Mister Death's Blue-Eyed Girls by Mary Downing Hahn Read Free Book Online Page A

Charlie shouts, "See ya soon!"
    I hope so, I hope so, but I just smile and wave. If I let myself like Charlie, really like him, he'll stop liking me and fall for Bobbi Jo.
    At Ellie's house, we expect to see Cheryl and Bobbi Jo perched on the steps waiting to tell us where they've been, grinning, full of secrets, but they aren't there.
    Bobbi Jo's little sister Julie is pushing her doll carriage up and down the sidewalk. Ellie asks her if Bobbi Jo's home.
    Julie shakes her head. "She's at Cheryl's school."
    No, I think, no she's not. Where is she? I look at Ellie. She shakes her head and we go inside. Even with all the windows open and a fan running full blast, it's hot. Mrs. O'Brien is at work and the house has a quiet, empty feel. You can always tell when no one's home.
    We go to Ellie's room and strip off our sweaty school clothes, limp and wrinkled from the heat, and put on shorts and sleeveless blouses. Then we search the refrigerator for cold drinks. At my house we'd be lucky to find Kool-Aid, but Mrs. O'Brien always has sodas in the refrigerator. She's left a note on the kitchen table:
Hot dogs and buns for the picnic in the refrigerator. Have fun!
    "Your mom is so sweet," I say.
    Ellie smiles. "Most of the time. She has her bad moments."
    I must have looked like I didn't believe her, so Ellie laughed. "If we'd waked her up last night and she'd seen the state we were in, she would've killed us both."
    We take our sodas down to the basement, where it's cooler. Ellie loads her little record player with forty-fives. We loll around listening to the Platters, the Penguins, Fats Domino, J erry Lee Lewis, Elvis, and Little Richard while we read old magazines. In
Life,
we find an article on Grace Kelly's marriage to Prince Rainier, and we wonder what it would be like to marry an old ugly guy and become a princess. Would it be worth it? We don't think so.
Modern Screen
has a story about Eddie Fisher and Debbie Reynolds's honeymoon. He's got a nice voice, we think, but he's not all that good-looking. We find some good photos of J ames Dean in his last movie,
Giant,
and wish as usual he hadn't died. So unfair that people like him have to die.
    Just as we're about to find out who Marilyn Monroe will marry next, we hear sirens. Lots of them. It sounds like they're coming down Ellie's street, passing right by her house.
    "What the—?" Ellie stands up and starts toward the stairs. "Somebody's house must be on fire."
    I hate the sound of sirens. They cry out danger, they scream bad things are happening, someone's hurt, someone's sick, someone's dying. It's not you this time, but maybe next time it will be.
    I follow Ellie upstairs. She opens the front door. Police cars and ambulances are speeding across the park toward the woods, sirens screaming. A fire truck follows them, bouncing over ruts in the ground, kicking up clouds of dust.
    Some kids are running after the fire truck. I watch Charlie and Paul and Walt disappear into the woods along with the others, some I know, some I don't. I don't want to go to the park. Something's wrong. I can feel it in my bones.
    Bobbi Jo's mother stands at the fence, watching. She holds a toddler on her hip; her other arm encircles Julie. She's so young, I think, almost like a teenager in her short shorts. Not a
mother
mother like mine in baggy women's jeans with a side zipper. But there's something about the way she's standing there that makes me worry. Tense, watchful, holding her children so close that the little one squirms to free herself.
    "Hi, Mrs. Boyd," Ellie calls. "What's going on in the park?"
    She turns toward us, her face pale. "Have you seen Bobbi Jo?"
    Ellie crosses the lawn and stops at the fence. "Not since this morning. She and Cheryl came to get us, but Nora and I weren't ready so they left for school without us."
    Mrs. Boyd turns away. Her eyes follow the flashing lights into the woods. She holds the struggling toddler tighter, pulls Julie closer. "Something's wrong."
    To avoid