Read Just Plain Al: The Al Series, Book Five for Free Online Page A

Assisi feeding the starving pigeons. I’ve tried it on my mother when she’s accused me of something I’ve done, or haven’t done. It doesn’t do any good at all. Al is a master of the holy look.
    I am divesting myself of my possessions,” she said solemnly. I almost laughed. She did look funny. But in the nick of time I stopped. Laughter at that moment would’ve been the kiss of death.
    â€œWhat for?” I asked again.
    â€œThe time has come for me to face up to the fact that I’m aging. My body is getting older, but my head remains static.” Al frowned. “You know something? I’m a selfish person. I do nothing to justify my place on earth. I think too much of material things. And so do you.”
    Leave me out of it, I thought. I don’t like it when Al drags me into her soul-searching. Let her search her own soul.
    â€œFourteen is a tremendous turning point,” she continued. “Most people think sixteen or eighteen or twenty-one are the biggies. But I’m here to tell you fourteen is the most important birthday of all.”
    Al’s been working up to this for a long time, I realized.
    â€œIt is?” was all I said.
    â€œDo you realize in the Middle Ages a fourteen-year-old was considered a woman? That when Juliet was fourteen she was hanging out on the balcony wondering wherefore was Romeo? That Joan of Arc was fourteen when she heard the voices that led her into battle to save France?”
    â€œYeah, and look what happened to her.” I couldn’t resist. I had to put in my two cents.
    I don’t think Al heard me.
    â€œThat at fourteen,” she went on, “Shirley Temple was already a millionaire?”
    One minute we’re talking Juliet and Joan of Arc. The next, we’re onto Shirley Temple. Wild. Weird.
    â€œThe time has come to rid myself of my worldly goods,” Al concluded, looking even more soulful.
    â€œ All your worldly goods?” I said.
    Behind her glasses Al’s eyes were huge and filled with life’s mystery.
    â€œAll,” she said, bowing her head.
    â€œCan I have your lavender sweater, then?” I asked.
    Al’s eyes lost their soulful look.
    â€œYou are positively disgusting!” she snapped. “You make me ill. I shall give my lavender sweater to the poor and the needy. Along with everything else.”
    â€œHow about your red shoes?” I had her. I knew I had her. She would never, never give up those red shoes. It would be like giving up her life.
    Al thought a long minute. “Well,” she conceded, “I might keep them. If only to remind myself of my former excesses. Besides,” she said, “if you want to know, those shoes are very uncomfortable. No poor person would want them. I plan to hang them over my bed to remind me of my foolish youth.”
    â€œWell,” I said, “it’s going to be a big change, that’s for sure.”
    â€œYou have only one year left to be a child, my child.” Al placed a hand gently on my shoulder. “Make the most of it.” Then she started rooting around in her mess of clothing like a pig looking for truffles. “Scram,” she said. “I have work to do.”
    I went to the door, opened it, took a step out into the hall. Then I hollered, “Your mother’s going to have a cow!” slammed the door, and ran.

chapter 8
    â€œI tell you what we could do.” My mother threaded the needle with one eye closed, the only way she could do it, she said.
    â€œMaybe they’ll let you return my dress,” I said, long-faced. “And give you back the five bucks.”
    She got it threaded on the third try. “I hate to sew,” she murmured.
    â€œWho would ever know?” I hate it when she starts to say something, then goes off on a tangent like that. “ What could we do?”
    â€œWe could throw a birthday party for Al.”
    â€œWhere?” I didn’t