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

day.”
    “I meant me!” I squeak.
    “Oh! I’d love to have you there. I just figured you might have rules about going to client events and stuff.”
    I thump my fist above my heart, then start walking backward toward Laurel and Susannah. “For my best clients, I make exceptions.”
    I catch up with the girls, who are stopping kids from trampling something that’s been written in the snow. It says:

    I look around and see RS lurking in the bushes, grinning. His friends are teasing him. I give him a smile. Hedgehiding might not be allowed for Sylvia. Ever. But a boy as cute as Riley spying from the cedar bushes is definitely allowed. If he’s staring at me, that is.

There Is No Excuse for Guys Named Thunder Who Stand on Windy Cliffs
    The next evening, I’m lying on my bed studying for my French test, and thinking caniche doesn’t really sound like it should mean “poodle” in French. It sounds more like some sort of greasy pastry filled with duck meat and walnuts. Just when I’m realizing France messed up poodles’ reputations even more by inventing that crazy pom-pom haircut, a warbling sound comes from my computer. An instant message!
    I race to my computer hoping it’s from Riley. But it isn’t.
g-ma: yo zo ☺
    I stare at the message, trying to figure out who g-ma is. Could it be Gina Mercer from health class? I answer…
zoelama: heeeyyyy
    g-ma: met qt @ bingo
    Bingo? What kind of seventh-grader plays bingo? Even more curious—since when are cute guys at bingo?
zoelama: ?name?
    g-ma: ♥ Fritz ♥
    Good grief. It’s worse than I thought. This is exactly why I discourage my clients from running around bingo halls. They’re drafty, crowded, and full of gamblers and boys named Fritz.
g-ma: he likes cigars
    Gross!
zoelama: gina–I no Rodney broke yor ♥ last year but u cant lower yorself like ths. Unwritn Rool #20 clearly st8s: Smokng is Despcble and Loathesm.
    g-ma: ?whoz gina?
    zoelama: U!!
    g-ma: Im GRANDMA!
    zoelama: grandma? wat r u doing online?
    g-ma: rofl, signed up 4 a class—Seniors on Surfboards
    I try to imagine Grandma sitting at a keyboard in her flowered housecoat and curlers.
g-ma: g2g…nos!!
    zoelama: ?nos?
    g-ma: nurse over shoulder!
    I sit back in my chair, stunned. My grandma , who’s only been in Shady Gardens Home for Seniors for a month, has turned into some kind of instant-messaging hipster who picks up cigar-smoking, gambler boys named Fritz. And she calls herself g-ma!
    The thing about Grandma is—she has Alzheimer’s. Which sometimes makes her do and say some pretty wild stuff. But now that she’s in a special home, Mom and I know she’s safe. So…maybe it’s not such a bad thing that she’s having a bit of fun. What’s the worst that can happen? That her curlers start to stink from Fritz’s cigar smoke? Suddenly I’m happy for her. My grandma is getting a life.
    And, other than the g-ma part, it’s kind of cool that Grandma is IMing, since I’ve missed being able to ask her for advice. Like with this whole Devon thing—Grandma is about the only one who would know exactly how to make me feel better.
zoelama: Grandma? U ther?
    zoelama: g-ma?
    She’s gone.
    “Aagh!” My mother wails from the kitchen.
    I tear out of my room to find her on her hands and knees, beating the linoleum floor with our dish scrubber. “Bugs!” she says. “A whole revolting family of them.”
    I look back into the hall to see a small brown insect with a shiny shell crawl out from under the wall. He stops and acts confused—like he expected to be someplace else and is disappointed—then wiggles his antenna thingies at me. Before my mother sees him and scrubs him to death, I try to poke him back under the wall. But I guess he likes what he sees in our apartment, because every time I poke at him, he runs around my finger so he can get back into the room. He scoots right past my sock and zooms—

    WHACK!
    That’s the thing about bugs—they never listen.
    “I’m telling you, this