Read Online A Tiny Piece of Sky by Shawn K. Stout - Free Book Online Page B

Katie.
    â€œHermann dropped her off on the way to the restaurant,” said Mother. “Hal is going to give us a ride in his taxi as soon as I find Frances.”
    â€œI’ll check the basement,” offered Katie. “That wee pet. Sometime I catch her down there doing I don’t know what.”
    Frankie watched Katie’s thick dark legs pass by the table toward the front door of their apartment. She had a generous figure with a slow, swinging gait that was as much side-to-side as it was forward motion. When the door closed behind her, Mother jetted past the table and down the hall toward the bedrooms. “Frances Marie!” she hollered. “Your uncle will be here in five minutes to take us to the restaurant, so you’d better produce yourself right now or I’ll get out the cake turner!”
    Mother was known on occasion to chase the girls—well, Joan and Frankie, never Elizabeth—around the apartment with a metal cake turner, something that resembled a spatula. Although she promised to use it on their behinds for doing something they shouldn’t have, Mother never made good on those promises, much to the relief of Joan and Frankie—not to mention their behinds.
    Frankie eased her scab collection back into the bag and cinched the drawstring. She didn’t want to go to the restaurant to help. She wanted to swim with Ava and Martha, or do nothing at all, except for maybe lie in front of the fan in the living room and listen to herradio programs or hang upside down on the jungle gym out back and stare up at the gray sky. It was much too hot to do anything else, especially when she didn’t have a choice in the matter. She tucked the bag into her dress pocket and started picking again at her knee. She straightened her leg so she could loosen one side, and as she did, her foot knocked into the chair leg closest to her, sending the chair back a few inches.
    Mother’s footsteps stopped. “Rats!” Frankie said under her breath. She grabbed hold of the chair legs, quickly returning the chair to its original spot. A few moments later, Mother stood at the table just a couple of feet from Frankie. Katie returned then, too, out of breath. “She ain’t downstairs,” she said. “Maybe she run off somewhere.”
    â€œI don’t think so,” said Mother.
    Frankie held her breath. But it made no difference, because the next thing she knew, Mother yanked at the top of the chair. Frankie grabbed for the chair legs and held on tight. Although petite, Mother was deceptively strong—all those years washing dishes—and she lifted the chair off the floor, dragging Frankie out partway from under the table. “I don’t have time for these games, Frances,” said Mother.
    â€œI want to stay here,” said Frankie, getting to her feet and knocking her head on the table on the way up.
    â€œNot by yourself, you’re not.”
    Frankie rubbed the top of her head. “But I won’t be by myself. Katie’s here.” She sidled up next to Katie and looked at her with pleading eyes.
    â€œNo indeed,” said Katie, shaking her head and reaching intoher dress pocket for a lemon drop. She unwrapped the candy and popped it into her mouth. “There’s a lot of work to be done round here. Last time I was supposed to watch you and Miss Joan, you snuck out on that horse. Got yourself in a bad way. No, ma’am. Now I got to do my work.” She crinkled the candy wrapper between her fingers and then ambled down the hall, leaving Frankie to face Mother alone.
    Mother bent over and looked at the empty space under the table. “What were you doing under there?”
    â€œNothing.”
    â€œFrances Marie, what have I told you about picking at yourself?”
    Frankie glanced at her leg and sighed.
    â€œThat leg of yours is going to turn green and they will have to cut it off. Then you’ll know