Songs of Willow Frost by Jamie Ford Read Free Book Online

Sunny’s deadpan voice, William was never sure when he was joking. And when he playfully punched William in the arm, Sunny still didn’t smile.
    “When you clean your plate you may come outside,” Sister Briganti announced with a snap of her fingers; tucking the ruler up her sleeve, she glided out the door. William hurried to finish his sandwich and gulped it down with a tin cup of warm powdered milk. He stood up and felt a hand on his shoulder as Charlotte found the crook of his arm and let him lead her out the front door and down the stairs with the rest of the herd. In their excitement they didn’t even stop to get their coats or hats.
    Idling in the courtyard was an enormous truck with the words KING COUNTY painted on the door. The rear of the truck was enclosed like a bus but windowless, though there were shuttered panels on each side. William watched as a mysterious ramp extended from the back to the mossy grass, like the gangplank of a steamship.
    He explained what he was seeing to Charlotte, and she nodded along and fidgeted with her cane. Then he felt someone tap his other arm.
    “I told you so,” Sunny said, making oinking noises and snorting like a pig.
    William knew he was joking—he had to be, but the truck made him nervous nonetheless. He held out hope that it was a traveling act, like the puppet show put on by the Junior League or a brass ensemble.
    Sister Briganti motioned to the driver, who turned the engine off.
    Much to William’s surprise, a young woman with short brown hair stepped out of the cab, smiling and waving, peering at everyone over her spectacles. She peeled off her driving gloves and adjusted her hat.
    “Since we can’t go to the library,” Sister Briganti said, “the library has agreed to come to us—they call it a bookmobile. This is Miss Fredericks.”
    William didn’t quite understand until the librarian rolled up the shuttered panels to reveal hundreds of books. There were even folding step stools for the shorter kids. Some of the children clapped and squealed so loudly that they scared the birds from the trees overhead. Then Miss Fredericks climbed up the ramp and wheeled down a squeaking metal cart filled with picture books. One of the sisters rolled it toward the infants’ home as everyone lined up, standing on tippy-toes, peering over each other’s shoulders to get a better look. William forgot about his mother for a moment as he spied books by Defoe, Dickens, Hawthorne, and Longfellow, and countless other names he didn’t recognize. And there were entire shelves dedicated to Oliver Optic, Horatio Alger, and even the Hardy Boys. There were also pamphlets on modern evils. Sister Briganti thumbed through one called Orgies of the Hemp Eaters and another one about teetotalism. Until last year Prohibition had outlawed alcohol for as long as William could remember, which only confused him the first time he tasted wine during communion. God must have handpicked exceptions , he thought.
    William’s excitement grew as the line shortened and smiling, delighted children began wandering off, books in hand, finding places to sit and read. William had been to the public library only once before, on a field trip, and even though he wasn’t allowed to check out anything, he never forgot how it felt to wander in and see books on shelves as high as the ceiling. The library is like a candy store where everything is free .
    Sunny, Charlotte, and he took a step closer.
    “Please pick something out for me, William,” Charlotte said as she tapped her cane. “I’d love for you to read it to me.”
    William patted her arm. “I will, I promise,” he said. Then he felt someone grab the back of his shirt, almost popping off his back collar button.
    Sister Briganti pulled Sunny and him aside. “Not until the kitchen is clean,” she said sternly, raising her eyebrows as she marched them back toward the cafeteria.
    “Yes, ma’am,” they replied in unison. As they walked, William turned