Read Online Prairie Evers by Ellen Airgood - Free Book Online Page B

She missed her bus. I told her she could call her folks from here, or else we could give her a ride home, is that all right?”
    Her mama gave a little put-upon laugh, like Ivy was forever asking things of her. She flipped her magazine shut and snuffed out her cigarette. Then she shoved up out of her chair and grabbed her jacket off the back of it and said, “Come on then,” and headed to the door.
    Ivy said, “We better hurry up.”
    “I could just call home. Mama might be there by now, or Daddy might’ve come inside for a drink of water or a sandwich,” I whispered, but Ivy just shook her head.
    Ivy’s mama’s car was little and lime green, with chrome wheels. The steering wheel had a laced-up leather cover, and so did the stick shift. Once upon a time it had been brand-new and exciting, you could tell. But that had been a long, long time ago. Now everything about it looked faded and old. Still, when Ivy’s mama turned on the ignition, the car said
vroom
, just like in a cartoon. I confess it gave me a start. Ivy’s mama peeled away from the curb, and the car raced down the street. I clutched onto Ivy’s hand for a second.
    The backseat was so tiny, it might as well have not even been there, but Ivy and me sat squished into it together. We talked alittle, but not like usual. When we got to my house, my mama was coming down the drive. She said, “Prairie, where have you been?”
    “I missed the bus. This is my friend Ivy. Her mama was kind enough to drive me home.”
    Mama leaned down and looked in through the car window. “My goodness, thank you.”
    “That’s all right,” Ivy’s mama said, and you could tell it really wasn’t.
    Mama looked at Ivy. “It’s nice to meet you. Prairie’s told me all about you. You’ll have to come to supper one night soon.”
    Ivy said, “That would be nice.”
    Mama looked over at Mrs. Blake. “How about Friday? Ivy can ride the bus home with Prairie, and we’ll drop her off home sometime Saturday. Is five o’clock too late?”
    Ivy’s mama looked taken aback, but she said, slowlike, “I guess that’d be okay.”
    Ivy and I scrambled out of the car and jumped up and down and hugged each other real quick. Then Ivy got in the front seat. I waved until the car was out of sight.
    I was happy Ivy was coming over Friday to spend the night, but even so, I felt quiet after she left. I wished I could talk to Grammy.

COYOTES
    Pretty soon I couldn’t imagine a day when I didn’t have Ivy as my friend. Her mama let her spend all kinds of time with me, and Ivy came to my house after school nine days out of ten. I hardly went back to her place after that first time. Ivy didn’t ask, and I was just as glad.
    I was amazed at how we liked all the same things: pepperoni pizza, RC Cola, swimming, singing, and playing Monopoly. We both wanted a pair of in-line roller skates but didn’t think we’d ever get them. Also, neither one of us was exactly popularin school. Ivy was too quiet and wary, and I was too flat-out strange. But we didn’t care, we had each other.
    When we got off the bus, we’d run and climb up into the big maple beside the henhouse. Daddy’d propped an old wooden ladder against the trunk so it was easy to get to the platform of planks he’d nailed together and wedged into the tree’s big fork. Sitting up there among the rustling leaves was one of our favorite things.
    We’d talk and talk—mostly about the future. From on high it seemed as if we almost could see how our lives would be. I’d keep on at the farm as my folks did, only I wanted to have a horse to ride around, too. Ivy wanted to be a ballet dancer, and have a dog, and maybe be a famous movie director one day. She said now that she knew a little bit about chickens, she’d probably have a flock of those too, although how she’d fit that in with ballet dancing I couldn’t quite see. But she did love the chickens and had a way with them. I think they liked how quiet and calm she was. The