time I get to the upstairs bathroom, Frankie’s already put every towel on the floor and water’s still coming out of the toilet.
“What did you do?” I demand.
“Nothing!” he says.
“Why’d you use this bathroom?”
“I don’t know. I like it. It’s bigger,” he says.
“You gotta make it stop!” I say.
“Get me a wrench,” he orders, just like Pop-pop.
I run downstairs and fetch the toolbox. By the time I get back upstairs, the leak has slowed to a trickle.
“This stupid toilet,” I say.
“Here, gimme that,” Frankie says, and grabs a wrench and looks behind the toilet. “I think this is the thing that stops the water.”
“You sure you know what you’re doing?” I ask.
“Sure, sure,” he says. “No problem.”
He twists something and I hear a crack, and suddenly water starts spurting everywhere. A regular flood!
“Frankie!” I shout.
“It ain’t my fault!” he shouts back.
My mind is whirling. I can’t call my mother, because she’s at work, and Me-me and Pop-pop are shopping.
“I’m calling Uncle Dominic,” I say, and the minute the words leave my mouth, I know it’s the right thing to do.
I call the store and Aunt Fulvia picks up.
“What’s the matter, hon?” she asks.
“I gotta talk to Uncle Dominic,” I say in a rush. “It’s an emergency!”
Uncle Dominic gets on, and I explain to him what’s happened. He pulls up and gets out of his car a few moments later, carrying a toolbox. With his slippers and his bloodstained apron from Falucci’s Market, he’s a sight to see.
“It won’t stop,” I say. “I don’t know what to do.”
Frankie’s standing at the top of the stairs.
“You do this?” Uncle Dominic asks.
“What?” Frankie says. “It just broke. It’s always breaking. Tell him!”
“He’s right,” I say.
When we reach the bathroom, Uncle Dominic takes one look behind the toilet and shakes his head. “Stay put. I gotta go down to the basement.”
Frankie and me hold our breath, waiting, and suddenly the water stops.
“It stopped!” I yell.
Uncle Dominic comes back up a minute later.
“What’d you do?” Frankie asks him.
“I just shut off the water,” he says.
“Jeez,” Frankie says. “That was it? I could’ve done that!”
“Frankie,” Uncle Dominic says, “I don’t think plumbing’s your calling.”
Frankie waves his hand. “As if I’d wanna be a plumber.”
Uncle Dominic gets down on his hands and knees by the toilet and does this and that. Then he goes back downstairs and turns the water back on. When he comes back up, he says, “That should do it.”
“Is it okay to use?” I ask.
Uncle Dominic flushes experimentally. There’s no flood!
“You’re safe,” he says.
Uncle Dominic and Frankie and me mop up all the water, and when we’re finished, it looks good as new. Well, aside from the rugs being soaking wet and all the towels. We drag everything outside to hang on the clothesline.
“Come on, Frankie,” Uncle Dominic says. “I’ll give you a lift home.”
“Thanks, Uncle Dominic,” I say, and I mean it. “You saved my life.”
“Anything for you, Princess,” he says with a small smile.
As I lie in bed that night, I stare at my new red coat hanging on the back of the door. It’s beautiful, probably the most beautiful coat I’ve ever owned when it comes right down to it.
But when I hear the toilet flush above me, I know which uncle gave me the best present today.
CHAPTER SEVEN
The Translator
My mother’s laughter wakes me up.
It’s a light, happy laugh—a sound I’m not used to hearing.
I push back the covers and open the door to my room and go out to the parlor. I can see my mother through the screen door. She’s standing on the porch talking to Mr. Mulligan. She’s holding four bottles of milk.
“Pat,” she says, and laughs again.
I open the screen door and they both stop talking.
“Hi, Bunny,” she says. “You’re up early.”
“It’s hot,” I say.
“What did you do?” I demand.
“Nothing!” he says.
“Why’d you use this bathroom?”
“I don’t know. I like it. It’s bigger,” he says.
“You gotta make it stop!” I say.
“Get me a wrench,” he orders, just like Pop-pop.
I run downstairs and fetch the toolbox. By the time I get back upstairs, the leak has slowed to a trickle.
“This stupid toilet,” I say.
“Here, gimme that,” Frankie says, and grabs a wrench and looks behind the toilet. “I think this is the thing that stops the water.”
“You sure you know what you’re doing?” I ask.
“Sure, sure,” he says. “No problem.”
He twists something and I hear a crack, and suddenly water starts spurting everywhere. A regular flood!
“Frankie!” I shout.
“It ain’t my fault!” he shouts back.
My mind is whirling. I can’t call my mother, because she’s at work, and Me-me and Pop-pop are shopping.
“I’m calling Uncle Dominic,” I say, and the minute the words leave my mouth, I know it’s the right thing to do.
I call the store and Aunt Fulvia picks up.
“What’s the matter, hon?” she asks.
“I gotta talk to Uncle Dominic,” I say in a rush. “It’s an emergency!”
Uncle Dominic gets on, and I explain to him what’s happened. He pulls up and gets out of his car a few moments later, carrying a toolbox. With his slippers and his bloodstained apron from Falucci’s Market, he’s a sight to see.
“It won’t stop,” I say. “I don’t know what to do.”
Frankie’s standing at the top of the stairs.
“You do this?” Uncle Dominic asks.
“What?” Frankie says. “It just broke. It’s always breaking. Tell him!”
“He’s right,” I say.
When we reach the bathroom, Uncle Dominic takes one look behind the toilet and shakes his head. “Stay put. I gotta go down to the basement.”
Frankie and me hold our breath, waiting, and suddenly the water stops.
“It stopped!” I yell.
Uncle Dominic comes back up a minute later.
“What’d you do?” Frankie asks him.
“I just shut off the water,” he says.
“Jeez,” Frankie says. “That was it? I could’ve done that!”
“Frankie,” Uncle Dominic says, “I don’t think plumbing’s your calling.”
Frankie waves his hand. “As if I’d wanna be a plumber.”
Uncle Dominic gets down on his hands and knees by the toilet and does this and that. Then he goes back downstairs and turns the water back on. When he comes back up, he says, “That should do it.”
“Is it okay to use?” I ask.
Uncle Dominic flushes experimentally. There’s no flood!
“You’re safe,” he says.
Uncle Dominic and Frankie and me mop up all the water, and when we’re finished, it looks good as new. Well, aside from the rugs being soaking wet and all the towels. We drag everything outside to hang on the clothesline.
“Come on, Frankie,” Uncle Dominic says. “I’ll give you a lift home.”
“Thanks, Uncle Dominic,” I say, and I mean it. “You saved my life.”
“Anything for you, Princess,” he says with a small smile.
As I lie in bed that night, I stare at my new red coat hanging on the back of the door. It’s beautiful, probably the most beautiful coat I’ve ever owned when it comes right down to it.
But when I hear the toilet flush above me, I know which uncle gave me the best present today.
CHAPTER SEVEN
The Translator
My mother’s laughter wakes me up.
It’s a light, happy laugh—a sound I’m not used to hearing.
I push back the covers and open the door to my room and go out to the parlor. I can see my mother through the screen door. She’s standing on the porch talking to Mr. Mulligan. She’s holding four bottles of milk.
“Pat,” she says, and laughs again.
I open the screen door and they both stop talking.
“Hi, Bunny,” she says. “You’re up early.”
“It’s hot,” I say.
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