Upside Down in the Middle of Nowhere Read Free Page A

mama’s right. That’s enough,” Daddy said. “Understood?”
    â€œYes, sir,” we fussed at the same time.
    Daddy sat back down. Before he went to eating he turned to Georgie. “I don’t ever want to hear you speak disrespectful toward a teacher again. I know Armani’s teacher and she’s a good woman.”
    â€œA good woman with a vivid imagination,” Memaw said into her napkin. Mama bit down on her bottom lip, shaking her head at Memaw.
    I seen my opening and took it. “You need to speak respectful to your sister too.”
    â€œOh, Lord,” Memaw coughed. “Here we go.”
    â€œIn your dreams,” Georgie said. His voice sounded like a whiny little girl’s.
    Sealy leaned in so close to me I could see food stuck in her back teeth. “I can’t wait to get to fourth grade,” she happy-whispered. “Y’all learn so many interesting things.”

    After supper Daddy handed out chores. Georgie had to cut the grass, and I had to clean up the kitchen. I didn’t care. I’d rather clean ten kitchens than push that rickety ol’ contraption across the yard.The blades on that ancient thing were so dull, it took going back and forth over the same spot at least twenty times before the grass looked even close to cut.
    Mama had Kheelin in the bath, and Daddy was outside, most likely supervising dimwit Georgie. Memaw was sitting in the living room, watching her sacred Weather Channel, talking with Sealy about some book called
Roll of Thunder
. I couldn’t hear exactly what they were saying, but it didn’t surprise me none that the two of them would waste their time discussing a book about storms. Memaw would be getting Sealy all worked up about the weather. It was only a matter of time.
    I was done washing, except for the big ol’ black cast-iron skillet Mama used for frying up the pork chops. I still couldn’t believe how stupid Georgie was, and I sure wasn’t in no mood for scrubbing that skillet. Every time I washed that heavy thing, I got a crick in my neck. It had to weigh at least a hundred pounds. I was fixin’ to start on the bothersome blob of iron when one of Kheelin’s little cars rolled right up over my bare toes.
    Khayla was tucked up under the gym-floor table playing with the cars Kheelin had got for his birthday present. It didn’t make no difference to Kheelin that his twin had them, because he never played with them anyhow. He was always too busy being snug up against Mama. If Khayla was wearing pockets, you could bet good money the girl had a tiny car shoved into one. Mama had washed cars in the laundry more than once by accident.
    I used my foot to roll the tiny car back to Khayla. She looked at me and gave me one of her famous chubby-cheeked smiles. I smiled back,and gave her the “I love you” sign with my soapy fingers. My cousin, TayTay, had taught me how to do it when we were out on summer break. I’d been trying to teach the sign-language symbol to the twins, but they couldn’t get their pudgy little fingers to stand up straight.
    I was fixin’ to walk over and help Khayla situate her fingers when she stopped me cold and looked me dead straight in the eyes singing, “Chick-ow! Chick-ow!” She scooped up the itty-bitty cars and took off running scared like a fat little bunny.
    I grabbed the wet, red-checkered dishrag out of the soapy water and threw it at her. But she scooched quick around the corner. Just then, Memaw came walking toward me around that same corner. The slopping-wet rag slapped her smack in the middle of her face and stuck there like flypaper.
    My hands flew up to stifle the scream that wanted to leap out of my mouth. Memaw froze. She stood there, with the rag covering her whole face—dirty dishwater dripping down her housedress. We were both still as statues, like all the clocks stopped ticking, and the earth stopped