Free Nekomah Creek by Linda Crew Page A

“Robby? How come you’re so upset about this?”
    “I’m not upset.”
    “You act upset.” She gave me a Concerned Look. “Was Amber your girlfriend?”
    “No!” It came out meaner sounding than I meant it to. “I just—it doesn’t seem fair, that’s all.”
    She nodded. “My mom doesn’t think it is, either. It’s supposed to be for the kid’s own good, but sometimes … Well, she had a friend whose kids were taken away and my mom said it was just because they didn’t like her lifestyle.”
    “What do you mean, her lifestyle?”
    “You know, the way they lived. This social worker was always coming around, criticizing her housekeeping, saying the kids would get sick if she didn’t keep things cleaner. Stuff like that.”
    “Jeepers.” The teachers, the counselors, and social workers from the government. I never realized they had so much power.
    Too bad I didn’t have Mrs. Kassel anymore. She thought my family was okay. But maybe Mrs. Perkins figured we were hippies. Maybe she hated hippies as much as Orin’s family did.
    Suddenly I had an awful thought. I’ll bet she suspected my folks had some terrible secret to hide, Dad marching into the school like that and telling her they didn’t want me talking to the counselor …
    “I didn’t mean to spoil the party for you,” I heard Rose say. “I’ll go find my mom and ask about going to Portland, okay?”
    “Yeah, sure.” Suddenly I just wanted to be nearmy parents. I headed for the apple bobbing as fast as my robot suit would let me.
    “Oink, oink,” Dad said. “How was the haunted house?”
    “Okay.”
    “Must have been scary. You’re shaking.”
    Lucy and Freddie were hanging over the edge of the washtub, poking the apples down with their fingers, giggling as they bobbed back up.
    A second grader pushed her face through the water, trying to corner an apple. Her braids were getting wet.
    “Brrr! Looks awfully cold.”
    I turned around. It was Mrs. Perkins, watching us.
    Dad grinned. “Doesn’t seem to faze them, does it?”
    She shook her head. “At my last school, Beaverdale, we always hung the apples from strings. More sanitary, the principal said.”
    “Mr. Hummer!” Another kid tugged at Dad’s shirt. “Is it my turn yet?”
    “Hang on!” Dad gave him the little oink-oink salute and turned back to Mrs. Perkins. “Actually, I never thought of that. Maybe next year we—”
    “Dad, look out!”
    Splash
.
    “Lucy!”
    In a flash Dad scooped her from the tub. “Forcryin’ out loud!” he said, standing her to drip on the wood floor.

    Lucy sputtered with surprise, then grinned to find herself the center of attention.
    “Lucy, Lucy, Lucy.” Dad shook his head like he didn’t know whether to laugh or be mad.
    Her polka-dot dress hung limp over her stiff petticoats and her stove-black nose was smeared. Wet strings of hair were plastered to her cheeks. Dad fished her Mouseketeer ears from the washtub, shook them out, and set them on her head.
    Everybody laughed. Even Mrs. Perkins.
    “Forevermore,” she said breathlessly. “I’m sure glad you pulled her out so fast.”
    “My reflexes are getting better all the time,” Dad said.
    Mom came hurrying up. “Oh, dear. I should have been watching her closer. I got talking to Inge …” She sighed. “Well, I’ll just have to take her home. I guess with Lucy I should always figure on spare clothes.”
    Then Mom noticed Mrs. Perkins.
    “Lucy gets into trouble like this all the time,” she said lightly, wrapping her jacket around her. “Don’t you?” She made a pretend fierce face at Lucy and kissed her forehead. Then she smiled at Mrs. Perkins. “I’m just amazed we’ve never had to go to the emergency room yet.”
    This was where Mrs. Perkins was supposed tolaugh and say she understood and aren’t kids the darnedest and all that.
    Instead her eyebrows went up.
    Mom and Dad glanced at each other, some little message going between them.
    Maybe they were scared too.