Into the Free Read Online Free PDF Page B

Sloth’s body in a clean white sheet and move him to the barn.

     
    Mr. Sutton arranges for the undertaker to bury Sloth in the field next to his wife, the one who died so young. It isn’t common to have a burial on Sunday, but Mr. Sutton is the kind of man who gets things done right away.
    Mama, Mr. Sutton, his housekeeper, and I stand under the pin oak and watch the simple wooden box slip under the earth. Four men lower Sloth’s casket with ropes. I drop three dogwood blooms into the hole—one for Sloth, one for his wife, and one for me. Mama sings
    Sometimes I’m up, and sometimes I’m down,
    Coming for to carry me home,
    But still my soul feels heavenly bound,
    Coming for to carry me home.
     
    We all bow our heads to pray, and Mr. Sutton calls Sloth a “good man.”
    I stand still and quiet. Tears trace my cheeks. Mama doesn’t hold my hand, or give me a hug, or say it will be all right. She just waits for it all to end and then walks back home alone in silence. There’s been no sign of Jack since he put a knife to Mama last night, and now Mama is going back to the valley.
    Mr. Sutton pays the men and returns to the big house. I spend another night under the stars, curled between tree roots by Sloth’s grave, and once again Mama doesn’t bother trying to find me.
    In the morning, I wake to King’s sunrise cries and know that no matter how much I want it to stop, the earth will go right on turning. I have no choice but to move right along with it. I walk down the hill to Sloth’s house, collect six brown eggs, give King a tsk, tsk , and go home to boil four eggs for Mama and me. Then I walk across the yard to the gravel lane, on to the paved streets, past the rodeo arena, and finally to the brick schoolhouse where my classmates seem to be years younger than I am, even though my tenth birthday is still five days away. I think about the song Mama sang at Sloth’s grave and whisper a verse to myself, hoping to heaven that Sloth hears me. “If I get there before you do, I’ll cut a hole and pull you through.” All the way to school, I watch the sky and hope I see a big hole where the sun’s supposed to be.

CHAPTER 5
     
    More than a week has passed since Jack pinned Mama to the ground with a knife to her neck, and he’s due back in town today. At least that’s what it says on his rodeo schedule, tacked to the kitchen pantry. Mama has spent most of the time in bed, but now she’s in the kitchen humming along to “Rhapsody in Blue.” She stirs red beans and rice for Jack’s supper. It’s the first time she’s cooked since he left, and I can’t figure out if she really wants him to come back, or if she’s just afraid not to have supper ready if he does.
    I stay in my room, staring at the family portrait that hangs framed above my bed. In it, Jack is sitting with his arm around Mama. They are tucked close together like petals on the same bloom. In Mama’s arms, I’m wrapped snug in a little blanket she knitted just for me. Mama’s looking straight at the camera, smiling big in her flowered dress and polished pearls. Jack wears his cowboy hat. He’s looking down at me, and I’m looking at him, and it’s easy to see it there. Love. Plain as plain can be.
    “Millie?” Mama calls me from the kitchen. I don’t answer. As happy as I am to find Mama out of bed cooking, I walk right past her and go outside to prop myself against my sweet gum tree. From there, I keep a close eye on Mama. Sometimes she gets so deep into the music, she forgets all about the cooking. I worry she will melt her skin to blisters.
    I scoot up Sweetie’s limbs and watch the sky. I figure Sloth can see me better from up here, but still—no hole. Just as I reach my favorite spot, a gang of skinny boys in overalls runs by yelling, “The gypsies are coming! The gypsies are coming!”
    The boys, barefoot with dirtbeads ringing their necks, don’t slow down. While they are yelling to the chickens and the farmhands, I tuck my