Read Online The Liberation of Gabriel King by K. L. Going - Free Book Online
Authors: K. L. Going
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cotton field. I kept taking off every time she snorted. By my eighteenthtry she didn’t pay me any mind at all. Just flicked her ear when I walked near her.
There was only one thing I utterly failed at, and it almost put an end to everything.
It was the middle of June and we were at Frita’s house, reading through our lists. We were still keeping them secret because Frita said it would be more fun that way. I wasn’t sure how exactly that made things fun, but I took Frita’s word for it.
“It’s your turn to pick,” Frita said that afternoon, putting her list away in the special box under her bed.
“Nuh-uh,” I said. “I just did one.”
Frita gave me that look.
“You know you’ve got three times as many as I do,” she reminded me. “I bet you still got half your list left.”
I looked down and sure enough, Frita was right. I had
more
than half left. Drat.
“What’re you gonna pick?” she asked.
I read through the things I hadn’t crossed off.
Fifth grade, Duke Evans, alligators, the Evans trailer, Frita’s basement, centipedes
…
Centipedes sure were gross, but I’d already tackled earwigs and spiders, so according to Frita’s plan, I ought to be getting braver. I thought about Jimmy and how he really wasn’t such a bad pet once I’d gotten used to him.
“Fine,” I said. “How about centipedes?”
Frita grinned. “All right! I know just where to find one.”
She grabbed my hand and pulled me down the hall.
“Our basement is full of them,” Frita said. I stopped following, but Frita tightened her grip on my hand.
“Don’t…be…a…scaredy-cat…,” Frita said, dragging me across the floor. “It’s just a plain old basement and a little bug.”
But Frita was wrong. There was nothing little about centipedes, and there was nothing plain about Frita’s basement.
“What if Terrance is down there?”
Frita opened the basement door. The light was on and I could hear grunting noises and the
smack, smack
sound of someone pounding something.
“See?” I said. “He
is
down there. Guess we’ll have to come back.”
Frita pulled me down the first step. “Terrance won’t care as long as we tell him we’re coming,” she said. She hollered down the steps, “ME AND GABE ARE COMING DOWN TO LOOK FOR CENTIPEDES!”
I waited for the rush of feet as Terrance ran up the steps to chase us away, but it didn’t come. He was toweling off the sweat when we got to the bottom of the steps.
“Fine,” he said. “I was done anyway.” But he didn’t say it nice. He glared at me. Then he yelled at Frita. “
Don’t touch anything!
”
He snapped his towel at her, and she stuck out her tongue. Terrance took the stairs two at a time, and I watched him go, wondering if I’d ever be that big. I wondered what itfelt like to have such long legs. Never getting any taller was number twenty-nine on my list, but there sure wasn’t anything I could do about that.
Frita stood in the middle of the basement and looked around. The light was on this time because Terrance had been down there. The punching bags and panther drawings didn’t look quite so big and scary when it wasn’t dark.
“Look,” said Frita, “it’s not so bad.”
She took a box off the shelf and put it on the floor. It was full of ornaments and a string of garland. “This is all our Christmas stuff. And here’s that plastic pumpkin I used to take trick-or-treating.”
She pulled down another box. “This one has all my baby clothes in it, and look, here’s the doll Great-aunt Alma gave me.” Frita wrinkled her nose. She hated dolls almost as much as she hated Great-aunt Alma.
I picked up the plastic pumpkin. This stuff
was
kind of neat. I had a pumpkin just like this one, only we didn’t have a basement in the trailer, so mine was stashed in Momma and Pop’s closet.
“What’s in that one?” I asked, pointing to another box on the shelf along the wall. Frita got up on a stool and pulled down the boxes, one by
There was only one thing I utterly failed at, and it almost put an end to everything.
It was the middle of June and we were at Frita’s house, reading through our lists. We were still keeping them secret because Frita said it would be more fun that way. I wasn’t sure how exactly that made things fun, but I took Frita’s word for it.
“It’s your turn to pick,” Frita said that afternoon, putting her list away in the special box under her bed.
“Nuh-uh,” I said. “I just did one.”
Frita gave me that look.
“You know you’ve got three times as many as I do,” she reminded me. “I bet you still got half your list left.”
I looked down and sure enough, Frita was right. I had
more
than half left. Drat.
“What’re you gonna pick?” she asked.
I read through the things I hadn’t crossed off.
Fifth grade, Duke Evans, alligators, the Evans trailer, Frita’s basement, centipedes
…
Centipedes sure were gross, but I’d already tackled earwigs and spiders, so according to Frita’s plan, I ought to be getting braver. I thought about Jimmy and how he really wasn’t such a bad pet once I’d gotten used to him.
“Fine,” I said. “How about centipedes?”
Frita grinned. “All right! I know just where to find one.”
She grabbed my hand and pulled me down the hall.
“Our basement is full of them,” Frita said. I stopped following, but Frita tightened her grip on my hand.
“Don’t…be…a…scaredy-cat…,” Frita said, dragging me across the floor. “It’s just a plain old basement and a little bug.”
But Frita was wrong. There was nothing little about centipedes, and there was nothing plain about Frita’s basement.
“What if Terrance is down there?”
Frita opened the basement door. The light was on and I could hear grunting noises and the
smack, smack
sound of someone pounding something.
“See?” I said. “He
is
down there. Guess we’ll have to come back.”
Frita pulled me down the first step. “Terrance won’t care as long as we tell him we’re coming,” she said. She hollered down the steps, “ME AND GABE ARE COMING DOWN TO LOOK FOR CENTIPEDES!”
I waited for the rush of feet as Terrance ran up the steps to chase us away, but it didn’t come. He was toweling off the sweat when we got to the bottom of the steps.
“Fine,” he said. “I was done anyway.” But he didn’t say it nice. He glared at me. Then he yelled at Frita. “
Don’t touch anything!
”
He snapped his towel at her, and she stuck out her tongue. Terrance took the stairs two at a time, and I watched him go, wondering if I’d ever be that big. I wondered what itfelt like to have such long legs. Never getting any taller was number twenty-nine on my list, but there sure wasn’t anything I could do about that.
Frita stood in the middle of the basement and looked around. The light was on this time because Terrance had been down there. The punching bags and panther drawings didn’t look quite so big and scary when it wasn’t dark.
“Look,” said Frita, “it’s not so bad.”
She took a box off the shelf and put it on the floor. It was full of ornaments and a string of garland. “This is all our Christmas stuff. And here’s that plastic pumpkin I used to take trick-or-treating.”
She pulled down another box. “This one has all my baby clothes in it, and look, here’s the doll Great-aunt Alma gave me.” Frita wrinkled her nose. She hated dolls almost as much as she hated Great-aunt Alma.
I picked up the plastic pumpkin. This stuff
was
kind of neat. I had a pumpkin just like this one, only we didn’t have a basement in the trailer, so mine was stashed in Momma and Pop’s closet.
“What’s in that one?” I asked, pointing to another box on the shelf along the wall. Frita got up on a stool and pulled down the boxes, one by
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