A Town Called Prairie: Chapter Eight

Chapter Eight:

Rain Spreads Secrets As Fast As Any Wildfire

         A really long time ago, I played Cello in the school band, back when Hillside had a band. The cello was bigger than me so before concerts, I could hear parents in the audience wonder where the cellist was, and I heard them joke “oh they shouldn’t be late they might get kicked out of band” or “Wow there’s an invisible cellist in the band? Remarkable!”

Add that to the reasons why I’m trying out for the play in George’s Creek.

~~~~

I was being shoved about the hallways like a fish in the sea when I tumbled through a door and onto the front steps of school my backpack went flying in one way and myself and my binder went the other way. As I tried to get up, the sky opened and it started pouring rain, soaking my small frame and my backpack with all my schoolbooks in it. Pulling it toward me, I slung the backpack over my shoulder and moped down the stairs and down the street to walk home.

~~~~

It was not a good day for me. Mr. Martin moved me to the back of the classroom so now I was sitting behind the impossibly tall Leonardo. I couldn’t see over his shoulders so I spent all of class scribbling little doodles n my notebook. The place I usually sat at lunch had been taken over by a group of girls I had never seen before, so I had to sit right next to the cafeteria line where everyone was walking past. People kept kicking my backpack and stepping on it until I moved it onto the bench next to me. I got a C on my math test and I got a random nosebleed during PE, but everyone thought I was a poser and faking it when I got sent to the nurse’s office, which probably explains why those girls took my lunch spot…

And then there’s me getting pushed out the front door of school and the pouring rain and then having to walk home soaking wet.

Not a good day.

~~~~

Once I had gotten home and dried off, I got a snack from the kitchen and headed to my room to do my homework. I was in the zone, whipping through my homework when I heard my mom come through the front door and gasp.

“Lauren! Get a bucket!”

I jumped off my bed and ran to the top of the stairs and saw the giant puddle that was soaking into the wooden floorboards and into the basement. Not good…

I ran down the stairs and got towels from the linen closet and a bucket from the garage. When I got back to the entry hall, my mom was already placing pots where water was dripping from the ceiling. I tossed her the bucket and went to putting the towels on the wet spot. I walked around and tried to soak up all the water. My mom looked at me with an exasperated face. “This was the last thing I wanted to happen.” She sighed. “Can you check the upstairs for any leaks?”

“Yeah,” I jogged back up the stairs and went through all the rooms, looking for wet spots in the ceiling or on the floor.

Finding none, I headed for the attic, taking the ladder and walking along the worn plank to my makeshift desk and over to my wall of hand drawn pictures. I scanned the wall and noticed a line of the pictures, of summer scenery and people in the wheat fields, was wet and runny. I took them off the wall and laid them across some of the other planks to let them dry. They were ruined, but could still possibly be saved.

I kept walking along the line and saw one of the eye pictures I had kept was getting water dripped on it. I took the picture off the wall and laid it next to the ones on the plank. I searched for where the water was coming from and found the source, high up in the rafters. I headed back downstairs for a bucket to catch the water, closing the ladder behind me. I didn’t want my mom going up there and discovering all the pictures.

I sped back upstairs and up to the attic before the water could start leaking into the top story of the house. I looked around the small attic space and went back downstairs.

“David, the money’s running out, we both know that. How are we going to fix the roof? When the snow comes who knows what’s going to happen? I don’t know what to do David; there are no jobs anywhere near here. I’ve been searching forever,” I heard her lean on the counter. “I don’t know what to do, I don’t want to give up the house, I know how much it means to you, and Lauren won’t know anyone if we move.”

I don’t know anyone now… I thought.

“I don’t want to move away from Prairie David, but it seems that’s the only thing we can do. My mom lives in Chicago, that’s the only place I think we can go.”

But what about grandpa? He lives across the street!

“We’ll talk when you get home, when Lauren’s asleep. Ok, love you, bye.” She hung up the phone and I dashed quietly up the stairs. I was in my room working on my homework when my mom came upstairs.

She quietly opened the door and stuck her head in and smiled gently and tiredly when she saw me working on my homework. “How was your day honey?”

“Good,” I replied, looking up from my work. “How was yours?”

“The usual.” She shrugged minutely. “Long lines and no answers whatsoever.”

“It’ll get better.” I encouraged her. “Something will come along.”

She sighed. “I just hope sooner rather than later.” She was about to close the door when I asked, “Did you really almost move to Arizona with Isaac Cade?”

She put her head back into the room. “Why?”

“I’m just wondering.”

“No, I didn’t. He wanted me to come, but I refused.” Her voice caught in her throat. “He tried to kidnap me.”

I was shocked. Edward’s dad tried to kidnap my mom? What the-

“You can’t tell anyone, Florentine.” Her eyes looked watery, “no one knows, not even your father. You have to promise me Florentine, promise.”

“I promise.”

My mind was reeling after the door closed at the thought of my mom almost being kidnapped by someone who had only known her for a few days.

What a psychopath.

I have to tell Edward.