Free Getting Near to Baby by Audrey Couloumbis Page B

know.
    â€œYes,” I said.
    â€œThen she does talk.”
    â€œNot lately,” I said. I could see this was going to turn into a big misunderstanding.
    â€œShe doesn’t feel like talking, is what it is,” I explained as nicely as I could, considering many of the girls were quiet and looking at me and Little Sister like we were butterflies stuck to boards with pins. “It’s nothing against anybody here.”
    â€œWe can’t be running to you every two minutes to find out what she wants.”
    â€œShe won’t want anything.”
    So Miss Pettibone stuck Little Sister’s name tag on and we began. Every time I looked over at Little Sister, she seemed to be having a fine enough time. The Lambs were the ones making flowers. They played touch tag not long after. Then they sat down to hear Mrs. Weeds read a story. I guess nobody needed Little Sister to talk as much as Miss Pettibone thought.
    Our group played tag. But not until we got an old broom from the church kitchen and chased a snake off the grass. Miss Pettibone was the one who had to do the chasing. We did the running and the shrieking.
    We also had to wait while Miss Pettibone pried a splinter out of the palm of the girl who carried the broom. More than one girl cried, although only the one had a splinter. This was fairly exciting, but nowhere nearly as much fun as trying to stay out of that snake’s crooked path. We were all relieved to finally get around to playing the game.
    When we were too hot to run around anymore, we made friendship bracelets out of braided twists of plastic. Two sisters got into a nasty fight over theirs. One sister said the other was copying her colors. It was almost as good as the snake.
    We all gathered together under a tree to eat our lunches. I wasn’t halfway through a sandwich before a girl named Dee Dee gave a small scream. “A tick, it’s a tick on me.” She began to cry.
    Dee Dee had already that morning scraped her knee and had the splinter removed and had to take green Kool-Aid when the red was all gone. She cried over everything, so no one paid her any mind except Miss Pettibone, who declared it was a tick. She gave Dee Dee a look, like she thought Dee Dee might have gone and gotten this tick on purpose to ruin things.
    Miss Pettibone rummaged through her purse until she found matches. “Oh, stop that sniveling,” Miss Pettibone said. “You’re a big girl, now act like it. Here,” she said, coming up with the matches. “This is just the thing.”
    She lit one and blew it out, then tried to touch it to the tick on Dee Dee’s leg. Dee Dee was not enthusiastic about this. “Ow, ow, ow,” Dee Dee cried and jerked her leg away before Miss Pettibone got close enough to burn the tick off.
    â€œI’m not going to hurt you,” Miss Pettibone said. But Mrs. Weeds had to hold Dee Dee’s leg still while this operation was performed. Mrs. Weeds looked like she might try to soothe Dee Dee’s tears, but was discouraged by a mean look from Miss Pettibone. “Oh, boo hoo,” Miss Pettibone said when she was finished and Dee Dee was still alive.
    In all fairness, it didn’t take but a moment before the tick fell right off into the grass. I don’t believe for a minute that Dee Dee had the burned spot she claimed she did. She wouldn’t show it to me. But while this was going on, two more girls found ticks on themselves and so the whole thing started all over. It wasn’t finished before more girls found ticks.
    I looked myself over, then checked Little Sister very carefully. She is the only sister I have left and I’m not letting her go to some tick bite. But even when we didn’t have a tick between us, I could see Little Sister was getting that wide-eyed look she got the day Baby died. I couldn’t bear to see her look that way. I wouldn’t stand by helpless to do anything about it.
    â€œThey’re