baxter

“So you got another guinea pig?” I asked the children. They were eating applesauce and whispering amongst themselves. “You know what happened to the other guinea pig,” Lexie told me, eyes widening like we were sharing a secret. Yes, I knew. “Hopefully this guinea pig won’t leave,” Clary said, nodding for emphasis. “I love Red.”

“His name isn’t ‘Red’ Clary it’s Baxter!” hissed Lexie. “Don’t lie to Miss Lola!”

“I wasn’t lying! I changed my mind and now his name is Red.”

“He isn’t your guinea pig. You don’t get to name him. We had a, a . . . ”

“Vote?” I supplied. All such school decisions are settled by vote. She nodded. “A vote. His name is Baxter.”

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