Who Is Frances Rain? by Margaret Buffie Read Free Book Online Page A

in?” Alex said.
    I snarled and pushed Erica and her chair to the other side of the table. Alex’s hand dodged around, picking and fitting. The more pieces he fitted, the more I stared at the big hole in the sky. My brain had gone into neutral.
    I never thought I’d be glad to see Evan walk into a room. The relief lasted about two seconds. He lounged up to us and bumped the table with his hip.
    â€œHey, Birdie, let’s go to my room and play cards. Get away from the riffraff,” he said, rolling his r’s with disdain.
    â€œHuh? Yeah. In a minute,” Alex said, handing me a piece and pointing to a spot by my left hand. “Look, kid, I’ll give you a break. Leave the sky. Do the apple orchard.”
    I took the piece of pink apple blossoms and tried to make it fit, but couldn’t.
    â€œAre you sure this goes here, or are you slowing me down?” I muttered savagely, trying to squeeze the rounded corner into a square space.
    His hand closed over mine and moved it and the piece of candy pink to the right spot. “It fits. Maybe if you worked upside down, you’d see better. Like Erica. She’s put in three. See?”
    I didn’t see anything but the slim brown hand over mine. It felt cool and dry. My own was hot and clammy. I pulled it away, found another piece and fit it in. Sheer dumb luck.
    â€œThere,” he said, close to my ear. “With that in, we’ve started the hardest part. Your section has the most daisies. You girls do them. Real men don’t do daisies.”
    â€œThen how come you’re doing apple blossoms?” I asked.
    â€œThey’re trees. That’s different.”
    Alex took Erica’s hand and showed her where to put the little bit in her hand. They grinned at each other. I’d never noticed how white his teeth were before.
    Evan bumped the table again. A hard sharp push. Before we could stop it, half of the completed section fell to the floor, breaking into a crumpled pile.
    â€œEvan!” screeched Erica.
    â€œHey, watch it, Bozo Brain,” said Alex. “Your gran’ll kill us.”
    Evan checked over his shoulder. Gran and Tim were busy talking. Feeling safe, he gave each of us our own very nasty sneer before saying, “Are you going to leave these wretches and retire to my room to play poker or what? Maybe you
like
playing finger-feelings with Elizabarf?”
    I knew I was blushing. I hated it. “You are
such
a creep, Evan.” He grinned.
    â€œI can think of worse things to do,” said Alex. “Like being pushed around by you.” He leaned back in his chair. “Are you running for jackass of the year or what? Have you given any thought to becoming human again?”
    â€œAnd what is that supposed to mean?” Evan’s little beak of a nose looked suddenly pinched as if it had picked up a smell it didn’t like. “Forget it, Birdie Boy. I’ve suddenly lost interest in cards. The company definitely bores me.”
    He stomped out, his skinny shoulders hunched forward in anger. I felt almost sorry for the poor schmuck.
    It took about half an hour to fix the puzzle, and a few minutes after that, I watched the light from Alex’s flash bob down the trail towards the dock. We hadn’t said much during the clean-up and had muttered good-bye at the veranda door, but now I saw the light hesitate, then it turned and shone on me.
    â€œSay, how come you didn’t come with us today?”
    â€œI was out in the canoe. Besides, you guys never asked me.”
    â€œI asked you when you were in the kitchen with Aunt May.”
    â€œYou call that an invitation?”
    â€œSince when does anyone need an invite to go fishing?”
    â€œNo girls, no way, remember?” I reminded him.
    â€œOh. Right. Next time I’ll send an engraved invite.”
    â€œHow nice.”
    â€œOr I can ask you right now. You can come next time. If you want.”
    â€œAnd