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A lot of the older girls had giggled, and though some of the adults had turned around and frowned, the Weatherfield brothers had just snickered. Usually, they were careful not to let anyone else hear their taunts, but they hurt all the same.
It was as if they’d made Josh their prime target—waiting, planning for the chance to be mean. At least they hadn’t said anything about his mom this time. If they had, he would have barreled into them again and tried to do something about it. Of course, that would probably have gotten him a detention, and he’d have no chance of being Joseph in the play.
Because no matter what, the Weatherfield boys always stuck up for each other.
“Hey, Josh. What’s happening?”
He looked up, surprised to hear Sara Hanrahan’s voice and see her standing just a few feet away with her head tipped and a curious look on her face. Harold sat at her side with his tongue lolling out one side of his mouth.
“You look like you just lost your best friend.”
He pulled to a stop and scuffed a toe against a broken slab of cement. “Nah.”
“Feel okay?”
“Yeah.” He watched as her mouth curved into a smile and a nice twinkle gleamed in her eyes, and suddenly he felt a little better. “How’s Harold?”
She dropped a hand to the top of the dog’s head. “Doing good. Want to walk with us? I was headed out to the Dairy Queen at the edge of town. My treat, if you want to come along.”
“Sure!”
With her other hand, she reached for her back pocket and handed him her cell phone. “Call your mom and make sure it’s okay.”
“I’m in third grade,” he protested, feeling his cheeks warm. The boys had just taunted him about being a mama’s boy, and their words were still ricocheting around in his brain. “I don’t have to ask her everything.”
“No treats if you don’t call,” Sara said with a wink. “I don’t want her mad at me. She might raise my rent.”
Josh glanced around, then took the phone and dialed his home number. His mom answered on the second ring.
“Hi, honey. How’d it go? Did you get the part?”
His heart fell at her enthusiasm. Mom was so sure he was bright and talented and popular, but what did she know? Nothing. Nothing about how things were really like, anyway. “The committee’s gonna decide in a couple weeks.”
“They couldn’t pick anyone better than you, Joshie.”
He winced at his childhood name, glad that no one nearby could hear it, then rapidly told her about the Dairy Queen, disconnected, and handed the phone back. “It’s okay.”
They fell into step and were halfway to their destination before Sara grinned and bumped into his shoulder. “You still look down in the dumps. What’s this about a committee? Are you running for mayor?”
“Joseph.”
“Who?”
“You know, for the nativity program downtown.” He allowed himself to imagine it for just a moment—the pride on his mom’s face, the feeling of being a star, even if it was for just a few hours. The vision faded almost as soon as he conjured it up. “I think there’ll be live animals in the display for a few days before Christmas, but on Christmas Eve, actors will be there, and they’ll get to say their parts.”
“I see. So what are the chances of your being Joseph?”
“Probably zero.”
“Why? I think you’d be a great Joseph. How is this decided? By a vote?”
“Nah. The committee. But Mrs. Weatherfield—” the name tasted sour on his tongue “—is head of it, and she’ll make sure they pick one of her boys.”
Sara raised a brow. “That hardly seems fair.”
He started to say that it never was, but just shrugged and bit back the words. Whining was a big waste of time, and nothing would ever change. What the Weatherfields wanted, they got.
At the Dairy Queen, Sara bought a small cone for Harold and hot fudge malts for Josh and herself, then they shuffled through fallen leaves at the small park across the street to sit at a picnic table.
