Free Betti on the High Wire by Lisa Railsback Page B

my arm back and forth to touch a leftover kid, or George’s feet, but I couldn’t find either one. I was all by myself and the Buckworths’ house was way too quiet. It was definitely much safer outside.
    I couldn’t explain in English how it was very important to see straight up to the sky so I always knew if something was coming.
    I raised my hands up. “Boom.”
     
    MRS. BUCKWORTH’S HAND set down a pretty plate right in front of me at the eating table. Clink. Bright yellow egg, circled by white goo. I poked the egg with my finger. Yellow goo spread across my plate and ran into cooked bread. This . . . was my first breakfast on my first day at the Buckworths’.
    Scary.
    Lucy bounced in her chair and made egg designs on her plate. “Look, Betti!” She kept grinning at me like a crazy red-haired clown. “Look at my egg.”
    “Eat your breakfast,” Mrs. Buckworth told Lucy from one end of the eating table.
    “Ick.” Lucy stabbed her fork into her egg.
    I made egg designs like Lucy. “Ick,” I mumbled, which must’ve been the Melons’ word for promising the ghosts that I wouldn’t get into trouble, so they’d give me more food. I swirled my fork around and around on my plate. “Ick,” I said politely to the ceiling.
    I ate eggs in my country, but never eggs like this. Sometimes I climbed into trees and found polka-dotted eggs, and blue eggs, and yellow eggs. White eggs were the most boring of all. The Buckworths’ cooked bread was boring too.
    “It’s called toast, Betti.” Lucy jumped out of her chair. “Come here! Look!” She pushed a button on a white square box and waited. I peeked inside and suddenly the cooked bread magically popped up and nearly hit my nose. Lucy thought that was very very funny. “See?”
    I didn’t know why Melons called cooked bread “toes” but I got to make it three times by myself. Then Lucy showed me the red stuff that I got to squirt on my cooked bread. It oozed out in a big funny blob.
    “Jelly,” said Lucy with red teeth almost like Big Uncle’s red teeth.
    “Jellllly.”
    And I didn’t really know what “break” meant, but I knew what “fast” meant, so I tried to eat as fast as I could. I dipped my fingers in the yellow goo and licked them fast. Goo dripped onto my plate and covered my lips. I stuffed cooked bread toes in my mouth fast, even though my cheeks puffed out.
    Mr. Buckworth looked up from his newspaper and smiled.
    Mrs. Buckworth said, “Um, Betti, we have plenty of eggs and toast if you’re still hungry. You don’t need to hurry, okay?”
    “Okay.” So I picked up another piece of red bread with my fork and started chewing it slowly around the edges.
    The Buckworths would definitely want to send me home because I ate way too much and way too fast.
    But then Lucy stabbed a piece of cooked bread with her fork and started eating it around the edges, just like me.
    “Lucy . . .” said Mrs. Buckworth.
    “I know.” Lucy’s cheeks puffed out as she grinned at me.
    Then Mr. Buckworth picked up a piece of bread with his fork too. Lucy spit crumbs out of her mouth and started giggling like crazy with crumby teeth. I giggled a little too, because I couldn’t help it.
    Mrs. Buckworth sighed.
    The Melon dog put his hairy head in my lap. He was everywhere. Lucy threw a piece of cooked bread toes to Rooney, who chomped it down in about one second and stared up at the sky to wait for more.
    Ick.
    I ate four pieces of red cooked bread and three gooey eggs, which must’ve made the ghosts very happy. I was like a pig eating sloppy slop and my stomach stuck out like a fat fruit.
    I felt like I used to feel at the circus camp when I was up all night hearing things. Life in America was kind of like the circus. A new act every second. New sounds and smells and drooling animals and magic lotions and bouncing girls and bouncing bread toes. I never knew what would happen next.
     
    MY EMPTY BOOK.

Leftover Dogs and Plastic People
    I WAS TRYING hard to