The Hard Kind of Promise Read Online Free PDF Page B

who was peeling her banana.
    "Marjorie," she said, "why are you squatting like that?"
    Marjorie took a bite of her banana and then, her mouth still full, said, "I'm a little gassy."
    Sarah felt the blood stop moving in her veins.
    "Gross!" Carly's face crinkled up in disgust.
    "Marjorie!" Sarah couldn't help it.
    "What?" As usual, Marjorie was completely clueless.
    "Farting is heinous," Lizzie said. "If you're going to be farting, you have to sit somewhere else."
    "Well—" Marjorie began.
    "You guys!" Sarah hissed. She knew she had to do something. "Quit talking about farting! Steve Birgantee is looking over here!"
    Steve Birgantee was the most popular boy in the seventh grade. He was tall and played every sport. Also, unlike Alison Mulvaney, he seemed genuinely nice. People really liked him.
    "Oh, God!" Lizzie said, sighing. "Isn't he amazing?"
    "I love how his arms are all veiny," Carly breathed.
    "And how he looks tan, but not like he's
trying
to look tan," Lizzie said. "You know what I mean?"
    Marjorie opened her mouth, but before she could say no, Sarah said, "Exactly." Actually, she had no idea what Lizzie was talking about, but she knew enough to know that when you were trying to make new friends, you had to pretend to understand everything they said. But Marjorie, she was sure, would have no idea. The best thing to do was to make sure Marjorie never got a chance to say anything at all.
    Carly tossed her balled-up lunch bag into a nearby trash can.
    She groaned. "I hate having science right after lunch," she said. "Mayberry talks about molds and fungi, and I almost throw up. What time is it, anyway?"
    Before Sarah could stop her, Marjorie said, "One twenty-three." She said it with an English accent, with her head held up high, as though she were introducing an opera singer to an auditorium full of people in fancy evening clothes.
    "How do you know?" Carly asked. "You don't even have a watch."
    "I can just tell," Marjorie said in her regular voice. "I have an internal clock in my brain. It's one of my gifts."
    "What do you mean, 'gifts'?" Lizzie asked. She sounded skeptical.
    "My mom says it's just one of those things I can do that other people can't. It's almost magical, she says." Marjorie seemed to like that Carly and Lizzie were paying so much attention to her.
    Lizzie glanced at her cell phone, which was on, even though it wasn't supposed to be. Sarah marveled at her nerve. The principal confiscated cell phones if they rang during school hours.
    "It
is
one twenty-three," she said.
    "It's like I'm a robot and I was programmed to always know what time it is," Marjorie said.
    "What are you talking about?" Carly said. "Why do you even want to
be
a robot?"
    Sarah closed her eyes. She knew what was coming.
    "It is one twenty-three," Marjorie said in a staccato, robotic voice. "Now it is one twenty-four." She stood up, held out her arms stiffly, and tilted forward from the waist, then stood up straight. "Warning, Will Robinson! It is one twenty-four. Warning! Warning!"
    Lizzie whispered, "Why is she doing that?"
    "It's from an old TV show.
Lost in Space,
" Sarah said miserably. "It's in black-and-white. There's a robot in it."
    "Make her stop!" Carly whispered.
    Fortunately, at that moment the bell rang. At one twenty-five exactly, as Sarah was sure Marjorie already knew from her magic brain clock.

    On the way back to class, Sarah said, "Why did you talk about farting?"
    "I didn't say anything about farting. I said I was gassy."
    "It's the same thing!" She took a breath and dodged a clot of eighth grade boys. "Marjorie, just for your information, don't talk about farting with new people. Ever. I mean, don't even say anything that has anything to
do
with farting."
    "Why? Everybody gets gas."
    "
Because!
It's gross. People like talking about nice things when you don't know them very well."
    "I wasn't really talking about farting. I was just answering a question."
    "And don't pretend to be a robot. Or somebody British.