Free Not-Just-Anybody Family by Betsy Byars Page A

in the hospital?”
    “My little brother.”
    “What’s wrong with him? Is he hurt, sick, or what?”
    “Hurt, I think.”
    The bus driver steered the bus around a corner, and Maggie leaned with the turn. She was the only passenger on the bus.
    “Where’s the rest of your family?”
    “Well, my other brother and my grandfather are in city jail.”
    “In jail? You’re putting me on.”
    “I wish I was.”
    “In jail ?”
    “Yes, it’s true.”
    “What’d they do?”
    “I don’t know exactly what Pap did. Vern went in on his own, through the vent.”
    “Your brother busted into jail?”
    “That’s right. I helped him.”
    “ Into jail? Now you’re messing with me.”
    “No, I’m not.”
    “And you helped him?”
    “I gave him a boost.”
    “Man, this don’t happen. People don’t bust into j ail. Who-all knows he’s in there?”
    “Just Pap.”
    “The police don’t know?”
    “Nope.”
    “Whoeee, they’ll have themselves a nice surprise in the morning. Be the first time anybody ever busted into jail. I know some people like to bust out.”
    “Me too,” said Maggie, thinking of Pap and Vern.
    “Bust into jail—that just don’t happen. Whoa, bus. Look, I’m ’bout to go past your stop. There’s Alderson General.”
    Maggie looked out the window at the four-story building. “Well, I thank you.”
    “You take care of yourself. You the only member of your family doing all right. Everybody else in jail, in the hospital.”
    “I will.”
    Maggie felt rich and special. She decided it was a great combination. She got up and, holding her hand over the comforting wad of money in her pocket, got off the bus.
    Junior was having the most wonderful, elegant dream of his life. He was in an orchestra, a huge orchestra, and he and all of the other musicians had on expensive black suits. The black suits were so expensive, they shone. They all—even the ladies—had on neckties.
    In their hands were miniature silver musical instruments that really played. The instruments were the most beautiful things Junior had ever seen in his life.
    The cymbals were the size of dimes. The piano was so small, the piano player had to poke the keys with toothpicks. The violins were one inch long; the bass fiddles, two inches. The orchestra leader had a baton like a straight pin.
    Junior, of course, had his harmonica. He was in the front row. He was standing up. He had his music on a silver stand. A spotlight shone on him.
    He was wiping his harmonica daintily on the lapel of his black suit, getting the spit off for the second number, when a voice said, “Junior.”
    Junior did not open his eyes.
    The orchestra leader was tapping his straight pin on his music stand. He lifted it in the air.
    “Junior!”
    The dream was too wonderful to lose. This was his one chance to be a star, to play in a real orchestra with chandeliers glowing and his black suit shining. This was the only time thousands of people in evening outfits would be smiling, waiting to clap for him. This was—
    “Junior! It’s me! Maggie!”
    Junior opened his eyes.

CHAPTER 22
Discoveries
    The policeman who did the one o’clock check of the city jail did not spot Vern. Vern was lying on the far side of Pap, against the wall, under the blanket, asleep. The two o’clock policeman didn’t see him either; neither did the three and four o’clock policemen.
    For three and a half hours Vern slept so soundly, he did not move one single time. Pap slept the same way. They might as well have been logs.
    At four-thirty Vern moved for the first time. He slung one foot out from under the blanket and it landed on Pap’s arm. Pap never even felt it.
    The five o’clock policeman came in eating a ham and fried egg sandwich. He had been on duty all night and he was tired.
    He just gave a quick check of the cells on the left, taking in with one glance the fact that everybody was in his bunk asleep. He turned his head, did the same quick sweep on the right.
    He was