Total pages in book: 18
Estimated words: 17773 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 89(@200wpm)___ 71(@250wpm)___ 59(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 17773 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 89(@200wpm)___ 71(@250wpm)___ 59(@300wpm)
Sometimes he’s even nicer.
Charlie’s really good at making things and always making things for Evie and me. Whenever we’re together, he always lets us pick what we play. He’ll even dress up for us and have tea parties.
Adam doesn’t like Charlie.
I don’t know why.
And Adam doesn’t like it when I’m nice to Charlie. He’s even told me I’m not allowed to play with him.
I don’t like that.
I don’t like Adam telling me what to do, like he’s a real grownup.
I also don’t like the way Adam breaks the things Charlie makes for me. Like the flower Charlie made me for Christmas.
That’s just being mean to me.
What I don’t like the most though is being upset with Adam. I wish he would be nicer and we could be friends again.
Setting her knitting needles down in her lap, Mary’s crinkled eyes narrow at me. “Where have you been?”
I’m the worst at fibbing. Not because it’s wrong and feels wrong, but because I tell terrible stories. Evie says in order to be good at fibbing, you need to be able to tell a good, convincing story that people will believe. People will usually believe it if you believe it yourself.
The thing is, I know the truth, so it’s hard to believe what I make up.
Mary is also very, very good at sniffing out a lie. She says she has a nose for it and that she can smell it a mile away.
I don’t believe she can really do that but lying to her rarely ever works out so she must have some secret way of detecting them.
Unable to meet Mary’s eyes, I look down at the floor. “I was playing with Evie.”
“Were you two running through the house again?” Mary asks, sounding a bit angry and a bit disappointed.
I don’t want to get in trouble.
The truth will get me in trouble…
But I can’t think of something else that we could have been doing that she’ll believe.
“Father gave them permission to play in the backyard today,” Adam says.
I look up in surprise to see him staring hard at me.
Gulping, I look back down at the floor.
He just fibbed for me…
Why would he do that?
“Oh, he did?” Mary asks, her voice a little higher like she’s genuinely surprised.
“Yes, he did,” Adam says firmly, as if he himself believes it.
“I see…” Mary says thoughtfully.
I peek up again to see her looking at Adam with a frown on her thin lips.
For a moment, I’m afraid he’s going to get in trouble. That she can smell the lie.
But then she smiles at him like she’s pleased with him. “I didn’t know that. Thank you for informing me, Adam.”
Adam nods his head. “Of course.”
Then he goes back to playing blocks with David.
Rubbing her fingers against her knitting needles, Mary looks at me, the smile on her face fading. “Come here, Abigail.”
Closing the door behind me, I walk over to Mary and sit down on the chair she nods at with a sinking sensation in the pit of my stomach.
She thanked Adam, even smiled at him, yet I get the feeling she’s still mad at me.
“Since you’re here, you might as well help me with my project,” Mary says, her smile completely gone now. “It’s time you learned a useful skill… one that will keep your idle hands busy.”
Intimidated by the hard glint in her eyes, I gulp and nod my head.
Reaching over, she gives my hands a little pat before she leans down and plucks another pair of knitting needles from her basket.
Pushing the needles into my hands, she picks her own up and starts to instruct me on the proper way to hold them.
I struggle to copy her, the needles too big for my hands.
Not caring one bit and ignoring my trembling lip, Mary makes me sit beside her instead of letting me play with Adam and David.
It’s a punishment, I determine, after I fail for the tenth time to correctly cast my yarn on and hear her sigh of disappointment.
I don’t know if she’s punishing me for sneaking off, despite accepting Adam’s fib, but I must have done something wrong, because knitting is the most boring, most awful thing to ever be invented.
“No, no, not like that,” Mary almost snaps at me as my eyes drift wistfully towards Adam as he stands and walks over to the art area. I wish I could get up and walk away. “From behind, Abigail. Behind.”
“Sorry,” I mutter and look back down at the mess of yarn wrapped around my fingers and knotted along the needle.
Mary sighs again, a long, deep sigh, then she reaches over and helps me untangle my hand. “Perhaps this is too complicated for you right now.”
“Perhaps,” I agree eagerly, hoping she’ll let me go play instead.
Mary nods her head as she unknots all the yarn along my needle. I’m so eager to escape, my toes start to push against the floor. Ready to jump up.