Crenshaw

by Katherine Applegate

They asked my grandma for advice. They wanted to know if I was acting too adult for my age. She said not to worry. No matter how adult I seemed, she told them, I would definitely grow out of it when I became a teenager.

Dad says his uncle was a charming curmudgeon, which I think means grumpy with some niceness thrown in.

I liked the name Crenshaw. It felt like a blank piece of paper before you draw on it. It was an anything-is-possible kind of name.

Memory is weird. I remember getting lost at the grocery store when I was four. But I don’t remember getting found by my mom and dad, who were yelling and crying at the same time. I only know that part because they told me about it.

When I try to remember my whole entire life, it feels like a Lego project where you’re missing some of the important pieces, like a robot mini-figure or a monster-truck wheel. You do the best you can to put things together, but you know it’s not quite like the picture on the box.

Great analogy!

Looking at my family, all there together, I felt like a relative from out of town. Like I belonged to them, but not as much as they belonged to each other. Partly that was because they look so much alike, blond and gray-eyed and cheerful. My hair and eyes are darker, and sometimes so is my mood.

my parents were optimists. They looked at half a glass of water and figured it was half full, not half empty.

Scientists can’t afford to be optimists or pessimists. They just observe the world and see what is. They look at a glass of water and measure 3.75 ounces or whatever, and that’s the end of the discussion.

The pool water was always warm. Mom said it was from the sun, but I suspected illegal peeing.

Cats have scent glands by their ears, and when they rub on something, it’s like writing, in big letters, THIS IS MINE.

There’s always a logical explanation, I told myself. And a part of me, the scientist part of me, really wanted to figure out what was going on.

I felt like I’d taken off an itchy sweater on a cold day: relieved to be rid of it, but surprised by how chilly the air turned out to be.

If you ever have to live in your car, you are going to have some problems with feet.

I wasn’t like my dad, who kept saying we weren’t homeless. We were just car camping.

“just enjoy the magic while you can, okay?”

Imaginary friends are like books. We’re created, we’re enjoyed, we’re dog-eared and creased, and then we’re tucked away until we’re needed again.”