Violet Raines Almost Got Struck by Lightning Read Free Page B

don’t think I can keep smelling this fish.”
    â€œSure you can,” I say. “Just breathe through your mouth.” Before she can object, I say, “Now the second piece.”
    She turns back and picks up another piece, holding it away from herself like a dirty diaper. When she touches it to the cornmeal, I press her hand down.
    â€œEew!” Her hand flies up like it’s been electrocuted, and she jumps back from the stove.
    I almost laugh out loud.
    â€œThat was gross.” She turns to me. “Why did you do that?”
    Lottie is looking at me. She looks mad too.
    I make a what-did-I-do face at her and turn to Melissa. “Haven’t you ever cooked fish before?”
    She hesitates, then goes, “Of course I have. Fishsticks.”
    I can’t believe Lottie doesn’t huff like I do on hearing that. “Fishsticks? Fish don’t come out looking like little bars.” I cannot believe this girl. I grab her arm and pull her out the back door.
    â€œViolet!” Lottie pulls fish out with the tongs, but she can’t leave the stove with the kettle going.
    Melissa wrenches her arm away as we get up to Mr. Townsend’s station. Perfect. He’s just made the first cut on a big one, right under the head. The fish’s eye is wide and looking up. His mouth is gaping, like he was surprised to have been caught. Mr. Townsend turns the blade and pulls it down. He lifts the skin and meat as he cuts and the fish’s belly is exposed. With his fingers, Mr. Townsend wiggles out the wormy-looking guts.
    â€œOh!” Melissa has her arm against her mouth.
    She steps backward, but I pick up the dump bucket and show her. “See?” I shake the bucket. Guts and fish heads slide over each other. “This is what cooking real fish looks like.”
    She pushes away from me and runs toward the steps but doesn’t make it. She vomits right there on the stairs.
    â€œMelissa!” Mrs. Townsend runs to her. She sweeps Melissa’s hair back and holds it while Melissa finishes up.
    I put the bucket down and stare. I didn’t mean for her to puke. But if you think you’re going to be part of a fish fry, you better know it ain’t no fishsticks.

    Lottie’s at the screen door watching the Golds leave. Mrs. Townsend hoses down the back steps as Hannah and Ashley run around. I’m pulling the fish out of the kettle; they’ve turned out perfectly. The Golds’ motor turns on, and I hear the crunching of gravel as their car turns out of Lottie’s driveway.
    Tootsie clatters up the porch steps, throws open the screen door, and runs in. “They’re gone,” she announces. When no one says anything, she brushes by Lottie and grabs her hand. “Don’t be sad.”
    Lottie pats Tootsie’s head. “I’m not sad,” she says. She lets go of Tootsie and tells her to tell their mom everything’s about ready. Then she looks at me. “I’m a little mad.” She walks up to where I’m laying the fillets on paper towels. She leans against the counter. “I know you didn’t do it on purpose, but you were kind of mean to her.”
    My mouth drops open, mainly because I didn’t think Lottie had noticed. But now I’ve got to defend myself. “Lottie,” I say, peering directly into her eyes, “we were both showing her how to cook fish. You heard what she said—the smell was getting to her.”
    Lottie squints. She’s not quite buying it.
    â€œYou’re the one who wanted her to cook with us. I was just trying to be helpful—I even gave her my apron so her clothes wouldn’t get dirty, remember?”
    Lottie nods. “That was nice of you.”
    â€œSo when she said that about the smell, I thought maybe she’d do better outside, that’s all.”
    Lottie’s face scrunches up. She needs one more push.
    I shake my head. “I just feel sorry for her,