roaming the streets looking for his next victim.
I walked past the DO NOT ENTER sign plastered across the auditorium door. I wondered when that collapsed auditorium roof would be fixed. It was one of many places in town that needed repair. I’d called the mayor’s office and the Board of Ed about it, but hadn’t gotten anywhere.
“Stay with a story,” Dad always told me. “Stay with it until it makes sense.”
“It’s a fine day in Banesville, people,” Mayor Frank T. Fudd boomed at the farmers market. “My, haven’t we been given a sweet town?”
“Getting kinda sour around the edges,” Felix muttered.
The mayor was making his presence known, walkingbriskly down the open lanes, showing everyone within earshot that he wasn’t worried about an ever-loving thing.
The pears and quinces were showing up at the market now. The aroma of apple cider filled the air. I was explaining to a customer that apples need to be refrigerated to keep their flavor. If you leave them out on the counter, no matter how pretty they look, they’re going to get mealy in nothing flat.
The mayor strolled past our stand; I heard a woman reporter ask him, “What’s the plan you’re going to unveil to revitalize Banesville?”
I hadn’t heard of any plan.
Mayor Fudd said, “Well, my office is always working on something new. That’s what this administration is all about.”
The reporter smiled brightly. She was wearing a Windbreaker embroidered with the words
Catch the buzz in Banesville…read
THE BEE . “Mr. Mayor,” she continued, “I hear this plan is big.”
“It’s a humdinger all right,” he acknowledged, chuckling.
I grabbed a notepad from my backpack and wrote that down. I told Mom I’d be right back and headed toward the mayor, who was saying, “We’re looking ahead to tomorrow. We’re looking at all the places where we can make things better for people and plot a strong course for our future.”
He looked at me and smiled because, I guess, I represented the future. I smiled right back. “Mr. Mayor, I’mfrom the high school. I was wondering when our roof problem is going to be fixed.”
His face got a little pink. “We’re going to be taking care of all that.”
“Do you have a completion date?” I continued.
He coughed.
“Have you thought about the danger of having a collapsed roof covered by a tarp on school property?”
He harrumphed. “I take the safety of every citizen of Banesville seriously.”
“How’s the Lupo investigation coming?” I asked.
“Sheriff Metcalf is on that, covering every lead.”
“Any word on the cause of death?”
He glared at me. “The sheriff will be issuing a statement.”
The woman reporter wasn’t too happy I’d barged in. She shouted, “Your revitalization plan, Mr. Mayor. What is that about?”
He smiled. “Making Banesville a better place.”
I asked, “Does the revitalization plan involve the high school, Mr. Mayor?”
Irritation flashed across his face; he walked away from me. “You ask a lot of questions, young lady.”
How else do you find things out?
I’ve been asking questions all my life. My first official word as a baby wasn’t
Mama
or
Dada.
It was
Whazzat?
All day long I’d point at things.
Whazzat?
“Newspaper,” Dad would answer. “Dirt…doggy…doo-doo…
Don’t touch that, Hildy!”
Why is the sky blue?
Why do birds fly?
Why does Mrs. Johnson’s breath always smell funny?
Mrs. Johnson was my kindergarten teacher.
Why does Mrs. Johnson’s voice get like that?
I kept asking until someone looked into it. Turned out Mrs. Johnson had gin in her water bottle. By the time we got to phonics, she was feeling no pain.
She got a leave of absence and we got a new teacher.
Who says kids don’t have power?
A woman in a purple cape was at Allie’s craft stand, holding up an Applehead Doll—the apple heads wrinkled up when they dried, making this a popular gift for people over thirty. She was saying to Allie, “I
I walked past the DO NOT ENTER sign plastered across the auditorium door. I wondered when that collapsed auditorium roof would be fixed. It was one of many places in town that needed repair. I’d called the mayor’s office and the Board of Ed about it, but hadn’t gotten anywhere.
“Stay with a story,” Dad always told me. “Stay with it until it makes sense.”
“It’s a fine day in Banesville, people,” Mayor Frank T. Fudd boomed at the farmers market. “My, haven’t we been given a sweet town?”
“Getting kinda sour around the edges,” Felix muttered.
The mayor was making his presence known, walkingbriskly down the open lanes, showing everyone within earshot that he wasn’t worried about an ever-loving thing.
The pears and quinces were showing up at the market now. The aroma of apple cider filled the air. I was explaining to a customer that apples need to be refrigerated to keep their flavor. If you leave them out on the counter, no matter how pretty they look, they’re going to get mealy in nothing flat.
The mayor strolled past our stand; I heard a woman reporter ask him, “What’s the plan you’re going to unveil to revitalize Banesville?”
I hadn’t heard of any plan.
Mayor Fudd said, “Well, my office is always working on something new. That’s what this administration is all about.”
The reporter smiled brightly. She was wearing a Windbreaker embroidered with the words
Catch the buzz in Banesville…read
THE BEE . “Mr. Mayor,” she continued, “I hear this plan is big.”
“It’s a humdinger all right,” he acknowledged, chuckling.
I grabbed a notepad from my backpack and wrote that down. I told Mom I’d be right back and headed toward the mayor, who was saying, “We’re looking ahead to tomorrow. We’re looking at all the places where we can make things better for people and plot a strong course for our future.”
He looked at me and smiled because, I guess, I represented the future. I smiled right back. “Mr. Mayor, I’mfrom the high school. I was wondering when our roof problem is going to be fixed.”
His face got a little pink. “We’re going to be taking care of all that.”
“Do you have a completion date?” I continued.
He coughed.
“Have you thought about the danger of having a collapsed roof covered by a tarp on school property?”
He harrumphed. “I take the safety of every citizen of Banesville seriously.”
“How’s the Lupo investigation coming?” I asked.
“Sheriff Metcalf is on that, covering every lead.”
“Any word on the cause of death?”
He glared at me. “The sheriff will be issuing a statement.”
The woman reporter wasn’t too happy I’d barged in. She shouted, “Your revitalization plan, Mr. Mayor. What is that about?”
He smiled. “Making Banesville a better place.”
I asked, “Does the revitalization plan involve the high school, Mr. Mayor?”
Irritation flashed across his face; he walked away from me. “You ask a lot of questions, young lady.”
How else do you find things out?
I’ve been asking questions all my life. My first official word as a baby wasn’t
Mama
or
Dada.
It was
Whazzat?
All day long I’d point at things.
Whazzat?
“Newspaper,” Dad would answer. “Dirt…doggy…doo-doo…
Don’t touch that, Hildy!”
Why is the sky blue?
Why do birds fly?
Why does Mrs. Johnson’s breath always smell funny?
Mrs. Johnson was my kindergarten teacher.
Why does Mrs. Johnson’s voice get like that?
I kept asking until someone looked into it. Turned out Mrs. Johnson had gin in her water bottle. By the time we got to phonics, she was feeling no pain.
She got a leave of absence and we got a new teacher.
Who says kids don’t have power?
A woman in a purple cape was at Allie’s craft stand, holding up an Applehead Doll—the apple heads wrinkled up when they dried, making this a popular gift for people over thirty. She was saying to Allie, “I
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