Singing Hands

Read Singing Hands for Free Online

Book: Read Singing Hands for Free Online
Authors: Delia Ray
as if I was a piece of dirty bubble gum stuck to the bottom of her shoe. It was the same look she had given me that day last year when all the contestants for the Fall Fun Festival queen had gathered on the stage during a school assembly to hear the principal announce the winner. There were five of us, and the student body had voted during the two weeks leading up to the festival by putting coins in glass milk jugs underneath our school pictures. Whoever had the largest amount of money in her jug would not only become queen but would also have the honor of buying the most tickets for needy children to attend the fair free of charge.
    Missy had squealed when the principal announced her name. "Our new queen—Missy DuPage!" Mr. Ryker shouted. "Twenty-five dollars and ninety cents!" All the students clapped as he pointed proudly to her jug, which was brimming with nickels and dimes and quarters.
    Then, unfortunately, Mr. Ryker had felt the need to list the wonderful contributions earned by the other worthy contestants. "Gussie Davis ... four dollars and twelve cents." I saw Missy glance in my direction with that bubble-gum-on-the-shoe look. My jug was only half full ... of nothing but pennies.
    And here I was, queen of nothing but pennies again.
    I passed the collection plate to Missy, trying to appear unruffled, as if I had just dropped a five-dollar bill on top of the pile of envelopes. But Mrs. DuPage was pointing to a spot in front of Missy's stylish slippers.
    "Missy, dear," I heard her whisper, "pick up that penny by your toe for the little girl next to you."
    Missy dutifully bent over to fetch the penny, and I held out my hand to take it. Then, as if I could possibly feel more humiliated, I noticed Missy raise one eyebrow when she looked down at my hand. I looked down, too, and almost gasped. The palm of my glove was filthy, smudged all over with black. I must have run my hand along the banister on my way into church or touched the sides of the streetcar. Why was I surprised? Everything in Birmingham was covered with soot from the steel mills at the edge of town, churning coal dust from their smokestacks around the clock.
    Missy dropped the penny into my palm, making sure not to touch any part of my glove. When I murmured "Thank you," she gave a little sniff and turned back toward her mother. No one she associated with would ever show up at church wearing dirty gloves.
    With my cheeks still burning, I squeezed the penny in my hand tighter and tighter, as if I could wring blood from copper. The minister was announcing that it was time for all the youngsters to head to their Sunday-school classes. I knew I'd probably be assigned to the incoming junior high class with Missy and all of her snow white-gloved friends.
    The truth was I didn't belong at the Advent any more than I belonged at Daddy's church for the deaf. Still, there was nothing to do but stand and file out of the pew behind Nell, stepping over my fallen pennies as I went.

Chapter 6
    I couldn't wait to get to the Cussing Woods after church that day. I hadn't been there since my old best friend, Barbara Blackwell, moved away. Barbara and I used to spend all kinds of time in the vacant lot two blocks from my house. It was there that we discovered how good it felt to say out loud all the bad words we knew—and at the same time whack leaves off the scrubby trees with switches we had made out of sweet-gum branches. We knew only four or five cuss words worth repeating, but even though we had to say the same ones over and over, nothing cured a rotten mood faster than a good round of cussing and switching.
    Nell didn't approve of the Cussing Woods. Whenever Barbara and I headed in that direction, she usually stayed behind. But my silence all the way home from the Advent on the streetcar must have worried her. She tagged right along behind me when I stepped off the car and turned toward the vacant lot.
    But naturally she couldn't follow me without complaining. "Come

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