Leo the Lioness by Constance C. Greene Read Free Book Online

she started keening and practically beating her head against the wall.
    â€œMaybe he was coming down with a virus,” my mother said.
    â€œThat was no virus,” Nina shouted. “The little fink was out in back of Charlotte’s house drinking beer. That’s what made him throw up. He was drinking beer like an alcoholic.”
    â€œAlcoholics don’t drink beer,” my father said. “How much beer did he have?”
    â€œDid Charlotte’s mother know about this?” my mother asked.
    â€œDid he throw up while you were dancing?” I wanted to know. That would be kind of interesting, having your date barf all over you and also all over the dance floor. That would make it an occasion never to be forgotten.
    â€œHe didn’t throw up until I punched him in the stomach,” Nina said.
    I forgot to mention that Nina is very strong. When we were little, she was such a good fighter all the other kids were afraid of her. She could and sometimes did lick any kid on the block; boys included. She had powerful arms and also plenty of muscles. It is only in recent years that she has decided to soft-pedal her muscles. I can understand this.
    My father said, “Well, that’s as good a reason as any to throw up, I guess. You punching him in the stomach. He has my sympathy.”
    â€œHe had all this beer to drink and he was trying to make out with me in the car coming home and he put his arm around me and so I punched him.”
    Nina’s eyes glittered, partly from tears, partly from rage.
    My mother said, “I’m sure the cleaners can make the dress like new.”
    My father shook his head slowly.
    â€œWhat do you know?” he said. “My little girl is able to take care of herself after all.”
    â€œThey must’ve been some lousy jokes,” I said.
    â€œWhat jokes?” my mother and father asked.
    â€œThe jokes you have a stockpile of handy to keep the boy from feeling angry at being rejected,” I explained.
    â€œOh, those,” my father said weakly. My mother put her handkerchief over her mouth. Then Nina started to bawl again and my mother said she’d fix her a cup of tea.
    My father sat there looking sort of dazed.
    â€œDid any girl ever punch you in the stomach, Dad?” I asked him.
    â€œNow that you mention it,” he said, “I don’t think any did. Blackened my eye once or twice and smacked me over the head with a pocket-book but punched me in the stomach, no.”
    â€œYou weren’t really trying, Dad,” I said.
    â€œI guess you’re right. If I had it to do all over again, though, I can tell you this, I’d do better.”
    My mother called from upstairs.
    â€œIt’s late. Come on up to bed, you two.”

15.
    John has this way of waking me up which is really unique. He stands beside my bed and puts one finger, that’s all, just one finger, lightly, on my big toe or my arm and waits quietly until I open my eyes.
    When I woke up the morning after the dance, John’s finger was on my right ear.
    I looked at Nina’s bed. She was still asleep. John does not wake Nina this way. He does not wake Nina at all. He knows better.
    He smiled at me. “Hello,” he said.
    I would have liked to go back to sleep for a while but I told him I would get dressed and be right down.
    Only the top of Nina’s head stuck out from under the blanket. Her hair looked sort of like a dandelion gone to seed. She had put some more streaking stuff on it and the sun had bleached it more and dried it out. She would have to put some mayonnaise on it to condition it. It is very good for the hair, even if sort of a disgusting idea.
    John and I went through the refrigerator and got out some leftovers because Count was at our back door. Count lives next door. He is a Labrador retriever who is quite old but has a lot of dignity. He swims very well, even at his age. He is always hungry. I hope my mother