One for the Murphys by Lynda Mullaly Hunt Page A

“Well, if it isn’t drugs, let me have it then!” He grabs my arm. I spin and try to wrestle away but he pulls the CD out from behind my back. Then he stands, blinking.
    “Pretty dangerous to the family, huh?”
    “What is this?” Mr. Murphy asks.
    “I was at the library.”
    “You skipped school to go to the library?” Mrs. Murphy asks with a slight smile.
    “Yeah. Freakish, I know. Better call in the National Guard,” I say, looking at him.
    He looks mad but takes a step back. “I’m… I’m sorry. But it doesn’t change the fact that you skipped school and lied about it. You’re grounded for a week.”
    “Fine.” I’m amused by this. This is the first time anyone has cared enough to ground me.
    He leaves and Mrs. Murphy steps toward me. “Why did you take
this
out?” she asks.
    I don’t tell her it has the song that, when I close my eyes, helps me pretend that I am with my own mother. And that she lovesme. A song that helps me feel the warmth on my cheek after my mother kissed me that night and how I can’t remember another time like it.
    But then I look at the lines on Mrs. Murphy’s forehead and some of the lyrics to “Part of Your World” play in my head. I realize that the second half of that song is about the Murphys. I wonder which song I’ll choose when I go to sleep tonight.

CHAPTER 22

House of Mirrors
    W hen I step off the bus, Toni storms up to me. “You did a no-show yesterday and left me doing the work. Are you going to claim you were sick?”
    I look her in the eye. “Take a breath, Witchy Poo, or you may melt.”
    She gets really mad and, although she makes me nervous, I hold eye contact. “Did you get in the gene pool with no lifeguard on duty?” she asks.
    She has
no
idea. I turn to leave.
    “You owe it to me to be here,” she says.
    I whip around. “I don’t owe you
anything
!”
    “Oh, poor Carley with her perfect little life.”
    “What’s your
problem
? I’ve never done a thing to you, but you go out of your way to treat me like garbage.”
    “You don’t have that much importance, believe me. Let’s just meet at your house today and finish.”
    I am sick of her calling the shots. “No. Let’s meet at
your
house.”
    She stiffens. “We can’t meet at my house.”
    “Why not?”
    She switches her backpack from one shoulder to the other. “We just can’t.”
    I can see I have her. “We’re meeting at your house or not at all.”
    “My mother is having a meeting there. We can’t.”
    “What red-blooded American mother is against homework? Parents live for that stuff.”
    She pushes her bangs behind her ear. “Maybe yours do.”
    The irony makes me want to laugh, but the look on her face makes me feel sorry for her. A better person than I am would let it go, but I’m curious as to how bad it is. I wonder if Toni and I don’t have some common ground after all. “I told you. Your house or nowhere.”
    I call Mrs. Murphy to get permission to ride on Toni’s bus. I follow her off the bus as she turns up the walk of an L-shaped white house with two brick chimneys, black shutters, and a black front door. The dormers on the roof look like little separate houses. It’s like a house you’d see in a movie. What was
she
so upset about?
    She unlocks the front door.
    “God, Toni. This house is unbelievable.”
    “Whatever,” she mumbles.
    Looking up at the high ceiling, I ask, “Do you land your plane in here?”
    She doesn’t answer.
    “Do I need a tour guide to get from one end to the other?”
    She grabs a loaf of bread.
    “You hungry?” she asks. “I’m having peanut butter and fluff.”
    “What’s that?”
    “Wow, Connors. You really have been living under a rock, haven’t you?”
    Duh.
    She slaps something together and hands me a sandwich with white stuff oozing out of the sides. Reminds me of the caulk that Mr. Murphy redid the tub with. “Looks yummy.”
    “Just try it.”
    “Are you sure you’re not poisoning me?”
    She leans