Second Fiddle by Rosanne Parry Read Free Book Online

an extra set of Dad’s name and rank patches to the corner of his blanket. Whenever Dad worked past his bedtime, Kyle got out the blanket, tucked it tight around his body, and carefully traced our name and the three stripes up and three stripes down with a star in the middle for Dad’s rank.
    I opened up Dr. Seuss, and Kyle wiggled his bony shoulders under my arm and rested his head under my chin. I read and pointed to the words and made him say the last word in each line. I stopped the story to yawn a couple of times toward the end, because it made him sleepy, and then after the story, we prayed. But I secretly changed the words, because what idiot put in the part about dying? Somebody who hates kids, I bet. So we ended the prayer, “If I should sneeze before I wake, oh, what a goopy mess I’d make.” Much better. Kyle settled deeper into my lap and twirled his fingers in the ends of my hair. A minute or two later he was making little-boy snores.
    Meanwhile, Tyler was at the bookshelf worrying over which of his five hundred volumes of Encyclopedia Brown we should read tonight. Tyler was not a snuggler. When Dad was gone, he slept with Dad’s compass hung around his neck on a green bootlace. Tyler handed me
Encyclopedia Brown Gets His Man
and sat at the far end of the sofa. He flipped open the compass and lined it up with true north. He stretched his legs out straight and pressed the bottoms of his bare feet up against mine, because we were secretly sole mates. I would totally not do this, but it was kind of sweet, and he had just had a bath. I read him a mystery, and he told me the solution and every fact in the story that had a clue in it.
    When the story was done, Tyler tucked himself in with one of those green army blankets that everyone has a hundred of. He cradled the compass in his hands and took bearings on the TV, the dinner table, the desk, the stack of clean laundry in the corner, and the painting Dad got for Mom in Venice. Sometimes Tyler took forever to fall asleep. Tonight I had to get him out of the way before Dad got home, or I’d never get anything packed. I picked up my science book and read out loud in my sleepiest voice about igneous and metamorphic and sedimentary rocks. In just over ten minutes the magic of science had done its work.
    “Did we win?” Mom walked into the living room with another basket of laundry to fold.
    I smiled and slid Kyle off my lap. “Victory is ours.”
    Mom had let her hair down and was wearing her favorite sweats and fluffy socks. “Tea and cake?”
    She was in a mood to chat; I could tell.
    “Gee, Mom, I’m sorry, but I’ve got stuff to do for science, and I need to practice tonight, too. Can you just wrap up my half? I’ll have it at lunch tomorrow.”
    “Sure, sweetie.” Mom went over to the bookshelf and ran a finger along the row of romance novels. She pulled a paperback from the shelf and set it on the coffee table. She scooped Kyle up off the couch and carried him into the boys’ room.
    I opened the door to my room, tossed my science book on my desk, and unlatched my violin case. I plucked each of the strings. Figures, Kyle knocked my E string out of tune. I spun the fine tuner to the right, plucking until I heard it hit the right pitch. I tucked the violin under my chin and started in on Pachelbel’s Canon. I loved the sound of the piece. In my mind’s ear I could hear all three of us playing, Vivian four measures ahead and Giselle an octave lower and four measures behind. I stopped before my favorite part with all the runs of sixteenth notes, because I didn’t want to think about never playing that piece together again.
    I switched over to the canon I had composed for Giselle and Vivian. I ran through the first violin part thinking of the soldier and why his officers would try to kill him. Dad’s known a few mean officers, and one or two lieutenants who weren’t very smart, but murder? There had to be something behind it.
    I played my canon again