Free Man in the Moon by Dotti Enderle Page B

Then I poured on extra bean juice. Daddy fixed his plate and sat down, and Mr. Lunas joined us, but he didn’t eat.
    “Mighty good beans,” Daddy said to Mr. Lunas. “I’d hate for you to miss out.” He shoveled some into his mouth, then swallowed it down with a big bite of corn bread.
    Mr. Lunas shook his head. “Not hungry.”
    I couldn’t bare to see him starve like this. “Maybe you should eat anyway. You can have some of mine.”
    His face brightened and his eyes twinkled like little stars. “Thank you, Janine, but I’ll pass.”
    “Maybe dessert, then,” I said, thinking how a big slice of pie would do him good.
    He nodded. “Maybe.”
    Mr. Lunas tapped his bony fingers on the table while a stretch of quiet ran through the room. Then he spoke up again. “I’m leaving soon.”
    Daddy stopped chewing. So did I.
    “Where are you going?” Daddy asked.
    “Home.”
    Daddy laid down his fork with a loud chink. “Where’s that?”
    Mr. Lunas managed a crescent smile. “Up.”
    Daddy nodded. “Oh, Northerner. I didn’t know that.”
    “I didn’t either,” I said. Mr. Lunas sure didn’t talk like a Northerner. “Where up north—”
    Mr. Lunas cut me off. “I’d sure like to say goodbye to Ricky before I go. I haven’t seen him since he took ill.”
    Daddy let out one of those half-laughing, half-crying sounds I was getting used to.
    “You can forget that. Adele’s done barricaded the door. Ain’t no one getting in there without a bulldozer.”
    “It doesn’t seem healthy, does it?” Mr. Lunas said.
    Daddy laid his head in his hand and rubbed his forehead. “What choice do I have? I can’t offer a better solution.”
    I started thinking about my choices, too. Ricky has never been able to do what other kids do. No birthday parties or school field trips. And what good is someone’s life if he can’t do the
one
thing he really wants?
I have to find a way to break that barricade and give Ricky a ride on the go-cart. Somehow, some way. I just have to.

    I spent most of the next morning making my plans and setting them into action. First I dragged the go-cart out front and hid it in the weeds by the side of the road. I needed it in place, in case I could manage to sneak Ricky out that night. I also hid some extra rope. Then I waited through the longest day of my life.
    Mama stopped coming out of Ricky’s bedroom, even to use the bathroom. She just went in the same pot she had in there for him. Daddy set her iced tea and sandwiches by the door.
    Around nightfall, I snuck out and peeked in Ricky’s window. I could see with one eye through the slit in the curtains. He looked like a dried pepper, all withered up in the blanket. Mama sat with her Bible. Even though it was closed, she was hugging it close and mouthing words—Bible healing words, for sure. The door was blocked by a chest of drawers, and some dirty dishes sat on the floor by it. As I started to back away, something caught my eye—something I was sure Daddy didn’t know about. The window was unlatched! I went around back and sat on the steps, watching Mr. Lunas hobble toward the cornfield with a handful of chicken eggs. More art supplies?
    I sat for a long time in the darkness, wanting to plot my next move. But truthfully, I didn’t have a clue what to do. Instead I imagined myself as a doctor, wearing a white coat with a silvery stethoscope around my neck. Nurses and orderlies move out of my way as I march down the sterile white halls of the hospital, on my way to an operating room where Ricky’s waiting. I skillfully replace his gizzard, and then, after he’s recovered, I hand him the key to his very own motor-powered go-cart. One that zooms like a jet. The entire hospital staff applauds.
    I don’t know how long I sat there in that dreamy fog, but I nearly jumped out of my skin when Mr. Lunas came up unnoticed and sat down next to me.
    I wasn’t sure if it was the darkness or his skin color that made him seem more like a