Sparrow Road by Sheila O'Connor Read Free Book Online Page B

crazy Mama-phase Grandpa Mac said was better left forgotten.
    Mama shrugged like she couldn’t quite remember.
    “But he knew you played guitar?” That part surprised me most of all. Guitar was Mama’s hidden talent. Even I had never heard her play it—except maybe as a baby, and I couldn’t remember that.
    Mama took one end of the sheet, stretched it on the line, and pinned it tight. She wasn’t going to talk.
    “Did you know him back in Amsterdam?”
    Mama’s eyes grew huge. No. She crinkled up her face like my question was pure crazy.
    Then, before I could ask Mama another string of questions, Josie came strolling through the meadow, balancing a bike with each big hand. Just as we had planned. One for her and one for me.
    Mama looked confused.
    “Town,” I said. “I’m going in with Josie.”
    No! This time Mama shook her head like she really, really meant it.
    When Josie made it all the way to us, she passed the red bike off to me. It was old, with rusted fenders and fat tires, but it was good enough to get me into Comfort.
    Josie opened up her hands. Root beer floats was printed on one palm. The great escape was written on the other.
    No , Mama shook her head again.
    Josie looked confused. She cocked her head like she needed Mama to explain. Then she took a pen out of her pocket. It’s town , she wrote on her arm. We aren’t going far .
    No, Mama mouthed. She grabbed the pen and wrote across her hand. I’m going to take Raine to town with me.
    “I want to go with Josie,” I said. I didn’t care about the silence rule, but I knew Josie wouldn’t break it. Mama either. And it was easier to argue with Mama when I knew she wouldn’t speak. “We’re going for a memory,” I said.
    Raine is safe with me , Josie wrote in giant letters on the inside of my arm.
    “I am,” I said.
    Mama huffed a long, slow sigh, the kind of sound she made when she was mad. Then she grabbed me by the shoulders, her laundry hands still damp, and whispered in my ear, “Don’t talk to any strangers.” She said it like we were right back in Milwaukee, like I was walking to the library alone.
    “I won’t.” I pulled away. I didn’t want Mama’s worries to ruin something fun.
    “I mean it, Raine,” she whispered. “Not a single soul.”

17
    By the time we got to Comfort, I was so tired, I staggered when I stood. Eight miles was a long ride for a sleepy, main street town.
    “You look like you just climbed down from a horse,” Josie joked. She dropped her heavy arm over my shoulder. “Come on, partner, the root beer float’s on me.”
    We left the bikes, unlocked, against the five-and-dime. Comfort wasn’t much more than a few brick shops, a couple old cafés. Shady blocks of tidy houses. A small white church perched up on a hill. A safety Mama would have seen during her trips to town with Viktor. As far as I could tell there wasn’t any danger, no reason Mama had to keep me from this town.
    “Comfort Cone, here we come!” Josie shouted. She flung her arms wide open to the world; the few people on the street gave us a stare. “First root beer floats, then the Blue Moon Café for Marge’s lemon bars.” Josie grinned. “Trinket shopping at the five-and-dime.” She rubbed her giant hand against my head. “One of these days,” she said, “your mama’s going to have to let you go.”
    “I know,” I said. “And Grandpa Mac is worse! You should have seen them in Milwaukee. They always say it’s because I’m an only child. Mama says it’s easier to worry over one.”
    “Could be,” Josie said. “If you were mine, I guess I’d keep you close. But even so, you need to know the world!”
    Comfort wasn’t quite the world, but still I was happy that we came. On our short walk down the street Josie gave a wave or nod to everyone we passed. “Great day!” she’d say, as if every staring stranger was her friend. “There it is!” She pointed toward a rundown shack with a plastic statue of a twist cone