today and I smell worse than Charlie’s feet.”
“Wanna come?” Charlie asks me again. Marita knits her eyebrows as she studies Charlie, then me.
“I’ll set the table if you want, Marita, after my shower,” I say. She nods.
“You two fighting?” she asks, switching her finger back and forth between us.
“I’m not,” Charlie assures her.
“Charlie tried to kill me today, but oh no, that’s not fighting. Thanks, Charlie, for making me see the difference.” I turn around and stomp away to the bathroom, leaving him to explain himself to Marita.
11
M Y SECOND SHOWER OF the day is warm and sudsy, to clean the moldy stink of the water off my skin and clothes and hair. I change into another sundress; it’s too short and frayed around the buttons, but it’s worn soft from many spins through the washer and dryer. I guess Nancy Drew would have slipped into a cool linen dress and low-heeled pumps for dinner and a party. For a minute, I look in my closet, wondering. Since the only linen thing I have is a black skirt that’s too wrinkly, I decide to forget looking cool and linenish.
I set the kitchen table for the two of us and then go to my room. My letter to Emily waits for me, unfinished. I sit at my desk and stare at the paper and think about telling her about Charlie and how he’s gone bonkers, pushing me off the tower. I pick up my pen and chew the end.
Guess what! I jumped off this really high tower into the water and so my initials are going on this cool board they have up there. I know it’s hard for you to believe, since I never even went off the middle dive at the Fort Lowthrop pool, but I promise it’s truly true! In other news, I have to report that I’m worried about Charlie. He thinks he can do anything, and Mom and Dad never seem to be around when he’s acting his worst, like today while we all were
“Lane.” I don’t even notice Charlie until he is breathing over my shoulder. I jump and swing around in my desk chair, slamming my hand over my letter, and glare at him.
“Why are you in my room without knocking?”
“The fort,” he says, his voice flat. “It’s wrecked. They wrecked it.”
We sprint out of the house together, tearing across the front and back lawns that divide First Street from Second, then Second from Third. My bare feet squish over lumpy mud and grass until I’m looking over a half-collapsed side of the fort.
“Kids from the other side,” Charlie gasps between ragged breaths.
“Maybe so, maybe not.” I stoop to examine one of the fallen boards. “This all might have come down in the rain.”
“Lane, it’s wrecked. No rain did this.” Charlie picks up a long splice of wood and hurls it like a javelin across the grass. “Why won’t they play fair? They’re breaking the rules, why won’t they just play fair?”
“Charlie, for one thing it’s not about any rules and for another thing, with enough people it’s easy to hammer it all back into place, and for another thing I really do think it was the rain that knocked it down.”
Charlie folds his hands into fists and stretches his mouth into a lipless line. “I’ll get him. That kid Jason McCullough who was in the tree. It was him who destroyed our fort, I bet. He’ll wish he was never born, I’ll get him so bad.”
“You don’t even know if it was Jason McCullough in the tree. Look, see how the wind must have blown all this over?” I point to the tipped over boards. “No kids did this, see?”
The rain turned the floor of our fort into a black batter of mud. I can’t resist stepping into it, letting it ooze over the tops of my feet. It feels so good that I give a little from my grudge against Charlie.
“Stick your feet in.” I point to mine. He looks at me and grins, then hops with both feet in the mud, spraying dark speckles all over my dress.
“Now look what you did!” I jump out of the puddle to the grass and try to brush off mud polka-dots, which just end up smearing.
“I’m
“Wanna come?” Charlie asks me again. Marita knits her eyebrows as she studies Charlie, then me.
“I’ll set the table if you want, Marita, after my shower,” I say. She nods.
“You two fighting?” she asks, switching her finger back and forth between us.
“I’m not,” Charlie assures her.
“Charlie tried to kill me today, but oh no, that’s not fighting. Thanks, Charlie, for making me see the difference.” I turn around and stomp away to the bathroom, leaving him to explain himself to Marita.
11
M Y SECOND SHOWER OF the day is warm and sudsy, to clean the moldy stink of the water off my skin and clothes and hair. I change into another sundress; it’s too short and frayed around the buttons, but it’s worn soft from many spins through the washer and dryer. I guess Nancy Drew would have slipped into a cool linen dress and low-heeled pumps for dinner and a party. For a minute, I look in my closet, wondering. Since the only linen thing I have is a black skirt that’s too wrinkly, I decide to forget looking cool and linenish.
I set the kitchen table for the two of us and then go to my room. My letter to Emily waits for me, unfinished. I sit at my desk and stare at the paper and think about telling her about Charlie and how he’s gone bonkers, pushing me off the tower. I pick up my pen and chew the end.
Guess what! I jumped off this really high tower into the water and so my initials are going on this cool board they have up there. I know it’s hard for you to believe, since I never even went off the middle dive at the Fort Lowthrop pool, but I promise it’s truly true! In other news, I have to report that I’m worried about Charlie. He thinks he can do anything, and Mom and Dad never seem to be around when he’s acting his worst, like today while we all were
“Lane.” I don’t even notice Charlie until he is breathing over my shoulder. I jump and swing around in my desk chair, slamming my hand over my letter, and glare at him.
“Why are you in my room without knocking?”
“The fort,” he says, his voice flat. “It’s wrecked. They wrecked it.”
We sprint out of the house together, tearing across the front and back lawns that divide First Street from Second, then Second from Third. My bare feet squish over lumpy mud and grass until I’m looking over a half-collapsed side of the fort.
“Kids from the other side,” Charlie gasps between ragged breaths.
“Maybe so, maybe not.” I stoop to examine one of the fallen boards. “This all might have come down in the rain.”
“Lane, it’s wrecked. No rain did this.” Charlie picks up a long splice of wood and hurls it like a javelin across the grass. “Why won’t they play fair? They’re breaking the rules, why won’t they just play fair?”
“Charlie, for one thing it’s not about any rules and for another thing, with enough people it’s easy to hammer it all back into place, and for another thing I really do think it was the rain that knocked it down.”
Charlie folds his hands into fists and stretches his mouth into a lipless line. “I’ll get him. That kid Jason McCullough who was in the tree. It was him who destroyed our fort, I bet. He’ll wish he was never born, I’ll get him so bad.”
“You don’t even know if it was Jason McCullough in the tree. Look, see how the wind must have blown all this over?” I point to the tipped over boards. “No kids did this, see?”
The rain turned the floor of our fort into a black batter of mud. I can’t resist stepping into it, letting it ooze over the tops of my feet. It feels so good that I give a little from my grudge against Charlie.
“Stick your feet in.” I point to mine. He looks at me and grins, then hops with both feet in the mud, spraying dark speckles all over my dress.
“Now look what you did!” I jump out of the puddle to the grass and try to brush off mud polka-dots, which just end up smearing.
“I’m
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