Read Online The Summer of Letting Go by Gae Polisner - Free Book Online Page B

Band-Aid.”
    He’s quiet as we trudge up the hillside, and I’m grateful for it. The kid is unnerving me. Maybe I should just go home. Maybe I bit off more than I can chew.
    â€œOkay,” he finally says when we’ve reached the steps to the deck. “But I did told you. I said I was ready to fly, and I can fly, because Grandpa Harris tolded me so. He says Frankie Sky is an angel, so I don’t need to worry about my boo-boo or dying or anything. And angels can fly, because angels always fly, so, see?”
    I turn and stare at him. I have no idea anymore what he’s talking about. “What boo-boo, Frankie? And why would you worry about . . . ?” But I stop. Because we’ve reached the back door, and when I open it, Mrs. Schyler is standing right in front of me in the kitchen.
    At the sink, upright, washing dishes.
    As if she’s been there all along.

twelve
    â€œHello,” she says, like it’s no big surprise to see me. Still, I’m panicked wondering if she was watching, if she saw Frankie plummet from the tree. If she did, she doesn’t let on. She’s not concerned. She doesn’t even turn to look at me.
    She wears yellow rubber gloves in her short shorts and halter top and scrubs at a pan, normal as daylight, as if she weren’t just comatose a mere half hour ago.
    â€œHello,” I say. “I hope it’s okay that I came here.”
    She turns and smiles now. Her face is so pretty with her blond curls pressed back in a headband. She looks younger than I remembered.
    â€œIt’s Francesca, right?” she says. Even though she’s smiling, I get butterflies. I’ve never just shown up in someone’s house without permission before.
    â€œYes. I called, but then Frankie answered and . . .” I stop. What am I going to say? But then Frankie answered and you were drunk and he told me he was trying to fly? So I came here to stop him, so he didn’t break his neck while you were sleeping? Besides, I was barely successful in thwarting that disaster, so what was the point, anyway? “Oh, and he kind of hurt his arm a little, I think.” I nod at Frankie to show her, and he holds his elbow up. “He fell from the tree,” I whisper.
    She laughs a little, shuts off the faucet, pulls off a glove, and ruffles his hair. “Of course he did,” she says.
    â€œI flied, not fell,” Frankie says. He twists his arm and inspects it. The bleeding has stopped. It’s really not a bad scrape at all. “I barely gotted hurt,” he adds.
    â€œRight. What else is new?” Mrs. Schyler takes my arm and guides me toward the table. “Come, sit, sweetheart,” she says. “I’m thrilled you came. Would you like anything? A grilled cheese? Some lemonade? You’re a skinny thing, you know. Pretty like a flower. But skinny like a reed.”
    â€œNo, thank you. I ate before I got here.” I blush. No one has ever compared me to a flower before.
    The table is the kind with a built-in bench on one side and chairs on the other. Frankie slides in on the bench side in front of the window, and I sit opposite him in a chair. Mrs. Schyler slips in next to Frankie, and Potato darts under the table and lies down by Frankie’s feet. Mrs. Schyler touches Frankie’s cheek, says, “Oops, I forgot a Band-Aid,” and slips back out again. She disappears, returning a minute later with a Band-Aid with a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle on it.
    â€œDon’t like the turtle ones,” Frankie says.
    â€œI know,” Mrs. Schyler sighs. “But I couldn’t find a frog one, I told you that. It’s only a Band-Aid. Just wear it.”
    â€œBut the frogs make me better faster, right, Frankie?”
    Mrs. Schyler looks at him, then me, bewildered.
    â€œFrancesca is my real name,” I clarify, trying not to obsess on Frankie’s frog thing, “but most people call me Frankie. It’s a