Free How High the Moon by Sandra Kring Page A

to get back to Glen, and you need to show Raggedy Ann and Andy out. Don’t forget to close out Mrs. Feingold’s till.”
    I tugged Charlie back toward the seats Brenda assigned us, but I couldn’t get us sitting by the time Mrs. Bloom came out and started down the stairs, walking like a bossy queen. My teeth were still gritted as Brenda led us down and to the door that opened into the alley.
    She held the door as we stepped out. “See you Monday for our getting-acquainted meeting, Little Sister,” she said with a smirk.
    I spun around so fast that I almost made myself dizzy. “Whoa!” I said. “Look, I don’t know why those two busybodies went and asked you to be my Sunshine Sister. But I never said I’d be part of that do-gooder program.”
    Brenda wasn’t just kind of smiling then—she was outright laughing. This made me so mad that I marched right up to her, standing on tiptoes so I was almost, almost looking her square in the face. “Listen, Miss Goody Two-shoes. I don’t care if Miss Simon, or Mrs. Carlton—or the good Mother Mary herself, for that matter—asked you to be my sister in that dumb program, I’m not going to have my whole summer ruined. Got it?”
    Brenda’s smile fizzled. Then she said slowly, “I think you’re about to learn that in this life, what we want to do is often the opposite of what we get to do.”
    You’d think that a kid you risked jail time for so he could see a movie at the Starlight Theater would have been grateful enough to at least walk home alongside of you so you had someone to bellyache to—but oh no, not Charlie. He just took off ahead of me, waddle-hopping down the street faster than I would have guessed he could go, like he couldn’t get back to that old, smelly house fast enough. “It’s not like you’re going to get a spanking or something,” I shouted. “Mrs. Fry won’t even hit Poochie with her stick when he’s trying to chew her leg off, so she sure ain’t gonna hit you!” Still Charlie didn’t slow down, and I wasn’t going to bother catching up to him if he wasn’t going to be a good listener anyway.
    Mrs. Fry was pacing in front her steps when Charlie reached the yard. I was still half a block away, but I could see how upset she was. She had her old-lady hankie out and she was holding it against her bony chest as if her heart was about to explode and she had to be ready to catch the mess.
    She grabbed Charlie and hugged him, then gave him a little I’m-mad shake. Mrs. Fry’s voice was as small as she was, so I couldn’t hear what she was saying as she guided him inside, but I could tell he was in for a good ear chewing.
    A couple of hours later, I was in the bathroom wearing Ma’s elbow-length gloves tucked up to my armpits and singing into my hairbrush microphone, admiring my black, curled-to-crusty eyelashes, when Teddy came home. I didn’t hear him come in because there weren’t any clothes in the bathroom and the echo was real good; I only knew he was there when I saw him in the mirror, his face fit-to-be-tied cranky. “Teaspoon, you come out here right now. Mrs. Fry just told me what you…”
    Teddy stopped. “What on earth do you have on your face?” He stepped into the bathroom and spun me around, staring hard atmy Taxi Stand Lady makeup. “Who did that to you?” he asked, as if I was wearing a gob of spit instead of pretty cosmetics.
    I didn’t tell him, but Teddy was a good guesser. “Didn’t I tell you that I don’t want you talking to those two?” he asked, vibrating like the wringer washer right before it croaked.
    “Why?” I shouted.
    “Because I said so,” Teddy almost yelled. “Now scrub that junk off your face and come into the living room. I want to talk to you.”
    But it wasn’t just because he said so. He couldn’t fool me. He didn’t want me talking to the Taxi Stand Ladies because he was afraid if I did, I’d take up cussing all over again. I was sure of it, because right after those two came to