Upstander James Preller (best finance books of all time .txt) 📖

that the world would be different when she opened her eyes.

“Oh yeah, we’d never,” Alexis said.

“But still,” Chrissie pointed out. “We’ve got to send a message. Because Chantel’s out of control. I mean, it’s just wrong. Alexis likes Hakeem. You don’t do that to a friend.”

Mary looked away, leaned away, wished she was far away. The girls may have sensed her doubt.

“Wait, are you on her side?” Chrissie asked.

“No, I mean, I love you guys,” Mary said. “I’m not as experienced with boy stuff as you. It’s confusing, I guess.”

“Not to me,” Alexis said.

“We could ask Griffin to help us?” Chrissie suggested, turning to Alexis.

“What?” Mary said, alarmed. “Forget it, he’d make everything so much worse.”

“Good,” Alexis said. “We know you’ll help us think of something, Mary. You’re so smart.”

“She’s obsessed with pigs,” Chrissie offered.

And that part, at least, was true. Mary wasn’t so sure about the rest. Chantel did have a thing for pigs. A montage of pig images—photos of pigs on farms, in addition to cartoon character pigs such as Porky, Miss Piggy, Peppa, Hamm, and Sir Oinks-A-Lot—covered one wall of Chantel’s bedroom. She had a huge, pink pig pillow complete with a curly tail. Chantel had pig plush toys, too. And, come to think of it, her all-time favorite book was Charlotte’s Web, featuring the greatest pig of all, Wilbur.

“She’s a pig!” Alexis said harshly.

“I think she thinks they’re cute,” Mary offered defensively.

“Well, if she’s going to send pictures to Hakeem, maybe we should send pictures of our own,” Chrissie said. “You are good at Photoshop, aren’t you, Mary?”

Mary couldn’t think of an answer.

Chrissie looked at Alexis, who said, “That’s okay. Never mind. We’ll handle it.”

24[crystals]

Mary was happy when her mother knocked on her door with the offer to make blueberry pancakes.

“Do we have chocolate chips?” Mary asked, instantly perking up.

Ernesto wasn’t around that morning. A friend’s tree had fallen, knocking down a fence, and he went over first thing with his tools and pickup truck. “He loves that chainsaw more than me,” Mary’s mother said, still wrapped in a scarlet bathrobe, flipping pancakes while bacon sizzled in the iron griddle. Mary gulped down a glass of orange juice, slowly waking to the smells of Saturday morning.

“I was wondering if you’d like to go shopping today? Do you have free time?” Mrs. O’Malley asked. “I saw they came out with the back-to-school lists. Lord knows I’ve already purchased enough folders to last a lifetime. And you do need some new clothes. Growing too fast.”

Free time was something that Mary had in excess these days. Alexis and Chrissie were both trying out for cheerleading—they’d make it, easy—and, besides, Mary still wasn’t completely over the icky feeling she got the last time they were together. She’d seen photos on Instagram last night of a six-girl sleepover–slash–birthday party at Tamara Agee’s. It didn’t make Mary jealous—honestly, the party didn’t look like all that much fun, except for the cupcakes, and she wasn’t that tight with Tamara, so it was all understandable—but it still left Mary feeling detached.

A floating-alone-in-the-clouds feeling.

The chocolate chip pancakes with warm maple syrup helped.

As far as the plot against Chantel, Mary decided to do nothing. She wouldn’t participate. She’d stand by and let whatever happened, happen. Which was probably nothing, she told herself. Chantel would be fine. It was nice to think so.

Mary’s mom had this habit that when she drove, she put on a big show about putting away her phone. You know, modeling positive behaviors! But if it dinged, she always reached for it. “I’m just glancing,” she’d say, aware of Mary’s disapproval. “I’d never send a text.”

“I’ve seen you do it,” Mary said.

“At red lights, stop signs, maybe,” her mother said.

It dinged and Mary said, “Want me to read it?”

“No, no, that’s fine,” Mrs. O’Malley insisted. She grabbed the phone and held it in her right hand for the rest of the trip, as if she were protecting it from desperadoes.

Mary found the mall a humorous place. She liked eating in the food court (an unexplainable weakness for Arby’s) and watching the people. She still remembered watching an entire family—mother, father, and three children—all in matching L.L.Bean jackets. The bubbly kind. Same color, same everything. Even better, they were each eating Auntie Anne’s pretzels. People were weird, and there was nothing like the mall to drive that message home.

“Hold on, I have to take this,” Mrs. O’Malley said, indicating the phone. She walked to a less trafficked area and leaned against the wall, her back to Mary. Ten minutes later, she was back—and Mary was annoyed.

“I thought you wanted to do this,” Mary said. “It was your plan.”

“I know, but—Mary, you have no idea.”

“It’s Jonny, right?”

Mrs. O’Malley’s lips tightened. She studied the ceiling lights and nodded. “There’s a problem with the deposit check, among other things. It’s not your concern. Come on. Show me those boots you’ve been talking about.”

“Is he going to be okay?” Mary asked.

An anguished look crossed her mother’s face—it happened fast, then it was over, and she was back to normal again—but Mary knew what she had seen. The worry and strain. The inability to give a good answer.

So they sat there at the mall and talked about it as people came and went, carrying shopping bags and guzzling gigantic neon smoothies. “I don’t know if he’s going to be okay,” Mary’s mother admitted. “We’re doing everything we can to help him.”

Mary locked eyes with her mother. “Like kicking him out of the house?”

“Oh, Mary,” Mrs. O’Malley said, placing a hand on her daughter’s back. “I wish I had all the answers. It’s been so hard for everyone, including your brother. You get mad at me for staring at the phone. And you’re right. I’m trying—I am trying, Mary—to be better. But every time it vibrates, my heart stops. I think it’s going to be bad news, terrible news.” She looked down at her lap, her chest heaving.

“Should he go somewhere?” Mary said. “One of those rehab places?”

“He