Fleabrain Loves Franny by Joanne Rocklin Read Free Book Online Page A

much. She enveloped everyone near her in an aura of joyous optimism, as well as the scent of English Lavender by Yardley.
    Mrs. Nelson came to the Katzenback home every Monday afternoon for two whole hours. She explained everything clearly, corrected every piece of homework, and made Franny feel as if she weren’t missing anything at all, academically, at least.
    â€œYou will be right in the swing of things when you return to fifth grade, as if you haven’t been gone one day.”
    Franny asked Mrs. Nelson if she knew how to translate German, since she’d done so much traveling.
    â€œGerman? Nope. Not one word of it,” said Mrs. Nelson. “Spanish, yes. And a bit of Tupi, believe it or not, because hubby and I will be traveling to the Brazilian rain forest this summer. Why do you ask?”
    â€œI’ve been looking at some of my parents’ old books,” said Franny.
    Mrs. Nelson let out a long whistle. “Whoo-ee! I’m impressed! But maybe you’re a little too young for those books?”
    â€œI read lots of books for my own age, too,” Franny assured her.
    â€œWell, I say this calls for a Nat King Cole song,” said Mrs. Nelson.
    â€œAnd then someday they may recall
    We were not too young at a-a-ll!”
    Still, it was a long week from Monday to Monday.
    Most afternoons, Franny sat on her porch, waiting for the Pack to stroll by from wherever they’d been having fun, before they went home for supper and homework.
    â€œHi, Franny! See you, Franny! We miss you, Franny!” they’d call.
    One day they were carrying sacks and peering at the ground, looking for discarded bottle caps before the winter snows came. The Pack shared a large bottle-cap collection, which they planned to donate to a museum at some point, or maybe even sell for cash. They kept it in the basement of Teresa’s house, spread out on the concrete floor. It was most likely the largest collection of its kind, they figured, as they’d been collecting bottle caps for seventeen months. Seymour had actually been collecting on his own for two years, until Franny had once pointed out that a large joint collection made much more sense.
    Teresa and her sister Rose waved at Franny. Seymour, A, B, and C were too involved in their search to look up.
    â€œHeigh-ho!” Walter Walter called to her in a fake jolly voice. He anxiously touched the front of his shirt, where, underneath, Franny guessed, his garlic-bud necklace was hidden.
    â€œGuess what, Franny? I found three cola caps!” cried Rose.
    Teresa smiled at her younger sister. They all knew that little Rose hadn’t yet mastered the concept of rarity versus quantity. Teresa herself had once been lucky enough to find a rare Red Ribbon Beverage bottle cap at the curb in front of Sol’s Ye Olde Candy Shoppe. Someone had dug deep into the store’s cooler and most likely pulled out the last bottle of its kind. Others had found an old Vernors Ginger Ale cap and caps for Gateway club and cherry soda pop. All the caps were certainly over five years old, if dirt and rust were any determination of age. And one Saturday, Walter Walter and Seymour (each claimed to have spotted it first) plucked an Iron City Beer cap from an overturned garbage can. Seymour insisted it was from pre–CivilWar days. Franny pointed out that they had probably used corks, not bottle caps, way back then. But Seymour said it was probably pre–one-war-or-another, so they kept it, anyway.
    Franny had been hoping to discover her own rarity that autumn.
    Impossible now, of course.
    â€œOh, Rose! Good for you,” Franny called. “I bet those cola caps are beautiful.”
    Rose was little, but she was quick. Before anyone could stop her, she shot across Shady Avenue and up the stairs to Franny’s porch. She’d remembered to look both ways before crossing but forgot that Franny was supposed to be contagious.
    â€œTake a look,” said