Free Isabelle and Little Orphan Frannie: The Isabelle Series, Book Three by Constance C. Greene Page A

street.
    â€œOkay for you,” she muttered. “You’ll be back. Just wait and see.”

SEVENTEEN
    â€œMrs. Esposito,” said Isabelle next morning, “I have a problem.”
    â€œWould that I had only one,” Mrs. Esposito said. “What is it now?”
    â€œI know this kid, she’s eight, and she doesn’t know how to read or write, and she wants me to teach her,” Isabelle said in a rush. “She doesn’t go to school.”
    â€œWhy doesn’t she go to school?” Mrs. Esposito asked.
    â€œShe’s an orphan and they move around a lot, which is why she doesn’t,” Isabelle explained. “Her mother’s out looking for a new daddy on account of the old one died.”
    Mrs. Esposito scratched her head. “Where do you find your characters, Isabelle?” she said. “Last time it was a goody-goody whom everyone teased. Now this. What next?”
    â€œThis kid’s smart, but she can’t read, and it makes her feel really bad. So yesterday I tried to teach her. It’s very aggravating, being a teacher, isn’t it?”
    Mrs. Esposito smiled and tapped her pencil against her teeth.
    â€œSometimes,” she said. “And sometimes it’s very rewarding. My advice would be to get your friend to enroll in school even if she’s going to be here a short time. It’s against the law for a child’s parents to keep him or her out of school. Did you know that? If the authorities found out, they’d insist she go to school.”
    â€œOh, boy,” Isabelle said. She never should’ve told Mrs. Esposito about Frannie. “I didn’t know it was against the law,” she said.
    â€œPerhaps you could persuade your friend’s guardian, or whoever takes care of her, to bring her here. Or, if you like, give me her name and address and I’ll see what I can do,” Mrs. Esposito said.
    â€œI don’t know where she lives,” said Isabelle, which was true. “I don’t even know her last name. She lives with her aunt, only it’s not her real aunt. She might go to school in Michigan. Her mother’s horoscope says it’s time for a change in her life-style, and she figures Michigan’s it.”
    â€œIsabelle.” Mrs. Esposito bit her lip. “This is absurd. The child should be in school, being taught by a qualified teacher, not a fifth grader.”
    â€œIt’s okay,” Isabelle said. “I kind of like teaching her. But I’ll tell her what you said.”
    â€œIf you like, send your friend to see me,” Mrs. Esposito said. “Maybe we can work something out without a lot of fuss.”
    â€œOkay. I’ll tell her. Hey, Herb! Where you been?” Isabelle bopped Herbie on the head with her arithmetic book. “I thought you were sick. How about we fight today after school? After I give Frannie her reading lesson, that is.”
    â€œKnock it off,” Herbie growled. “I got no time for fighting. I’m depressed.”
    â€œSometimes it helps to talk things over with a friend,” Isabelle said in imitation of Mrs. Stern. “What’s wrong, Herb? You can unload your problems on me,” and she laid a friendly arm around Herbie. He leaped in the air as if he’d been stung by a bee.
    â€œBuzz off!” he cried.
    Isabelle grabbed hold of his shoulder in that little place where a pinch can bring a person to his knees. Philip was always grabbing Isabelle in just such a place, and she knew the results well.
    â€œSpit it out,” Isabelle said.
    Herbie struggled in vain to break her hold.
    â€œIsabelle, enough.” Mrs. Esposito’s face said she’d had it. Isabelle let go and Herbie shook himself like a dog coming out of the water.
    â€œSheesh, Isabelle,” he said, “you’re some tough kahuna.”
    Isabelle folded her hands and lined up her Adidas and smiled demurely. “I’m known as