Post by jp on May 13, 2017 14:14:18 GMT -5
I wished Tommy weren’t so fascinated with the skeleton sprawled in the chair in the middle of Uncle Max’s Medical Marvels tent. I wanted to leave, the smell of popcorn from the stand next door making me hungry.
Smushing blue cotton candy between his fingers, Tommy said something, but his words were drowned out by the sounds of the carnival.
“What?” I shouted.
“Do you think someone killed him?” Tommy hollered in my ear, leaving blue spit on my pigtails.
“Nah,” I said, shrugging to wipe the candy from my hair with the sleeve of my T-shirt. Great. Now, I had a sticky stain on my clothes. “Impossible.”
“How can you tell?” Tommy challenged.
“Duh, my dad is a cop,” I snarked. He wasn’t, but Tommy didn’t know it. Daddy was a CPA and worked in Chicago, Monday to Friday. Being an accountant was boring, so I told everyone in Washington Elementary he was a detective.
Tommy thrust the cotton candy in my direction. “Here, you can have some.”
“Thanks,” I said, helping myself to a generous portion before he had a chance to change his mind.
For a few blissful seconds, I chewed, syrupy sweetness coating my mouth.
Tommy said, “So? I don’t know anything about teeth.” His daddy was a dentist, and among fourth-graders, pediatricians were the only people to rank below dentists in the hierarchy of exciting parental occupations.
“A detective is different,” I said, jutting my chin out. “My daddy teaches me things.”
“Liar,” Tommy said, scratching his nose, leaving a smear across his face. “Bet he doesn’t.”
“Does, too,” I insisted.
“Oh, really? Then, help me look for clues,” said Tommy, and walked toward the exhibit, his exaggerated stealth and messy, red hair reminding me of our school mascot, Eggbert the Rooster.
The skull was grinning at me. I was sure to get bad dreams that night. Biting my lip, I wondered if I might confess to Tommy I was scared. Nah, he’d laugh at me and call me a girl. I didn’t mind being called a girl because, duh, I was one, but he’d tell everyone that I, Molly, was afraid of a skeleton.
The gum-chewing cashier seated behind the small desk eyed us, balefully. I hoped he would tell us to get out. Dragging my feet as much as I could, I followed Tommy.
Smushing blue cotton candy between his fingers, Tommy said something, but his words were drowned out by the sounds of the carnival.
“What?” I shouted.
“Do you think someone killed him?” Tommy hollered in my ear, leaving blue spit on my pigtails.
“Nah,” I said, shrugging to wipe the candy from my hair with the sleeve of my T-shirt. Great. Now, I had a sticky stain on my clothes. “Impossible.”
“How can you tell?” Tommy challenged.
“Duh, my dad is a cop,” I snarked. He wasn’t, but Tommy didn’t know it. Daddy was a CPA and worked in Chicago, Monday to Friday. Being an accountant was boring, so I told everyone in Washington Elementary he was a detective.
Tommy thrust the cotton candy in my direction. “Here, you can have some.”
“Thanks,” I said, helping myself to a generous portion before he had a chance to change his mind.
For a few blissful seconds, I chewed, syrupy sweetness coating my mouth.
Tommy said, “So? I don’t know anything about teeth.” His daddy was a dentist, and among fourth-graders, pediatricians were the only people to rank below dentists in the hierarchy of exciting parental occupations.
“A detective is different,” I said, jutting my chin out. “My daddy teaches me things.”
“Liar,” Tommy said, scratching his nose, leaving a smear across his face. “Bet he doesn’t.”
“Does, too,” I insisted.
“Oh, really? Then, help me look for clues,” said Tommy, and walked toward the exhibit, his exaggerated stealth and messy, red hair reminding me of our school mascot, Eggbert the Rooster.
The skull was grinning at me. I was sure to get bad dreams that night. Biting my lip, I wondered if I might confess to Tommy I was scared. Nah, he’d laugh at me and call me a girl. I didn’t mind being called a girl because, duh, I was one, but he’d tell everyone that I, Molly, was afraid of a skeleton.
The gum-chewing cashier seated behind the small desk eyed us, balefully. I hoped he would tell us to get out. Dragging my feet as much as I could, I followed Tommy.
