Ways to Make Sunshine: Chapters 11–23

“Yes, ma’am,” I say. I don’t even say it in a pouting voice because I know if I do Mom might say I can’t go at all. And that would be worse than not being able to swim.

She swims closer to the girls. They huddle and wade in the water.

I put the box of merchandise on the table and start unpacking.

“It would have to be a really big coincidence for that woman to have any connection to the house we moved into.”

Everyone needs their mail delivered. But when I said this to Dad he said, “People don’t rely on the post office like they used to.”

The one thing Mom splurges on is coffee. Stumptown. “Can you grab that, please?” she says, pointing to a bag of ground coffee beans. I take the bag off the shelf and put it in the cart next to the box of assorted Top Ramen noodles. “A man deserves a good cup of joe in the morning.”

He takes Mom’s hand. “Can I get a beat, Ray? I want to serenade my lady.”

I won. And I didn’t fall! I don’t even gloat, I just bend and put my hands on my knees and try to catch my breath.

Ray shrugs. “It was kind of funny. You went a little overboard, though. My tongue still feels numb.”

Ray helps me brainstorm another talent to share. “You know how to play the piano. Why don’t you do that?”

I don’t want to talk about it anymore. I just want to think about it and come up with something on my own. But Ray is persistent.

The man says, “And every day they give us lukewarm soup and rock-hard bread. No, thank you.”

Amanda looks shocked that this is the very first question I asked, but I don’t know how to casually bring it up, so I thought I’d just go for it.

“Well, you know, these were very popular in the 1940s. They’re what we call vintage. And so many women wore them. I’m sorry I don’t know who these belonged to. But I am sure they are in good hands with you.”

Amanda and Zoe are at my house because Mom and Dad are taking us to the Grand Floral Parade. It’s Rose Festival Month and there are all kinds of celebrations happening.

Every single year my voice gets hoarse because I yell and cheer so loud.

“Ms. Barnes said I don’t have to memorize it but I should familiarize myself with it so I don’t have to keep my eyes glued to the paper. She wants me to be able to look up and make eye contact with the audience,” KiKi tells me.

As soon as I hear the voice I know it’s Ms. Laura from Saturday Market. Mom and I go into the living room. “Hello, Tamia. I’m sorry to barge in like this but I just had to stop by.”

We go to the front of the room and stand at the podium.

“How could you? I’m older, duuuh!” The way he says duh, dragging it out like an accordion, makes me even more upset.