Extraordinary October by Diana Wagman Page A

I could see them up close, but I didn’t skip or twirl. I apologized for not being as excited as the day before, but I didn’t imagine them saying anything back. I dragged my butt down my street. My headache throbbed. I wanted to go inside and collapse in front of the TV, but I still had to write that stupid paper on WWI.
    Madame Gold’s black Ferrari was in our driveway. I groaned. I was not in the mood. And my mom still wasn’t home so it would just be my dad, the loony hypnotist, and me. I couldn’t face sitting there listening to her crapola.
    I went around the house and let myself in silently through the back door hoping to avoid them. The kitchen was dark. I sniffed. Nothing cooking. Dad hadn’t done anything about dinner and I was starving. In fact, the bowl with the pancake batter, the plates, and the dirty skillet were still exactly where he had left them that morning. I saw his uneaten pancake on his plate on the counter. Was it only that morning I’d sat there and watched him not eat? It felt like ages ago. He had never eaten his pancake and there was batter left in the bowl. He was definitely not his old self. I opened the refrigerator and grabbed an apple. I took a jar of peanuts off the counter. It was almost six o’clock, but it didn’t seem dinner would be anytime soon. I could hear Dad and Madame Gold talking in the birdhouse room, but their voices were so low I couldn’t quite make out what they were saying. I tiptoed out of the kitchen hoping I could get up to my room without being noticed.
    â€œIt is more important than ever,” Madame Gold was saying, “that you keep her on your side. Keep her close to you.”
    Dad sounded like he was whining in reply, but I only caught a few words, “family,” and “mother,” and then, “stolen.”
    â€œLuisa was the only choice.”
    They were talking about Luisa. Without thinking, I charged into the den. “What about Luisa? Do you have any news?”
    Dad looked guilty—he hadn’t known I was home—but Madame Gold nodded. “I thought I heard you come in,” she said. “It is too bad about your friend. I heard about her—on the radio.”
    â€œAnything new?”
    Madame Gold gave me that simpering, sad, but condescending smile that grown ups use like a pat on the head. And she was hardly a grown up. I really disliked her.
    In her low, carefully modulated, hypnotist’s voice she said, “I’m sorry, no. But the universe works in mysterious ways, October. Everything happens for a reason.”
    â€œDon’t spout that baloney at me.”
    â€œOctober!”
    I turned and got a good look at Dad. He had lost weight. Already. He looked thinner and his hair was a mess, sort of spiky around his head, not in his usual slicked back, combed and parted immaculate style.
    â€œDad?” I was worried.
    â€œI feel better than I have in years,” Dad said. “All thanks to Madame Gold. Please apologize to her.”
    â€œIt’s not important.” She hummed at me. “Join us. Sit down.”
    My head ached and a wave of nausea undulated through me. I put out my hands to steady myself and they were covered with red welts. I could feel the itch beginning, this time on my chest and stomach. I had to get out of there. “Homework,” I croaked. “Lots of homework.”
    I ran up the stairs to my room and shut the door behind me. I opened the window and gulped in the fresh air. I felt better. I needed to eat, I decided. I hadn’t been hungry at lunch and hadn’t eaten anything since that one pancake. I shook a handful of peanuts out of the jar and ate them one by one, forcing myself to relax. The blotches on my hands looked like enormous bug bites, only they didn’t itch, they burned. I looked in the mirror on the back of my door and saw there were welts on my neck as well. I lifted my shirt and saw them on my