The Poe Estate Read Free Page A

Jessica Anthony, my best friend, hung on for a while. Her big sister, Victoria, was Kitty’s best friend, so naturally the four of us had spent a lot of time together. Kitty used to say that since she was stuck with me, they might as well bring Jess along too.
    Jess and I would make up endless dramas with our dolls. Sometimes they were ancient Greek priestesses of Artemis in their temple (the town band shell) or astronauts landing on an alien planet (the big rock outcropping behind the Methodist church) or brave sailors battling pirates on the deep blue sea (the Anthonys’ koi pond). If we strayed too far, Kitty would rein us in with a blast on her whistle, which Mom had given her to call me with back when I was only three.
    That whistle ruled my childhood. It was made of bright blue plastic with a hard little ball inside that danced around when she made it shriek. It stopped me at the edge of danger and excitement, pulling me reluctantly back to Kitty. Even though part of me resisted, I always obeyed.
    Once Kitty was too sick to take me, getting together with Jess outside of school became difficult. My parents were too preoccupied to arrange for me to see Jess. I wasn’t good at making plans once Kitty got sick, either, and afterward—I felt too cold and paralyzed.
    Kitty’s death set me apart at school. For a while the girls were extra nice to me in a distant way. April gave me her second cookie at lunch, and Keisha held the door for me as if I had a broken ankle. But whenever I tried to join a group that was laughing and talking, they would fall into a polite silence, and I would leave and go find a book to read.
    Looking back at it now, I think if I could have jumped in and laughed with them, they might have forgotten to treat me differently.
    I understood when Jess started spending more time with Keisha—hanging around with me wasn’t much fun. Then Jess’s dad got a new job and the Anthonys moved out of state.
    Starting middle school was the hardest. My new school was a long bus ride away. Three elementary schools fed into it, so I didn’t know most of the kids. That could have been an opportunity to reinvent myself as someone happy and normal, but I missed my chance.
    The teachers called me by my whole name, Susannah, but April called me Sukie, and some of the boys misheard the pronunciation, probably on purpose.
    â€œIs your name really Sucky?” asked Tyler Spinelli.
    â€œNo, it’s Sukie,” I said. “It rhymes with
cookie
. It’s short for Susannah.”
    â€œSucky Sukie!” said Cole Farley, Tyler’s friend. They poked each other, laughed, and started chanting it. “Sucky Sukie!Sucky Sukie! Sucky Sukie!”
    I tried to ignore them. I managed pretty well. They were just boys, after all. It was harder when the girls started to whisper.
    â€œIs it true Sucky’s sister is dead?” Ava Frank asked Keisha on the bus. She kept her voice down, but I still heard her.
    I couldn’t hear Keisha’s answer.
    â€œYou mean right in their house? A dead body? That’s gross! Like in her
bedroom
?” said Ava, a little louder.
    Keisha said something else I couldn’t hear.
    â€œI bet it’s haunted,” said Ava. “Sucky lives in a haunted house. That must be why she’s so weird.”
    â€œSh, Ava!” hissed Keisha audibly. “Don’t be mean. She’s sitting right there!”
    Ava lowered her voice to a whisper and giggled. I didn’t mind that so much. But I minded when Keisha giggled back.
    That afternoon was the first time I blew Kitty’s whistle.
    â€¢Â â€¢Â â€¢
    Kitty gave me her whistle on her deathbed. When the doctors at the hospital said there was nothing left to do but keep her comfortable, Mom and Dad brought her home. They rented a hospital bed, the kind with a cold metal railing on the side and control buttons to raise the head or the foot.
    Her first day back, Kitty