birthday parties and Halloween and Valentine’s Day. It’s basically filled with any candy that comes my way, and I don’t even have to eat it to get the “feel better” feeling it gives me.
    I like to feel how heavy it is and gaze inside at the different colored wrappers. I like to dribble fun-size Snickers and Dum Dums and Jolly Ranchers through my fingers. It’s like I’m a pirate and the candy is my gold.
    This morning, I dig around in my candy bag until I find my special cinnamon lollipop. The lollipop part is round, like a Ping-Pong ball, only it’s red instead of white. Its wrapper says, “WARNING! CONTAINS FIERY CINNAMON FLAMES!”, which is how I know what flavor it is.
    I go downstairs and put the lollipop in my backpack.
    Now for the second part of my idea. I root through the junk drawer until I find the long stretchy Ace bandage I like to use when I’m wounded. I find Winnie, give her the bandage, and stick out my arm.
    â€œWill you?” I ask.
    â€œOh my gosh,” she says. “Please tell me you’re not pretending to be Maxine.”
    â€œI’m not!”
    â€œAnd yet you want me to wrap your arm up like you’ve got a cast.”
    Yes. Well. But I’m not pretending to be
Maxine
. I’m just being someone—me—with a broken arm.
    Winnie snorts and takes the bandage. “Forearm, elbow, or both?”
    â€œBoth.”
    Sandra glances over from the sink. She’s loading the dishwasher since Mom is upstairs with Baby Maggie. “Why are you pretending to have a broken arm?”
    â€œBecause of Joseph,” Winnie says, answering for me.
    My face gets hot. “No.”
    â€œYeah-huh, because he’s getting all the attention and you want some, too.”
    â€œNo! I
hate
attention!”
    Winnie and Sandra look at each other. They laugh.
    â€œSure, tiger,” Sandra says. “Whatever you say.”
    I clamp my lips together. What I’m going to say is nothing, because I’m mad at them, because they’ve gotten me all confused again.
    When I had the idea of bandaging my arm, I didn’t think,
Ha-ha, and now I will steal all of Joseph’s attention!
    I thought,
Ooo! If I show up with a broken arm, then at least half the class will switch from Joseph and his red hat to me and my cast. Half will bother him, and half will bother me, which means the bothering will be split between us. Which means more of Joseph will be up for grabs. Yeah!
    â€œHey, it’s your arm,” Winnie says. “You can do whatever you want.”
    I know I can, but she doesn't understand. It’s not me doing whatever I want. It’s me trying to even things out. I guess I won’t
mind
if everyone crowds around me and says, “Oh no! Ty! Your poor arm!” I won’t yell at them or anything.
    But I’m almost totally positive that the
real
reason for my cast is to get more Joseph-time for me, and more Ty-time for Joseph. More Joseph-and-Ty-time, period.
    Winnie circles the bandage up and over my arm. She tugs the end tight and tucks it under the top layer. “There. Beautiful.”
    Sandra comes over. She nods her approval and says, “We should sign it.”
    â€œOoo, yeah,” Winnie says.
    Sandra grabs some Sharpies, plonks them on the kitchen table, and calls me over. Winnie joins us. I’m still a little bit mad at Winnie for not knowing the truth of what's inside me, but I sit down with them at the table.
    â€œL-o-l-a” Sandra writes on the bandage, using fancy, loopy cursive.
    â€œWho’s Lola?” I say.
    â€œIt’s to give you an air of mystery,” Sandra says. “‘Who
is
this Lola?’ your friends will ask. ‘Is she French?’”
    Winnie puts her hand to her chest. “And you’ll gaze off into the distance