The Truth According to Ginny Moon by Benjamin Ludwig (books to read for self improvement txt) 📕

box back on the shelf and close the door. And sit down with my Snoopy pad to check over my list. It says,

Empty garbage in room

Clean room

Put laundry in dryer

Read for exactly 30 minutes

Listen to Michael Jackson

Go outside to get some air

Watch a movie

Do not play Chinese Checkers

When I go into the living room to see what Grammy is doing and to tell her that my list is done she is playing with Baby Wendy. It is on the couch with its feet up in the air laughing. It laughs all the time now. Grammy is making silly animal noises at it. I try to remember my Baby Doll laughing but I can’t. It’s been too long. And that makes me anxious. I need to be with it soon so I can help it learn things like the ABC’s. I used to sing the ABC’s to it all the time but it’s still way too little to sing with me.

In the living room Grammy asks Baby Wendy what a cat says. I know she will answer the question herself so I say, “Meow,” before she can. Then she asks Baby Wendy what a horse says so I say, “Neigh.” And when she asks what sound a sheep makes I say, “Baa.” Because I know. I know what all the animals say. I am fourteen years old and I know a lot more than Baby Wendy.

“It’s great that you know all the animal noises, Ginny,” says Grammy, “but I was trying to talk with your sister. She’s just a baby, so she has a lot to learn. Isn’t it great that she finally learned how to laugh?”

“I made my list,” I say.

“Does that mean you want to read it to me?”

I nod my head yes.

“All right. Go ahead, then.”

So I read my list and at the end Grammy says, “Why should we not play Chinese Checkers?”

I shut my mouth tight. Then really fast I say, “Because there’s nothing in the box.”

“You mean you forgot to put the game away when you last played it?”

I keep my mouth shut tight and wait for three seconds and hope she says something else.

“I think it’s great that you’re playing games with your mom again,” says Grammy, “but you might want to put them back in so that you don’t lose them. But it’s fine if you don’t want to play Chinese Checkers. By the time your movie is finished, your mom and dad should be home. I’ll have lunch all ready.”

“So they’ll be home before exactly twelve o’clock?”

“As far as I know, yes. Do you have any homework that needs to be done for tomorrow?”

I shake my head no.

“Are there any projects that are due?”

I think because that’s a different question and then I shake my head no again.

“Okay. Then I think you’re ready to start working through your list.”

In the kitchen her phone buzzes. She picks up Baby Wendy and walks into the kitchen. She looks around on the counter. Her phone is next to the coffeemaker.

Charging.

She finds it and answers it.

“Oh,” she says. “That’s a surprise. We’ll be ready for you.” She puts the phone back down on the counter. My eyes follow it. “Your mom and dad will be home even earlier than we thought. They’re getting discharged right now. Let me go change Wendy’s diaper, and then we’ll start getting ready for them.”

“I will wait downstairs,” I say.

She goes upstairs. I walk right to the counter.

EXACTLY 3:50,

MONDAY, JANUARY 17TH

“I think you might be turning a corner,” says Patrice. “Or someone might be turning one, anyway. Your mother says things are improving.”

I put another pretzel in my mouth. I like the way the salt feels on my tongue.

“It was the day she fell asleep that did it, I think. You sat there playing with the baby while she slept, and when she opened her eyes, everything was fine.”

She looks down. Then she looks back at me.

“But they still want to go have a look at Saint Genevieve’s. Your mom knows how much work it is to take care of you, and how much attention you need. They want to make sure they explore all the options. It sounds like a really great place for you. The structure, the calm, the supervision—there aren’t any small babies there at all. You have to be at least thirteen to live there.”

I take a drink of water and look around the room for Agamemnon. He is hiding again. He hides mostly all the time. I wonder if he ever comes out.

“Are you glad that your dad is home?”

I nod my head. “Yes,” I say. “Now I don’t have to vacuum or empty the garbage.”

Patrice laughs. “I wonder if it’s nice to talk with him again, though,” she says. “How is he doing?”

“He takes a lot more pills now. He lies down and takes naps and breaks. But we talked yesterday about going to the Special Olympics basketball tournament on Sunday, January 23rd.”

“It will be nice for the two of you to go there together. I understand that you invited Rick, too.”

I nod my head yes. “I wrote a letter on Wednesday to invite him. Then I gave it to Maura to type into an email,” I say.

“Did he write back?”

“Yes. He said he couldn’t make it because he’s still down in Georgia.”

“Well, that’s sad. But it’s nice that you can still email back and forth with him. I saw that in your letters you still call Krystal your Baby Doll.”

“Krystal with a K,” I say.

“Right,” says Patrice. “Why don’t you call her by her name? I hear you’ve started calling Wendy by her name. Or at least, Baby Wendy.”

I don’t want Patrice to know the reason. I don’t want her to know that I can’t call Maura my Forever Mom or Brian my Forever Dad or Baby Wendy my Forever Sister because I’m not going to be with them forever. I’m going up to Canada with Gloria to take care of my