Standing for Socks by Elissa Brent Weissman

She threw her books and folder into her backpack, then went downstairs and added her lunch. Sure enough, she was running late, and she still had to pack her backpack.įara dropped the gray sock that was in her hand and hopped off her bed. 'Time for school.'įara and Jody usually met halfway between their houses to walk to school. The doorbell rang as she was reaching toward her left foot.

She took out a dark gray pair and pulled one over her right foot. It was not until she'd removed the wet white sock and opened her drawer for a replacement that she realized she was out of white socks. 'But I will be okay.' Her father sniffled back a fake tear and patted her feet.įara went upstairs to her room, scrunching her nose each time the dewy foot hit the stairs. She made a fist and raised it in the air. 'I wet my right foot getting your newspaper,' she said dramatically. Back inside, she dropped the paper on the table and poked her father's arm. She balanced so as not to get her left wet as well and picked up the paper from the grass. 'Yuck!' she said because morning dew soaked through her right sock. 'Yes!' she said because it was nice and warm outside. I want to make sure it's warm enough to wear shorts, anyway.' Fara ran outside without putting her sneakers on. 'If juggling's not allowed, then I'll need a little more time to think. Though her mother insisted no one was allowed to juggle fruit, Fara got in more trouble than her dad did when she tried. Ross often juggled the oranges and bananas from the fruit bowl. 'If it has to do with juggling, then that's not fair,' Fara said. 'Or maybe I'll think of a new way that tops yours.' 'And it's fun,' Fara said as she took the last bite. 'Original, environmentally conscious, and less work for me. 'And it's one less plate to wash,' she pointed out, 'so we're saving water.' 'Why eat the way everyone else eats?' Fara said. 'What an inventive way to eat a bagel,' her father said as he put on a pot of coffee.

She took a bite of the bagel and then spun it a few inches and took another, eating roundward and inward until there was almost nothing left. Fara sat at the kitchen table wearing her breakfast around her pointer finger like a large, doughy ring.

Standing for Socks by Elissa Brent Weissman