“Veronica Ganz Doesn’t wear pants.” They had just passed the fish store on Boston Road when they heard it. Veronica gripped Mary Rose’s arm and whispered, “Keep walking!” “Aw, Veronica,” Mary Rose began whining, “just forget it today. Stanley’s waiting for us, and Mama left a quarter on the table, and the place closes at four-thirty. Please Veronica, not today, Veronica.” But Veronica just gave her one look, that familiar look, and Mary Rose started whimpering, “Why are you looking at me like ...that? It’s not my fault.” “Just shut up, and keep walking,” Veronica hissed. She slowed her pace, and waited. Sure enough, it came again, louder and clearer this time. “Veronica Ganz Doesn’t wear pants. Oh—Veronica Ganz Doesn’t wear pants.” “Peter Wedemeyer,” Veronica said decisively. “I’ll kill him.” “How do you know it’s him?” said Mary Rose. “Because he lisps,” said Veronica. “Can’t you hear? He says, ‘Veronica Ganth, doethn’t wear panth.’ It’s him all right.”MoreLessRead More Read Less
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