The Sideroad Kids - Book 1

Chapter 4

Chapter 2 – Statue Maker

Chapter 2 – Statue Maker“Freeze!” I shriek as I fling Daisy through the air. She lands on her right foot. “Freeze or the game’s over.”

“How can I freeze on my club foot?” she yells. She tumbles to the ground.

“Game’s over then. I win.”

“You always win, Katie, because you cheat. I’m going to tell Mommy.”

“Big baby. Go and whine for all I care.”

“Well, maybe I’ll stay outside just a little longer.”

“Good. If we’re not going to play Statue Maker, let’s watch Grandpa. I think he’s been into Granny’s dandelion wine so you’ll probably have to cover your ears.”

“I thought you said your papa made him promise to stay out of the wine and not say bad words.” Daisy’s eyes are wide with curiosity. “Do you lie as well as cheat?”

“I don’t lie and I don’t cheat. Be quiet and listen.” We run towards the swings and start pumping. Grandpa rocked himself into a corner of the porch and can’t reach his cane. It fell from his knees and rolled next to Lard.

“Katie, you lazy child. Help me out of this chair!” Grandpa yells. “And pick up my blasted cane!” He flings his drink at Lard. “Move, you blasted, mutt, move!”

Daisy is horrified. Her eyes bulge. “I’ve never heard anybody talk like that in all my life,” she says.

I laugh. “If you came over more often, you’d know how he talks. All old people talk that way when they’re mad.”

“My people don’t.”

“You don’t live with your grandpa.” Before she has time to answer, her mother comes out of the house. I guess her visit is over. It’s not really a visit because her mother sells Avon stuff, and Mama always buys something. Mrs. Powell tells Daisy it’s time to go.

“Maybe I’ll see you tomorrow,” she says, but she probably won’t. She only comes over when her mother brings Mama whatever she bought. It’s too hard for her to walk on the road or ride a bicycle. I jump from the swing.

“Bye, Daisy. See you tomorrow.” She ignores me.

“Are you going to help me or not?” Grandpa hollers. I don’t answer right away.

“I said are you going to help me?”

“Maybe I will. Maybe I won’t. What’ll you give me if I do?” I twist the end of my hair around my finger.

Grandpa narrows his eyes to cat-like slits. He lowers his head, sticks out his neck, and says very slowly, “If you don’t give me that cane right this minute, I’ll strangle you at midnight.”

I laugh and perch on the top step of the porch. “If you strangle me, you’ll go to jail. What’ll people say then?”

“They’ll say a poor old man was driven to madness by a demon-possessed child. They’ll feel sorry for me and give me a prize.”

I think about this for a minute. “Maybe yes. Maybe no. You’ll still go to jail. You can’t kill children and get away with it.”

“You’re not a child. You’re a monster. A monster that came out of Lake Superior or Lake Michigan one stormy night.”

“Oh, Grandpa. You say the funniest things. You don’t even know what a monster looks like. And monsters don’t live in the Great Lakes. Only the skeletons of sailors who sunk to the bottom with their ships live there. Besides, why do you want to go in the house? It’s nice out here on the porch. Look at all the pretty red leaves on the maple tree.” I twirl my hair with both hands.

“I’ll strangle you with your own hair, that’s what I’ll do. I want to go inside because I’m tired. Tired and worn out,” he says. “I’m ready for the bone pile. I’ll probably never live to see another year.” He drops his head low on his chin. “I’ll never see another ripe garden or smell another red rose. I’ll never taste another sweet blackberry or see the beautiful fall colors. Soon I’ll be joining my dear old ma and pa.”

“We don’t have any roses or blackberries, and your ma and pa will be happy to see you. Besides, it’s best to die when there’s no snow. They bury you without waiting so it would be thoughtful of you to die now.”

“Katie, give me that blasted cane.”

“Why do you swear?”

“Give me the cane.”

“Not until you answer me.”

“My cane.”

“When you die, can I have your cane? You won’t need it anymore.” Grandpa reaches for me but misses. I tell him I’ll be right back. I want to get something from the kitchen. I stick my hand in the cookie jar and take out three chocolate chip cookies. Two for me and one for him. I push open the screen door.

“Grandpa, I’m sorry. I’ll help you now. Here’s a cookie and here’s your cane. You won’t really strangle me at midnight, will you?” He doesn’t answer.

“You have to talk to me. Don’t you want to talk to me? Don’t you like me anymore?” I sit next to him. “Mama and Granny will get mad when I tell them you won’t talk to me. Do you want them mad at you?” Grandpa still doesn’t say a word. “I’ve tried to be your friend, but I guess you don’t like me. I’m going to my playhouse.” I set the cookie on the bench next to him. Then I kiss his cheek and run down the steps.

“Well, Lard,” I hear him say. “It’s time for us to go in.”

“....he was just sitting there, not talking to me or anything. I didn’t do anything to him. Honest, I didn’t. I guess he was in one of his moods. You know how old people are.” I chatter to myself in front of the mirror in my playhouse. I’m practicing what to say in case Grandpa tells on me. “I didn’t do one little thing to make him mad. Honest I didn’t. Not one little thing.” The mirror doesn’t answer me like the one in Snow White answered the queen, but I know what it’s thinking. “Sometimes old people are nothing but trouble.”