That would not be good.
Glancing around, I realized I had no option other than to wipe my hand on the dark rug. The soot wouldn’t show there, I reasoned. I didn’t want to dirty up the rest of the books. I sank to my knees, wiping my sooty palms across the deep pile of the rug while all around me tottering towers of books swayed and collapsed. Suddenly I heard a huge racket outside in the hall and the door slammed open. It was the Prime Minister. His face turned red and his eyes bulged when he took in the scene.
“Child, what have you done?” he cried.
“Why I’m alphabetizing!” I replied, looking backwards at him from over my shoulder. I knew it looked messy, but I wasn’t finished yet. Well, that was the wrong thing to say because he immediately began to scream.
“OUT!” he yelled, the vessels in his face swelling and turning red, his stubby but well-manicured finger pointing at me. He looked like an overcooked sausage seconds from bursting. “OUT! OUT! OUT!”
I jumped up and dodged him as he tried to grab my arm. The books scattered on the floor between us worked to my advantage as his foot slipped on a volume, sending him tumbling forward onto the leather chair. I quickly skirted by him and got myself out of the room and down the staircase as his impassioned shouting filled the row house. As I got to the bottom of the stairs the old woman was coming towards me, sheer terror on her face. She grabbed my blazer by the sleeve and shooed me through the first floor and pushed me into the vestibule. Before slamming the door behind me she said, “I’ll call Bing to come get you. Wait here.”
Hearing her lock the inner door from her side was the last straw. I started laughing. Exactly what was the point of that? To keep me from storming back in and demanding a second chance? No thanks. No way.
I was left waiting inside the cramped, cold vestibule. It was deadly quiet. I could hear the living room clock ticking on the other side of the door. Outside, I could hear birds chirping and the occasional passerby. I stood there for a few minutes. How would I know when Bing arrived? Does he know to come to the door for me? Maybe I should wait outside. I grabbed the big door handle and turned it slightly. It clicked open easily. I pulled the door toward me and peeked outside. The street was empty. I snuck out the door and slowly pulled it shut behind me. I glanced over to the window. I hoped the old lady couldn’t see me. I would rather wait outside in the sunshine than in that mothball-smelling closet of a space.
I sat on the steps and waited. The sun was out but the concrete was cold. What a weird morning. What was going to happen next there? After a minute, I saw Bing hurrying down the sidewalk. He didn’t smile when he saw me stand up and wave at him. Instead he grabbed me by the arm and pulled me with him as if we needed to make a quick escape.
“Come on, Macy, I’ll get you out of here,” he said. We took off down the block, gates and shrubs whizzing by.
“Why are we running?” I panted, trying to keep up with his long legs. I knew I had done something wrong. I looked back over my shoulder to see if we were being chased. No. Not yet.
“Keep going,” he hissed.
Bing kept his eyes focused straight ahead as we hurried. Gone was his smile and joie de vivre from earlier that morning. Not until we cleared the block and had made our way safely back into the town square did Bing slow down and loosen his grip on me.
“Whew,” he exclaimed, relaxing his features. “What a morning.”
He let a little chuckle escape, a small one, and I felt relief that he thought the situation was funny and not bad. He laughed some more, a little deeper and heartier. He glanced at me and put his hand on my shoulder as if he needed support. Then great peals of laughter shook his body until he doubled over, sank to the ground and rolled on his back.
Naturally, that drew attention, and soon there was a little group of
Glancing around, I realized I had no option other than to wipe my hand on the dark rug. The soot wouldn’t show there, I reasoned. I didn’t want to dirty up the rest of the books. I sank to my knees, wiping my sooty palms across the deep pile of the rug while all around me tottering towers of books swayed and collapsed. Suddenly I heard a huge racket outside in the hall and the door slammed open. It was the Prime Minister. His face turned red and his eyes bulged when he took in the scene.
“Child, what have you done?” he cried.
“Why I’m alphabetizing!” I replied, looking backwards at him from over my shoulder. I knew it looked messy, but I wasn’t finished yet. Well, that was the wrong thing to say because he immediately began to scream.
“OUT!” he yelled, the vessels in his face swelling and turning red, his stubby but well-manicured finger pointing at me. He looked like an overcooked sausage seconds from bursting. “OUT! OUT! OUT!”
I jumped up and dodged him as he tried to grab my arm. The books scattered on the floor between us worked to my advantage as his foot slipped on a volume, sending him tumbling forward onto the leather chair. I quickly skirted by him and got myself out of the room and down the staircase as his impassioned shouting filled the row house. As I got to the bottom of the stairs the old woman was coming towards me, sheer terror on her face. She grabbed my blazer by the sleeve and shooed me through the first floor and pushed me into the vestibule. Before slamming the door behind me she said, “I’ll call Bing to come get you. Wait here.”
Hearing her lock the inner door from her side was the last straw. I started laughing. Exactly what was the point of that? To keep me from storming back in and demanding a second chance? No thanks. No way.
I was left waiting inside the cramped, cold vestibule. It was deadly quiet. I could hear the living room clock ticking on the other side of the door. Outside, I could hear birds chirping and the occasional passerby. I stood there for a few minutes. How would I know when Bing arrived? Does he know to come to the door for me? Maybe I should wait outside. I grabbed the big door handle and turned it slightly. It clicked open easily. I pulled the door toward me and peeked outside. The street was empty. I snuck out the door and slowly pulled it shut behind me. I glanced over to the window. I hoped the old lady couldn’t see me. I would rather wait outside in the sunshine than in that mothball-smelling closet of a space.
I sat on the steps and waited. The sun was out but the concrete was cold. What a weird morning. What was going to happen next there? After a minute, I saw Bing hurrying down the sidewalk. He didn’t smile when he saw me stand up and wave at him. Instead he grabbed me by the arm and pulled me with him as if we needed to make a quick escape.
“Come on, Macy, I’ll get you out of here,” he said. We took off down the block, gates and shrubs whizzing by.
“Why are we running?” I panted, trying to keep up with his long legs. I knew I had done something wrong. I looked back over my shoulder to see if we were being chased. No. Not yet.
“Keep going,” he hissed.
Bing kept his eyes focused straight ahead as we hurried. Gone was his smile and joie de vivre from earlier that morning. Not until we cleared the block and had made our way safely back into the town square did Bing slow down and loosen his grip on me.
“Whew,” he exclaimed, relaxing his features. “What a morning.”
He let a little chuckle escape, a small one, and I felt relief that he thought the situation was funny and not bad. He laughed some more, a little deeper and heartier. He glanced at me and put his hand on my shoulder as if he needed support. Then great peals of laughter shook his body until he doubled over, sank to the ground and rolled on his back.
Naturally, that drew attention, and soon there was a little group of
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