Quite an Undertaking - Devon's Story Read Online Free PDF Page A

sighed. “Long.”
    “I’m sure, but you have the whole weekend to regroup.”
    “That’s true. When are you going back to Plattsburgh?”
    “Sunday. After dinner.” Missy usually went back right after lunch, but I think this time she didn’t want to leave the family. We all had a lot of “regrouping” to do.
    “Cool.” We sat in silence for a moment. I wanted to ask her so many things, but I didn’t know where to start. Then I remembered Mrs. Gibson in first period Journalism. “Mrs. Gibson was on my case today.”
    “Uh, oh. Was she in one of her moods?”
    “Yeah.” I laughed. “She had those moods when you were in her class?”
    “Oh, yeah. No one was safe. Not even Missy Raines, editorin-chief.”
    “Really?” That I could not believe. Mrs. Gibson thought the sun rose and set around Missy.
    “Yeah, even me, but whatever she’s on your case about probably isn’t too earth shattering. What did she say?”
    “My environment article was due Wednesday—”
    “The one about Dad’s company?”
    “Yeah, and I still hadn’t finished it. You know because...” I gestured toward Grandma’s room.
    Missy’s eyes softened. “Um hmm.”
    “Mrs. Gibson came over to me during class while I was working on it and said something like ‘Let’s talk about your future with the newspaper.’” I used air quotes around the word future. “Can you believe it? I’ve never been late with an article before. In fact—” I poked the air with my finger, “I’ve even rewritten articles that other people have messed up. It’s not fair.”
    “She sounded serious? Never mind, I’m sure she was. I know how she is when she gets something in her head. Well, you should finish your article and make sure it’s absolutely pristine. Make a point of uploading it right at the beginning of the period on Monday.”
    “Yeah, I will. I have no life anyway. I’m home on a Friday night, aren’t I?”
    “What’s Gail doing?”
    “Oh, she has Travis now, so she doesn’t need me tagging along all the time. Fifth wheel and all.”
    “Oh, Devon. There’s somebody out there for you.”
    “Pfft.” I rolled my eyes. “Sure there is.”
    “Devon!” She smacked my leg playfully. “Stop that. With that attitude, no one will ever be interested. Is there anybody on your mind?”
    How could she ask me that question? She had radar better than Mom’s. She couldn’t know, could she? I felt myself blush.
    When I didn’t answer she said quietly, “Devon, look, whoever they are would have to be crazy not to want to go out with you.”
    “Thanks, but you’re my sister. You’re not qualified to judge.” I stuck my tongue out at her in a most mature manner.
    She didn’t go for the bait. “Listen, you’re a beautiful girl. Smart and funny. Have you called them?”
    That was the second time Missy used the plural pronoun. They. Them. As a journalist, Missy knew the difference between the words “them” and “him.” Missy knew grammar. My eyes got wider when I realized that Missy knew. Missy knew I was gay. Somehow, she had figured it out.
    I stammered, “Uh, no. It’s just a new thing.”
    Missy pulled the scrunchie out of her hair and shook her head to let her hair flow free. We had the same parents, but Missy got the great hair, the great looks, the great everything. I got nothing. I didn’t mean to, but I sighed.
    “What’s the matter, Squirt?”
    “My hair sucks.”
    She reached over and looked at the ends. “Your hair looks great. No split ends. Nice and shiny.”
    I laughed. “You mean I have a nice coat?”
    “No!” She smacked my leg playfully again. “You take care of yourself, and it shows, dufous.”
    I hadn’t thought about this in a long time, but I mustered up the courage and asked, “Missy, can you put those highlights in my hair again?”
    “The auburn tint? Oh, like we did last summer?”
    “Yeah.”
    “Sure, I think I still have a box around here. C’mon.” She got up and practically ran