OCR Text |
Show Hannah Mae and the Mona Lisa 47 "Not on Sunday," Mom clarified. Colby shook his head. Dad looked my way. I still hadn't said a word. "That work okay for you, Hannah?" "That'll be fine." Mom noticed my food had been circling my plate like it was trying to find a spot where I would stab at it with my fork. "Are you feeling all right?" she asked. "I have a stomach ache," I said. "I think I'll go up to bed." I stood and rinsed off my plate and walked upstairs to my bedroom. I opened my French book to the picture of the Eiffel Tower at night. I stared and thought about what I was about to do. For once in my life I wanted to stop being puny, stop being average. I wanted to be extraordinary. I wanted Paris. Someone tapped on my door. "I'm tired," I said. The door opened and Colby poked his head inside. Colby has eyes like a new bom calf sometimes. I can't turn him away when he looks like that. "Are you okay?" he asked. "Yeah." He looked at my French book. "Paris?" I nodded and closed the book. "Colby, have you ever wanted something so bad you'd be willing to give up just about anything to get it?" Colby thought hard. "Only once," he said. "But your dad cured me right quick." "What'd he say?" |