Once home, I zipped right passed Mom and Dad and locked myself in my bedroom.
“You okay?” Mom asked through the closed door.
“Yup. Got homework,” I lied.
“Well, don’t you want to play outside?”
Play outside?! Was she kidding me? Most parents would say good job for wanting to do homework, but she wanted me to go outside? Did she even LOOK outside? There was an avalanche of snow falling out of the clouds! I’d be buried in minutes. Seconds!
“Ummm, no thanks,” I said.
“Okay. But are you sure you’re alright?”
I flung the door open and looked at her. “Mother,” I said, with as pleasant of a voice as I could. “I am doing absolutely, positively splendid.” I smiled at her. “As much as I would love to go outside and play in the pretty snow, I think I should be responsible and do my homework instead.”
She raised an eyebrow at me, but then she smiled and pinched my cheeks. “My, oh, my,” she said. “You’re growing up so fast.”
I watched her turn and leave, then I closed myself in my room once again and went to look out my bedroom window.
Strange. I started my day at school looking out the window at all the rain. Now, here I was spending my afternoon looking out the window at snow!
And all because we read from that dumb, dumb, book. I don’t normally name-call books, because normally books are awesome. But not that book. That book is the opposite of awesome. It wins the crown for worse book ever! I grabbed it from where I’d tossed it on the floor, then lifted my mattress and hid it underneath.
I stepped away from the window and laid in bed until Mom called me downstairs for dinner. Even then, I pretended not to hear her.
“Honey-Bunny,” she said a moment later, knocking on my door. “You coming down to eat?”
“What?” she asked.
“Honey, you can get back to your books and homework after you eat.”
What? Who? I ran back to the window. Outside, I saw Mr. Green fighting his way through the windy blizzard still calling for his book. Geez. He sure was cray cray. It was as if he expected the book to actually answer.
I shivered. On second thought… “Excuse me,” I said, and rushed by Mom. I went down the stairs three at a time and took a seat at the kitchen table next to Dad. I immediately felt much better. Parents might be lame at times, but they sure do make you feel safe.
Dad mumbled something, but not to me. He was talking to the little TV we had on the counter.
“Breaking news,” a woman reporter said. “Summer just ended, but someone needs to tell that to Hello, Michigan because they’ve skipped Fall and have gone straight into winter!” She smiled. She had a very big smile, with very bigger white teeth. “This small town,” she continued, “has been hit with a highly unexpected snow storm that has meteorologist across the nation baffled.”
The word “meteorologist” reminded me of the meteor that crashed through the school roof. I shuddered.
A picture of Michigan flashed across the television. There was a tiny white cloud swirling over the spot where Hello, Michigan should have been.
The news reporter said, “Already, they have a foot of snow. My, my, my,” she shook her head, “it certainly is bizarre.” And then she chuckled and smiled that extra-large smile of hers. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say someone cast a spell.”
“Huh,” Dad said. “What do you think about that?”
“What? Me?” I asked. “Um, I don’t think anything about that.”
“Well school will probably be cancelled tomorrow,” Mom said. She put a plate of spaghetti in front of me, and I forked at it.
Dad looked at me funny. “You okay?”
“Yeah. Um, I’m fine. I didn’t cast any spells. Wasn’t me.” I smiled.
“It’s sort of ironic,” he said. “Hello, Michigan freezes over. Sorta like that…” He scratched his chin. “What do they call them, Honey?”
My mom set some dishes in the sink. “Don’t ask me. You’re the writer.”
“Oh, yeah,” he said. “Idioms. They call them idioms.”
Oh, man, I thought. There’s that word again…
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