the air as the spray hits it. “Designed to just add water.” I let the water puddle for a while, then I shut off the sprayer and say, “Hey, would you mind doing this while I mix it in? The directions say it works better if you stir a little.”
She takes the hose and says, “How's a girl your age know so much about cement?”
I laugh and start jabbing at the wet layer of EZ-CRETE with the shovel, driving the water in deeper. “You don't want to know.”
She laughs. “Oh, now I really do!”
“Go ahead and spray some more,” I tell her. And while she moves the water across the cement, I say, “I learned about EZ-CRETE when I was trapped in a basement on the West Side—some gang guy tried to kill my friend and me, so we knocked him out and cemented his tush to a wheelbarrow before escaping.”
She stares at me a second while the water gushes out. “I'd accuse you of jokin', but I don't think you are.”
“Nope.” I nod at the sprayer. “That's enough, thanks.”
So she cuts the water and kids me with, “Remind me not to mess with you!”
I laugh. “I'm just hoping this'll stop Captain Patch from messing with
you
.” I jab at the cement until all the water's seeped in, then take a step back and rest on theshovel handle. “I sure hope he doesn't move down and start another hole.”
“Well, if he does, I guess I know how to fix it, huh?” She sticks out her hand and says, “Your name's Sammy, right?”
I shake her hand and say, “And you're Mrs. Stone.” She smiles. “Teri.” But all of a sudden the smile vanishes from her face and she shouts, “Hey! Mind your own business!” across Mrs. Willawago's yard.
I whip around but don't see a thing.
“Hey!” she shouts again. “You think I don't know you're there? Quit slinkin' around!”
Andy the Appliance Guy's head pops over the far fence. “Who you talkin' to?”
“You! This is the third time I've seen you nosin' around!”
“Nosin' around? I'm in my own backyard, trying to find some parts!”
“You think I'm stupid?” She shoots a finger his direction. “I'll bet
you're
the one who threw the rocks!”
He squints at her. “Well, at least now I know why them cops asked me all them nosy questions. Thanks a lot, neighbor. I'll be sure to return the favor!” Then he heads back for his house.
“Good-for-nothin' bum,” Mrs. Stone grumbles.
“Do you really think he threw the rocks?”
She gives a little shrug, a scowl, and a shake of the head. “Marty told me that bum's already gone and spent the money he
thinks
he's gonna get for that place. He inherited it and all the junk that went with it from his daddy. Claimed he was gonna fix it up and sell it, but all he's done for the past year is watch TV.”
Now, just as I'm thinking that she seems to know a lot about Appliance Andy, Hudson and Mrs. Willawago come outside through the back door of the caboose. “How are you doing?” Hudson calls across the yard.
“Just about done!” I hurry to finish the job by scraping together some dirt and covering the cement with it.
“That was quick!” Mrs. Willawago says, and Mrs. Stone nods and tells her, “This girl could make a fortune sellin' people on this cement—I'd never even heard of it.”
I spear the shovel over the fence, jabbing it hard into the compost heap. “EZ-CRETE, fast and neat!” Then I pick up the empty cement bags and say, “It should be set up in no time.”
“Here,” Mrs. Stone says, reaching out for the bags. “I'll throw those away for you.”
I hand them over, telling her thanks, but just as Mrs. Stone's turning to leave, Mrs. Willawago stops her with, “Oh, Teri, this is Hudson Graham. He and Sammy have an interesting theory that would explain what Sammy overheard yesterday.”
Mrs. Stone turns back. “What's that?”
So Mrs. Willawago explains about Coralee Lyon maybe owning some property on Hopper Street. And the more she explains the theory, the wider Mrs. Stone's eyes crank and the farther
She takes the hose and says, “How's a girl your age know so much about cement?”
I laugh and start jabbing at the wet layer of EZ-CRETE with the shovel, driving the water in deeper. “You don't want to know.”
She laughs. “Oh, now I really do!”
“Go ahead and spray some more,” I tell her. And while she moves the water across the cement, I say, “I learned about EZ-CRETE when I was trapped in a basement on the West Side—some gang guy tried to kill my friend and me, so we knocked him out and cemented his tush to a wheelbarrow before escaping.”
She stares at me a second while the water gushes out. “I'd accuse you of jokin', but I don't think you are.”
“Nope.” I nod at the sprayer. “That's enough, thanks.”
So she cuts the water and kids me with, “Remind me not to mess with you!”
I laugh. “I'm just hoping this'll stop Captain Patch from messing with
you
.” I jab at the cement until all the water's seeped in, then take a step back and rest on theshovel handle. “I sure hope he doesn't move down and start another hole.”
“Well, if he does, I guess I know how to fix it, huh?” She sticks out her hand and says, “Your name's Sammy, right?”
I shake her hand and say, “And you're Mrs. Stone.” She smiles. “Teri.” But all of a sudden the smile vanishes from her face and she shouts, “Hey! Mind your own business!” across Mrs. Willawago's yard.
I whip around but don't see a thing.
“Hey!” she shouts again. “You think I don't know you're there? Quit slinkin' around!”
Andy the Appliance Guy's head pops over the far fence. “Who you talkin' to?”
“You! This is the third time I've seen you nosin' around!”
“Nosin' around? I'm in my own backyard, trying to find some parts!”
“You think I'm stupid?” She shoots a finger his direction. “I'll bet
you're
the one who threw the rocks!”
He squints at her. “Well, at least now I know why them cops asked me all them nosy questions. Thanks a lot, neighbor. I'll be sure to return the favor!” Then he heads back for his house.
“Good-for-nothin' bum,” Mrs. Stone grumbles.
“Do you really think he threw the rocks?”
She gives a little shrug, a scowl, and a shake of the head. “Marty told me that bum's already gone and spent the money he
thinks
he's gonna get for that place. He inherited it and all the junk that went with it from his daddy. Claimed he was gonna fix it up and sell it, but all he's done for the past year is watch TV.”
Now, just as I'm thinking that she seems to know a lot about Appliance Andy, Hudson and Mrs. Willawago come outside through the back door of the caboose. “How are you doing?” Hudson calls across the yard.
“Just about done!” I hurry to finish the job by scraping together some dirt and covering the cement with it.
“That was quick!” Mrs. Willawago says, and Mrs. Stone nods and tells her, “This girl could make a fortune sellin' people on this cement—I'd never even heard of it.”
I spear the shovel over the fence, jabbing it hard into the compost heap. “EZ-CRETE, fast and neat!” Then I pick up the empty cement bags and say, “It should be set up in no time.”
“Here,” Mrs. Stone says, reaching out for the bags. “I'll throw those away for you.”
I hand them over, telling her thanks, but just as Mrs. Stone's turning to leave, Mrs. Willawago stops her with, “Oh, Teri, this is Hudson Graham. He and Sammy have an interesting theory that would explain what Sammy overheard yesterday.”
Mrs. Stone turns back. “What's that?”
So Mrs. Willawago explains about Coralee Lyon maybe owning some property on Hopper Street. And the more she explains the theory, the wider Mrs. Stone's eyes crank and the farther
Similar Books
