Icy Sparks by Gwyn Hyman Rubio Read Free Book Online Page B

could feel my spirits crashing. Miss Emily usually accepted me. Now she was badgering me. “If you don’t like me for me, then I don’t need this visit,” I said.
    â€œNary a person in these mountains done made it with speech such as this.” She smiled and patted me on the shoulder. “Icy Gal, Berea College taught me that there’s a time and a place for everything. I’m proud of my roots, but in that great, wide world beyond these mountains, pride—false pride, mind you—is a flaw. It will hurt you. Do you understand?”
    â€œI need to speak right,” I said.
    â€œYou’re smart as the dickens, Icy Gal. Sometimes I forget you’re only ten.” When we reached the first step, Miss Emily stopped, braced herself, opened her mouth so wide that her lips stretched over her teeth, and inhaled deeply. “Stay close,” she said, “or you’ll tumble off the edge.”
    â€œReady?” I asked, huddling beneath her armpit.
    â€œReady,” she said, and up we went. The minute we stepped on the porch, Miss Emily waddled over to Patanni’s rocker and collapsed. “Un vaso de agua, por favor,” she said.
    Gigi, the cat, taught me French. Miss Emily taught me Spanish. “From the springhouse?” I asked. “It’s very cold.”
    â€œIn Cuba, we drank piña coladas on the veranda. Even now, my tongue remembers the cold slivers of pineapple and the sweet taste of rum.”
    â€œA cup of springwater?” I asked again.
    â€œDelicioso,” she said. “The water in town is brown. I’ve been drinking Coke instead.”
    â€œI’ll be right back.” I sprinted down the steps, raced around the back of the house, and headed toward the old fieldstone springhouse. Lately, Patanni had been hauling buckets of good, clear water from the springhouse because our well water was too muddy to drink. Inside, pooling in front of a brown stone wall, was the spring, my grandfather’s pride. I grabbed the tin cup that hung from a nail and dipped it into the cold water. Then I brought the metal rim to my lips and took a long, slow swallow. It was the sweetest water on earth, and I drank the whole cup before refilling it and dashing back. “Here,” I said, handing Miss Emily the cup.
    She stopped strumming her fingers on the rocker’s arm and took it. Closing her eyes, she dramatically brought the cup to her lips and sipped until the cup was empty. “That was exquisite,” she hummed, then opened her eyes and draped its handle over the rocker’s arm. “You know how to treat a guest.” She tapped her yellow shoes against the porch. “Now sit down,” she said. “Tell me all about you.”
    I sat on the floor in front of her. “I’m glad you came,” I said. “No one ever drops by.”
    â€œNeighbors don’t want to get sick,” she said, “especially with the flu.”
    â€œEven if I’m well, no one comes over.”
    â€œJoel McRoy lives down the road, not a mile away,” she said. “Why don’t you visit him? The road goes both ways.”
    I made a face. “’Cause we ain’t friends no more.” I corrected myself, “I mean, we aren’t friends anymore.”
    She clicked her tongue. “I heard you dumped a Coke over the poor boy’s head.”
    â€œHe brought in on hisself, himself,” I said.
    â€œNo one, Icy Gal, deserves a Coke poured over his head.”
    â€œJoel McRoy did,” I said, straining upward. “If you came over here to make me feel bad, then you can get.”
    Miss Emily put her hands on my shoulders and held me down. “Calm down, Icy Gal! I’ve heard Joel McRoy’s side, but I haven’t heard yours. Tell me what happened.”
    I sat up straight, looked right into Miss Emily’s sky-blue eyes, and said, “He called me a name. Like they used to call my