Violet Raines Almost Got Struck by Lightning Read Free

you saw it happen or anything.”
    She stretches her neck, just like a goose. “Well, I wouldn’t want to.” She shudders like she’s seeing it right now. “If a murderer knew you saw him, he’d track you down. You’d have to go into one of those witness protection programs and change your name and move and everything.”
    I think on this. She’s right. I wouldn’t want to change my name or move or anything. I like things just the way they are. I want to ask about the girl with the uncle who knew the cousin in the drugstore, but Tootsie grabs my hand. “Come on, Violet. Play in my room.”
    â€œI can’t right now,” I say.
    â€œPlay dolls with me.”
    Melissa’s eyebrows go up. My face flushes with heat. Normally, I don’t mind playing dolls with Tootsie, but I don’t want Melissa to think I’m a baby.
    â€œViolet’s talking with us,” Lottie says, pulling Tootsie’s hand out of mine. “Besides, she didn’t come here to play with you, Tootsie-Tutu.”
    Tootsie lays her head in my lap. Her curls spill all over my legs. “Please.”
    Lord, she’s like my own little sister; I can’t hurt her feelings, but at the same time, I don’t want to be upstairs playing dolls while Melissa’s got Lottie all to herself. “Tootsie—”
    Her voice comes out muffled. “Please.”
    I sigh and push her head up. I say to Lottie, “I’ll be right back—don’t start frying without me.”
    â€œI won’t,” Lottie says. She leans toward Tootsie. “Violet can only play for five minutes, okay? Then you have to let her come back down.”
    I swear Melissa looks relieved when I let Tootsie drag me out of the room. After we leave the kitchen, Lottie and Melissa start talking and then Lottie giggles. I lag behind Tootsie on the stairs.

    I’m sitting on Lottie’s half of the room while Tootsie arranges her dolls in a circle. They’re having a fish fry. Apparently, some of the dolls don’t like each other and are arguing with Tootsie over where they should sit.
    Running my fingers over Lottie’s footboard, I feel for the words Lottie and I scratched into the wood when we were six. Lord Almighty, did we get in trouble for that. Even though Mr. Townsend did his best to cover them up, the words are as plain as the nose on your face: I love you Violet. I love you Lottie. We have known each other all of our lives; our parents were neighbors before we were even born. My fingers trace the letters. I hope I’m not missing out on anything downstairs.
    Tootsie thrusts a doll at me. It’s the one with purple eyebrows. “You’re this one. You’re from Troit.”
    â€œI don’t want to be from Troit.” I smooth Purple Eyebrows’s hair. “I’m from here.”
    â€œNo!” She slips her thumb in her mouth, just like Lottie used to do when we were little. Back then, I carried a baby blanket everywhere and Eddie had a fish doll. He twiddled the fins so much he wore them right down to threads.
    Momma’s got my blanket in a keepsake box along with cards and drawings I’ve made for her. And I bet Eddie’s momma’s got that fish doll, too, because even when you outgrow your childish things, someone saves them for you. Someone who loves you does that so you don’t forget who you are.
    I’m still holding Purple Eyebrows when Lottie hollers up for us to come down. It’s a bull race, me and Tootsie in the lead and Lottie’s middle sisters, Hannah and Ashley, thundering down behind us. The grown-ups come in, and the noise level goes up about a thousand decibels.
    Mr. Townsend slaps me on the back. “How ya doing, Vi?” He grabs his knife sharpener off the counter. “Time to get this show on the road,” he says and heads out the back door with Mr. Gold.
    â€œWell, look at all these