Crusader by Edward Bloor Read Free Book Online Page A

he stopped taking his medication for a while. He went nuts one night and started smashing windows with a tire iron. He got sentenced to ten days in the Positive Place, so he messed up his perfect attendance.

    I never work the whole day on Sunday because I ride with Mrs. Weiss out to the cemetery. She visits her husband's grave; I visit my mom's crypt. Today, Mrs. Weiss had invited Mrs. Roman to join us.
    Dad was behind the counter when I went to turn in my name tag. He asked me, "Are you going with Mrs. Weiss today?"
    "Yes."
    He shook his head and sighed. "You know, sweetheart, I would like to go with you. I just can't take it."
    "I know. That's okay."
    "I do stop at Mommy's grave on my own, when I get my courage up."
    "You do?"
    "Yes, of course. More than you might think." He managed to smile. "I sit by that statue of Jesus, and I look up where Mommy is, and I pray."
    A voice interrupted him. "That's not a statue of Jesus!" Dad and I turned and saw the short, skinny body of Mrs. Weiss on the other side of the counter. She added, "That's an angel. I'm Jewish and I know that."
    Dad laughed uncomfortably. He said, "Yes, of course. I guess it is."
    "It definitely is. It has wings. Did Jesus have wings?"
    Dad shook his head. "No, I don't think so."
    "And it has a big sword. Did Jesus carry a big sword?"
    Mrs. Weiss lifted her right arm high enough to show me what she was carrying. "I brought the stepladder from the store for you, Roberta."
    I took the stepladder from her and we started out together. Dad called, "Have a good time, you two."
    We both stopped and stared at him. Dad got flustered and added, "I don't mean it like that. I mean, have a good, safe trip."
    Mrs. Weiss walked away ahead of me. When I caught up to her in the rotunda, she said, "Maybe if they served beer and had dancing girls, he'd go to the cemetery."
    I said, "He goes to the cemetery, Mrs. Weiss. More than you might think."
    Mrs. Weiss made a small snorting sound. She pointed ahead, to the entrance door. "There's Millie. I told her to meet us here. Her dead husband's out at the cemetery."
    Mrs. Roman had on a dress and panty hose and a rain hat. She called out, "I didn't know whether to bring a raincoat. Do I need a raincoat? I have an umbrella."
    Mrs. Weiss told her, "No, you'll die in the humidity. We're never more than a short walk from the car. You'll be fine."
    The three of us hurried out into the parking lot. A strong gust of air, thunderstorm air, hit us just as we reached Mrs. Weiss's Lincoln Town Car. It's a really big car, and really white, with a red leather interior. We pulled out of the mall parking lot just ahead of the black wall of storm clouds.
    Mrs. Weiss talks more than I do, but she is no match for Mrs. Roman. Mrs. Roman did most of the talking on our ride. I sat in the backseat and listened. Every few minutes I leaned my head back and looked out the window at the swiftly moving storm in the west. The sky seemed to have a green tint.
    I was surprised when Mrs. Roman turned around and asked me, "So, Roberta, how old are you?"
    "I'm fifteen."
    "And you go to high school?"
    "Yes, ma'am. I just started my junior year."
    "Your junior year! You look so young."
    "Actually, I am a little young. My mom started me a year ahead of time. She thought I was ready for kindergarten when I was four, so she put me in Montessori school."
    "Is that right?...Now, is fifteen old enough to drive?"
    "No, ma'am. I can get my learner's permit when I turn sixteen. I've already taken driver's ed, though, so I do know how to drive."
    She said, "Good for you. I have a license, but I don't drive. I never have. My husband made me get one for identification
purposes and for emergencies. But I've never had to use it, thank god."
    We reached Seventy-second Street and turned north. Now the storm clouds were out the left-side window. They were gaining on us fast.
    Mrs. Roman looked at me again. "So, Roberta, who do you have buried here at the cemetery?"
    "My mom."
    "Oh no.