Drummer Boy Read Online Free PDF Page A

of melting sludge, gravel and sand that wouldn’t be cleared off the streets for weeks yet. Every building looked decrepit and neglected. The evergreens were black shrouds. The barren trees were ugly leafless sticks. Where was spring?
    She needed spring! Craning her head, she groaned in irritation.
    Candy’s car was nowhere in sight. And she had promised not to be late this time.
    Good grief, you’re such an eight-year-old . Try to focus on the good, will you? She used to be pretty good at that, but for some reason, the ability had withered as if crushed at the same time as her hand and arm. With these dismal thoughts, she paced the sidewalk, all too aware of the ever-increasing blackness of her mood and the sky.
    If Candy didn’t show up soon, the clouds would break and she’d be drenched. Which would just be perfect.
    “Hey!” A cheerful greeting made her jump. She turned.
    Sarah’s uncle grinned. A wild puppet drummer, twirling drumsticks above his head, roared from underneath Tim’s unzipped sweatshirt.
    Jane couldn’t help smiling back at Tim—and his shirt. “Hey yourself,” she said.
    Tim looked around, as if surprised to catch her alone. “So what brings you here?
    She shrugged. “Nothing good. Physio. Boring.”
    “Do you have time for a coffee? Or a juice? Something?”
    “No, I don’t think so. Sorry.”
    Tim looked around again. “Need a ride somewhere?”
    “Nah. Thanks, though. Candy’s bound to be here soon. She’s usually super dependable. Probably just caught up with something at work.”
    “How’s it going for you not working?” Tim asked.
    Jane frowned. “I hate it. How’d you know to ask something like that?”
    “You seem to have a lot of energy, and Sarah said you loved your job. It’s not rocket science that you’re probably going a bit stir crazy.”
    Of course it wasn’t. It was actually a pretty banal question. Exactly the kind of thing you asked someone you don’t know well, when you’re trying to stay away from the obvious—her ugly arm—and you don’t want to just stand there awkwardly. Still most people asked way more annoying questions than that. Or said way more stupid things. Her favorite being: “You must be enjoying the time off,” like recuperating was some big fabulous holiday.
    Tim, at least, got points for not being an idiot.
    Wow, she was grouchy. She tried to rein it in and pulled her phone out of her pocket to check the time. Candy was fifteen minutes late. She was about to text, when her phone vibrated, and Candy’s number popped up on the display. Jane shrugged at Tim apologetically and answered the phone.
    “I’m so sorry,” Candy exclaimed in a rush. “I’m in the middle of something here, and I totally forgot—I can be there in five minutes.”
    Jane cut a glance at Tim, but spoke to Candy. “Are you sure you’re done with whatever it is you’re doing, or would you be going out of your way to get me?”
    Candy paused. “Of course not. It’s fine. I said I’d get you, and—”
    “No, don’t worry about it. A friend happens to be here. He can drop me off.”
    “Are you sure?”
    “Definitely.”
    “All right—and thanks.”
    “No, thank you. Hopefully I’ll be able to drive again soon, so I can stop being one more thing you have to balance.”
    “Don’t be silly. I don’t mind a bit.”
    “I know you don’t. I do, though. And I’ll think of something for dinner.”
    “Great. Perfect, actually,” Candy said. “Gotta run.”
    Jane hung up and wrinkled her nose at Tim. He bobbed his head, wordlessly asking what was up. He was a bit like the pit bull puppy Jane had very briefly as a kid—all shorn hair and muscle and a cute expression of constant happy anticipation of whatever might be ahead.
    “Does the coffee offer still stand?” she asked.
    “Absolutely.”
    She fell into step beside him, pleased again.
    He hadn’t asked if she needed him to bring the car over or some other lame thing.
     
    ****
     
    Jane’s