The day before school started, Centennial Park bustled with neigh-borhood Labor Day picnics. In the crowd, Brooklyn and her BFF found
Charlotte, who had just pulled Dumpling out of another family’s kickball
game. Alex DeRose was as welcoming as Brooklyn had been. She wanted
to know all about the places Charlotte had lived, and she thought it was cool
that the new girl lived on the top floor of an apartment building.
“Plus, you’re so lucky you don’t have siblings,” Alex said. “There’s a pic-
ture of my sister in the dictionary under ‘know-it-all.’”
“At least you’re not a middle child,” Brooklyn said. “I have to deal with
older and younger siblings!”
Having a big family like Brooklyn’s sounded overwhelming to Charlotte,
but that night she changed her mind. “Life would be easier with siblings,”
she whispered to Dumpling, who was curled up next to her in bed. She
sighed and nudged him over to make more room. “Then I wouldn’t be the
only new kid.”
In her dreams, Charlotte got lost in school and ended up stuck inside a
desk. Then she failed math and got sent back to kindergarten. By morning,
she felt like a zombie. She liked zombies, but looking like one was not the
first impression she wanted to make. And forget butterflies. These felt like
bats swooping around inside her stomach.
She nearly sleepwalked to Brooklyn’s.
The fact that she’d never been inside the big
Victorian house or met Brooklyn’s family
made her even more nervous.
There seemed to be a lot of commotion
inside when she knocked. The door swung
open, and a small, ginger-haired kid in
sweatpants peered up at her.
“Hi . . . um, are you Dale?”
“I’m Frankie. Dale’s my big brother.”
“Hi, Frankie. Is Brooklyn around?”
“BROOKLYN!!!” the kid bellowed.
A woman appeared behind Frankie. She
looked like a grown-up version of Brooklyn,
only with longer hair and minus the freckles.
“You should hurry, mi amor. You’ll be
late,” she told Frankie in a slight accent, and
Charlotte remembered Brooklyn mentioning
that her mom was from Uruguay. As Frankie
pounded up the stairs, the woman
said, “You must be Charlotte. I’m
Brooklyn’s mom. Come in. She’s
almost ready.”
Charlotte had barely taken
a seat in the living room when
Frankie emerged from the
kitchen, dressed in shorts and
a soccer jersey.
Charlotte blinked and
shook her head. Had she
dozed off? I must be really
sleep-deprived, she thought.
“You’ll be cold in that,”
said Brooklyn’s mom, following the child out of the kitchen.
“Go upstairs and get a hoodie.”
No sooner had Brooklyn’s mom turned away than Frankie
reappeared, wearing jeans and the required hooded sweatshirt.
Incredible, thought Charlotte as Frankie followed Ms. Patrick
into the kitchen. That has to be the world’s fastest kid.
“Hey!” cried Brooklyn, galloping down the stairs. “Sorry to make
you wait. It’s chaos here every morning.”
She wriggled into her jacket and called, “Bye, Mom!”
“Your whole family must be great at soccer,” said Charlotte as they
walked. “Frankie moves faster than any kid I’ve ever seen.”
Brooklyn laughed aloud. “Frankie’s not that fast. I’ll explain . . .”
What did Brooklyn explain? (TAP HERE for answer.)
A Winning
Combination
“Where’s Alex?” Brooklyn won-
dered aloud. “She was supposed to be
here ten minutes ago.”
“Maybe she’s waiting for us inside,”
suggested Charlotte. She peered
through the glass panels of the doors
at Weston Middle School’s main
entrance, trying to spot their friend,
but saw no sign of activity. Most of the
students had rushed out as soon as
the bell rang at 3:15 and were probably
already at home or in Centennial Park
by now.
“We definitely agreed to meet by
the
