Amelia Earhart: Lady Lindy by Ann Hood Page A

of him with bones to keep him moving. Sometimes, they went fishing for perch. Sometimes, they played elaborate games that Meelie invented. There was nothing wrong with any of that, but there wasn’t anything especially exciting, either.
    â€œThese are very rare moths,” Meelie said in a hushed voice. “Luna. Regal. Cecropia.”
    Felix let out a low whistle. “Cool,” he said.
    Meelie smiled at him. With her shiny, white teeth and all those freckles, Felix thought she was one of the cutest girls he’d ever met. He didn’t know many girls as brave or adventurous as Meelie. She didn’t hesitate to put a worm on a hook or pick up a garter snake and examine it closely.
Let’s try!
seemed to be her favorite thing to say. And she read everything. At night, she came into the shed with a flashlight and books for her and Felix and they lay side by side reading while Maisie grumbled about wanting to go to sleep.
    â€œI bet you found those yourself, didn’t you, Meelie?” Felix asked admiringly.
    Maisie rolled her eyes. “It’s not such a big deal to find moths,” she said. She’d seen dozens of them sticking to the screen door almost every night.
    â€œIt’s a big deal to find these three kinds,” Meelie said.
    â€œRight,” Maisie said, “they’re very rare.”
    â€œThey are!” Pidge said. “Meelie looked them up in the encyclopedia and it said in there that these are very rare moths.”
    â€œI think they’re . . .” Felix struggled for an adjective that Meelie would like. “Impressive!” he said.
    Just then, Meelie’s mother called to them from the kitchen. She had no idea that Maisie and Felix slept in the shed every night and assumed they were neighborhood kids. All she ever said was how glad she was that Meelie and Pidge had made some friends.
    The four children walked through the big parlor with its fancy couch and chairs. The couch had lace doilies on the back that Meelie called “antimacassars.”
Fancy word for doilies,
Maisie had said, and Meelie explained that “macassar” was a pomade men wore in their hair and
anti
macassars kept the stuff off the upholstery. Now, every time they walked into the parlor Felix said that word to himself.
    It was so much cooler in the house that Maisie would have been happy to stay indoors. But Meelie liked being outside, so outside they stayed. If Pidge complained she was hot and wanted to go inside, Meelie scolded her. “Pidge, it’s summer! You’ll wish we could play outside once winter comes and then it will be too late!” Through the dining room with its heavily polished table, was a large vase of fresh flowers in the center flanked by heavy silver candlesticks, and a high china cupboard filled with fancy dishes and serving pieces.
    Then into the kitchen, where Meelie and Pidge’s mother stood over a freshly plucked chicken.
    She didn’t look up when they entered, but started to talk to them right away.
    â€œI was just about to cut up this chicken and I realized what a good science lesson it would be to have you watch.”
    Meelie and Pidge stood on either side of their mother, peering at the chicken with wide-eyed curiosity. But Maisie and Felix held back. The kitchen smelled mostly of the apple pie Meelie and Pidge’s mother had just baked, but behind the apple and cinnamon smell came the faint odor of blood.
That chicken has just been killed,
Felix thought with disgust.
    â€œLook how beautifully her little lungs fit above her little heart,” their mother said as if she were looking at a piece of art. “Isn’t she lovely?”
    â€œYes, Mama!” Pidge said enthusiastically. “She’s a beauty!”
    â€œDoes our heart fit over our lungs like that, Mama?” Meelie asked, pressing her hand to her chest.
    Her mother nodded, pleased. “Exactly, Meelie. Who knew we could