Great-Uncle Harvey, I asked him, “How’d you know it was me?”
“It’s the way you walk, dear.”
As keen as his ears work, they aren’t any bigger than normal. That always surprises me a little. “It’s like you’re part magic.”
“Sorta,” he agreed.
I told him, “I wish you weren’t gonna leave today.”
Mama said, “We’re all sorry he’s going.”
Smiling, Great-Uncle Harvey said, “Course, it’s been a fine trip. I won’t deny that, but now I need to return to my routine. If I don’t, I might get spoiled and not ever leave.”
“I’m gonna send you my article.”
“That’s what I expect.”
McCall thumped down the steps. Banging into the kitchen, he dumped himself into a chair, and said, “Sorry.”
“You’re excused,” Mama told him.
On the third day after my article was out, everyone forgot about it. At school, I was treated like the same regular girl as before. Even at lunch my teachers didn’t praise me. Arriving home, I grabbed what I’d written about Great-Uncle Harvey and carried my newspaper notebook out back. On the fence beside the dairy barn, I sat snuggling in my coat and watching for Evette. Behind me, I could hear cows scraping against wood pens.
When I finally saw Evette and her two brothers kicking up a dust cloud, I ran through the field and yelled for her. Not ten minutes later, me and her chased off and sat in the woods beneath a tall tree with limbs stretching wide and as round as a ball. It was there that I showed her my story on Great-Uncle Harvey.
“It needs some changing.” Steam flittered about her mouth before disappearing.
“Why?” I asked, worried that she was still jealous and trying to make me scared about newspaper work.
“’Cause, Darby, see here how it ain’t so smooth?” Evette flipped to a page of my story and read me some.
“So what?” I said, rubbing my hands together to keep them warm.
“My aunt says you gotta finish one idea ’fore you jump into the next. See, the way your uncle can read bumps don’t got one thing to do with the way he listens to birds. Understand?”
I did, but it was hard to admit. “I guess.” Feeling kind of dumb, I said, “Maybe . . . maybe you could help me with it? I wanna make it good on account of how nice Great-Uncle Harvey is.”
Evette smiled her pretty smile, which is sort of like Beth’s except her lips are darker. She said, “Oh, you can make it good. You can make it real strong, ’cause it ain’t half-bad. It’ll be as easy as pie, almost.” Then me and her got working and didn’t finish until the sun started melting like butter, and I got confused again about how the earth circles and spins through space.
Walking back to her house, Evette shivered, and told me, “Think like this: The earth spins all by its ownself. It’s like one a them tops. While it’s doing that, it’s also makin’ a wide circle round the sun. You got that?”
“No,” I said, feeling dense.
“It don’t matter.”
Near her house, I said, “You think my article’s okay?”
“It’s real good,” she answered, flittering around playful-like with her long, patchy coat. I looked down and saw that above her falling-apart shoes, her socks were wide open and fraying at the tops.
“Evette?” I said.
“Yeah?”
“How come you can write so good, but you don’t talk right?”
She shrugged. “Guess ’cause I talk like my mama and daddy and brothers, but I writes like my teachers.”
I nodded. “Thanks for helping me.”
“I like doing editing,” she said. Turning, she ran down a narrow row and into her little yard. Walking up the bouncy, creaky steps, she spun and waved. Waving back, I felt glad she was my friend. Then she yanked back her ripped screen door and passed through the big door behind it.
That night I woke up scared again, or I thought I did. Searching around for a ghost, I saw Aunt Greer sitting up in her bed, breathing clouds of steam into the cold air. That’s how I knew
“It’s the way you walk, dear.”
As keen as his ears work, they aren’t any bigger than normal. That always surprises me a little. “It’s like you’re part magic.”
“Sorta,” he agreed.
I told him, “I wish you weren’t gonna leave today.”
Mama said, “We’re all sorry he’s going.”
Smiling, Great-Uncle Harvey said, “Course, it’s been a fine trip. I won’t deny that, but now I need to return to my routine. If I don’t, I might get spoiled and not ever leave.”
“I’m gonna send you my article.”
“That’s what I expect.”
McCall thumped down the steps. Banging into the kitchen, he dumped himself into a chair, and said, “Sorry.”
“You’re excused,” Mama told him.
On the third day after my article was out, everyone forgot about it. At school, I was treated like the same regular girl as before. Even at lunch my teachers didn’t praise me. Arriving home, I grabbed what I’d written about Great-Uncle Harvey and carried my newspaper notebook out back. On the fence beside the dairy barn, I sat snuggling in my coat and watching for Evette. Behind me, I could hear cows scraping against wood pens.
When I finally saw Evette and her two brothers kicking up a dust cloud, I ran through the field and yelled for her. Not ten minutes later, me and her chased off and sat in the woods beneath a tall tree with limbs stretching wide and as round as a ball. It was there that I showed her my story on Great-Uncle Harvey.
“It needs some changing.” Steam flittered about her mouth before disappearing.
“Why?” I asked, worried that she was still jealous and trying to make me scared about newspaper work.
“’Cause, Darby, see here how it ain’t so smooth?” Evette flipped to a page of my story and read me some.
“So what?” I said, rubbing my hands together to keep them warm.
“My aunt says you gotta finish one idea ’fore you jump into the next. See, the way your uncle can read bumps don’t got one thing to do with the way he listens to birds. Understand?”
I did, but it was hard to admit. “I guess.” Feeling kind of dumb, I said, “Maybe . . . maybe you could help me with it? I wanna make it good on account of how nice Great-Uncle Harvey is.”
Evette smiled her pretty smile, which is sort of like Beth’s except her lips are darker. She said, “Oh, you can make it good. You can make it real strong, ’cause it ain’t half-bad. It’ll be as easy as pie, almost.” Then me and her got working and didn’t finish until the sun started melting like butter, and I got confused again about how the earth circles and spins through space.
Walking back to her house, Evette shivered, and told me, “Think like this: The earth spins all by its ownself. It’s like one a them tops. While it’s doing that, it’s also makin’ a wide circle round the sun. You got that?”
“No,” I said, feeling dense.
“It don’t matter.”
Near her house, I said, “You think my article’s okay?”
“It’s real good,” she answered, flittering around playful-like with her long, patchy coat. I looked down and saw that above her falling-apart shoes, her socks were wide open and fraying at the tops.
“Evette?” I said.
“Yeah?”
“How come you can write so good, but you don’t talk right?”
She shrugged. “Guess ’cause I talk like my mama and daddy and brothers, but I writes like my teachers.”
I nodded. “Thanks for helping me.”
“I like doing editing,” she said. Turning, she ran down a narrow row and into her little yard. Walking up the bouncy, creaky steps, she spun and waved. Waving back, I felt glad she was my friend. Then she yanked back her ripped screen door and passed through the big door behind it.
That night I woke up scared again, or I thought I did. Searching around for a ghost, I saw Aunt Greer sitting up in her bed, breathing clouds of steam into the cold air. That’s how I knew
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