Jessi's Secret Language Read Online Free PDF Page B

word plural? I mean, if there’s a sign for apple , what’s the sign for apples ? What’s finger spelling? (Mrs. Braddock had forgotten to explain.) And can you string signs into sentences, just like when you’re speaking? (I wasn’t sure, because I couldn’t find signs for the , or an , or a .)
    Even though I knew I had a lot to learn, I decided I liked sign language. It’s very expressive — almost like dancing.

Wednesday
    Brat, brat, brat.
    Okay. We all agree that Jenny is spoiled and a little bratty, but I’ve never minded her too much. At least, not until today. Today she was at her worst. Mostly, she just didn’t want to do anything. She wasn’t dressed for anything fun and she wouldn’t change into play clothes. Finally, I took her outside and we ran into Jessi and the Braddocks! Then Jenny’s brattiness just came pouring out. That kid needs a few lessons in manners. Really. Maybe we should start a class.
    I have to admit that running into Mary Anne Spier and Jenny Prezzioso that afternoon was not the best experience of my life, but I guess it could have been worse. And it absolutely was not Mary Anne’s fault. I bet Jenny was born a brat.
    Oh, well. I’m ahead of myself (again). Mary Anne’s afternoon at the Prezziosos’ house began right after school ended. Mrs. P. let Mary Anne inside, where she found Jenny sitting at the dining room table having a snack. Now, come on. How many kids do you know who get afternoon snacks in the dining room? At our house, it’s strictly kitchen. Usually we don’t even sit down. Becca and I just open the fridge, stand in front of it until we see something we want, take it out, and eat it on the way to our rooms or (in my case) on the way to a baby-sitting job or to Stamford for dance class.
    But Jenny was sitting at the dining room table eating pudding from a goblet with a silver spoon. She was wearing one of her famous lacy dresses. (Mary Anne once told me that she thinks the Prezziosos support the U.S. lace industry all by themselves.) On her feet were white patent leather Mary Janes, and in her hair were silky blue ribbons.
    Now don’t get me wrong. Jenny wasn’t off to a birthday party or anything. Her mother dresses her like that every day. (I hope the time will come when Jenny will rebel and refuse to wear lace anymore. Or ruffles. Or ribbons. Or bows.) Another thing. The Prezziosos are not rich. They’rejust average. But Jenny is their princess, their only child. (They call her their angel.)
    Anyway, Mrs. Prezzioso finally left, and Mary Anne and Jenny were on their own.
    â€œFinish up your pudding, Jen, and then we can play some games,” said Mary Anne brightly.
    â€œI eat slowly,” Jenny informed her. “And don’t call me Jen.”
    (Keep in mind that Jenny is only four.)
    â€œSorry,” Mary Anne apologized. But already her hackles were up, because she added tightly, “I didn’t mean to insult you.”
    Jenny slurped away at her pudding. “All finished,” she announced a minute later, holding out the spoon and goblet.
    â€œGreat,” replied Mary Anne. “Go put them in the sink.” She wasn’t going to do Jenny’s work for her.
    Jenny did so, scowling all the way.
    Mary Anne knew they were off to a bad start and began to feel guilty. “Okay!” she said. “Let’s play a game. How about Candy Land? Or Chutes and Ladders?”
    Jenny put her hands on her hips. “I don’t wanna.”
    â€œThen let’s read. Where’s Squirrel Nutkin ? That’s your favorite.”
    â€œNo, it isn’t, and I don’t wanna read.”
    Jenny and Mary Anne were facing off in the kitchen, Jenny’s hands on her hips.
    â€œI know!” cried Mary Anne. “Finger painting!”
    â€œFinger painting?” Jenny sounded awed. “Really?”
    â€œYes…. If you’ll change into play