Read Online The Junction of Sunshine and Lucky by Holly Schindler - Free Book Online

ask Victoria and Lexie both to come—as long as Gus and I had enough time to really work on our house first. Then they could see all the great things we’ve done to the place.”
    He nods, smiling. “Now you’re talking.”
    â€œLike an open house!” I say. “You guys would be there, right? When Victoria sees our house, she’ll know—we’re not run-down people.”
And Lexie will remember that, too,
I tell myself.
    â€œI could make new curtains for my own front window,” Irma Jean offers.
    â€œDad and I could clean up the front yard,” Harold chimes in.
    â€œYou said it wasn’t about the rain barrels,” I remind him.
    â€œIt’s not—but—” Weird Harold rubs his chin. “I think we have a better chance of impressing Victoria—and the House Beautification Committee—if we work together.”
    â€œAlmost like an open
neighborhood
,” Irma Jean marvels.
    â€œWhat if they say no?” I wonder. “When I ask them to come over?”
    â€œTomorrow, at recess, we’ll
all
ask them,” Harold says. “They won’t be able to refuse if we all insist they come. In the meantime, the three of us can start working. Okay?”
    Irma Jean nods and puts her hand out, palm down. Harold piles his hand on top of hers, and I put mine on top of Harold’s, just like a team would before a big game.

• • • 18 • • •
    â€œYou really coming to work with me today?” Gus asks that afternoon, after we drop Weird Harold and Irma Jean off at their houses.
    â€œAbsolutely,” I say as we wave Irma Jean good-bye, and she scurries up her front steps. “Don’t want you taking something to McGunn’s that we could be using for our house.”
    It’s far warmer today than it really should be for September. But that’s Missouri for you. People around here are always saying, “If you don’t like the weather in Missouri, just wait five minutes and it’ll change.” Once, when I was still going to school at Montgomery, the morning bell rang at the start of a sunny, early spring day. Soon after, the skies clouded up, and it rained so much that we couldn’t go out for morning recess. By lunch, afternoon snowflakes were bouncing off our windows. We gobbled down our sandwiches and ran to the playground for a snowball fight. By the time we went home, the snow had melted, and the sun was back out.
    I swear it’s true. I’ve got yearbook pictures to prove it.
    Old Glory rumbles and jiggles toward Gus’s scheduled pickup.
    â€œHey there, Gus,” a man calls out from his front yard. He’s wearing jeans and a white short-sleeved shirt that’s unbuttoned to show off his undershirt. Kind of old-fashioned for men to wear undershirts like that. The only other one I know who likes them is Gus.
    â€œHey, Burton,” Gus says, waving as he steps from the truck.
    A big SOLD sign is stuck into the middle of his yard, next to a pot filled with flowers that have sharp petals, like daisies, but in the same colors as autumn leaves. Mums, I think they’re called.
    â€œReally thought I’d have more for you,” Burton apologizes. He shuffles his feet, tucks his chin down toward his chest, almost as though to hide his embarrassment as he points at the cardboard boxes piled at the curb. “Don’t know that you can get much of anything at McGunn’s for this.”
    I stand over Gus as he squats and riffles through the cardboard boxes. They’re full of toasters and lamp parts and hair curlers and coffeepots and irons.
    â€œJust a bunch of stuff I swore I’d fix someday,” Burton admits. “Stuff we plugged into the socket one morning, only to wind up getting showered with sparks and snaps.”
    Gus nods, understanding.
    â€œGot one more box in the house,” Burton says. “If you even want