Tomato Girl by Jayne Pupek Page B

okay?”
    â€œI don’t want to come home, Daddy. I don’t want to go to Joe’s, and I don’t want an ice cream float!” I wanted to slam the telephone down, like I’d seen people do in movies.
    â€œEllie, you’re just going to have to trust me. You belong at home. I’m coming over to get you now.”
    â€œI don’t want to come home! You can’t make me!”
    â€œFine, Ellie. I thought you were more mature than that. You’ve always been my big girl, helping me at the store, sewing the buttons on my shirt. I thought I could count on you. Maybe I was wrong. And maybe I was wrong to let you have Jellybean, too. You just ran off and left him here. No food. No water.”
    â€œI was going to come back and get Jellybean.” Tears stung my eyes.
    My father used his firm voice. “You have a choice to make, Ellie. I’m calling a cab, and coming over to Miss Wilder’s to get you. If you don’t come home, Jellybean goes back to the store.”
    My voice broke. “Please, Daddy, I’ll come home. Please don’t take Jellybean away!”
    Daddy didn’t say another word. I heard the loud click in my ear which told me he’d hung up the phone. I stood in Miss Wilder’s living room as long as I could, holding the receiver in my hand. Maybe I listened for Daddy’s voice to come back and say something to make the hurt inside me stop. Maybe I just didn’t want to return to the kitchen and face Miss Wilder’s questioning looks.I don’t remember what ideas filled my mind, only that I waited there a long, long time.
    Miss Wilder’s voice startled me. “Everything okay?” She poked her head inside the door and looked at me with soft, worried eyes.
    â€œI have to use the bathroom,” I said, and placed the receiver back in its cradle.
    I NSIDE M ISS W ILDER’S bathroom, I sank to the floor and leaned against the cold toilet. Tight knots twisted inside my stomach. Maybe this was my fault for letting Tess kiss me. I thought about the smoke kisses she blew against Daddy’s neck a few weeks earlier while they talked inside her truck. That hadn’t been my fault. This was all too confusing. My head hurt.
    I stood up and ran my fingers over the gold bar of soap in the open shell on the sink. Then a knock came and Miss Wilder’s voice. “Ellie, your father is here.”
    W HILE THE YELLOW cab waited in front of the bungalow, I said good-bye to Belle and thanked Miss Wilder for the milk. She kissed me on the cheek and told me to visit again. Daddy opened the cab door for me. He waved at Miss Wilder, who remained standing on her front porch, her arms folded against the chilled air. Miss Franklin stepped outside and waved, too.
    I climbed into the backseat of the cab and scooted all the way to the door opposite Daddy. The cab smelled like leather and cigarettes. A wad of bubble gum and a crumbled potato chip bag lay on the floor. As the cab pulled away, Daddy slid next to me. He wrapped his arms around me, resting his chin on my head. He rocked me back and forth, saying my name over and over.
    His breath smelled bad, like the whiskey he keeps in his toolshed. I’d known my father to drink only when he was worried about important things like bills, taxes, and my mother’s moods.
    â€œI was so scared, Ellie. Don’t ever do that again,” he pleaded. “Don’t ever run away from me again.”
    Seeing Daddy hurt was more than I could stand. I told him I was sorry and promised never to run away again. “Don’t worry, Daddy, everything will be fine. Mama’s coming home tomorrow.”
    I NVISIBLE THINGS LIVE in the air. Dust fairies. Whispers. The static of socks on wool. I felt something invisible the night I came from Miss Wilder’s house. The fine hairs on my arms and neck rose like threads.
    Daddy stood too long at the window, staring at the road in front of our house.