I think my dad did not know what to say to that.
I think my dad planned on squatting there forever, with his mouth hanging open, not saying anything.
I went back to putting on the stickers. It took a little bit to figure out which way they should go, but I looked at the instructions for a long time, and eventually I figured it out.
“I’m so sorry, Albie.” That’s what my dad said after a long time of not saying anything. I’d sort of forgotten he was there. I looked up. “I’m really sorry,” he said again.
I just shrugged.
Dad watched me work on the stickers even longer, and I guess his legs must’ve got tired of squatting, because after a while he scooched down on his stomach, his elbows on the carpet. And he picked up one of the sheets of stickers I hadn’t gotten to yet and peeled one off and said, “Where does this one go, do you think?” And we looked at the directions together.
I put most of the A-10 Thunderbolt together by myself.
But my dad did help, at the end.
one last hint.
Betsy didn’t really need any more helpful hints. She was smarter than me, for sure. But I decided to leave one last one anyway. Even smart people probably like to get a hint every once in a while.
I think you’re pretty great how you are.
That’s what it said.
It was the truth too.
a note
from home.
Albie?” Mrs. Rouse said on Wednesday. “Do you have a note from home about your absence last week? You never gave me one.”
I rubbed the back of my neck where Darren had flicked it on the way back from the pencil sharpener.
“Huh?” I said, still rubbing.
“A note,” Mrs. Rouse said again. “About your absence. I need a note from one of your parents letting me know why you were out.”
My mouth felt dry all of a sudden. I forgot about my neck. “I . . .” But I closed my mouth, because I wasn’t sure what I was going to say.
“Just bring it tomorrow, okay?” Mrs. Rouse told me.
I nodded. Because what else was I supposed to do?
hannah
schaffhauser.
That afternoon, while Calista was in the bathroom, I told her I wanted to watch kung fu videos on Mom’s laptop, but I didn’t. What I did was I found the file on the desktop from when Mom wrote my sick notes, and I opened it. I only had to change a few words.
Dear Mrs. Rouse,
Albin was out sick last week. Please excuse his absence.
Sincerely,
And then under the Sincerely, Mom always signed her name, Hannah Schaffhauser. In pen.
Printing it wasn’t the hard part.
Hannah Schaffhauser
I practiced Mom’s signature over and over, down the sides of a piece of scrap paper and up again.
Hannah Schaffhauser
I’d found an old letter she’d signed in her desk, and I was trying to copy all the letters just right. That’s what I was doing instead of sleeping.
Hannah Schaffhauser
I practiced the way the capital H crossed back over itself. I practiced the dip in the big S. I practiced the way Mom did the double-f, which was super different from the way I did it when I signed my own name.
I practiced and practiced and practiced.