Free Rebel McKenzie by Candice Ransom Page A

dress.
    â€œA rat!” she shrieked, jumping up and scattering the rest of her lunch. Tea cakes, sandwiches, and grapes tumbled on the rug.
    The others screamed, too, and hopped up like they were sitting on an anthill.
    Doublewide darted out, snatched a club-shaped chicken salad sandwich, and ducked back under the tablecloth. His paw flicked out once more to snick a stray grape.
    â€œWhat is that?” Viola Sandbanks asked, one hand on her chest.
    â€œLacey Jane, bring me a damp sponge,” Miss Odenia said. “I’m sorry, Mimsie, but I do not have rats.” She dabbed at Mrs. Lovering’s skirt with the sponge. “There, that’s most of it. In this heat, that wet spot will dry in no time.” She looked at me. “Who let that lummox of a cat in here?”
    â€œDoublewide must have slipped in when nobody was looking.”
    â€œFetch him and put him outside.”
    But Doublewide wasn’t having any of it. When I raised the tablecloth, he growled and crouched over his sandwich, probably thinking I was going to steal it. Or maybe he was insulted because Bambi’s mother had called him a rat.
    â€œHe—he’s—” I searched for a polite way to say that a stick of dynamite wouldn’t budge him. “He’s indisposed at the moment.”
    â€œIndisposed!” flared Viola Sandbanks. “Well, I never!”
    â€œLet him stay,” Palmer said. “Maybe he’ll bring me luck.”
    Miss Odenia said crisply, “Girls, would you clear, please?”
    After the last crumb was swept off the tablecloth, Miss Odenia opened a shiny black box and took out a deck of cards.
    â€œY’all playing poker?” I asked.
    â€œEuchre,” said Mimsie Lovering. It sounded like yuker .
    â€œBless you,” Lacey Jane said. “Need a Kleenex?”
    â€œThat’s the name of the game .”
    Miss Odenia expertly dealt the cards, one at a time, around the table, then stacked the leftover cards in the center of the table. “Spades are trump.”
    â€œFirst jack deals,” said Palmer, holding up the jack of spades. “Dealers rotate clockwise.” She shuffled the leftover deck and began dealing a second round.
    Mimsie Lovering talked more than the other three put together. It was Bambi this and Bambi that till I wanted to gag. Or gag her . Every time Bambi’s name was mentioned, Lacey Jane’s lips pursed, and she rattled the dishes.
    I didn’t know anything about euchre, or whatever it was called, but I noticed that Mimsie Lovering, who sat across from Palmer, gathered the cards after the first game and slung them around. She tossed the last four cards in the center of the table, facedown. They called that pile the kitty.
    â€œSpades trump?” she asked, casually flipping the top card of the kitty. She slid the card into her hand with a satisfied smile.
    â€œHey,” I said. “Isn’t it supposed to be Miz Odenia’s turn? If you were going clockwise, I mean?”
    â€œCaught stealing the deal, Mimsie Lovering!” Viola Sandbanks exclaimed. “And by somebody who doesn’t even know the game!”
    â€œThe card’s in my hand,” Mimsie said tightly. “It’s legal.”
    â€œ This time,” said Miss Odenia. “Do it again, you’ll take a penalty.”
    Viola waved me over in a jangle of charm bracelets. “Rebel? Would you and Lacey Jane serve at my Madame Queen party tomorrow evening? I’ll pay.”
    Money! I looked at Lacey Jane. She nodded back.
    â€œWe’ll be there!” I wanted to ask exactly how much she was paying but knew it wasn’t polite. Just so long as it was cash on the barrelhead.
    I headed back for the kitchen, but Violet Sandbanks grabbed my arm.
    â€œStay here,” she said, “and keep an eye on Mrs. Lovering.” She laughed to show she was only joking.
    Mimsie Lovering glowered at me. Clearly she was not