the clouds. On the ground everything looked way too clean. No dirt, no smoke, and I wondered where they had hidden all their trees and monkeys and soldiers.
The Buckworths started asking me questions but I was very busy, with my nose against the window, staring at their huge shiny village.
Mr. Buckworth’s copper coin eyes looked at me from the mirror in the front seat. “So what did you think about the airplane, Betti?”
I gave his seat a little poke so he’d keep his eyes on the zooming cars. Then I held my arms out like enormous wings. “It was very bigger than a big, big bird. It fly.”
Lucy scrunched her eyes. “You’ve never been in an airplane before, Betti?”
I shook my head. “George and me think it fly away already. Because Big Uncle’s taxi too slow. Cows and houses fall down and kids are dirty and hot spots ... We did not want to be traitors. But the airplane wait for George and me. In a mountain. Of rocks.”
“I’ve been on an airplane so many times,” said Lucy. “Never in a mountain of rocks, though. I flew to Florida once and I saw Mickey Mouse and there was this show where all these kids were singing and—”
“George and me have Coca-Cola for free,” I said.
“Everybody gets free Cokes, you silly.” Lucy touched my knee with her little finger.
Lucy had a big mouth. But my mouth was bigger. “Then, I see ‘We Love You’ on the ground. Little pigs ... kids ... at circus wave like Coca-Colas ... I mean flags ... so I open window.” I waved my arms around like crazy for effect. “I climb out on airplane bird wing and walk careful on my line so I do not fall. Then I wave too. And I dance like the circus. ‘We love you,’ they scream. ‘We love you.’ And the ghosts on the airplane say, ‘We love you’ too. They tell me to go back home.”
Lucy scrunched her eyes. “What?”
“Luce, why don’t you let Betti relax for a few minutes,” chuckled Mr. Buckworth. “She just had a very long trip.”
“I know, Dad, but I’m trying to understand like you said.” Lucy wiped her nose and sighed. “But Betti’s talking about dancing ghosts and you said there aren’t any ghosts. And she’s talking about some waving circus pigs and Coca-Cola. I don’t really understand what she’s talking about, Dad. Not a bit.” She turned and stared at me. I was a freaky animal in a zoo.
That’s when I ducked my head down and covered my eyes with my circus doll.
And I didn’t even peek out the window until the wagon finally stopped zooming and slowed down.
There was a whole long line of houses, but the house I liked the most was one that looked just a little tilted. So I tilted my head too and rubbed my good eye. There was a girl reading a book on the tilted porch. She had bushy brown knotty hair that covered her head like a wooden bowl. Wild hair, as if it hadn’t been combed in weeks. If she hadn’t been a Melon, I might’ve thought she was a circus girl. I watched her out the back window until her house disappeared, and so did she.
Soon the wagon stopped in front of a sky blue house. It was square with a real roof that wasn’t caved in. It had windows that weren’t shot out and exotic foreign flowers that hung in pots like pretty birds in stringy nests.
Not a fancy royal palace at all, like Old Lady Suri at the bean stand told me. She said that everyone in America lived in houses practically bigger than our whole village. She had seen it herself on a tele-veezion when she went to visit her sister in the capital.
She said that every house had a hundred rooms so no one ever saw each other. When they did see each other, well, it was either a dramatic love story or a horrible tragedy. Either way, the Americans were crying all the time.
Auntie Moo told me not to believe everything I heard at the market. “Most Americans don’t live like that, Babo,” she said. “Most Americans are like you and me. They just happen to be living somewhere else.” Still, Auntie Moo had
The Buckworths started asking me questions but I was very busy, with my nose against the window, staring at their huge shiny village.
Mr. Buckworth’s copper coin eyes looked at me from the mirror in the front seat. “So what did you think about the airplane, Betti?”
I gave his seat a little poke so he’d keep his eyes on the zooming cars. Then I held my arms out like enormous wings. “It was very bigger than a big, big bird. It fly.”
Lucy scrunched her eyes. “You’ve never been in an airplane before, Betti?”
I shook my head. “George and me think it fly away already. Because Big Uncle’s taxi too slow. Cows and houses fall down and kids are dirty and hot spots ... We did not want to be traitors. But the airplane wait for George and me. In a mountain. Of rocks.”
“I’ve been on an airplane so many times,” said Lucy. “Never in a mountain of rocks, though. I flew to Florida once and I saw Mickey Mouse and there was this show where all these kids were singing and—”
“George and me have Coca-Cola for free,” I said.
“Everybody gets free Cokes, you silly.” Lucy touched my knee with her little finger.
Lucy had a big mouth. But my mouth was bigger. “Then, I see ‘We Love You’ on the ground. Little pigs ... kids ... at circus wave like Coca-Colas ... I mean flags ... so I open window.” I waved my arms around like crazy for effect. “I climb out on airplane bird wing and walk careful on my line so I do not fall. Then I wave too. And I dance like the circus. ‘We love you,’ they scream. ‘We love you.’ And the ghosts on the airplane say, ‘We love you’ too. They tell me to go back home.”
Lucy scrunched her eyes. “What?”
“Luce, why don’t you let Betti relax for a few minutes,” chuckled Mr. Buckworth. “She just had a very long trip.”
“I know, Dad, but I’m trying to understand like you said.” Lucy wiped her nose and sighed. “But Betti’s talking about dancing ghosts and you said there aren’t any ghosts. And she’s talking about some waving circus pigs and Coca-Cola. I don’t really understand what she’s talking about, Dad. Not a bit.” She turned and stared at me. I was a freaky animal in a zoo.
That’s when I ducked my head down and covered my eyes with my circus doll.
And I didn’t even peek out the window until the wagon finally stopped zooming and slowed down.
There was a whole long line of houses, but the house I liked the most was one that looked just a little tilted. So I tilted my head too and rubbed my good eye. There was a girl reading a book on the tilted porch. She had bushy brown knotty hair that covered her head like a wooden bowl. Wild hair, as if it hadn’t been combed in weeks. If she hadn’t been a Melon, I might’ve thought she was a circus girl. I watched her out the back window until her house disappeared, and so did she.
Soon the wagon stopped in front of a sky blue house. It was square with a real roof that wasn’t caved in. It had windows that weren’t shot out and exotic foreign flowers that hung in pots like pretty birds in stringy nests.
Not a fancy royal palace at all, like Old Lady Suri at the bean stand told me. She said that everyone in America lived in houses practically bigger than our whole village. She had seen it herself on a tele-veezion when she went to visit her sister in the capital.
She said that every house had a hundred rooms so no one ever saw each other. When they did see each other, well, it was either a dramatic love story or a horrible tragedy. Either way, the Americans were crying all the time.
Auntie Moo told me not to believe everything I heard at the market. “Most Americans don’t live like that, Babo,” she said. “Most Americans are like you and me. They just happen to be living somewhere else.” Still, Auntie Moo had
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