Baby Read Online Free PDF Page B

standing there, listening to the rain on the porch roof
    “So?” Lalo said.
    “I’m thinking about poetry,” I said.
    “I knew that,” said Lalo matter-of-factly.
    “And what Ms. Minifred said.”
    Lalo nodded.
    “And I’m thinking about—” I began.
    “The world,” said Lalo.
    I looked at Lalo.
    “Poetry is just words,” I said.
    “That’s all we’ve got,” said Lalo.
    I stared at Lalo. The rain came harder.
    And when I left Lalo and ran up through the wind and rain to my house and opened the door, Mama and Sophie were at the kitchen table, Sophie covered with finger paint, her fingers squishing the red on the white paper. My mother turned, and on her face were tiny finger marks where Sophie had touched her. They had dried there as ifshe had left her marks on Mama forever. They both smiled at me, and Sophie reached out her hands to touch me too.
    Ms. Minifred’s wrong
, I thought, as I left my slicker dripping in the hallway and went to join them.
There are no words for this
.

She remembered the color red: red flowers that bloomed in winter, cold red sunsets, and especially a tiny teardrop of red that glowed like fire in the light. She now wore it around her neck, but when she thought of it she could remember the feel of it in her hand, how her fingers curled around it. Sometimes she opened her hand, expecting to see it there shining in the pocket of her palm
.
    Red had always made her happy
.

chapter 9
    In the night I woke to hear the rain turn to ice, the sound like rocks against the roof and windows. When I slept again I dreamed. I was cold in my dream, so cold that goose bumps rose on my arms, and when I breathed out my breath hung in a cloud of ice. In my dream the fields were ice covered, the sea was frozen, the waves spiking in gleaming glass waves. Far off Sophie was walking away from the island in her red boots.
    “Baby!” I called to her, but she didn’t turn around. She walked across the harbor, around the fishing boats frozen in place.
    “Come back, Baby!” I screamed.
    In my dream Byrd came to stand next to me.
    “Call her by her name,” Byrd said sadly. “Call her Sophie.”
    Tears sat frozen on her cheeks like diamonds. I stared at her, but when I turned back it was too late. Sophie had walked past the breakwater and was gone.
    “La.”
    Fingers poked at my eyes.
    “La.”
    I woke in the darkened room, the dream slipping away. Sophie sat on my bed in her blue woolly pajamas with the feet. Her red boots were next to my pillow.
    “La.”
    Sophie’s cold fingers touched the tears on my cheeks.
    I sat up in bed. The air was cold in my bedroom, though early light shone in along the edges of the window shades. I leaned over and pulled up the shade. Ice sat thick on the inside of the windows. Outside there was ice everywhere, the telephone lines and the roads covered, the trees bending over with the weight. The fields were still and shining, like my dream.
    I pulled Sophie under the covers with me, tucking them around us.
    “Sophie!” Mama called down the hallway.
    “Sophie!” called Sophie, imitating her.
    “There you are,” said Mama in the doorway. “The electricity is off, Larkin. Papa’s making a fire. You’d better stay in bed until we get some heat in the living room.”
    Mama came over close to the bed and looked down at us. Behind her Byrd appeared, dressed in her velvet robe, heavy socks, earrings, and a hat. I smiled.
    “Don’t mention how I look,” warned Byrd.
    “Brrr,” said Sophie, reaching out a hand to her.
    “She said Byrd!” said Mama, smiling at Byrd. “Sophie’s beginning to say more than her name. At last!”
    “Lily! The fire’s ready.” Papa’s voice came from downstairs.
    Mama turned and went down the hallway, pulling her sweater around her.
    Byrd sat on my bed and took Sophie’s hand.
    “Hand,” said Sophie.
    “No school,” Byrd said to me.
    I sighed.
    “No poetry,” I said.
    After a moment I looked at Byrd.
    “What do you know