hadn’t meant for anyone to hear.
“Hey, how come your dog looks so sad?”
“He just does.” Dog kept dancing while the girl scratched. They seemed to be getting along very nicely. “He needs a home,” Homer said. “Do you know someone who wants a dog?”
The girl stood. He and the girl were about the same height and were both wearing denim jeans. But while Homer wore a green corduroy farm jacket, she wore a red apron with a little nametag: LORELEI . Her hair was real short and dyed pink. No one in Milkydale had pink hair. “Why don’t you keep him? He’s a cute dog.”
“I’d like to keep him but my dad won’t let me.”
“That’s too bad.” She looked Homer up and down. “You a tourist?”
“I dunno.” He didn’t want to tell her that he was a runaway.
“Whaddaya mean you don’t know?” She circled around, looking Homer up and down. “You’re either from here or you’re not from here.”
Her questions were leaning a bit on the snoopy side. “I’m not from here.”
“What’s your name?”
“Homer.”
She stopped circling and smiled. “Like the writer?”
“No. Like my grandpa.”
“Well, Homer, my name’s Lorelei. Want some tomato soup?” She pointed to a cart that stood at the edge of the sidewalk. The cart had a red umbrella with big letters: SCALDING HOT TOMATO SOUP . “You look like you need to eat. Do you like to eat?”
“I guess so.” Homer’s stomach rumbled as he followed her to the cart. Steam rose as she removed a metal lid. “You got money?”
“No.”
“No matter. I got lots of this stuff.” She ladled red liquid into a Styrofoam bowl. Homer sat on a bench next to the cart, balancing the bowl in his lap. “Here’s a spoon.”
“Thanks.” Homer blew on the soup. Across the street, a bunch of ladies sat at little painted tables outside a bakery. They wore fancy hats and sipped small cups of tea. Homer suddenly missed his mother. He blew on the soup again, then took a few sips. “It’s good,” he said. Mrs. Pudding never served soup for breakfast.
Lorelei sat next to him and opened a packet of saltine crackers, which she fed to Dog, one at a time. Crumbs flew out the sides of his mouth. “Scalding hot soup!” shehollered a couple of times. No one came to buy soup. “Most people want hotdogs with all the fixin’s, you know? The City’s full of hotdog carts.”
Homer wished they had a hotdog cart in Milkydale. He ate two more bowls of soup while Dog ate six more packets of crackers. Lorelei curled her legs onto the bench. “Homer’s one of my favorite writers,” she said. “I love
The Odyssey
, don’t you? I’ve read it nine times. Odysseus got to go to all those places and meet all those weird people like that Cyclops and that witch. Have you read
The Odyssey
?”
“Yeah. Mrs. Peepgrass assigned it last year.” Mrs. Peepgrass usually chose love stories about people named Heathcliff and Scarlett O’Hara, the kind of stories Homer wasn’t much interested in. But
The Odyssey
had been different. “It was pretty good.”
“Pretty good?” Lorelei swung her legs off the bench. “It’s the best story ever written. Odysseus was a hero. He left his home and family to go fight in the Trojan War. But when he tried to get back home, he had to face peril after peril. He thought he’d only be gone for a short while but he was gone for twenty years. Twenty years.”
Homer stopped eating as a powerful homesickness fell across him like a shadow.
“Just goes to show you that you never know what mighthappen.” Lorelei slid onto the sidewalk and scratched Dog’s head. “So, whatcha doing in The City?”
He pushed the feeling away. “I’m looking for a library. Do you know where one is?”
“Sure. I go there all the time. Want me to show you?”
Homer reached under his collar and pulled out his compass. “If you tell me what direction to go, then I can find it.”
Lorelei’s eyes got real wide and she leaped to her feet. “Hey,
“Hey, how come your dog looks so sad?”
“He just does.” Dog kept dancing while the girl scratched. They seemed to be getting along very nicely. “He needs a home,” Homer said. “Do you know someone who wants a dog?”
The girl stood. He and the girl were about the same height and were both wearing denim jeans. But while Homer wore a green corduroy farm jacket, she wore a red apron with a little nametag: LORELEI . Her hair was real short and dyed pink. No one in Milkydale had pink hair. “Why don’t you keep him? He’s a cute dog.”
“I’d like to keep him but my dad won’t let me.”
“That’s too bad.” She looked Homer up and down. “You a tourist?”
“I dunno.” He didn’t want to tell her that he was a runaway.
“Whaddaya mean you don’t know?” She circled around, looking Homer up and down. “You’re either from here or you’re not from here.”
Her questions were leaning a bit on the snoopy side. “I’m not from here.”
“What’s your name?”
“Homer.”
She stopped circling and smiled. “Like the writer?”
“No. Like my grandpa.”
“Well, Homer, my name’s Lorelei. Want some tomato soup?” She pointed to a cart that stood at the edge of the sidewalk. The cart had a red umbrella with big letters: SCALDING HOT TOMATO SOUP . “You look like you need to eat. Do you like to eat?”
“I guess so.” Homer’s stomach rumbled as he followed her to the cart. Steam rose as she removed a metal lid. “You got money?”
“No.”
“No matter. I got lots of this stuff.” She ladled red liquid into a Styrofoam bowl. Homer sat on a bench next to the cart, balancing the bowl in his lap. “Here’s a spoon.”
“Thanks.” Homer blew on the soup. Across the street, a bunch of ladies sat at little painted tables outside a bakery. They wore fancy hats and sipped small cups of tea. Homer suddenly missed his mother. He blew on the soup again, then took a few sips. “It’s good,” he said. Mrs. Pudding never served soup for breakfast.
Lorelei sat next to him and opened a packet of saltine crackers, which she fed to Dog, one at a time. Crumbs flew out the sides of his mouth. “Scalding hot soup!” shehollered a couple of times. No one came to buy soup. “Most people want hotdogs with all the fixin’s, you know? The City’s full of hotdog carts.”
Homer wished they had a hotdog cart in Milkydale. He ate two more bowls of soup while Dog ate six more packets of crackers. Lorelei curled her legs onto the bench. “Homer’s one of my favorite writers,” she said. “I love
The Odyssey
, don’t you? I’ve read it nine times. Odysseus got to go to all those places and meet all those weird people like that Cyclops and that witch. Have you read
The Odyssey
?”
“Yeah. Mrs. Peepgrass assigned it last year.” Mrs. Peepgrass usually chose love stories about people named Heathcliff and Scarlett O’Hara, the kind of stories Homer wasn’t much interested in. But
The Odyssey
had been different. “It was pretty good.”
“Pretty good?” Lorelei swung her legs off the bench. “It’s the best story ever written. Odysseus was a hero. He left his home and family to go fight in the Trojan War. But when he tried to get back home, he had to face peril after peril. He thought he’d only be gone for a short while but he was gone for twenty years. Twenty years.”
Homer stopped eating as a powerful homesickness fell across him like a shadow.
“Just goes to show you that you never know what mighthappen.” Lorelei slid onto the sidewalk and scratched Dog’s head. “So, whatcha doing in The City?”
He pushed the feeling away. “I’m looking for a library. Do you know where one is?”
“Sure. I go there all the time. Want me to show you?”
Homer reached under his collar and pulled out his compass. “If you tell me what direction to go, then I can find it.”
Lorelei’s eyes got real wide and she leaped to her feet. “Hey,
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