Free Lucy Doesn't Wear Pink by Nancy Rue Page B

left,” Dad said. “Get the step stool, Luce.”
    Lucy was glad for an excuse to retreat to the pantry so she could collect her thoughts, which were now scattered like confetti. What was with the Mexican lady who had Dad buying tea and pulling out kitchen stuff Lucy didn’t even know they owned? If this Inez person thought she was going to cook it, or whatever it was you did to make tea, in Lucy’s kitchen, she better think again —
    From the top of the step stool, Lucy spotted a bright yellow pot with a lid and a spout, which she pried out from behind two other mystery pots they never used. It was greasy-feeling and coated in dust, and she sneezed as she carried it to the sink. Inez stood still and pot-like herself and watched Lucy wash it off.
    “That was your mother’s,” Dad said. “She was a tea drinker.”
    Lucy cradled the lid in her hand and stared at it. How come he’d never told her that before? It made her feel cold to think there was something about Mom she didn’t know — something she would have known by now if she were still here.
    Lucy dried the pot and the lid with exaggerated care, but she couldn’t put off the obvious question any longer.
    “How do I make tea?” she said.
    “Why don’t you let Inez make it?” Dad said. “She knows how she likes it.” He chuckled as if he were entertaining an old friend. “Diehard tea drinkers are persnickety about their brew.”
    Lucy would rather have given Inez her soccer ball than to let go of her mother’s tea kettle, but she handed it over and turned to the door. “I gotta find Mudge and feed him,” she said.
    “In a sec,” Dad said. “Come sit.”
    Lucy sank into the chair next to his and tried not to look as if she were paying attention to how tea was made. She hoped it wasn’t too disgusting, because she was going to have to become a tea drinker if Mom had been one.
    “Inez is going to be your nanny,” Dad said.
    Lucy sucked in air. She’d forgotten all about Dad’s ridiculous suggestion about a nanny. He’d only said it to get Aunt Karen to stop bugging him, hadn’t he?
    “After-school companion,” Inez said.
    Lucy didn’t care what she called herself. She didn’t need her.
    “Like we talked about,” Dad said. “She’ll be here when you get home from school to get you started on your homework, help you with all that girl stuff I don’t know anything about, make sure you have a good snack.” He nudged Lucy with his elbow. “No more rubber sandwiches down at Pasco’s.”
    She liked Pasco’s.
    “She’s going to do the grocery shopping for us too, so you can have more time to do girl things.” Dad chuckled again. “Whatever they are.”
    She liked grocery shopping.
    She liked making things at their stove.
    She liked everything just the way it was.
    Dad eased back in his chair and folded his hands on his tummy. “I’m waiting for the whistle,” he said. “Bet you didn’t even know tea kettles whistle, did you, Luce?”
    “No,” she said woodenly.
    “I love that sound.”
    She didn’t know that either. Had she been the blind one all this time? Didn’t Dad like the way things were, the way she thought he did?
    “So — ” Dad said.
    “Sure,” Lucy said. “Fine. I’m gonna go find Mudge.”
    She got almost to the door without anyone stopping her. Even then, Inez only said, “You want to say something to me?”
    Lucy swallowed. There were no colors in the person’s voice. It was hard to tell what she really meant. But Lucy knew what she meant, and the woman had asked.
    “I just want to say one thing,” Lucy said.
    Inez nodded.
    “Lucy Rooney doesn’t wear pink.”
    And then instead of going to look for Mudge, Lucy took the carpet ride down the hall to her room and carefully closed the door behind her without any tantrum sounds. That way Dad wouldn’t come in when Inez was gone and ask her what was wrong.
    And this was wrong. She did not need a nanny or an after-school companion or anybody else to show