Evan

"EVAN SHAUNA WALLACE! Get in here RIGHT NOW!"

Guiltily, I jump up. "Coming," I reply meekly, slowly shuffling towards the living room. My mom was waiting there, her hands on her hips. Her grey eyes were narrow and stormy as thunderclouds.

"Do you mind telling me WHY Yoda just coughed up a piece of hockey wax?" Mom gestures to our dog, who is lying on the floor, looking up at her mournfully. A mound of paper towels sits nearby.

"Um... I was using it to wax your hockey stick for a surprise, and I must have left it out. Sorry," I finish lamely. Mom sighs.

"Evan, I thank you for the effort to surprise me, but you cannot just forget to leave hockey wax out! That is deadly poison for a dog. Good think it got stuck in his throat and he spat it out. He could have been killed!"

I slump down next to Yoda, who licks my hand thoughtfully. "I know, I know. I'm really, really, really sorry," I say again.

Mom sighs and rubs her forehead. "It's OK, Evan. Just, please keep the polish far away from where Yoda can reach it."

After she leaves, Yoda stands up and whines. I scratch his shaggy head. "Sorry, boy," I say. He regards me solemnly. "Why do you think everything is food?"

Yoda doesn't answer, of course, just wags his tail and grins his doggy grin. He makes me smile anyway, though. Yoda always cheers me up.

"Hey, Evan?" Mom calls in the kitchen. "Better get ready. We're leaving for book club in 15 minutes."

I try not to let her hear me groan. "Sure thing," I call back, standing up and heading upstairs. It's been over two months since book club got started, and I'm still not into it. I mean, read something that weighs about as much as my dog with cliquey Diana and Kate and snotty Amy and McKayla? Um, no thanks. My mom said I'd love it, but I'm still not into it. But I kind of like the characters, though. I like Beth, even though she's way too quiet, and I really like Jo. She's a tomboy, like me. She probably would have liked Spice and Ice.

Fifteen minutes later, we're driving along towards the Hawthorne's house. Mom's talking rapidly into her bluetooth as we drive, putting about 7 people on hold at a time before talking briefly to 13 more. My mom's super busy. In addition to coaching the Boston Bruins (thank you very much), she's president of the Concord Youth Hockey League, which keeps her very busy. Not that I mind. My mom isn't one of those "career women," who obsess about their jobs. She still makes time for me and my dad. Plus, I got to meet all of the Bruins once-it was really, really, cool, plus my mom let me practice with them! (OK, I don't actually play hockey, but I sort of tried! And I only hit that one guy in the face twice!)

As my mom finally shuts off her bluetooth, I stare out the window. "Sorry again for the whole skate wax thing," I say again, slowly. Mom turns to me and pats my shoulder.

"Honey, please, don't worry about it." she says carelessly before turning down an empty road.

But I do, of course. Why am I always doing stupid stuff like this? I really don't mean to. Like when Dad had the flu and I was supposed to give him fish oil-I thought cod liver oil was the same thing! And the time the assistant coach came over to help Mom work out plays-I honestly thought she had a bug on her face...I didn't know it was a mole!

I should really work on my brain-to-mouth filter.

"Here we are," Mom says, pulling into the driveway and parking the car. I stare up at the Hawthorne's house-I mean, farm. I knew they owned one-my mom always buys Half Moon Farm cheese and jam-but I didn't know it was this big!

As we get out of the car, a fat red hen zigzags towards me, clucking frantically. As it starts to peck at the toe of my shoe, the front door bangs open and Kate shoots out, diving for the chicken.

"Kitty Wells, get away from our guests!" she scolds, shooting me an apologetic grin. I return a small smile, but inside I'm incredulous. She actually talks to the chickens? And gives them names? Um, OK then.

Kate leads us inside, depositing the chicken on the front porch. "You have such a lovely home," my mother gushes, turning on her formal attitude. I've only seen her go formal like this for hockey benefit dinners and...well, book club. Most of the time, when she's at home or at the rink, she just hangs around like one of the guys, not afraid to be who she is. Around here, though, I've noticed she's a little stiff.

Everyone's waiting for us when we sit down, and Mrs. Chadwick immediately takes the reigns. "All right, everyone," she says. "We've all been doing great on the reading so far. Diana, why don't you read us the beginning of Chapter nine?"

Diana does, keeping her head down and not looking at anyone. I notice McKayla is twisting in her seat a little. I heard something at school about Alberta stealing Diana's book and messing around with it. Obviously, it hasn't blown over yet, because they both look ready to attack any minute.

When she's finished, Mrs. Chadwick smiles. "Well, what does this tell us about Meg?"

"She feels stupid," Diana speaks up, staring directly at McKayla. "Because she's no as rich as the other girls."

McKayla doesn't miss a beat. "Well, Meg doesn't try to fight it," she snaps back. "She tries on all those fancy clothes and tries to fit in. She ends up looking cool."

"No she doesn't!" Diana retorts. "In the book, Meg ends up looking really dumb because she was trying to look cool and was just PRETENDING the whole time!"

We just started, and already you can cut the tension with a knife. Mrs. Chadwick clears her throat and they both sit down. Wow. That quick little argument cleared the room pretty fast.

"Anyways," she continues quietly. Diana sits down, her face a serious scarlet. "What did anyone else get out of that chapter?"

"I agree with Diana," Kate says quietly, avoiding anyone's gaze. "Meg was too embarrassed to be herself. That's why she looked so ridiculous."

"Exactly," Mrs. Archer cuts in from her perch on a kitchen chair. She looks ready to go on the runway-an artsy pink and orange sundress is draped across her shoulders, and strappy straw sandals show off a hot-pink manicure. Someone should tell her it's December. "It's a lesson in being yourself. If you try to be someone else, you'll just..."

"I GET it!" McKayla stands up. Tears swim in her eyes. "All right, I understand, OK? I shouldn't have let Alberta steal your book, Diana. Be myself, don't follow the crowd. I GET IT, already!"

With that, she bolts out of the room. I hear the screen door squeak open before slamming. McKayla's mom starts after her. "I'm so sorry," she says. "She's been out of sorts ever since last month when Zach and I started going out. I'm afraid we'll have to cut it short tonight. Thanks you. And don't worry, I talk to her and straighten this all out."

When she leaves, there's an uncomfortable pause. "Well, I guess there's no use in continuing on tonight. I apologize about this, girls." Mrs. Chadwick looks like a deflated balloon. We all silently gather our coats and get ready to go. No one looks at each other. I see Diana whisper something to Kate. They nod gravely, and something slips. I'm sick of always sitting there, feeling stupid because Kate and Diana are whispering together or whatever. And McKayla's always acting like everything we say is some major insult. Meanwhile, Amy's always such a snot and no one can talk to her.

"I'm right here!" I snap. Kate and Diana jump up and glance at me guiltily. Kate opens her mouth to say something, but I stalk out of the room before she can. It's like drama central around here.

I duck into the bathroom to wash my hands and think for a second. OK, so two months ago we started a book club. Our moms were so excited, but we weren't. And now-well, nothing's changed. McKayla's a nervous wreck, Amy won't say a word, and no one is paying any attention to the book.

Well, something has to change. Because if I have to go to book club, I am NOT going to sit through it while everyone else stand around with their noses in the air.

When I open the door, Amy is standing outside, fiddling with her hair. "Sorry," she says before slipping through the door. Before she closes it, she looks at my Spice and Ice T-Shirt. "Isn't ice skating fun?" she asks tentatively. I smile. "Yeah! What kind do you do? Hockey, or-"

"I actually haven't started yet," Amy says quickly. "I was just wondering, cause, you know, you skate, and everything, so, like..." she takes a breath. "Do you give lessons? Because if you do, I might want to..."

"Hey, Amy? Hurry up, sweetie!"

"OK, mom!" Amy casts me an apologetic glance before closing the door.

I'm deep in thought the whole way home. Remember what I said, about 3 seconds ago, how book club wasn't any fun because I have no friends there?

Maybe...forget that for now.