Free Close to Famous by Joan Bauer Page B

limited beyond what you can even imagine.”
    I saw a sign up ahead, but I couldn’t read it. I felt like there was a sign hanging on me.
    Limited.
    Challenged.
    Stupid.
    Lazy.
    I sat down in the dirt and cried, as lost as any girl ever was in this world.

    I don’t know how long I sat there. I wasn’t sure which way was home.
    Did I head up or down? Miss Charleena lived on top of the hill. I didn’t want to see her ever again, but I didn’t have much choice. I headed up until I saw her big gray house.
    I knocked at the back door. I rang the doorbell. I shouted, “It’s me, Foster!”
    Finally, Miss Charleena opened the door. “What happened to you?”
    I smoothed back my hair. “I fell.”
    She looked at me like she had X-ray vision.
    â€œI got lost,” I added. “And I spent some time being upset.”
    â€œLet’s get some bandages on those knees.”
    â€œI don’t mean to be any trouble.”
    She made a noise and pointed to the bathroom.
    I went inside. It was beautiful blue with white trim and a silver mirror on the wall. First thing I did was get blood on the white rug. I ran the water and soaped up my knees. I patted them dry and got blood on the towel. My hands had cuts, too. I washed my face.
    â€œYou all right in there?”
    â€œYes.”
    I put ointment on my knees and hands and put bandages over them. I found a comb and tried to fix my hair. The comb broke—my hair can do that. I walked out holding the rug and the towel.
    â€œHow much do you like these, Miss Charleena?”
    â€œWhy?”
    I showed her the blood.
    She sighed and looked at my shoes. I’d forgotten to take them off, but she didn’t mention it. “I’m not much of a cook, Foster, but I could make you a hamburger.”
    I was hungry. “That’d be good.”
    I sat on a stool in the kitchen as she took out hamburger meat and pressed it hard into a patty. I cleared my throat. “If you don’t mind me saying, if you pat the meat gently it’ll stay juicier.”
    â€œI didn’t know that.” She looked at the patty. “How do I undo it?”
    â€œWell.” I went over and tore the meat into little sections and patted them together lightly.
    She got out a frying pan and turned it to high.
    â€œUh, Miss Charleena. It’s better to cook a burger not quite so hot.”
    â€œYou’ve got a lot of opinions on hamburgers, Foster McFee.”
    â€œI watch the Food Network a lot.”
    â€œI never watch it.”
    I could tell. “Sonny Kroll is my favorite chef. I’ve been watching him for years. My specialty is baking—cupcakes, butterscotch muffins.”
    â€œButterscotch muffins!”
    â€œThese muffins open hearts,” I told her.
    â€œWhat do you need to make butterscotch muffins?”
    â€œButter, brown sugar, vanilla, flour, salt, eggs, pecans, and butterscotch pudding mix.”
    She wrote that down. “I’ll make sure I have that when you come tomorrow. I’m guessing you’d like to make your own burger.”
    I really would. I went over to the stove and turned down the heat a little. “Do you have some oil?”
    She handed it to me. I spread a little in the pan. “That gets it nice and crunchy on the outside.” Miss Charleena was sitting on the stool watching. “And you’ve got to wait till you see the burger getting cooked through just like this. That’s when you flip it, not before. You’ve got to be patient.” She made a noise again. I put salt and pepper on the top.
    Miss Charleena got me a hamburger bun; I split it and put it in the pan with the burger to get it toasty. She put barbecue sauce on the counter. I layered my burger on the toasted bun, put the sauce on.
    â€œThat looks good,” she said.
    I handed it to her. “Here, you eat this one. I’ll make another.”
    She took a bite. “This is a fine