Free The Secrets of Tree Taylor by Dandi Daley Mackall Page A

listened to Mom and Eileen talk. Sometimes I heard them laughing while Mom curled Eileen’s hair behind the closed bathroom door. I never asked what they were laughing about.
    Normally, I hated it when my mother and big sister tried to make me dress like them or act “ladylike.” I had put up a fit when they told me their plans to have Eileen and me wear prairie dresses for the steam engine show.
    But my ears were still ringing with what Eileen said about me. My sister thought I’d look good in a sweater dress. I knew she didn’t want one because she said they showed every extra pound and imperfection.
    Plus, Eileen wished she had my knees?
    Just when I thought I had my sister all figured out, she went and said a nice thing like that.
    And just when I thought I had my dad figured out, he claimed he didn’t want to talk about things.
    Maybe the whole world had flipped upside down.

14
Going in Circles
    Before I could get caught eavesdropping, I slipped outside. If it hadn’t been raining so hard, I might have gone for a long walk to clear my head. Instead, I grabbed my Hula-Hoop and my transistor radio and headed for the carport. Rain was pounding the metal roof, and the whole outdoors smelled like evergreens.
    I took my hula stance and started the hoop. Our California cousin, Barb, sent Eileen and me Hula-Hoops months before anybody in town had even heard of them. It took me forever to get the hang of keeping the yellow plastic hoop twirling around my middle. But now I could keep it spinning all day.
    By the time Dad came home for lunch, it had stopped raining. Still twirling my Hula-Hoop, I moved out of the way so he could get his car in. We hadn’t talked much since Saturday, when I’d tried to ask him about the Kinneys.
    I turned up “Duke, Duke, Duke, Duke of Earl.” Great hula music. Plus, Dad really liked it. Most of my friends’ parentshated our music, but not Dad. He kept his radio tuned to WHB, same as me.
    Hatless, Dad climbed out of the car. He left his suit jacket hanging on the hook over the backseat window and slammed the driver’s door closed. Then he stretched like his back ached. His white shirt looked wrinkled. He hadn’t turned around to see me, and for a second I didn’t think he was going to.
    “Hey, Dad!” I tried to sound normal, hoping he’d forgotten about my Kinney gossip.
    He glanced over his shoulder. “Hey, Tree.” Then he walked into the garage. He didn’t even ask how I was doing.
    But half a minute later, he strolled out with Eileen’s pink Hula-Hoop. “This might be just what I need for my aching back. I’m always after my patients to exercise more.” He dropped the hoop over his head and wiggled. The hoop landed with a smack on the cement drive.
    “Step into it, Dad.” I stopped my hoop so I could demonstrate. “Hold it with both hands like this, to one side. Then start it spinning, moving your hips back and forth. Let your hips flow in a circle until you catch the rhythm.”
    “Got it.” He stepped into the hoop, grabbed it, wiggled. The hoop did half a spin on his waist, then dropped. “Good exercise bending down to get the thing, I suppose.”
    “Try starting it counterclockwise.” I wanted Dad to be able to make it work. But more than that, I loved that he tried. Especially now, with me. “Put your feet farther apart.”
    The song ended, and the top-of-the-hour news blared. I didn’t pay any attention to it, but I did hear the word “Vietnam.”
    Dad’s hoop almost made it all the way around his waist. He shook his head, breaking the rhythm, and the hoop plunked to the ground.
    “Don’t give up, Dad. You’ll get the hang of it.”
    “Maybe.” He sounded so down.
    “You really did almost get it to spin that time. Don’t worry.”
    “Hmm? What?” He picked up the hoop and tried again. “No. It’s not my lack of Hula-Hooping skills I’m worried about.”
    I waited. Something was bothering him. I just hoped it wasn’t me.
    The radio started