Rule of Three Read Online Free PDF Page A

so bad about Stevie sharing some of the spotlight?
    Me : Have you heard that girl sing? Her voice is ten times better than mine. She can sing do-re-mi and it makes you feel all gooey inside. Even if the song is some stupid oldie from the radio, to hear her sing it, it breaks your heart and makes you want to cry.
    Sock Monkey : Don’t you think you’re exaggerating?
    Me : Ha! I can hear her practicing scales and stuff when she goes down into the basement. She thinks nobody can hear, but her voice comes straight up through the heating vent.
    Sock Monkey : If you open the vent all the way, put your ear up against it, and listen really hard, you mean.
    Me : Well, yeah!
    Sock Monkey : So you’re afraid she’ll get the lead, because she’s so good at singing?
    Me : Duh! What have I been saying? Have you even been listening to a word I said?
    Sock Monkey : Sorry. Just asking. Well, she may be really good at singing, but you’re really good at acting, right? So, do your best. You have the acting thing down, now you just have to work on your singing. Practice a lot and stuff.
    Me : You’re right. I’ll just have to work really hard at it. Come to think of it, I did see a sign up at school about a voice coach. Maybe I could get him to help me, give me some tips.
    Sock Monkey : That’s a great idea! But even if you work really hard and do a good job, would it be so bad if Stevie got the lead?
    Me : Yes!
    Sock Monkey : Because she’s your little sister and she beat you at something? Because it means you don’t win? Or because you think you won’t be special anymore?
    Me : (Quiet.) No comment.
    Sock Monkey : Remember: you’ll always be you. Nobody can take that away.
    Me : How’d you get so smart?
    Sock Monkey : Hanging around you, I guess.
    Me : You must be a firstborn in your sock monkey family.
    Sock Monkey : I guess that’s it!

     

 
    The next day, Alex and I stayed mad at each other. It was all I could think about the whole day at school. By the time I got home, I was bouncing off the walls. I had to do something. Anything to quiet the emotions ping-ponging inside me. Run around the block? Maybe. Yell at Alex some more? What good would that do?
    There was only one thing I could think of doing. One thing that always calmed me down. Not because it took my mind off things, but because I could put all my feelings into it.
    Cupcakes.
    I like making cupcakes way more than eating them. I love dreaming up new ones — not just the ingredients and recipes, but names for them that match the way I’m feeling in the moment. I even like measuring stuff — it gives an order to things that feel jumbled in my head. Beating the eggs and mixing the batter is the best part — a great outlet for when I am mad at Alex.
    I thumbed through the chocolate-fingerprinted dessert cookbook. Aha! Flour, sugar, butter, cocoa, milk, vanilla, eggs. The perfect recipe for a perfect batch of I-Hate-My-Sister cupcakes. Devil’s food cupcakes with dark chocolate buttercream frosting. A classic.
    I measured everything but the eggs into a bowl and started mixing. I beat and beat the buttery mixture by hand, stirring and whipping the fluffy batter into a frenzy. Who needed an electric mixer when my own arm was a buzz saw of swirling and whirling motion?
    Just as I was finishing up beating my cake batter into a tornado, the phone rang. It was Olivia. I stretched the not-cordless phone on the kitchen wall over to the counter so I could fold in the eggs. Next I started scooping batter into muffin tins.
    “So, you’re really and truly going out for it, huh?” Olivia asked. “Princess Winnifred , I mean.”
    “Why shouldn’t I? Give me one good reason —”
    “Alex.”
    “I know, but, it just bugs me, I guess. I mean, all this time, I’ve been too afraid to get up onstage, then I finally do it as a favor to Alex and everything, and now it’s like she’s mad that I might like acting.”
    “What a Fink Face.”
    “When I wasn’t into acting,