Read Online The Secrets of Tree Taylor by Dandi Daley Mackall - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Dandi Daley Mackall
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a kiss worth writing about.
Last year Ray and I had English together, without Wanda.The first day, Ray walked right in and sat next to me on purpose, even though there were lots of empty seats. Every day, I looked forward to English because I knew I’d be sitting beside Ray. We had fun too, trying not to laugh at Mrs. Erickson’s overly dramatic readings. We discovered we both loved O. Henry short stories and Ray Bradbury, especially
Fahrenheit 451
. I even helped Ray with some of the reports we had to write for class.
But whenever Wanda was in a class with us, she made sure Ray didn’t pay attention to anybody but her. I might as well have been going to school in Russia or Red China.
I would have been relieved to have Wanda out of the way—but because she moved, not because she got shot.
I hadn’t liked looking for clues at the Kinneys’—not with Chuck, anyway. And I sure didn’t look forward to prying information out of my dad. Maybe, I thought just before I finally drifted off to sleep, maybe I should rethink my big investigation. It sure would be a lot safer writing about steam engines.
Monday it rained so hard, I figured the pool wouldn’t open. I got up early anyway and sat in the big living room chair, where I could watch the rain through our picture window. Water flowed in crooked lines down the glass. Midge, huddled on the footstool, was snoring away. “You know you still have to go outside,” I told Midge.
She groaned.
“Okay, I’ll go too.” I got the leash and grabbed my raincoat and umbrella before heading outside for a rain-walk.
The gray skies and dripping rain made me feel like earthwas having a bad day. But Midge wagged her tail and trotted full speed ahead, leading me up the muddy road like she was on a mission. She stopped in front of the Kinney place and started barking. I tugged on her leash, but she kept it up.
“Here now,” came a scratchy voice that stopped Midge’s barking and made me look up to the porch. Mrs. Kinney stood in the doorway.
I stared at her. She wore the same dingy apron as before. Her faded cotton dress wouldn’t have looked out of place in the Old West or on
The Beverly Hillbillies
. Her dirt-brown hair was carelessly pinned up, gray streaks flanking both ears. In my mind, I’d been picturing her barefoot, her unpainted toe-nails yellow and long. But seeing her sensible shoes again made me realize I’d imagined the part about her bare feet.
“You’re Tree, ain’t ya?” she asked. “Doc’s youngest?”
I nodded.
Midge moved in closer, pulling me with her.
“The one what wants to be a writer?”
I was shocked that she knew that much about me. “Yeah?”
“Your daddy said as much. Your sister, Eileen, wants to be a nurse, I take it. Why don’t you?” She narrowed her eyes, sizing me up as I stood in the drizzling rain.
I wasn’t sure how I’d ended up on the wrong end of this interview. But she was waiting for my answer. “All I’ve ever wanted to do was write, Mrs. Kinney,” I told her honestly. “Well, I guess I did want to be a horse trainer once. And a dancer. But not anymore. I want to write and get to the truth of things. It’s like writing is something I
need
to do, whether I want to or not.”
I stopped talking because I realized she probably didn’t care why I wanted to be a writer. She just wondered why I didn’t want to be a nurse like Eileen and Mom.
“Best get out of the rain,” she said.
I didn’t know if she meant I should get out of the rain or she should. But she stepped back and closed the door, shutting herself out of the rain and leaving me in it.
I walked Midge home. My first interview with Mrs. Kinney, and I’d messed up so bad, it would probably be my last.
I should have stuck with steam engines.
Mom, also known as Nurse Helen, came home to fix lunch. Eileen and I ate bologna sandwiches while Mom stuck a plate of leftover lasagna into the oven for Dad. She said half the people in the waiting room
Last year Ray and I had English together, without Wanda.The first day, Ray walked right in and sat next to me on purpose, even though there were lots of empty seats. Every day, I looked forward to English because I knew I’d be sitting beside Ray. We had fun too, trying not to laugh at Mrs. Erickson’s overly dramatic readings. We discovered we both loved O. Henry short stories and Ray Bradbury, especially
Fahrenheit 451
. I even helped Ray with some of the reports we had to write for class.
But whenever Wanda was in a class with us, she made sure Ray didn’t pay attention to anybody but her. I might as well have been going to school in Russia or Red China.
I would have been relieved to have Wanda out of the way—but because she moved, not because she got shot.
I hadn’t liked looking for clues at the Kinneys’—not with Chuck, anyway. And I sure didn’t look forward to prying information out of my dad. Maybe, I thought just before I finally drifted off to sleep, maybe I should rethink my big investigation. It sure would be a lot safer writing about steam engines.
Monday it rained so hard, I figured the pool wouldn’t open. I got up early anyway and sat in the big living room chair, where I could watch the rain through our picture window. Water flowed in crooked lines down the glass. Midge, huddled on the footstool, was snoring away. “You know you still have to go outside,” I told Midge.
She groaned.
“Okay, I’ll go too.” I got the leash and grabbed my raincoat and umbrella before heading outside for a rain-walk.
The gray skies and dripping rain made me feel like earthwas having a bad day. But Midge wagged her tail and trotted full speed ahead, leading me up the muddy road like she was on a mission. She stopped in front of the Kinney place and started barking. I tugged on her leash, but she kept it up.
“Here now,” came a scratchy voice that stopped Midge’s barking and made me look up to the porch. Mrs. Kinney stood in the doorway.
I stared at her. She wore the same dingy apron as before. Her faded cotton dress wouldn’t have looked out of place in the Old West or on
The Beverly Hillbillies
. Her dirt-brown hair was carelessly pinned up, gray streaks flanking both ears. In my mind, I’d been picturing her barefoot, her unpainted toe-nails yellow and long. But seeing her sensible shoes again made me realize I’d imagined the part about her bare feet.
“You’re Tree, ain’t ya?” she asked. “Doc’s youngest?”
I nodded.
Midge moved in closer, pulling me with her.
“The one what wants to be a writer?”
I was shocked that she knew that much about me. “Yeah?”
“Your daddy said as much. Your sister, Eileen, wants to be a nurse, I take it. Why don’t you?” She narrowed her eyes, sizing me up as I stood in the drizzling rain.
I wasn’t sure how I’d ended up on the wrong end of this interview. But she was waiting for my answer. “All I’ve ever wanted to do was write, Mrs. Kinney,” I told her honestly. “Well, I guess I did want to be a horse trainer once. And a dancer. But not anymore. I want to write and get to the truth of things. It’s like writing is something I
need
to do, whether I want to or not.”
I stopped talking because I realized she probably didn’t care why I wanted to be a writer. She just wondered why I didn’t want to be a nurse like Eileen and Mom.
“Best get out of the rain,” she said.
I didn’t know if she meant I should get out of the rain or she should. But she stepped back and closed the door, shutting herself out of the rain and leaving me in it.
I walked Midge home. My first interview with Mrs. Kinney, and I’d messed up so bad, it would probably be my last.
I should have stuck with steam engines.
Mom, also known as Nurse Helen, came home to fix lunch. Eileen and I ate bologna sandwiches while Mom stuck a plate of leftover lasagna into the oven for Dad. She said half the people in the waiting room
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