Free Spirits by Julia Watts Read Free Book Online

label. “They say ‘relieves constipation’—the same thing they say to you.”
    “Well,after the other night,you can’t say it’s false advertising,” Adam says.
    An idea pops into my head. “You think we should walk down to the drugstore and see if anybody came in and bought a whole bunch of laxatives?”
    “It seems like a place to start,” Adam agrees. “And I’m all for anything that gets us away from sitting outside the school staring at laxative packages. People are gonna start thinking we’re weirder than they already do.”
    “Well, we definitely don’t need that.” I stuff the Ex-Lax packages in my backpack, and we start walking toward downtown.
    The City Drug has been a part of downtown Wilder since way before Mom was born. And probably some of the stuff that’s on its shelves has been in there since way before Mom was born. Does anybody use hair tonic or tooth powder anymore? Mr. Henderson, the pharmacist who owns the store, is a sweet old man who’s an archdeacon in the Methodist church. Granny, though, looks at him as her arch enemy because she says the “snake oil” he sells at his store is nowhere near as safe and effective as the herbal cures she makes.
    When the bell on the door of the City Drug jingles, Mr. Henderson looks up at us over his half glasses.The store is empty, and he’s sitting behind the counter working a crossword puzzle. “Hello, young people,” he says like he’s glad for the company. “Stop in for a Coke on your way home from school?”
    I’m about to say “no sir” when Adam says “yes sir” and makes a beeline for the cooler. Unlike me, Adam always has pocket money. He grabs two Cokes, and I decide this is a good idea even though Mom and Granny don’t like me drinking soda. If we’re going to pester Mr. Henderson with questions, we should at least buy something from him.
    “Two Cokes,” Mr. Henderson says when Adam sets them down. Mr. Henderson smiles strangely when he looks at the bottles, and just like that I’m in his mind. He’s remembering the days Mom and Granny have told me about—when the City Drug was twice as big as it is now and had a counter where you could order a soda or ice cream or a sandwich and there was a jukebox that played all the hit songs and kids would come after school to drink milkshakes and listen to records and the store was full of music and laughter. And now poor Mr. Henderson sits in an empty store with only his crosswords for company.
    I come back into myself because Adam is elbowing me, not too gently, in the ribs. He doesn’t like to ask adults questions, so he lets me (or in this case, makes me) do the talking. “Mr. Henderson,” I say. “We came by because we wanted to ask you something kind of strange.”
    He smiles, and it lights up his blue-gray eyes. “Well, pharmacists get asked all kinds of strange questions, so go right ahead.”
    “We were wondering…do you remember anybody coming into the store and buying a large amount of Ex-Lax?”
    He chuckles a little. “Now that is a strange question. Why do you want to know?”
    “It’s because of a prank somebody played,”Adam says.“We’re trying to figure out who did it.” Adam may not be as good as I am at asking adults questions, but he’s way better at answering questions adults ask, without exactly lying or giving too much away.
    “Kids and laxatives, that’s a dangerous combination, all right.” Mr. Henderson chuckles. “Well, I guess I could check the receipts for you.”
    “Would you? That would be great,” I say. “It would be from May fifth or maybe a couple of weeks before.”
    Mr. Henderson goes to the back of the store and comes back about five minutes later, shaking his head. “Didn’t find anything,” he says. “Maybe your culprit bought everything at the Wal-Mart in Morgan. Goodness knows that’s what most people do.”
    “Well, thank you very much for checking,” I say, disappointed.
    “You’re welcome,” Mr.