Free We Are All Welcome Here by Elizabeth Berg Page A

supply wrapped in a hankie in her purse. Once I’d eaten some and she’d smelled them on me. “You steal my breathsweet again I whup your hide,” she’d said. She hadn’t even bothered to look at me, saying this. But I never did take any more after that.
     
    Susan, wearing a plain yellow blouse tucked into a navy blue skirt, penny loafers, and white socks, seated herself heavily on the sofa and pulled papers out of her briefcase. Peacie, my mother, and I were gathered around her. “Nice skirt, Miss Hogart,” I said.
    She looked up at me. “Thank you, Diana.”
    “It’s your color,” I said, and she looked at me, puzzled. Finally, “Thank you,” she said. I cast a murderous glance at Peacie, who looked pointedly away.
    Susan shuffled through her papers, then smiled at me. “Everything okay?” she asked.
    I nodded.
    “Enjoying your vacation?”
    Again I nodded.
    “What kind of things are you up to this summer?”
    I shrugged.
    Susan waited.
    “I’ve been to some baseball games. And movies. And swimming. I’ve been over at my friend Suralee’s house a lot. We like to draw pictures. I’ve been to the library almost every day—I believe I’ll finish all the Nancy Drews pretty soon!” I kept my lying voice high and sweet. I sat with my knees together, my hands folded in my lap.
    Susan looked satisfied, and though I suspected Peacie was just short of rolling her eyes, her face revealed nothing. I knew a lot more than Peacie thought I did. “Suralee and I are doing a play tonight, in the backyard, me and my friend Suralee. We’re inviting a lot of people.”
    My mother looked over at me, surprised, but said nothing.
    “Oh!” Susan said. “What play?”
    “One we made up. We make them up.”
    “Isn’t that wonderful!” Susan said, and now I did see Peacie rolling her eyes.
    “You want to come?” I asked.
    “Well…how about if I speak to your mother for a while? You go ahead upstairs, Diana. You must be wanting to get dressed and go outdoors.”
    “Okay,” I said. “Nice seeing you.” As I walked past Peacie I smirked, but she was again finding something off to her left fascinating.
    By the time I dressed and came downstairs, Susan was leaving. I walked out to her car with her. “Your mother’s quite a woman,” Susan said.
    “She shouldn’t be so hard on me, though.” My finger was hurting. I was feeling spiteful.
    “Well,” Susan said. “I don’t know a child in the world your age who doesn’t think that. It’s all part of growing up. Don’t you think so?”
    I looked up at her plain face, her earnest brown eyes. “Yes, ma’am, I guess so.”
    “You’re a sweetheart, Diana. And just as pretty as can be—you look a lot like your mother.” She leaned down and hugged me. I kept my bandaged finger behind me.
    From the corner of my eye, I saw Peacie at the window, watching. I wouldn’t give her the satisfaction of coming back in to tell her what Susan and I had talked about. I ran down the sidewalk toward Suralee’s, and jangling around inside me was thrilling information: Susan had said I was pretty.
    Noreen was coming down the steps in her usual go-to-work outfit. But she looked better than usual. She wore a nice white blouse that looked brand-new with a black pleated skirt, and her shoes were red patent leather. A scarf at her neck tied the colors all together. “I’ll see you tonight!” she said, gaily waving, and clicked her way toward the bus stop. I watched her go, watched her hips swing, watched her readjust the purse strap that kept sliding off her shoulder. She was just a woman who would always look like she had a greasy mouth, even if she didn’t. I went in to find Suralee.

    S uralee and I personally invited anyone we saw in town—or on the way there—to our play. And anywhere that would let us, we taped one of the flyers she’d made advertising that evening’s performance. I was wildly excited at first, for Suralee had decided to use
The Night Can Be