Page 43 of Stealing for Keeps
“Who will?” I press.
“The other kids. They think everything I do is stupid. Nobody wants to be my friend.”
White-hot rage floods my veins. “You’re not stupid.”
He shrugs.
“Hey.” I rest a hand on his shoulder and squeeze lightly until he turns his blue eyes up to me. “You’re the coolest third grader I know.”
He giggles, looking less sad than before, but the tightness in my chest is still there. I had no idea he was struggling to make friends.
“I didn’t know you were in third grade.” Claire smiles at him. “Who is your teacher?”
“Mr. Wave.”
“My sister had him two years ago.”
“You have a sister?”
“Mm-hmm. Ruby.”
“Is she pretty like you?” Wyatt’s eyes widen with the possibility.
I fight a laugh, which Claire notices, and then she blushes.
“We look a lot alike,” Claire says. “Except her hair isa reddish blond, and she’s a little bit shorter. I’ll tell her to look for the supercool third grader at recess.”
He gives her a toothy grin that falls before he says, “Are you just saying that to make me feel better?”
“Not at all. If you have any trouble with kids being mean, you ask around until you find Ruby.”
“Or you just text me,” I say.
Claire arches a brow. Maybe threatening eight-year-olds isn’t the answer, but right now, I’d do anything to make the look of hurt disappear from my brother’s face.
“I’m gonna go show Mom my painting.” He bounds off like the conversation never happened.
“His mood swings give me whiplash sometimes,” I tell Claire with a small half smile. That uneasy feeling of him being picked on at school isn’t gone, but I’ll have to figure out how to deal with it later.
“He’s a cool kid. I’ll tell Ruby to keep an eye on him.”
“That’s really nice of you, but I’ll talk to my mom. Maybe she can ask the teacher what’s going on or something.”
“Spoken like someone who was never picked on.” Her light laughter gives me pause.
“You were picked on?” I shake my head with disbelief. Why would anyone mess with a girl like Claire? She’s beautiful and nice, and from what little I’ve come to know about the Frost Lake High social hierarchy, she’s pretty high up there.
“I was shy, and my mom made me wear these frilly dresses every day. Kids thought I was weird or stuck up. And then Jimmy Hannah told the entire second grade that I liked to eat hair.”
I laugh, unable to hold it in, but thankful when she joins in.
“I’m sorry. Eat hair?” I say the last two words slowly to make sure I heard her right.
Her face takes on an adorable shade of pink. “I would sometimes put the end of my braid in my mouth.”
She looks up at me like she’s back in second grade, waiting for me to mock her. I would never, but…
“Why?” I hold a fist over my mouth as I continue to stifle my laughter.
