Free A Girl Called Al: The Al Series, Book One by Constance C. Greene

downstairs. It is Mr. Richards and I think something has happened to him. He is lying in bed and he does not talk to us or move.”
    â€œMr. Richards?” Al’s mother said.
    â€œYou know. He is the assistant superintendent and he is a friend of mine. Of ours. He is all alone.”
    Al’s mother surprised me. She got up and said, “I’ll have to change. I can’t go down like this.”
    â€œPlease,” said Al. “This is urgent.”
    â€œI will call the superintendent,” Al’s mother said. “Maybe you children had better stay here.”
    â€œNo,” we said together, “he is a friend of ours.”
    Al’s mother didn’t argue. She called the super and he said he would check on Mr. Richards and see if there was anything he could do and he would call a doctor. Then we went down in the elevator and Al’s mother still had her bathrobe on, so it was lucky we didn’t have to stop until we got to the basement. She had a big wad of tissues in her hand. She said, “I do hope it is nothing serious,” and, “I look such a fright, I hope we don’t run into anyone.”
    Mr. Richards was just the way we had left him. We sat in the kitchen to wait. There was a big pot of soup on the stove. I was about to tell them how he made his soup when Al’s mother said, “Did you ever see anything like this floor? It positively shines. I wonder how he gets such a polish.”
    Al sat there and the tears started running down her cheeks. They were coming fast and she did not bother to wipe them away.
    â€œWhy, Alexandra,” her mother said. She took out her wad of tissues and made a couple of swipes at Al’s face. “Why, I’m sure it will be all right. Don’t cry, please.”
    Al was really bawling by now. I had never really seen her cry before. Once she almost did when we had a fight, but mostly she gets mad and red in the face. I wanted to cry too, but I did not.
    â€œIt wasn’t as easy as it looked,” Al said when she could talk. “The floor. It wasn’t nearly as easy as it looked.”
    Al’s mother patted her shoulder. She said, “Oh, Al, don’t cry,” a couple more times. She actually called her Al.
    She didn’t know what Al meant. About the floor, I mean.
    I was the only one who knew what she meant.

Chapter Twenty-Two
    The ambulance came and took Mr. Richards away. They told us if we called the hospital in a few hours they would let us know how he was. Al and I wanted to go with him but the attendant said we were too young. So the super went, although he didn’t act like he wanted to much.
    We all went back to Al’s apartment and her mother made cocoa, which we didn’t drink. Not because it wasn’t O.K. cocoa but because we didn’t feel like it. I went to see if my mother and father had come back yet from shopping, but they hadn’t. Teddy was there with a dopey friend of his and I didn’t tell him about Mr. Richards.
    I went back to Al’s and we played cards while we waited. We played double solitaire and Go Fish and Al’s mother tried to teach us how to play bridge. She kept patting Al on the shoulder and then she went to fix us some grilled cheese sandwiches.
    â€œShe makes delicious grilled cheese sandwiches,” Al said proudly.
    The doorbell rang and it was the super.
    â€œHe’s had a coronary attack,” he told us. “They can’t say for sure what his chances are. He’ll have to stay in the hospital for a while. Hope the poor old guy has all his insurance paid up.”
    I went down to my apartment and my mother and father had just come in. My mother started in about the beautiful couch she was thinking of buying, but I said, “Mr. Richards had a coronary attack. Al and I found him and Al’s mother got the super and they took him to the hospital in the ambulance.”
    â€œOh, dear,” my mother said.