Stumptown Kid Read Free Page A

a bowl of peas in their pods, picked from the garden, and a pair of scissors. On top of the peas were some daisies she’d cut from a clump that grows next to the house.
    “Oh, Charlie, I didn’t know you were home,” she said, heading for the sink. “How’d the tryout go, hon? Did you make the team?”
    “No,” I said. “I got too nervous.”
    “Oh, honey, that’s too bad,” she said. “But you’re a good player. You shouldn’t have been nervous.”
    “I know, but this kid named Brad Lobo kept yelling stuff at me.”
    “Brad Lobo? Do I know who he is? I don’t think I’ve heard you mention him before.” The water rushed over her hands and she turned to me, frowning. “I should’ve gone with you. I can’t believe the coach let some boy get away with making you nervous that way.”
    I should’ve known better than to tell Mom what happened. She’s always hovering around, trying to keep everything perfect. I don’t tell her so, but it gets on my nerves.
    “Come on outside,” I said to change the subject. “I met somebody, and he’s real nice.”
    “Oh, a new friend?” She smiled. “That’s nice, Charlie. But didn’t you ask him in?”
    “Yeah, but he said he likes the sunshine.”
    “Okay,” Mom said, “give me a second and I’ll be out.” She picked up a dish towel and ran a hand through her hair. “At least let me run a comb through this mess. The humidity makes it all frizzy.”
    “You look fine,” I said.
    I took the glasses of lemonade outside. Luther was sitting under the maple tree, his big old gunnysack next to him on the ground.
    “Mom’ll be right out,” I said, handing him a glass.
    “Thank you, Charlie,” he said.
    He must’ve been awful thirsty, because he drained the glass in a few seconds. He wiped a hand across his mouth and leaned his head back against the tree trunk and closed his eyes.
    “That was the best lemonade I ever had,” he said, “and that’s a fact.”
    “There’s plenty more.”
    Mom opened the front door and came out on the stoop. She’d taken off her apron and looked like she’d fixed her hair. She stopped when she saw Luther, like she was surprised. She came out to the maple tree.
    Luther got to his feet.
    “Hello,” Mom said.
    “Mom, this is Luther Peale,” I told her. “Luther, this is my mom.”
    Luther lifted his cap with his left hand and shook Mom’s hand with his right.
    “Nice to meet you, ma’am,” he said. He smiled at her but then looked at the ground. “I don’t shake too good. This hand isn’t what it should be.”
    “Luther showed me some good baseball stuff after the tryouts,” I said.
    “Well, that was nice of you, Luther,” Mom said. She smiled, but she was peering hard at him the way a scientist might look into a microscope.
    “Charlie’s got a good arm,” Luther said, glancing up again. “He just needs a little practice. He’ll come around, you wait and see.”
    “Mom, do you know of anybody needing a man to work?” I asked.
    “Oh. Here in Holden?” Her voice sounded far away. She cleared her throat. “Well now, let’s see.” She put her fingers to her mouth and looked away, thinking. “I believe Mr. Landen from the egg-buying station said the other day he was looking for help. Maybe you could talk to him.”
    “Thanks very much, ma’am,” Luther said. “I’ll go see him.”
    My stomach growled. I remembered I’d been so nervous about the tryouts, I hadn’t eaten since breakfast. “What’s for supper?”
    “Spaghetti,” Mom said.
    “Good. Mom makes great spaghetti,” I told Luther. I turned back to her. “Can Luther maybe stay for supper?”
    “Oh now, Charlie,” Luther began. He held up a hand and took a step back. “I better be going now.”
    Mom paused a second. Just past her at the house next door I saw Mrs. Banks peeking around her living room drapes. She must’ve seen me see her, because she let go of the drapes and backed away from the window. I still felt her eyes on