A Tinfoil Sky Read Online Free PDF Page A

left on the front tire by the driver’s side, under the frame. This way, whoever came back first had a safe place to wait. In particular, it was for Mel. Cecily was rarely home until late.
    Most mornings Mel went to the library, and most days the teenage boy she’d seen peering from the librarywindow could be found reclining on a couch or chair somewhere. Mel came up with a little game of predicting what section she might see him in. He was almost always asleep, and so she gave him the nickname Sleeping Beauty. Once she’d found him, she made a point of
not
walking directly past him.
    Instead, Mel walked up and down the long aisles as though she was selecting books to take home. It reminded her of her favorite years, when things had been pretty good. Cecily hadn’t been drinking and had a job waiting tables in a café – and she always managed to bring something home from the café for Mel’s lunch. On Friday nights, Cecily would take Mel to the library and they’d check out a movie. And even though there had never been quite enough money, the library had been a place where Mel felt rich. That had been one of the few times Mel remembered when she had begun and finished a school year in the same class.
    Cecily had always chosen books filled with pictures of interesting and beautiful places. Mel loved to curl up in a chair with her and they’d dream about visiting them all. Cecily told her they just needed a lucky break. “It’ll happen, Mel,” she often said. “One day we’ll be singing
all
over the world; we’ll be famous.”
    Mel also went to the Mission Soup Kitchen everyday for lunch. It was her only real meal of the day. But now she approached the soup kitchen from the opposite direction and waited until everyone else went in. She’d quickly glance up at the library window to make sure Sleeping Beauty wasn’t watching, and then slip into the mission.
    Sometimes Rose peeked her head into the dining room, found Mel in the crowd, nodded, and went back into the kitchen. Always, Fearless left his spot on the window ledge and pranced over to Mel and curled up on her lap. If Mel was on her own, Rose packed up a to-go container for Cecily. Some days, Rose sat down at the table with her. She didn’t ask questions. Mel liked that. Most days, Mel ate and left before everyone else had returned to the street.
    If Cecily wasn’t outside the soup kitchen when Mel came out, which happened more often than not, Mel walked back to the Pinto, but not before stopping to sing on the corner of Olive and Fifth. There she could be assured of making at least five dollars, sometimes fifteen, in an hour. And she’d noticed that some people were becoming regulars – they didn’t just give her money; often they would compliment her singing or ask how her day was going. But there was one creepy guy; he would go by three or four times. The first time, Mel took his money.But when he showed up again minutes later, she’d figured him out, and she made a point of always looking in another direction.
    She didn’t tell Cecily about the singing, or the money. Instead, she hid the cash under the front passenger seat floor mat. When the time was right, and there was enough money, Mel would tell her. They’d get the car fixed and then go where there was work – anywhere.
    Today had started out like most days. But after Mel stepped out from the soup kitchen door, something felt different. The sky had turned from light blue to a dark gray. The air was humid, and the first spits of rain were splattering on the sidewalk. The whole scene hinted of a torrential downpour. Cecily was probably back at the car.
    As Mel ran, the rain began to pound down. With each crack of lightening, she ran faster, counting the seconds between the rumbling thunder and the light that followed. Her wet jeans tightened and stuck to her legs; the small patches of dry skin behind her knees began to sting. Her feet slipped in her flip-flops, causing her to trip and lose