Free Seeing Red by Kathryn Erskine Page B

out so you can paint the inside, too? We’ll need to get rid of all that junk before we move.”
    I gritted my teeth. “It’s not junk, Mama.”
    “Well, there’s nothing in there that’ll be any use to us in Ohio.”
    “There’s Old Man Porter’s desk – my desk.”
    She raised her eyebrows, either because she didn’t know that Daddy had promised it to me or because she’d always thought “Old Man Porter” was a rude way to talk, even though Daddy said it was a mark of respect. Old Man Porter was the boss of Stony Gap.
    “Daddy said I’d inherit Great-Great-Grandaddy Porter’s desk. It’s got my name on it. And there’s no way I’m leaving it behind.”
    “Red, it’s just an old desk, and it’s too big—”
    “It is not just an old desk! It’s all I’ll have left of Daddy if you’re taking me away from here! Maybe you don’t care about him any more, but I do!”
    Mama’s hands went to her hips and her eyes flashed daggers at me. Her foot started tapping the gravel like a jackhammer. “I am not,” she said, pointing at the shop, “lugging that huge thing with us all the way to Ohio!”
    “Well, I am!”
    “You don’t have the money to move that monstrosity, so it’s staying right there.”
    I narrowed my eyes down to hateful.
    She turned and marched back inside like she’d won the battle. But she hadn’t won the war.
    The whole time I was painting the shop, J rode his bike back and forth, saying, “Are you having fun, Red?” and “Is this better than what you did yesterday?” and “That’s what you get for being mean.” I tried to ignore him, but the hotter it got, the harder it was to pretend he wasn’t bothering me.
    When Mr Harrison drove up, I saw my chance. I called J over. “Hey, J, do you want to do something fun?”
    He scrunched his face up. “I ain’t painting the shop. I know that trick already. Daddy read us Tom Sawyer , remember?”
    “Do you want to be a spy, like James Bond, double-o-seven?”
    That got him. He skidded his bike to a stop beside me. “What do I do?”
    I whispered so he’d get the idea it was something sly. “Go spy on Mama and Mr Harrison and see if you can hear what they’re saying.”
    He frowned. “That doesn’t sound very fun.”
    “It’s real important, though.”
    “If I do, will you buy me a Coke? Mama says we can’t take them from the What-U-Want any more.”
    “And where am I going to get the money? Come on, J.”
    He twisted his mouth up, trying to think of another deal. “Can we play Rock’Em Sock’Em Robots?”
    “No!” I was as surprised as J at how loud I said it. But it belonged to me and Thomas. I guess I still hoped that we’d play it again.
    “Then forget it,” J said, getting back on his bike.
    “Wait! You can play with my Hot Wheels cars. I’ll even help you set up my track in your room.”
    “Will you help me play, too? It ain’t as much fun by myself.”
    “It isn’t as much fun,” I corrected him, like Daddy used to.
    “I know it, so will you play, too?”
    “Sure.”
    “Promise?”
    “Yes, now go spy on them.”
    J was stuck to the side of the house like a tick on a dog, listening through the screen door. It didn’t take him long to get tired of being a spy, though, and wander off.
    “J!” I called.
    “What?”
    I looked from side to side like I had a big secret and motioned him over to me.
    He came running. “What?”
    I bent down and whispered to him. “What did Mr Harrison say?”
    “Aw, is that all? Shoot, I thought you had something good.”
    “What did he say?”
    “Nothing. Just boring stuff.”
    “Did he say anything about Mr Reynolds?”
    “Who?”
    “How about a buyer?”
    “A what?”
    “Somebody buying the house and shop.”
    “Oh, that. He said there’s plenty of rich people wanting summer places.”
    “What else?”
    He shrugged.
    “Go back and listen some more.”
    “I don’t wanna. It’s boring.”
    “Then I’m not playing Hot Wheels with you.”
    “You