Raymie Nightingale by Kate DiCamillo Read Free Book Online Page A

ease. They were famous. They had personalized luggage.”
    “Louisiana Elefantteeeee.”
    “Granny’s anxious,” said Louisiana. “I have to go.” She stood up and smoothed down the front of her dress. Her bunny barrettes glowed in the light of the sun. Each barrette looked purposeful, alive, as if it were busy receiving messages from very far away.
    Louisiana smiled down at Raymie. It was a beautiful smile. And for a minute, Louisiana almost looked like an angel, with her pink dress and the blue sky lit up behind her and all her barrettes glowing.
    “They died,” said Louisiana.
    “What?” said Raymie.
    “My parents. They died. They aren’t the Flying Elefantes anymore. They’re not anything anymore. They’re at the bottom of the ocean. They were on a ship that sank. Maybe you heard about it?”
    “We haven’t heard about it,” said Beverly, who was still on her back on the dock, staring up at the sky. “Why would we know about a ship sinking?”
    “Well, anyway. It was long ago and far away. And it was a great tragedy. All the Flying Elefante luggage sank to the bottom of the ocean, and my parents drowned. And that is why I never learned how to swim.”
    “
That
makes sense,” said Beverly.
    “Now it’s just Granny and me. And Marsha Jean, of course. She wants to capture me and put me in the county home, where they only ever serve you bologna to eat. It’s all very terrifying when you think about it. So I try not to think about it.”
    “Louisiannnnnnaa!” shouted her grandmother.
    Louisiana bent and picked up her baton. “I’ll see you both tomorrow at the Golden Glen Happy Retirement Home on the corner of Borton Street and Grint Avenue at twelve noon sharp.”
    “Okay,” said Raymie.
    “It’s not the Golden Glen Happy Retirement Home,” said Beverly. “It’s a nursing home.”
    “Good-bye, and long live the Rancheros!” shouted Louisiana as she walked away.
    “Do you think her parents were really trapeze artists?” said Raymie to Beverly.
    “I don’t care if they were,” said Beverly. “But they weren’t.”
    “Oh,” said Raymie.
    From up at the house, there came the sound of the Elefante station wagon pulling away. It made a very loud noise, as if it were a broken rocket ship working to escape the earth’s atmosphere.
    “I should probably go up there,” said Raymie. “My mother will be here soon.”
    “Where’s your father?”
    “What?” said Raymie.
    “Your father. Did he come back home?” asked Beverly. The bruise on her face suddenly looked darker, meaner.
    “No,” said Raymie.
    “I didn’t think so,” said Beverly.
    Raymie felt her soul shrink. The sky didn’t look as blue. She decided that she didn’t believe at all what Mrs. Borkowski said about daylight stars and deep holes. Her mother was right. Mrs. Borkowski was as crazy as a loon.
    Probably.
    Phhhhtttt.
    “Look,” said Beverly. “Don’t get all upset. That’s just how things go. People leave and they don’t come back. Somebody has to tell you the truth.” She stood up and stretched, and then she bent down and picked up her baton. “But, listen, don’t worry — we’ll go and get your stupid library book from underneath the old lady’s bed, because that’s an easy thing to get back. That’s no problem at all.”
    Beverly threw the baton up in the air once, twice, three times. Each time, she caught it without even looking.
    “See you tomorrow, then,” said Beverly Tapinski.
    And she walked away.

They met at the Golden Glen at noon the next day, which was Saturday and not a baton-twirling day.
    Louisiana got there first.
    Raymie could see her standing on the corner from half a block away. She sparkled. She was wearing an orange dress with silver sequins at the hem and gold sequins sprinkled around its gauzy sleeves. She had added more barrettes to her hair. All the barrettes were pink and had bunnies on them. Who knew that there were so many bunny barrettes in the world?
    “I am