Free Hound Dog True by Linda Urban Page B

his way. It would be funny, too, maybe even funnier than Uncle Potluck's. The two of them could go on all night like that.
    Which gives Mattie an idea. A very good idea.
    All she needs to do is ask Uncle Potluck about his childhood days, or get Uncle Tommy talking about fishing trips or old girlfriends, and just like that the kitchen would fill up with stories, each one tugging at the clock hands until it got so late that Mattie and Quincy would be half-asleep in their chairs. No time left for anything but getting in their sleeping bags and saying
Good night.
She could manage
good night
without messing up.
    For a second, Mattie sees her reflection again. The stretched-tight smile is still there, flashing worry back at her. "It will be okay," she tells her window face.
    "I'm sorry," she tells the moon again. Listens then, just in case the moon wants to say she understands. But the moon stays mum.
    It sits on the edge of the clouds and waits.

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
    O UT IN THE KITCHEN Uncle Potluck is sitting on one chair, his traitorous knee pillowed up on another. Miss Sweet and Uncle Tommy are at the table, too. Mama stands by the stove, a wooden spoon in her hand. Quincy is not there.
    "Plant yourself here by me, won't you, Mattie Mae?" Uncle Potluck says, pulling a chair close up by his side. He has to lean to grab it, and the leaning makes him hoot.
    "I'm sorry," she says, so quiet only Uncle Potluck can hear.
    "You have apologized enough, Mattie Mae," Uncle Potluck says quiet back. "It's okay."
    But it is not okay. "It's in my notebook: unplug cords as soon as you are done using them. It's my fault you tripped."
    Uncle Potluck nods, thinking. "Will you add something else to your notebook for me?" he asks. "Add this: if you are going to practice your fox trot while on the job, first examine the area for potential hazards. Mattie Mae, if I had not been so involved in my singing and dancing extravaganza, I would have seen that vacuum cord right off. I believe we share the blame for this one."
    Miss Sweet has been listening. Butts in. "You were dancing?"
    "A little," Uncle Potluck says. "There are people who inspire dancing in me. It cannot be helped." He leans then. Kisses Mattie on the top of her head, drops his hat over the kiss spot. It feels good. Like having a Band-Aid on a paper cut.
    "Look," Miss Sweet says to Mama. She has pulled out her cell phone. On the little screen is a picture of Miss Sweet in her cotton-candy dress. Next to her is a lady in a purple dress. The lady has on even more makeup than Miss Sweet does, and her hair is tornadoed up exactly to match. "Doesn't Quincy look fabulous?"
    The lady is Quincy.
    "Yesterday I was telling her all about prom and decided we'd get dressed up in my old gowns and go out on the town." Miss Sweet looks through her eyelashes at Uncle Potluck. "The waiter said we looked like sisters. He's the one who took the picture."
    Mattie looks at the picture again. Miss Sweet is grinning. Quincy is not. She looks matter-of-fact. Or maybe bored. Or embarrassed. Makes sense she didn't want Mattie coming along. Or even anyone to see her.
    "I did her up again today. You'll see when she comes over. I don't know what's taking her so long."
    Uncle Potluck whispers to Mattie, "Would you retrieve our wayward guest? I'm hungry, and your mother refuses to dish out even a spoonful of stew until all are present and accounted for."
    Mattie nods and Uncle Potluck's hat tips over her eyes, but she pushes it back up. Goes to get Quincy. Except Quincy doesn't really need getting because just as Mattie reaches the rental house, the door opens and Quincy steps out. Her face is red, Mattie notices, and not made up.
    "I've figured out what I'm going to tell the moon," Quincy says. "Have you?"
    "Yes," Mattie says. It is not a lie.
    In the kitchen, Uncle Potluck is telling another story. "Unleashed," he says as Mattie and Quincy come in. It's the end of the Stella story, the part where Stella takes off and