The Waffler by Gail Donovan Page A

silence. By the time they turned onto Atlantic Street it was pouring rain. Monty wished he had never brought up the trumpet subject. The feeling he had when his dad gave him a sideways hug was gone. Now he was mad at his dad again, and his dad was mad at him again, too.
    And his dad didn’t waste any time changing his mind to be in a good mood. They walked though the back door, and
pronto
, his dad called Sierra into the kitchen. It was time for the talk.
    â€œYour mom and I both think it might be good to try this flip-flop idea—you and Sierra getting a little break from each other—just for a little while. What do you two think?”
    Monty didn’t need to think. This wasn’t something he needed to make up his mind about, like choosing between two flavors of ice cream. It was more like the question, Do you like ice cream? Of course. Do you want to stay with your twin sister? Of course! Sometimes they fought. Who cared? Sometimes he got sick of grown-ups thinking of him as half of
you two
. He was him! But neither of those things meant he didn’t want to live with Sierra. What was the point of that? The whole best thing about having a twin was always having somebody around—somebody who understood exactly how annoying it felt to be half of
you two
.
    But before he could explain all that, Sierra answered, “I don’t care.” Those were her exact words.
I don’t care.
    She didn’t care? If Sierra didn’t care about being with him, why should he care about being with her? He was so mad at his sister for agreeing to flip-flop that he suddenly agreed, too.
    â€œI don’t care either,” he said. “We can flip-flop.”
    â€œYou sure?” asked his dad. “Because if either of you don’t want to, we won’t. Even if it’s only for a little while, we need everybody on board. So, you’re sure you want to?”
    The truth was, Monty wasn’t sure. He’d only said he wanted to because he was mad. The truth was the exact opposite. The one thing he was sure of was that he
didn’t
want to.
    â€œI didn’t
say
I wanted to,” argued Monty. “I said I didn’t care, but if everybody else wants to, then, fine! Whatever!”
    Monty’s dad rubbed his smooth head, still shiny from the rain. “Now I’m totally confused,” he said. “But it sounds like you don’t like the idea. Maybe we should table it for a while.”
    â€œTable it?” asked Monty.
    â€œWait and see,” explained his dad.
    Sierra groaned, “Maybe he should make up his mind once in a while!”
    â€œSierra,”
said their dad.
    â€œDad,”
said Sierra, mimicking the warning note in his voice.
    Monty was so sick of everybody being mad at him for changing his mind that he pretended he hadn’t. That he actually did want to flip-flop. “I made it up!” he blurted, pointing to his twin sister. “I don’t want to live with
her
.”

W hen Monty’s class got to the satellite classroom the next morning he saw that Mrs. Calhoun had already changed the TODAY IS sign. Veterans Day had come and gone. Now the sign said THE NEXT HOLIDAY IS: THANKSGIVING . What Monty didn’t see was Leo.
    â€œI’m sorry, Monty,” said Mrs. Calhoun. “Leo is absent today.”
    Leo being absent meant that Reading Buddies was pretty boring. But Monty was psyched for circle time. Wednesday afternoon circle was for talking about the Hidden Treasures Expedition, and Monty figured he had discovered a pretty big piece of treasure: his Buddy was a Scout! How cool was that?
    â€œOne two three,” sang Mrs. Tuttle after lunch as she clapped her hands three times, “eyes on me! Please come and sit criss-cross applesauce in our meeting circle.”
    Monty sat down cross-legged on the carpet between Lagu Luka and Devin Hightower, wondering if he could somehow get extra credit for his