What's in the Box?

Jay Appleton rang my bell this morning. I slid the shed door open and looked down at him in surprise.

"I know it's early, but Dad needs you right away. He said for me to wake you."

"I wake up at five every morning for the cows," I reminded him. "I've already been to my farm and back."

"Yeah, whatever." He studied my face for a long moment before adding, "You should probably go easy on the lipstick and eye gunk."

"But your mom said--"

"It's okay on her because she's a mom, but nobody our age wears that much makeup unless it's Halloween. Just ease up a little and you'll look nice."

"I'll look nice? Really?" It didn't seem normal for Jay Appleton to pay me a compliment, so I squinted at him with my clown-painted eyes until he broke a sweat and turned away.

"Melly, seriously. If you're going to be my foster sister, you're going to have to try a little harder to fit in. As well as you can, I mean, considering your size." Even though he wasn't looking at me I could hear the blush in his voice. "Aw hell, you know what I mean."

"I know what you mean but I don't know why you'd care."

"Survival," he told me. "I'll get beat up bad enough for having a carnival sideshow for a sister, but I can't imagine how much worse it'll be if you're made up like a circus clown!"

"Oh, come on! If somebody has a problem with me, why would they take it out on you?"

"Which one of us is the easier target? Think about it, Melly!"

I did think about what Jay had said for all the time I followed him around the house to where Mr. Appleton was waiting for us. Of course I'm worried about school and how the other kids will treat me. I'm worried they'll call me names, hurt my feelings, and refuse to talk to me--but I'm not worried about anyone causing me real physical pain. How could they, when everyone is so much smaller than me? But Jay is so short and weak that he could get beaten up by a ten-year-old. Or by a girl. Or by a ten-year-old girl. It's tough to be me sometimes, but it must be really tough to be Jay Appleton. When I realized that it made me want to scoop him up, give him a big hug, and tell him everything was going to be all right--but of course I didn't. I just kept walking behind him until we reached the front of the house.

Mr. Appleton was standing on the porch with a very anxious FedEx delivery guy. He looked up, and up, and up at me, swallowed hard, and asked, "Are you Melinda Mills?"

I nodded.

"Rush delivery for you. Sign here, please." He handed me an electronic pad and a stylus that was almost as small as one of my eyelashes.

I've never signed for a package before. Heck, I've never gotten any packages or mail or postcards from anyone in my life!!! I pressed down hard enough to break the first stylus and pad and had to try again, more carefully, with a second set. It took three FedEx workers to wheel the package--a large wooden crate--from the back of their truck, 'tho I was able to carry it back to the shed by myself cuz it only weighed about half as much as a cow.

You'll never guess what it was or who it was from, but go on and try. Go on, guess!!! I'll give you the weekend, and then I'll tell you all about it on Monday.