Free Tiny Dancer by Patricia Hickman

folded that page open. Attending a university seemed far from my small life until now. Vesta had not mentioned it although she had often nagged us about our grades. Siobhan had been an easy girl to rear as she cared naturally about her schoolwork. Vesta had not seen the purpose of scholarships for her girls, though, what with her sights set on show business. The word “college” never came out of Vesta’s mouth.
    Then there was the new blankness in our family that had reordered so much. No longer was I being driven to dance classes and recitals, my afternoons shared by leotard-clad girls competing for their mother’s approval and a shelf full of trophies. I felt as if I had been cut adrift until my trip to Wilmington with Claudia.
    Finally honest with myself, I laid the brochures in a stack still pondering what had transpired between Billy and me the night of the clambake. The whole way it had happened cheapened the reality of it. I had imagined kissing him many, many times. But he was sober and aware of me, wanting me too. He was quiet the remaining day we spent together. I even asked Claudia if she noticed Billy unusually quiet, but she thought I was wrong. He was not a loud boy, like Drake, she assured me. Truth be told, she admitted to me she considered Billy Thornton boring. She said it the same way she called Dottie boring. I was mad at her for saying so, but could not let on. Claudia could not ever know how wrong she was about him for that would only prove right her assumptions about me and my infatuation with him. Nor could Billy know I was the one he kissed that night. He would never feel comfortable talking to me ever again. On evenings when I called him after ten o’clock about to scream from the isolation bearing down on my family, he would tell me to stop calling him. He would never look at me the same.
    I looked up startled upon hearing the familiar whishing sound of the sunflowers parting when someone else entered the garden. Not wanting to surprise one of the Millers with my uninvited presence, I called out expecting next to see Reverend Theo. The man seemed to possess an instinct about knowing when someone entered his sunflower forest.
    “I thought that was you when I saw the tops of those sunflowers bobbing like ducks,” said the low feminine voice.
    I was so surprised, I rose up and hit my head against the playhouse ceiling like before.
    “Don’t get up on my account . I’m Dorothea,” said Dorothea Miller.
    I stammered around saying, “Oh, y-yes. I met Reverend Theo.”
    She smiled at me through the window, sort of laughing at me with her eyes. “I hope I’m not disturbing you.”
    “Not at all,” I assured her. “ But it’s starting to heat up in here, so it’s time I skedaddled anyway,” I said, excusing myself quickly. I remembered how the preacher had dismissed me and sent me on my way. I crawled out on hands and knees while Dorothea held open the child-sized door.
    “No hurry. I made some fresh juice and thought you’d like to come up on the porch.”
    “I don’t think your husband’d like me hanging around. I shouldn’t have come back.” I turned to leave.
    Dorothea stepped back, seeming to notice my new hairstyle. “Like’d to have not known you. Don’t you look nice?” She said it like she had noticed me before, as if we knew one another. “Come onto the porch and join me for lemonade. You’ll like it. When I make my juice, it’s not all sour like most recipes. Mine is sweet as syrup.”
    I dutifully followed her out of the garden. When Dorothea opened the porch door, there sat Reverend Theo stringing a guitar that looked as old as Salem. He scowled at his wife with disdain, most of his face hidden beneath his big straw gardening hat.
    “I invited her,” said Dorothea, “and that’s that.”
    I did not know whether to sit or stand.
    Reverend Theo got up like he was going inside. That caused Dorothea to say, “Just keep your seat.”
    He sighed so big that I