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Stewart both beamed.
    Then Mother said, "Stewart, Sophia, I'd like you to show King—"
    I knew what was coming and I tried to head it off by jumping in and saying, "But Mother, I was showing him the house. Please, please let me show it to him—please."
    "Esther, enough. Sophia and Stewart can show—"
    Again I didn't let her finish. I raised my voice to block out hers. "No! Mother, please, let me show him." I could hear the whine in my voice and I knew I sounded like a baby, but I just wanted to be the one. I wanted King-Roy to be my special friend. Mr. Vichy thought Stewart was the greatest boy child in the world, brilliant and handsome and complex, and Beatrice doted on Sophia. Everyone always doted on the beautiful little genius, Sophia. I wanted King-Roy to like me, especially me. I wanted him to tell me about the moment that changed his life and for it to be a secret between us. For once, I wanted a visitor to like me best.
    I felt tears stinging my eyes. I blinked several times, refusing to cry. "Mother, I can run down and put up the groceries and then show him the house. I'll be really quick and—"
    Mother took a deep breath and then in a firm voice said, "Esther Josephine Young, do as you are told!" Then she glared at me as if she wanted to rip my throat out of my neck. I knew she was more furious than usual because I had created a scene in front of our new guest. Mother hated scenes, particularly mine.
    I swallowed hard and nodded. "Yes, Mother. I'm sorry." I looked at King-Roy, who stood with his head bent and his arms down in front of him, one hand folded over the other, his hat dangling between two fingers, as if he were praying. I said to him in a voice that imitated my mother's exactly, "I'm sorry for my behavior, King-Roy. You must think that I am very silly. Stewart and Sophia will show you your rooms while I put up the groceries. If you will please excuse me."
    I broke through the group standing there, pushing aside Stewart and Sophia just the littlest bit to get through, and headed toward the stairs. I moved slowly, listening to my mother make her excuses for my behavior.
    "She just gets herself so wound up sometimes. I'm sure she talked your ear off. I'm sorry if her little scene has upset you."
    "No, ma'am. Miz Esther has been good company and I've been most glad to have it."
    When I heard King-Roy say that, I wanted to make the biggest scene ever. I wanted to turn around and run down the hallway to Mr. King-Roy Johnson and throw my arms around his neck. Even if he didn't mean it, even if he said it just to be polite, he had contradicted Mother. He had stood up for me. I made a run for the stairway, quickly, before I found myself making a scene that would get both King-Roy and me in trouble.

SIX
    I had just put away the last of the groceries, hiding the cookies and pies so Auntie Pie wouldn't find them and dig into them before anyone else had a chance to eat any, when Beatrice glided in with the Beast in her arms.
    Beatrice Bonham, the bottle-blond actress, had arrived with her enormous bosom and her pesky dog, Prissy, a shih tzu, three years ago, and, as far as I knew, had no intention of ever leaving.
    The shih tzu was the devil herself and tore up my favorite pair of sneakers—a pair of boy's Converse All Stars that I had found in the lost-and-found at school. They hadn't been claimed in over a year, and Coach O'Keefe said I could have them. I could have strangled the little Beast for eating those sneakers, and I refused to allow Beatrice or the Beast in my room, but I knew she came in anyway when I wasn't there. I once found one of little Prissy's red hair ribbons on the floor of my room, and on that same day, my 1922 silver Peace Dollar disappeared out of my piggy bank—my only silver Peace Dollar. Mother had once warned us that Beatrice could be a little light fingered, and apparently she was. If she could figure out a way, she'd steal my bedroom right out from under me while I slept and leave