The One and Only Zoe Lama Read Online Free PDF Page A

and tell everyone your exciting news.”
    I make a shocked face at Susannah. Devon getting Boris is an Indescribable Indignation. Which means it’s crazy annoying.
    Susannah huffs out loud in agreement. You gotta love Susannah.
    Devon swishes her skirt as she makes her way to the front. Then she spins around and smiles way too sweetly. Her cheeks turn all pink. “This is so embarrassing,” she says, and everyone giggles in sympathy. “I’m getting my black belt in karate this Saturday. There’s a big presentation where I have to chop a piece of wood in half and perform in front of a panel of tons of people. Anyway, my parents are making this huge, insane deal out of it and asked what I wanted for my gift.” A piece of blond hair falls down against her perfect chin and she tucks it back in place. “They were thinking I’d ask for an iPod or a portable CD player.” She laughs and crosses one coltish leg in front of the other. “But all I really wanted was to bring home my new homeroomclass guinea pig for the weekend.”
    Her class guinea pig? She’s only been in the class for about fifty-five seconds! Who’s the one who’s been feeding him, watering him, changing his cedar shavings all year? Putting in his eyedrops when he scratched his cornea on a jagged piece of timothy grass? Trimming his toenails? Me, that’s who.

    I put up my hand to ask the question that, I’m sure, is oneveryone’s mind. “Devon, what happens if you don’t break the board in half? I mean, what if you crush your hand, or wake up Saturday morning with food poisoning or chicken pox?”
    The whole class is silent. Mrs. Patinkin’s smiles melts down her face.
    Devon tilts her head. “My dad says that’s the thing about me. Once I set my mind on something, I don’t let anything stop me.”
    Mrs. Patinkin claps her hands. “Well then, it’s all settled. Boris will spend the weekend at Devon’s house.”
    Devon kind of bows; then, on her way back to her desk, she stops at Boris’s cage to pick him up and nuzzle him. Holding his brown, white, and black body in her palms, she kisses him on the nose. Then Boris lets out this happy little squeak—the kind of squeak he only ever makes when he hears a carrot being cracked in half—and the whole class goes, “Awww.”
    Even Mrs. Patinkin!

The Missing Link Is Not So Missing Anymore
    When the recess bell rings, the Sixers barrel out of the class like savages. Doesn’t surprise me. I have a theory about Sixers. Anyone under the age of seventh grade has not yet developed the part of their brain that turns them into actual human beings. They still don’t know enough to shower more than once a week, only half of them look like they’ve ever held a brush, and, if it’s raining, you can be sure that almost every Sixer will show up soaked to the knees from puddle-stomping.
    According to my science textbook, in the theory of evolution, scientists believe there’s a missing link between fish and land animals. Which means that when early fishy lifeforms finally swam to the surface and looked around, wishing they could crawl out onto the beach and lie in the sun to dry out their pruney skin, some kind of half-fish, halfland animal should have evolved before actual land animals did. That missing creature is the missing link. But I don’t think it’s missing at all. I think the missing link is Sixers.
    I watch Smartin pull off his shoes, sniff his wet socks, and tug on his sopping boots. He stomps out, making sickening squishing noises with each step.
    I sigh. Of course there’s a chance I’m wrong. The missing link could very well be Smartin Granitstein.
    As I pull on my boots, I feel a timid little tap on my shoulder. It’s Sylvia.
    “Hi, Zoë. Do you have a minute?”
    See what I mean about the perfect-client thing? Sylvia doesn’t make it all about her. It’s all about me first, then, sometime later, we get to her. I like that.
    “Sure,” I say. “Sorry about the holey stickers