Read The Facts and Fictions of Minna Pratt for Free Online Page A

said Orson in an uncertain voice.
    Imelda frowned. Lucas leaned over to hang his bow from the music stand. It swayed a bit, then stopped.
    â€œThere is,” said Porch, “an added incentive besides beautiful music. A prize of one hundred dollars each, if you win, to be used, we all hope, to further your musical careers.” Minna looked quickly at Lucas. Not Lucas, she thought. Lucas would buy glass aquariums. Dead flies. Do frogs eat dead flies?
    â€œWell,” said Porch, “what do you think?”
    Silence. Minna wanted to shout “No!”
    â€œIt is,” said Porch, “a wonderful experience. Not winning,” he added, “playing.”
    More silence, except for Imelda’s foot tapping nervously on the floor.
    â€œCould we use the money for something else?” asked Imelda suddenly, her foot tapping faster. Orson’s music slipped off his stand.
    Books of facts for Imelda, thought Minna.
    â€œAnything at all!” Porch exclaimed. “Does that mean yes?” His eyebrows raised, he looked at them. He smiled then and leaned down to pick up Orson’s music. And looking pleased, he made the decision. The decision that made Minna’s skin prickle.
    â€œWe’ll play the Mozart,” he said softly.
    Silently they picked up their music, packed up their instruments, and filed out. They were in the elevator, riding down, before Minna realized where she was. She shivered even though the elevator was warm.
    â€œMaybe I’d buy a new bow,” said Orson. Minna was suddenly aware they had been talking about the competition, about the prize money.
    A new bow? Orson, who gags through all chamber music?
    â€œA good permanent, extra curly,” announced Imelda as the elevator jolted to a stop.
    Imelda with her wonderful shiny-smooth hair? Who are these people?
    They walked outside, blinking in the light. Willie was tuning. Money clinked into his open case. The dog was there looking wise and knowing, like a music critic.
    Minna stopped on the steps. Lucas put his hand on her arm.
    â€œWhat would you buy with the money?” he asked.
    Minna shook her head. She thought about plaid skirts and bicycles and cellos. And vibratos. But you couldn’t buy a vibrato.
    â€œI wish,” she began. “I wish I didn’t have to tell my mother and father about this. I won’t tell them. They’ll just make a big fuss.”
    Lucas smiled.
    â€œThat’s nice, a fuss. My parents have never come to hear me play a recital.”
    â€œ That’s nice,” said Minna. “They leave you alone.”
    â€œYes,” said Lucas so softly that Minna almost didn’t hear. He bent down to pat the dog.
    Willie tucked his violin under his chin.
    â€œWhat’s your pleasure?” he called to them. “Happy or sad?”
    â€œWillie?” said Minna.
    â€œYes?” The violin dipped a little as he looked at her.
    â€œWhat would you do with one hundred dollars?”
    Willie looked surprised.
    â€œA question about something other than music?” he asked, smiling.
    Lucas stirred beside her.
    â€œOr two hundred,” he added.
    â€œTwo hundred dollars?” Willie tucked his violin under one arm. “That’s easy. I’d go visit Mama. Back home. She likes to sit on the porch and hear me play. She says it makes her garden grow.” Willie tuned his violin and peered at them. “And you know what? It does.”
    Minna had never thought of a mama for Willie before. But of course everyone had one at one time or another, a mama. She had one.
    Is that why he plays on the street corner? Getting home to Mama? Minna peered up at Willie. How old was he? It was hard to tell. He had curly hair and was tall. He didn’t have any wrinkles or gray hair, so he must be younger than her parents, who were beginning to develop both. Did he live nearby? Did he have brothers or sisters? She closed her eyes as he tuned. She didn’t