They Call Me Crazy Read Online Free PDF

tough when he has to, but he knows now when to use honey and when to use vinegar. People can change. Benny is proof of that.
    “Fine. How’s Grace?”
    “Doing just fine. Thanks for asking.”
    I’ve said my few sentences, and I want to get moving before I’m stopped by any of my students’ parents. I hate impromptu parent conferences. It’s Saturday, and I don’t want to think about work. I glance at my watch. Benny notices and moves to the side, giving me free passage.
    I start to walk away then stop and say, “Benny, you look really nice in your uniform. You’ll make a great sheriff.” It can’t hurt to be on the right side of the chief of police.
    His face lights up like one of those slot machines at the Downstream. I smile, knowing I’ve done my good deed for the day, and continue down the aisle to load food in my basket so I can get out of there.
    The parking lot is beginning to fill, and I’m thankful I didn’t take those extra minutes in bed. Packages loaded, I start my Honda and back out of my space, barely missing Beth Harper as she waddles behind me. She’s still talking on her cell phone, not paying any attention to the cars in the lot. She shoots me a stare that would freeze fire. I smile and wave. Kill them with kindness .
    I start to turn right onto Military Avenue but change my mind and head left when I spot Roland’s blue pickup heading in the direction of my house. The clock on my dashboard reads 9 a.m. Maybe he was just running late. He has a second job he works on the weekends and most weeknights. Fat Tina’s stays busy until the early morning hours, but if there’s trouble, Roland will stick around and help out.
    “Damn.” I should have left the coffee on, just in case.
    I follow the familiar truck with its gun rack in the back window and the red, white, and blue sticker on the tailgate that boldly proclaims “These Colors Don’t Run.” As the truck pulls into the center lane to turn down Fourteenth Street, I pass, toot my horn, and wave, throwing my best smile toward the driver. My smile fades when I see that it isn’t Roland driving at all. It’s her .
    Cass flips her middle finger without even turning to see who honked. I grip the steering wheel with both hands as I continue down Military, wondering how Roland has put up with her for all these years.
    Cass was in the seventh grade when she decided she would one day marry Roland. We were sitting at Grandma Babe’s kitchen table, waiting for a peach cobbler to cool. Cass had wanted cherry, but Grandma made peach, saying it would help our concentration while we did our homework.
    “Cherry’s for love,” Grandma Babe said.
    Cass shrugged. “I’m almost thirteen. I’m going to be needing some cherry sooner or later.” She looked down at herself. Her hand-me-down clothes from Lola hung on her childlike frame. She pulled the top of her shirt out and eyed her chest. “Probably quite a bit.”
    Grandma Babe gave her a playful nudge. “You worried about love, girl? I can tell you all about that.” She went to her bedroom and came back with a worn deck of Tarot cards. She laid them out on the table and had Cass cut the deck.
    Grandma Babe flipped the top card over: a man standing between two women. “See? The Lovers. You are meant to be in love.”
    Cass pointed to the second woman. “Who’s that, Grams?”
    She winked at her. “That’s the matchmaker. Probably me.”
    Cass giggled. “Well, who is he, Grams? Tell me.”
    I don’t remember how they eventually concluded that it was Roland, but after flipping several more cards, they did. I was too interested in that first one to pay any more attention. A man dressed in green stood between two women who were holding hands in front of him. Above, a mischievous cupid was readying to pierce him with an arrow. I didn’t know why it mesmerized me then, but I think I have it figured out now.
    Cass told everyone at school about her Tarot reading. They all laughed at her