Broken Wings Read Online Free PDF

in a ponytail. She was sitting on a lawn chair and seemed to be singing to whatever was coming through her earphones. She wore a T-shirt with the sleeves torn off to her shoulders and jeans. I thought the T-shirt was splattered with red paint, until I drew closer and saw the red dots were all connected to form a pair of lips. Underneath it read, Don’t Give Me Any Lip.
    When we made eye contact, she took off her earphones.
    “Quien esta usted?”
    “Excuse me?”
    “I asked you who you were in Spanish. That’s what I’m doing with these earphones, learning Spanish.”
    “Oh.”
    “So?”
    “What?”
    “So who are you, or is that a secret?”
    “My name’s Robin Taylor,” I said, making sure to leave out the Lyn. “My mo… sister and I are staying with a friend for a while.”
    “Quien?”
    “What?”
    “I thought you might have figured it out by now. Who? Quien? Get it?”
    “I don’t speak Spanish,” I said sharply. I was just going to keep going, but she leaped out of her chair.
    “Neither do I. That’s why I’m studying it.”
    “Why?”
    “I’m going to run off to Mexico and live on a beach and drink tequila and not care what time it is, ever,” she vowed. I guess I looked pretty skeptical. “I am!” she insisted. She looked back at the front door of her apartment. “I’m tired of my stepmother telling me what to do, what to wear, what to eat. My father never says anything. She’s got him wrapped around her you-know-what.”
    This time I smiled.
    “Quien esta usted?” I asked, and she broke into a wide smile.
    She had a round face that made her dark brown eyes look too small. Heavy boned, she looked a good twenty pounds overweight. It gave her a more matronly look, especially with her big bosom and wide hips. I imagined that when she said her stepmother was telling her what to eat, she was trying to get her to lose weight.
    “Mi nombre es Kathy Ann Potter. And I’m warning you now, don’t call me Pothead,” she said with a face bracing for a fight. Then she smiled again. “So, who is your friend?”
    “Friend?”
    “Who are you and your sister living with?”
    “Oh. Cory Lewis.”
    “The vampire? That’s what my stepmother calls him because he’s out all night and sleeps all day.”
    “Musicians usually do,” I said, “and so do singers. My sister is a singer in his band, or will be.”
    “Peachy keen,” she quipped. “Where are you going?”
    “I don’t know. Just for a walk.”
    “Forget it. There’s no place to go around here. You’ve got to get into the city. You wanna go to Stumpin‘ Jumpin’ with me and my friend Charlotte Lily tonight?”
    “What’s that?”
    “A dance club. You got to be twenty-one, but we can get in. Lots of college boys go there.”
    “Twenty-one? How are we going to pass for that?”
    “Charlotte Lily’s sister’s boyfriend is one of the security guards. Lots of kids under twenty-one get in.” She glanced at her watch.
    “Can you meet me here in about an hour? We’ll take the bus and meet my best friend, Charlotte Lily, downtown by the Tennessee Fox Trot.”
    I smiled in amazement. Talk about someone making friends fast, I thought. For all she could know, I was a serial killer.
    “Well?”
    “An hour?”
    “You need more time to dress?” she asked. “You’re not going out in just a pair of jeans and a shirt like that with sneakers, are you?”
    “Oh, no. What do you wear to this, what did you call it, Somethin‘ Jumpin’?”
    “
Stumpin‘
Jumpin’.” She smiled. “Something sexier,” she replied. “It’s very hot.”
    “What’s the other place? What did you call it, Tennessee Fox Trot?”
    “Oh, the carousel at Riverfront Park.” She tilted her head with suspicion. “For people coming here to be in music, you sound like you don’t know anything about Nashville.”
    “I don’t,” I said. “Except it’s the home of the Grand Ole Opry, where my sister intends to sing.”
    “Oh, sure, her and about two