Molly McGinty Has a Really Good Day Read Online Free PDF Page A

up with approving eyes from Brenda/Benet's impressively configured portfolio. Well, she thought, she may be as flaky as Irene, but at least she appreciates the importance of structure.

Molly and Mary Margaret huddled together at a table in the corner of the library during their study period. Molly had ditched Irene after math, sending her, with a sigh of relief, to the teachers’ lounge.
    Third period was the highlight of both Mary Margaret's and Molly's day. Mary Margaret looked forward to an entire hour of gazing at Jake, and Molly spent the hour sprucing up her notebook. Although she stole peeks at Jake, she prided herself on the discipline she showed in refraining fromwatching him except during those brief peek breaks every seven minutes.
    Since Molly now feared that her notebook was lost forever, she was concentrating on cobbling together a replacement. She felt better immediately once she had a to-do list in front of her again.
    “Oh, look.” Mary Margaret poked Molly's arm. Outside.”
    Molly looked through the window and saw Irene holding the hands of two small kindergarteners from the school next door, who were leading her along the sidewalk with the rest of their class. Irene waved merrily and pointed out Molly and Mary Margaret to her new friends. Thirty tiny faces turned to face them and, at a sign from Irene, thirty kindergarteners made a perfectly synchronized bow in Molly's direction.
    Molly cringed and buried her head in her notebook.
    “Nuts,” she whispered to Mary Margaret. “Irene will probably bring home a plaster of Paris handprint or a papier-mâché globe.”
    “I don't know why you're so hard on Mrs. Flynn, MoUy. She's a hoot.”
    “You wouldn't think she was so great, Mags, if she was your grandmother.”
    “Yes, I would. One of my grandmothers keeps calling me Jeffrey. She gets me confused with my brother. And my other grandmother makes me call her Mrs. Blake—she says being called Grandmother will ruin her golf game. I love Mrs. Flynn—she's the most fun ever.”
    “You only think she's so wonderful because she won that bet with your dad and made him raise your allowance. I feel sorry for him—who knew she could arm wrestle like that?”
    “What's so awful about having a fun grandma?”
    “She's … well, she's impossible to live with, that's what. For instance, she talks to everyone— do you know who came to dinner last Sunday? Father James, State Representative Wolfe and some guy who makes dirty movies. Nobody ate a thing. Everyone screamed and hollered about morality, the First Amendment and profit margins all night.”
    “Dirty movies? Really? How'd she meet him?” Mary Margaret's eyes were huge with awe.
    “She says she meets lots of interesting people in her business. And that's another thing, that crazy job of hers. Do you know what she did last week? Called all around town trying to find an animal psychiatrist. And do you know why? Because Clover the racing turtle was depressed.”
    “Oh, that's too bad. How's he feeling now?”
    “Mary Margaret, it's a turtle. Turtles don't get depressed. They don't race, either.”
    “Mrs. Flynn must have had a good reason for thinking Clover was sad.”
    “Yeah, something about losing his competitive edge. Irene claims she could tell that Clover deliberately threw his last race at the county fair two weeks ago.”
    “Well, she would know, Mol. I mean, she
is
a professional. She told me she's got the largest agency in this part of the country.”
    “That's because no one in their right mind is a talent representative for animals.”
    “They're more than animals, Molly, they're clients.”
    “What's the difference?”
    “A fifteen-percent commission.”
    “Geez, Mags, you're even starting to sound like her.”
    “Thanks. Mrs. Flynn is the most interesting person I've ever known.”
    “She told me once that she used to be afraid that nothing interesting would ever happen to her,” Molly said. “I'm afraid interesting things