Calli Be Gold Read Online Free Page B

plates.
    Despite the fact that we are struggling to cut off a bite of lasagna, let alone chew it, Dad says we should makethe best of the situation and he begins the usual dinnertime ABC game. We are named in alphabetical order—Alex, Becca, Calli—and every night, Dad goes from child to child, asking us what we accomplished that day.
    There have been times I’ve wanted to ask my parents if they thought this through fully when they named their children. Didn’t they consider the consequences of having a third child who would forever be branded a
C
? I know they thought it was cute and clever. But I bet if one of them was number three with a
C,
they would see things quite differently.
    “A-man,” Dad calls to my brother, who answers, “Wha?” and dribbles cracker crumbs from his mouth, which makes Becca cringe and moan, “Ew! Do you have to be so disgusting?”
    “Huge accomplishment today.” Dad compliments Alex for the hundredth time. “Winning a critical game. Playing your best. I’ll tell ya, Son, you’re the whole team.”
    “Yeah.” Alex grins, slurping from his glass of soda pop. “Plus I got an A on my biology test.” He wipes the back of his hand across his mouth.
    “Alex, your napkin is right in front of you.” Mom picks it up and waves it near his face.
    “Way to go,” Dad says, and high-fives Alex. He turns to Becca and peers over at her ankle. “Injury? That’s the life of a skater. You need to be tough. To skate with the big girls, you gotta take the pain.”
    She rolls her eyes.
    “Daily accomplishment?” he says to her, as if we are all in one of his big company meetings.
    “My skating team finally got the pass-through down,” Becca announces, smiling for maybe the first time today. “Ruthless was actually happy with us.”
    I lick my lips and swallow. My turn is coming. My forehead feels hot and my palms grow sweaty.
    “In fact,” Becca adds, “she pulled me aside today to tell me how well I’m skating. She said if I continue like this, I’ll move up to the higher team next year for sure.”
    “There you go,” Dad says, banging his fist on the table. The dishes and glasses clatter. “See? Hard work, determination, never giving up. That’s what it’s all about. Don’t I always say you can do whatever you set your mind to in this world?
    “And,” he continues, looking in my direction, “what kind of accomplishment can you report today, Miss Calli?”
    Everyone looks at me.
    What should I answer? I tried to help some kid lying under the hockey-game table but he didn’t want my help. I finished all my homework at school, then I rode around with Mom in the van and watched Becca’s practice and Alex’s game and noticed the streaks of color in the sky.
    “Well,” I say.
    “Yes?” Dad asks, gnawing on a piece of the lasagna.
    “Um …”
    He smiles and reaches over to rumple my hair like he did at the basketball game. Then he tucks his hand undermy chin and lifts it a bit. “There’s always tomorrow,” he says kindly. “I know you’ll have something big to report one day.”
    The thing is, I’m not so sure anymore.
    On my fourth-grade report card, my teacher described me as “nice and pleasant, an average student.” Dad hit the roof. “We are the Golds! We’re golden!” he boomed at me. “No Gold is average!” His face was flushed and puffy, like I had done something really wrong, something against the law maybe. Not the real law, but the Gold law. That was when they started me on all the activities—the gymnastics and violin and all that. Even though nothing has worked so far, Dad says finding a passion can take time and he keeps reassuring me that I just haven’t hit on the right thing yet. Soon, he says, I will have lots of Post-its and accomplishments too.
    Alex stabs his chunk of lasagna with his knife and raises it above his head, making Dad and Becca laugh. “Ladies and gentlemen, here we have the first ever radioactive lasagna,” Alex says, and