It looked much more old-fashioned.
The mouse—who Stewie seemed to recall was a boy mouse—was wearing what looked like a dress, or a long dressing gown, and appeared to be trying to climb a rope. Or pull one down. The cover was made with some kind of tan fabric on it, and it had a couple of light spots, as though somebody had accidentally dropped bleach on it over the years.
“Why is this one supposed to be better?” he asked her.
As he spoke, he realized he had gotten closer to her than he’d meant to go.
“It’s an original edition. The original editions are always more sought after.”
“I don’t know what that means.”
“It means people want them more.”
“Well, not this person. I like the one with the mouse rowing a canoe down the river. It looks nicer to me.”
“You’re welcome to keep that one if you like it better.”
“Thank you,” he said.
Then, owing to his embarrassment and his sudden inability to hold still, he went back to sweeping nothing.
She watched for a moment in silence. Then she said, “It all looks pretty well swept to me.”
Stewie held still and leaned on the end of his broom again, feeling his face flame red. He did not answer.
“I think I know why you’ve been upset,” she said. “Why you’ve been avoiding me.”
He glanced at her for a split second, but only at the very edge of his vision, where he hoped she wouldn’t see. Again, he didn’t answer. He didn’t dare.
“I think you can’t read.”
“That’s just not true!” he shouted. “Why would you say a thing like that? I can so read! I just can’t read everything. Nobody my age can read everything. Right? It was just hard, that book. It’s not my fault if it was hard. You shouldn’t come around here accusing me of being bad at a thing like that.”
“You do it to me all the time.”
“How do I do that to you?”
“You come around all the time and remind me that I can’t be trusted to look after a little girl. That I’ll forget something. Flood the house or burn it down or cause some other tragic accident.”
“I was only trying to help! I didn’t want anything terrible to happen to you. This is different. Nothing terrible happens if you can’t read.”
She said nothing. Absolutely nothing. For the longest time. When he could stand no more silence, he braved a look at her face. Then he immediately wished he hadn’t. She pitied him. It was right there in her eyes. And there was nothing worse than pity aimed in your direction. Stewie had always thought so.
“Do you really think that? Oh, son. Everything bad happens if you can’t read. It follows you and holds you back your whole life. You want to get a job, so you go in to apply and they hand you a long application to fill out. How will you fill it out? How can you answer questions when you can’t even read them to know what questions they are? Or you learn to drive, but then you’re trying to find your way around in a world of street signs. Why, I can’t think of anything much more terrible than that.”
“It was just a hard book,” he said. Quietly.
While he waited for her to answer, he toyed with the idea that she really did mean to help him. That maybe her intentions were as pure as his had been when he checked her bathtub and her hose and her stove burners. It caused a funny buzz in his chest to think she might care. Still, he couldn’t help thinking she could help him more by leaving this sore subject alone.
“I looked it up,” she said. “The age recommendations for the book. Not before I bought it, I’m ashamed to say, but before I came over here. It’s supposed to be a good book for kids as young as eight.”
Stewie leaned his broom against the wall and sank down onto the floor with a thump.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “It wasn’t my intention to embarrass you.”
“Well, you did anyway,” he said, and set his face in his open hands. Even though they were dirty from cleaning out the henhouse.
“I’m sorry. I just can’t help wondering why your teachers didn’t notice.”
“Oh, they notice.”
“And then why they don’t pass their observations on to your pa—” She stopped herself before the word came fully out of her mouth. “Sister.”
“They ask her to come in for conferences, but she works nights and sleeps during the day. She doesn’t have time for that.”
“And then they move you up from grade to grade without basic reading proficiency skills? That’s unconscionable.”
“You just used a lot of big words,” he said, his voice sounding despondent to his own ears. “And I didn’t understand half of them. But if you’re saying they should’ve held me back and made me repeat grades, well, that’s sure no favor to me, ma’am.”
“I’m saying they should have taught you to read. Why, I have half a mind to take it up with somebody at your school. But . . . okay. Maybe not. I saw the look on your face just now when I said that. Anyway, now that it’s out in the open, I’m hoping you’ll come back around and help keep my babysitting safe.”
“I guess I could. But you have to stop bringing this up.”
“I was thinking just the opposite.”
“The opposite doesn’t sound very good to me, ma’am.”
“Let me finish. I was thinking I could read the book to you, the way you asked me to. And then maybe after a while we could go through and you could look at the words on the page and tell me which ones you know and which ones you don’t. And maybe you’d get a little better that way. How does that sound?”
“Sounds like homework, ma’am.”
“You said everybody likes having a book read to them.”
“I did say that.”
“Maybe we’ll just start with that and push all that other stuff down the road.”
“What road?”
“It’s only a figure of speech.”
“Oh. Well . . . yeah, I guess that would be okay.”
He pulled to his feet and they walked out of the henhouse together. It was heavy dusk now, later than he realized. Stacey would want him in for dinner soon.
“I’m going to go home now,” she said. “But I hope you’ll come by tomorrow.”
“How will you get home? Do you have to walk?”
“Yes, but I don’t mind. Will you come tomorrow?”
“Okay. But wait. Don’t go yet. I have to get you your eggs.”
He sprinted away from her in the fading light.
He burst into the bright kitchen and past Stacey, who was stirring a steaming pot of some kind of pasta. He opened the fridge and pulled out a carton of eggs.
“Dinner in five minutes,” she said.
“That’s fine. I’ll be right back. I just have to go give Marilyn her eggs.”
“She’s here? What’s she doing here?”
But Stewie dashed out the door without answering.
She was waiting for him in the last light of the day, her shoulders looking stooped. It gave her a discouraged look. It made her look the way Stewie felt.
“You sure you’ll be okay walking home?” he asked her, and handed her the eggs. “Maybe I should walk you.”
“That won’t be necessary,” she said. “But thank you.”
“But it’s almost dark.”
“And your sister will want you in for dinner. I have a little flashlight in my pocket.”
“Oh,” Stewie said. “Then I guess that’s okay.”
“I owe you four dollars.”
“No, ma’am,” he said. “This one is free.”
“The last one was free. Can you afford that?”
“It’s fine,” he said. “Just take them. I have plenty of eggs.”
“Well, then . . . thank you.”
He stood for a long time, watching her walk back to the road in the gathering dark. She turned on the little flashlight when she got to the end of his driveway, and he watched the circle of its light bounce up and down along the road.
Then he went inside for dinner, grateful that Stacey and Theo had not heard anything they’d discussed.
Chapter Fourteen
Float
Marilyn
Marilyn stood at the edge of the playground, looking at the entrance to the school.