Free Sway by Amber McRee Turner Page B

Syd.
    â€œAnd not just that,” I said, “but Dad’s been talking about Mom like she just poofed into the air, and now he wants us to go spend every moment together pretending there was nothing we could do to stop her from going.”
    When Dad turned and made his way toward Uncle Clay’s porch, Syd and I bypassed the steps and leapt all the way down into the dim shelter, where the family’s fortune-size worries filled jars all around us. Syd pulled the doors shut over us and tugged a dangling lightbulb on.
    â€œDid you tell him you don’t want to go?” he asked.
    â€œYeah, but he said we’re leaving in three days no matter what.”
    I drew circles on the dusty floor with my finger.
    â€œHow’re you going to work on your big wall doodling in that crusty RV?” he said.
    â€œNoodling,” I said, rubbing the circles gone. “And don’t worry. There’s not going to be anything permanent worth drawing in my future anyway.”
    Syd and I both looked to the lightbulb and watched till it quit its swinging.
    â€œSo what did Aunt Toodi say to you on the phone?” he said.
    His question put a lump in my throat the size of a hush puppy.
    â€œThat this is only an in-between,” I said.
    â€œWhat’s that supposed to mean?”
    â€œIt means I need to find a way to tell my mom to c-o-m-e b-a-c-k other than dropping eight Scrabble letters into an envelope.”
    â€œExcuse me?”
    â€œIt means that I just need to talk to her again. To convince her to come on back.”
    â€œYeah right,” said Syd. “You couldn’t convince a wad of gum to stick to your shoe. Besides, I’d be mad too if I were Uncle Douglas. My mom said Aunt Toodi really did a number on you guys.”
    â€œWell, she didn’t mean to,” I said. “She’s just gotten a little carried away with her job is all. And she’s going to come back when those kids get their own new mom and don’t need her anymore.”
    â€œWhatevs,” he said. “Do you really believe that?”
    I hated the way I had to pause to check if I did believe that.
    â€œIt’s not about what I believe, Syd. It’s about what I know. She’s my mom, and I know my mom loves me too much to stay gone.”
    Syd picked at a callus on his palm. I wanted to shake him by the shoulders.
    â€œBesides, there’s an end to every rescue, you know.”
    I was beginning to think I needed to airbrush There’s an end to every rescue on the back of the tank top. Folks around here sure needed some reminding.
    Uncle Clay’s wheelchair made squeaks above the cellar as he rolled out to greet my dad. I scooted close and looked Syd right in the face.
    â€œSyd, it is crucial that I be home when she comes back,” I said. “If I’m not here, she just might leave again.”
    â€œAll right, all right,” said Syd, his big knobby giraffe knees bumping my little ones as we both sat crisscross on the shelter floor. “Then what we need to do is come up with a rategy-stay.”
    â€œA what?”
    â€œA strategy. For getting you out of this trip,” he said. “All we’ve got to do is think up a good excuse for you not to go.”
    From above, there came some garbly mumbling. I could have sworn Uncle Clay said the word strategy too.
    â€œThey must have heard us,” whispered Syd. “Keep it down.”
    I studied the shelves, trying to read just one of the folded messages inside a jar, while Syd worked up a thinking sweat. The lightbulb over his head made him look like a shadowy mad scientist. I could tell what he was thinking. What would Fearless Fenwick do? And boy, was I ever right.
    â€œI’ve got it!” he said, packing a yell into a whisper. “How do you feel about Fake Tetanus?”
    â€œFake Tetanus?”
    All I knew about tetanus was that Mean Maritucker Mentz down the street got it once from