Free Violet Raines Almost Got Struck by Lightning by Danette Haworth Page A

my chair into the table.
    I know she can’t follow me ’cause she’s still on the clock. The air conditioner hits me as I walk through the electric doors, the last breath of cool air before I go into the heat.

18
    Lottie’s getting especially hard to track down these days. I walked all the way to Melissa’s only to find out that Lottie was at her own home. At least I didn’t run into old gooseneck herself.
    Mr. Townsend is carrying lumber from his truck when I come up the drive. “Hey, Vi.”
    â€œHey.” I feel a couple of sprinkles. Seems too early for rain. “Mrs. Gold said Lottie was here.”
    He stacks the lumber on a pile by the porch, takes off his baseball cap, and wipes his forehead with his arm, which I can see is scraped up from all his work. “She went to the store with her mother. She’ll be right back.” He points to a far corner of the porch. “You can wait with Melissa if you want.”
    A raindrop plops right into my eye as I look at her, sitting like a cat on the banister.
    She spreads out a fake smile while saying something different with her eyes. I fake-smile back. I wish I had fangs. Mr. Townsend gets back to his work, not even knowing the darts that have just been thrown right in front of him. I ain’t sitting on the porch with her. I settle on the steps.
    Finally, their car crunches up the driveway. Lottie bursts out practically before Mrs. Townsend’s even got the engine off. Her face is shining and she looks different. Same haircut, so it’s not that. Shirt looks different, but, yeah, I’ve seen it before.
    â€œHey, hey, hey!” Mrs. Townsend yells after her. “How about helping with these bags?”
    Lottie shakes her fists in front of her so’s only I can see. I pop up from the stairs and go with her for the bags. Rain comes down a little harder. Melissa runs from the porch to help and we all dash inside.
    I ain’t been inside this house since the lightning strike. I almost drop my bags when I glance around the kitchen. Whole sections of walls have been tore into. I can see straight to the inside bones and wires of the house. My eyes well up with tears. There’s scorch marks everywhere.
    Even though Mr. and Mrs. Townsend have been cleaning up, chunks of drywall litter the floor. I smell mildew and charred wood. I set the bags down and drift into the living room. Lottie and Melissa follow. The living room’s been hacked up too, and the carpet feels squishy.
    â€œOh, my gosh,” Melissa murmurs.
    â€œIs it like this upstairs?” I whisper to Lottie.
    She nods.
    I lean on the couch but lift myself away quickly. “It’s wet.”
    Lottie shrugs. “They had to spray.”
    The living room is as far as I can go. I don’t want to see no more of this.
    When we go back into the kitchen, Mr. and Mrs. Townsend are real quiet. She’s staring straight at him. “What do they say?”
    He doesn’t answer. His eyebrows lower as he keeps reading a letter.
    â€œWhat’s wrong?” By the way her voice cracks, I can tell that letter’s got bad news in it.
    He looks at her like there’s no one else in the room. “Insurance isn’t going to pay,” he says. “They say we’ve been delinquent.”
    â€œWe’re criminals?” Lottie says.
    â€œMeans late,” I say. “Delinquent also means late.”
    Mrs. Townsend’s face goes slack, and she leans against the counter.
    Mr. Townsend wipes his face with his hand and closes his eyes for a second.
    Fear rises in me.
    Lottie steps closer. “So? What does that mean?”
    Mr. Townsend stares at Mrs. Townsend. “We don’t have the money to fix everything.” He swallows hard. “We might have to sell.”
    My body goes rigid. My heart pounds in my ears. “Sell?” My voice comes out quiet. “But you live here.”
    â€œYou dummy,” Melissa