I Kill the Mockingbird Read Online Free PDF Page A

this past year.
    Michael takes David Copperfield out of Elena’s hands. “Just so you know, Charles Dickens was more popular than The Wizard of Oz and Harry Potter combined.”
    I glance over the top of To Kill a Mockingbird. “I don’t know about that.”
    “It’s true,” says Michael. “Dickens’s novels came out in monthly installments. Peoplecouldn’t wait for the next chapters to arrive. Mobs would gather at train stations and shipyards so they could be first in line to get the next part of the book.”
    “Mobs?” I say.
    “Hordes. Multitudes. Throngs.”
    “I know what a mob is.”
    “People don’t feel that way about books anymore,” Elena says sadly.
    “Some people do,” I say.
    “Not around here,” she replies.
    “Elena,” I say, “we live aroundhere.”
    “Lucy,” she tells me, “we’re weird.”
    Just then, we hear the umpire’s call from behind home plate. “ STRIKE!” A smattering of applause and cheers makes it clear that the game is over.
    Michael stands. “I don’t mind being weird.”
    He jogs toward the dugout where one of the coaches greets him kindly. I see the man nodding and patting Michael on the back. It looks like things are going towork out baseball-wise. In the meantime, Elena climbs back aboard the tricycle. “You know,” she says, “we should start a mob.”
    “A what?”
    “A horde. A multitude. A throng.”
    I glance up at the blue sky above us. On the horizon, a few puffy clouds look like they might be carrying rain, but right now it’s a perfect summer day. “I know what a mob is. What are we going to do with one?”
    “We will speakfor the books.”
    “Like the Lorax?” When we were little, The Lorax was our favorite Dr. Seuss book.
    “Exactly.”
    “The Lorax speaks for the trees,” I remind her.
    “Books are made out of paper. Paper is made out of trees.”
    “What about e-books?”
    “We can speak for them, too.”
    “Audiobooks?”
    “Audiobooks speak for themselves.” She grins. “Get it?”
    Michael returns to the bleachers. “It’s settled.I’m moving up.”
    “Do you want to be in our mob?” Elena asks him.
    “When did we get a mob?” he says.
    “We don’t have one yet. I’m working on it.”
    Michael turns to me.
    “It’s got something to do with books.”
    “In that case,” says Michael, “I’m in.”
    “You don’t even know what it is,” I tell him.
    He shrugs. “My mom says that ignorance rarely stops anybody from doing anything. I guess she’s right.”

 
    6
    Jesus, Ginger Ale, Norse Gods, and Wiener Dogs
     
    It’s late in the morning, and I can’t remember what day of the week it is. That’s one of the things I love about summer vacation: it doesn’t matter what day of the week it is. I do know it’s a weekday, because Dad is at school. He’s at St. Brigid’s Monday through Friday doing principal stuff all summer long. Meanwhile, Mom’s asleep in achaise lounge on the back porch. She looks quiet and comfortable. Dad will be home for lunch soon, so I let her sleep and head for Mort’s bookshop.
    When I arrive, Mort is speaking with Officer Buskirk on the sidewalk in front of the store. “Morning, Lucy,” says Mort. “How is your mother?”
    “Lots better,” I report.
    Mrs. Buskirk puts her hand on my shoulder. “That’s good news. You give a shoutif you need anything.”
    “Thanks,” I tell her. “We will.”
    Inside, Elena is sitting behind the cash register. She’s got her head buried in a novel while Michael steps out of the storeroom with two big cardboard boxes in his arms. Mort, who follows me into the shop, points Michael toward the counter near the cash register. “Right there will be good.”
    Michael squeezes around tables and chairs coveredwith magazines and books. He finally makes it to the front of the store and drops the boxes onto a chest-high shelf.
    “Lucy,” says Mort, “you’re just in time.”
    With his gray beard and gray hair pulled back into a long ponytail,