The Infinite Questions of Dottie Bing: Chapters 18–34

Phenomenal was Sam’s word for anything better than amazing. There were many reasons why this word was perfect for
today.
One reason was that weekends were phenomenal. (And
Saturdays were especially phenomenal because there was still
another day to the weekend once this day was over.)

Besides, Dottie had her own problems—like
pushing away the alligator, porcupine, and octopus who were determined to grab her attention.

Everything would be better with Sam.
Unfortunately, the scowl on Sam’s face when he walked up
the driveway told Dottie this was not the case. A scowl was like
a frown but worse (at least that’s how Sam described it).

If only Dottie were as lucky as Ima, Sam wouldn’t be
gone, the tree house wouldn’t have to wait, and an alligator, a
porcupine, and an octopus wouldn’t be biting, needling, and squishing her.

Dottie sank into a chair resigned to the fact that this weekend had gone from phenomenal to miserable. (And there was
nothing she could do about it.)

She gobbled up breakfast, grabbed her backpack, and was
out the door with an overflowing sense of optimism. Everything was going to work out.

They were almost at school when Miles Huckatony walked up
behind them and barged in between them.

Although Dottie’s rule was to always ignore Miles, this morning she felt intrepid. Intrepid was Sam’s word for brave or
fearless.

“I will,” Miles said, nodding emphatically, and then running off ahead of Dottie and Sam to line up for school.

He
seemed genuinely happy.

It was a mystery to Dottie how her parents were so sure
about what bothered Grandpa Walter and, at the same time,
were so oblivious to what bothered Dottie. (Oblivious was Sam’s fancier and much more fun way to say they didn’t notice
it at all.)

She hoped that going outside would quiet the cacophony in
her head. Cacophony was how Sam described sounds that were
loud and yucky.

She was still riveted to Zombie House when Sam appeared
next to her.

The mesmerizing (another of
Sam’s words) power of Zombie House snapped, and Dottie
turned to Sam.

Dottie gaped at him, confused how he knew.

Without the tree house, why
get out of bed?
Then MacFurry bit her, and even though she was wearing
socks, Dottie found a compelling (and painful) answer to that
question.

Dottie found it baffling that Miles kept wanting to know
what they were doing. Baffling was a better word than confusing, and Dottie was forever grateful to Sam for introducing it
to her.

“Have you ever been inside?” Miles asked.
“Inside?” Sam Batty scoffed. “And be turned into zombies?
No way.”

As she reached her hand out,
for one iota, she wondered if touching the door might change
her forever, but Sam and Miles were right behind her.

“I wouldn’t argue with her if I were
you. It’s a losing battle. But Dottie, if you ever do that again, I
will tergiversate you.”

The Chock
full o’Nuts can was cradled in the crook of his arm.

They had been cracking themselves up with a Truth or Fake about leeches sucking out all of a
person’s blood.

He joined Dottie and
Sam in the math games, complimented Sam’s bug report, and
begged Ms. Agna to keep reading from the read-aloud book
about a kid who wants to break a world record.

Then came recess, which consisted of swings and a game of
tag.

Sam shuffled along beside Dottie.

Dottie couldn’t agree more, which was a good thing because just then Miles Huckatony ran up, barreling into Dottie and
Sam like they were bowling pins.

She felt so befuddled, which was Sam’s much better
word for confused.

They both liked chocolate ice cream. And
they were both generous. Generous because they didn’t like
people to be left out.

“It was watching you and your friends
build that contraption out front that gave me the idea.”

Dottie listened from the kitchen to the crashes, to the
grunts, to the ooopses, and interspersed between all that was
Grandpa Walter whistling a cheerful, zippy little tune.

“This isn’t about losing my room,” Dottie said, a little frustrated. “This is about building a tree house.”

“But, to build the tree house, you need the tree, which
means you need your room,” Sam said.
“Yes,” Dottie agreed reluctantly. “Which is why we need a
new plan.”

“In brainstorming we think of as many solutions as possible
and choose the best one.”

The alligator flipped in her stomach
and the rest of the menagerie joined it.

“She says it’s very annoying because everyone keeps acting
like she’s super delicate and fragile. She hates that and wants to
be treated like her regular old self.”