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Authors: Dandi Daley Mackall
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been blacker inside if the windows had been painted black.
An owl hooted.
“This is spooky,” Karen whined. She clasped Jack’s arm with both hands. “Let’s go back.”
“ ’Fraid of a little ghost, Karen?” Chuck didn’t bother lowering his voice. “I’ll bet Old Man Kinney’s ghost isn’t waiting for him to kick the bucket. It’s probably already haunting this old shack.” He walked all the way up to the front window.
“Chuck!” Jack called.
Chuck pressed his nose to the glass, his hands cupping thesides of his head. “Looks like the lady of the house is out on the town.”
I thought about what Penny said at the pool, about Mrs. Kinney being able to do whatever she wanted now that her husband was laid up.
“What’s that?”
Karen squealed.
Inside the house, a single flame-light swept across the room. I gasped. “I see it!”
Chuck laughed. “Yeah, right.” He was staring at us instead of the window.
“Chuck!” Jack shouted. “They’re not kidding, man! Something’s in there.”
Chuck tilted his head like he knew we were kidding. Then he turned and peered in the front window. “What—?” He jumped from the porch so fast, he landed in a bush. Then he stumbled to his feet and took off running back up the road.
Karen was crying, burying her head in Jack’s side.
Jack burst out laughing. “It was just a light. A lantern maybe. Chuck probably woke Mrs. Kinney up. I hope she scared him more than he scared her.”
I knew Jack was right. But as we walked home, I made sure Karen wasn’t the only one next to Jack.
After the Atkinsons left, Jack and I went back inside and cleaned up our Monopoly game. Jack never divided his money pot into denominations, so we bundled ones, fives, twenties, and everything together, something that would have put my sister over the edge.
“I’ve been thinking,” Jack said.
“About what? Karen’s proposal to be Mr. and Mrs. Boone at the steam engine show?”
“Very funny. No, I was thinking about your compassion machine. That’s a great idea, Tree.”
“Yeah? Thanks.”
We picked up Monopoly stuff while strains of “I’ll Be Seeing You in All the Old Familiar Places” came floating in. My mind drifted back to the Kinney house. I felt bad for waking up Mrs. Kinney. “Jack?”
“Hmm?” He shoved the Monopoly board on top of the piles of money and forced the lid on the box.
“If we could use a compassion machine on Mrs. Kinney, what do you think she’d be feeling right now, with her husband in the hospital?”
Jack put both hands on the card table and leaned back, his chair rearing on its hind legs. I knew he was really thinking about this, which was one of the best things about Jack. He took me seriously. Always had. “Relieved,” he said at last.
“What?”
“I think Mrs. Kinney’s feeling relieved, at least for now.”
“Don’t you think she’s sad? They’ve been married a long time.”
Jack shrugged. “The Kinneys are married, but it’s a bent marriage. Not like your folks, or mine.” He leaned forward, and his chair thudded on all fours. “Yeah … I vote relieved.”
13
Get Real
After the Adams family took off, I went to bed, but I couldn’t sleep. Midge curled at my feet and growled every time I flopped over. I couldn’t stop thinking about Mrs. Kinney. Was she lying awake right now too? Was she really feeling relieved that Mr. Kinney wasn’t lying beside her?
The only person I would have felt relieved to have out of
my
way—not counting Khrushchev or Castro, of course—was Wanda. She was the biggest obstacle to me fulfilling either of my summer goals. Mrs. Woolsey, who’d been our junior high art teacher, always chose Wanda’s stuff for art shows. They were related somehow—Wanda’s dad was Mrs. Woolsey’s cousin, or something like that.
And Ray liked Wanda too.
If it hadn’t been for Wanda standing between Ray and me, I could have imagined Ray and his sky-blue eyes waiting on the other end of
An owl hooted.
“This is spooky,” Karen whined. She clasped Jack’s arm with both hands. “Let’s go back.”
“ ’Fraid of a little ghost, Karen?” Chuck didn’t bother lowering his voice. “I’ll bet Old Man Kinney’s ghost isn’t waiting for him to kick the bucket. It’s probably already haunting this old shack.” He walked all the way up to the front window.
“Chuck!” Jack called.
Chuck pressed his nose to the glass, his hands cupping thesides of his head. “Looks like the lady of the house is out on the town.”
I thought about what Penny said at the pool, about Mrs. Kinney being able to do whatever she wanted now that her husband was laid up.
“What’s that?”
Karen squealed.
Inside the house, a single flame-light swept across the room. I gasped. “I see it!”
Chuck laughed. “Yeah, right.” He was staring at us instead of the window.
“Chuck!” Jack shouted. “They’re not kidding, man! Something’s in there.”
Chuck tilted his head like he knew we were kidding. Then he turned and peered in the front window. “What—?” He jumped from the porch so fast, he landed in a bush. Then he stumbled to his feet and took off running back up the road.
Karen was crying, burying her head in Jack’s side.
Jack burst out laughing. “It was just a light. A lantern maybe. Chuck probably woke Mrs. Kinney up. I hope she scared him more than he scared her.”
I knew Jack was right. But as we walked home, I made sure Karen wasn’t the only one next to Jack.
After the Atkinsons left, Jack and I went back inside and cleaned up our Monopoly game. Jack never divided his money pot into denominations, so we bundled ones, fives, twenties, and everything together, something that would have put my sister over the edge.
“I’ve been thinking,” Jack said.
“About what? Karen’s proposal to be Mr. and Mrs. Boone at the steam engine show?”
“Very funny. No, I was thinking about your compassion machine. That’s a great idea, Tree.”
“Yeah? Thanks.”
We picked up Monopoly stuff while strains of “I’ll Be Seeing You in All the Old Familiar Places” came floating in. My mind drifted back to the Kinney house. I felt bad for waking up Mrs. Kinney. “Jack?”
“Hmm?” He shoved the Monopoly board on top of the piles of money and forced the lid on the box.
“If we could use a compassion machine on Mrs. Kinney, what do you think she’d be feeling right now, with her husband in the hospital?”
Jack put both hands on the card table and leaned back, his chair rearing on its hind legs. I knew he was really thinking about this, which was one of the best things about Jack. He took me seriously. Always had. “Relieved,” he said at last.
“What?”
“I think Mrs. Kinney’s feeling relieved, at least for now.”
“Don’t you think she’s sad? They’ve been married a long time.”
Jack shrugged. “The Kinneys are married, but it’s a bent marriage. Not like your folks, or mine.” He leaned forward, and his chair thudded on all fours. “Yeah … I vote relieved.”
13
Get Real
After the Adams family took off, I went to bed, but I couldn’t sleep. Midge curled at my feet and growled every time I flopped over. I couldn’t stop thinking about Mrs. Kinney. Was she lying awake right now too? Was she really feeling relieved that Mr. Kinney wasn’t lying beside her?
The only person I would have felt relieved to have out of
my
way—not counting Khrushchev or Castro, of course—was Wanda. She was the biggest obstacle to me fulfilling either of my summer goals. Mrs. Woolsey, who’d been our junior high art teacher, always chose Wanda’s stuff for art shows. They were related somehow—Wanda’s dad was Mrs. Woolsey’s cousin, or something like that.
And Ray liked Wanda too.
If it hadn’t been for Wanda standing between Ray and me, I could have imagined Ray and his sky-blue eyes waiting on the other end of
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