Read Online The Kings and Queens of Roam: A Novel by Daniel Wallace - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Daniel Wallace
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gone—”
“Exactly,” Helen said. “That’s the idea.”
“I want to stop,” Rachel said. “I want to stop doing this.”
Tears welled in her sister’s eyes, and Helen wondered, as shealways did when her sister cried, if there was something different about them, if the tears of a blind girl had a quality the tears of the seeing did not.
She held her sister close. “You smell good,” Helen said. “Like a flower. And listen to the birds. They always come out for you.”
These small kindnesses were usually enough for Rachel. But not today.
“It’s not right ,” she said. “And it must look . . . wrong. A blind girl and her sister setting up shop on a corner.”
“Oh, Rachel,” Helen said softly, still holding her sister tight against her, tighter now, too tight. “This is what people have always done. Ever since long ago. For generations it’s been the same. When people die, you take their things and send them out into the world, and in that way—”
“I don’t believe you,” Rachel said, pushing her sister away. “I’ve never seen anyone do that before. Who else does that?”
Helen almost laughed. “No,” she said. “You’re right. You wouldn’t see anyone doing that anymore. But people used to set up shop on the corner all the time.”
Helen knew that if she said the same thing over and over again, and said it with conviction, eventually Rachel would believe it. Even Helen found herself believing some of the stories she told. Sometimes she felt like she was living in more of a dream world than the one she’d created for Rachel.
“A long time ago,” Helen said, “but not that long ago, you would see people on every corner of this town, selling their things. It was called . . . cornering. And some corners were the good ones, and some were the bad ones . . .” But Helen stopped midstory: somebody was coming.
“I think we have customers,” Rachel said, cocking her head to one side, like a dog.
“No,” Helen said, sighing. “It’s just those boys.”
Those boys: Gus Dyer and his quiet tagalong Johnny Clare. They always came around on sale days and never bought anything, just picked up things with their sticky hands and stared at Rachel, especially Gus, who was clearly smitten by her. He stammered and blushed as if Rachel could see him. It was—almost—adorable. Helen tried to keep Rachel behind her when they came by, but today she was too late. They were there before she had a chance to protect her.
“Hey,” Gus said. He was chewing on something—a twig. It made his lips green. Little bits of bark were in his teeth. Helen wished Rachel could see this. “Hey, Rachel. Hey, Helen.”
Neither of the girls said anything. Rachel had been instructed in how to be with boys. She had been told how they were.
“Can we help you?” Helen said.
“No,” Gus said. Johnny Clare just shook his head.
“Y’all can scoot then,” Helen said.
“We’re not hurting anything.” Gus had never been scared of Helen, for some reason. It might have been because he wasn’t smart enough to be. “Do you mind if I speak to Rachel?”
Helen laughed. “She has nothing to say to you.”
“That’s right, Gus Dyer,” Rachel said, but without much conviction. “I have nothing to say to you.” She was smiling. Helen realized she was actually trying to flirt with him.
“See?” Helen said. “Get on out of here.”
Gus didn’t move. He looked back at his friend Johnny Clare. Johnny didn’t say anything, either. Everyone was quiet until Gus spoke. “Well,” he said. “That’s what I wanted to say to Rachel. We’re going. My folks and me. Leaving Roam.”
Rachel actually gasped. “No,” she said.
“What do you care?” Helen knocked against her sister’s shoulder with her own.
Rachel appeared to gather herself. “I don’t,” she said. “It’s just . . . you can’t give up on Roam. Our great-grandfather founded this town.”
Gus nodded. “I know,” he
“Exactly,” Helen said. “That’s the idea.”
“I want to stop,” Rachel said. “I want to stop doing this.”
Tears welled in her sister’s eyes, and Helen wondered, as shealways did when her sister cried, if there was something different about them, if the tears of a blind girl had a quality the tears of the seeing did not.
She held her sister close. “You smell good,” Helen said. “Like a flower. And listen to the birds. They always come out for you.”
These small kindnesses were usually enough for Rachel. But not today.
“It’s not right ,” she said. “And it must look . . . wrong. A blind girl and her sister setting up shop on a corner.”
“Oh, Rachel,” Helen said softly, still holding her sister tight against her, tighter now, too tight. “This is what people have always done. Ever since long ago. For generations it’s been the same. When people die, you take their things and send them out into the world, and in that way—”
“I don’t believe you,” Rachel said, pushing her sister away. “I’ve never seen anyone do that before. Who else does that?”
Helen almost laughed. “No,” she said. “You’re right. You wouldn’t see anyone doing that anymore. But people used to set up shop on the corner all the time.”
Helen knew that if she said the same thing over and over again, and said it with conviction, eventually Rachel would believe it. Even Helen found herself believing some of the stories she told. Sometimes she felt like she was living in more of a dream world than the one she’d created for Rachel.
“A long time ago,” Helen said, “but not that long ago, you would see people on every corner of this town, selling their things. It was called . . . cornering. And some corners were the good ones, and some were the bad ones . . .” But Helen stopped midstory: somebody was coming.
“I think we have customers,” Rachel said, cocking her head to one side, like a dog.
“No,” Helen said, sighing. “It’s just those boys.”
Those boys: Gus Dyer and his quiet tagalong Johnny Clare. They always came around on sale days and never bought anything, just picked up things with their sticky hands and stared at Rachel, especially Gus, who was clearly smitten by her. He stammered and blushed as if Rachel could see him. It was—almost—adorable. Helen tried to keep Rachel behind her when they came by, but today she was too late. They were there before she had a chance to protect her.
“Hey,” Gus said. He was chewing on something—a twig. It made his lips green. Little bits of bark were in his teeth. Helen wished Rachel could see this. “Hey, Rachel. Hey, Helen.”
Neither of the girls said anything. Rachel had been instructed in how to be with boys. She had been told how they were.
“Can we help you?” Helen said.
“No,” Gus said. Johnny Clare just shook his head.
“Y’all can scoot then,” Helen said.
“We’re not hurting anything.” Gus had never been scared of Helen, for some reason. It might have been because he wasn’t smart enough to be. “Do you mind if I speak to Rachel?”
Helen laughed. “She has nothing to say to you.”
“That’s right, Gus Dyer,” Rachel said, but without much conviction. “I have nothing to say to you.” She was smiling. Helen realized she was actually trying to flirt with him.
“See?” Helen said. “Get on out of here.”
Gus didn’t move. He looked back at his friend Johnny Clare. Johnny didn’t say anything, either. Everyone was quiet until Gus spoke. “Well,” he said. “That’s what I wanted to say to Rachel. We’re going. My folks and me. Leaving Roam.”
Rachel actually gasped. “No,” she said.
“What do you care?” Helen knocked against her sister’s shoulder with her own.
Rachel appeared to gather herself. “I don’t,” she said. “It’s just . . . you can’t give up on Roam. Our great-grandfather founded this town.”
Gus nodded. “I know,” he
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