A Girl Called Al: The Al Series, Book One Read Free Page A

lenses in and out,” she said. “It’s very interesting. That is, if it doesn’t make you nervous.”
    Al stopped and tightened one pigtail. She likes them neat and even. Those pigtails are her badge of nonconformity, she says. She may be right.
    â€œWhy would it make me nervous?” I asked.
    â€œThere’s only one thing,” she said. “Can’t you guess? Take a good guess. What would be the most logical thing that could go wrong?”
    She sat with her hands on her knees and I knew she was trying to see inside my head to see how my brain works. She made a noise like zzt zzt , which meant she was X-raying my head.
    â€œFigure it out by logic,” she said.
    Al says I have a block about logic, that I reject it. That means I am no good at it. My father says that women are not logical by nature.
    Al watched me without blinking, like a little baby. Little babies or real little kids can look at you for a long time without blinking. One time in church there was a little kid sitting in front of me and I tried to stare him down about a hundred times. He won every time.
    â€œI have a cramp in my foot,” I said. I got up and jumped around. When I finished she was still watching me.
    â€œI don’t know,” is what I came up with.
    Al snorted.
    â€œJust think,” she said, “what would happen if she whipped them in and all of a sudden something went wrong and they kept on going. I mean, where would they end up?”
    â€œOn the floor?” I knew this was not the right answer.
    Al sighed and closed her eyes. She had lost her patience. She loses her patience often but she is quiet about it. When my mother loses her patience, she tells everybody.
    Al sucked in her cheeks. She practices sucking in her cheeks for ten minutes every day. It makes her look very old. It really does the trick. She looks about forty or forty-two.
    â€œI’ll tell you where they end up. I’ll just tell you!” She started waving her arms around. Then she stopped and said she had to go to the bathroom. I have noticed that she frequently has to go to the bathroom when she is in the middle of a story. I guess the excitement is too much for her.
    â€œWhere was I?” she said when she came back.
    â€œWhere do the contacts end up when something goes wrong,” I said.
    â€œOh, yes. Well, I’m going to tell you.”
    One thing about Al is you cannot rush her when she is telling a story.
    Softly she said, “First, they slide down inside your cheek and wiggle around in your throat. Then,” she said, “then …”
    She is like Mr. Keogh when he tugs at his ear because he doesn’t know what he’s going to say next. Only she squints up at the ceiling, like maybe there is something written there. Finally she looked at me and smiled.
    â€œThen they slip down inside your stomach and into the large intestine.”
    I have never been sure of the difference between the large intestine and the small intestine. They are different in size is all I know.
    She looked at the ceiling and then at me. “Then you know where they go?”
    I racked my brains to remember the diagram of the stomach we have on the wall in biology class. It is a mess. I do not like that kind of thing. I would make a lousy nurse.
    â€œI’ll tell you,” Al shouted, hopping around on one foot. “They slide right down your legs and into your feet and there is one contact in your left foot and one in your right. All of a sudden you’re walking around on glass. That’s all!”
    Al was exhausted. She sank back into her chair.
    â€œDon’t you think you’d better warn your mother?” I asked her.

Chapter Six
    â€œCan I have my friend Al for supper?” I asked my mother, on account of she was whistling, which she only does when she is in a good mood, and also we were having spaghetti and meat balls, which I know is absolutely Al’s favorite