Mrs. Cronin
Uh-oh. Mrs. Cronin had asked whether Ma and Pa wanted to have a conference. Danielle took out her pencil. She wrote, “no” above Pa’s signature as neatly as she could, what with the bus turning corners and everything. It didn’t look that bad. And Mrs. Cronin wore glasses—maybe she couldn’t see that well. She folded it up.
When Danielle got to her desk, she unfolded just the bottom flap of the note. She showed it to Judy. “Does that look bad?”
“Does what look bad?”
“The ‘no’ above my pa’s name.”
“It looks okay.”
Danielle folded the note again.
“Why’d you write ‘no’ above your father’s name?” asked Judy.
“How’d you know I wrote it?”
“I recognize your handwriting. Besides, it’s in pencil, and your father’s name is in pen.”
“Can I borrow your eraser?” Danielle erased the ‘no,’ but it smudged all yucky because Judy’s eraser was wet from being in her mouth. Oh, well. The starting bell still hadn’t rung, so Danielle went up to the front of the class and handed Mrs. Cronin the note. She held her breath.
Mrs. Cronin didn’t open the note. Instead, she smiled at Danielle and said, “Thank you.”
Danielle wished Mrs. Cronin wasn’t so nice about it.
Again, the day went pretty well. Up till science time, that is. Mrs. Cronin assigned a long-term project. It was due next Thursday—in exactly a week. Everyone had to buy a piece of poster board and draw a volcano, showing the inside and labeling every part. Then they had to write a one-page report on a volcano that had been active this century. Any volcano, anywhere in the world. Because there weren’t enough books on volcanoes in the school library for everyone in the class, they had to go to the public library or look up information on the Internet to do their research.
Well, that wasn’t so bad. And Danielle already had a piece of poster board left over from a project last year.
Danielle took the bus home with Clarissa so that she’d get there quicker and have more time to go to the library to start her research. But when they walked through the back door, Danielle knew something had happened. Rosie didn’t greet them.
Clarissa ran upstairs. Danielle followed.
Ma was lying on her bed asleep. Rosie was nestled beside her in the crook of her arm. A book lay open, facedown, by Ma’s hand: The Best Photographs of Dorothea Lange.
Roger sat on the floor, making designs on his Lite-Brite.
“Why’s Ma sleeping?” Clarissa whispered.
“She’s tired,” said Roger.
“How come?” asked Danielle.
“She found that in her drawer last night.” Roger pointed at a purple square on the floor by the bed. “So she stayed up most of the night taking purple pictures again.” Roger turned his Lite-Brite so they could see. “Look what I did.”
“It’s nice, Roger.” Danielle took Roger by the hand. “Let’s all go outside and play so we don’t bother Ma.”
Clarissa walked over to the bed and peered closely at the purple square. “I think it’s a pot holder.”
“Come on,” whispered Danielle.
They all went outside to play with Rosie, till Pa came home. Then they cooked dinner together, and Pa read to them while Ma sat quietly with one arm around Danielle and the other around Clarissa. Roger perched on her lap. They went to bed early. Danielle didn’t think about her science project at all until she was in bed.
Oh, well. It didn’t matter that much. It was a long-term project, after all. She still had the next six days to work on it.
Angel Talk
What are you doing, little angel?” “I’m almost through. There, see?” The Little Angel of Responsibility pressed her creation flat between her palms.
“What is it?” asked the archangel.
“A bookmark. I made it out of yarn.”
The Archangel of Responsibility held up the bookmark. “It’s very nice. Is this for Danielle to use on the volcano books she checks out?”
“Oh, no. It’s for her mother. I watched that mother for a little while this morning. She loves one of the pictures in her photography book. That’s what she was looking at before she fell asleep. I’m going to stick this in the book so she can find it again fast when she needs to.”
“That’s good of you, little angel. But you’re sidetracked again.”
“I know.” The little angel shrugged one shoulder slightly. “But Danielle’s doing fine. She took her little sister and brother outside to play. That’s about as responsible as a big sister can get.”
“Yes,” said the archangel. “Danielle knows exactly what to do for them.”
The Little Angel of Responsibility smiled. “See?”
“Sometimes you can know what to do for other people but not what to do for yourself.”
The little angel thought about that. “In a way, Danielle’s on her own these days. Maybe she doesn’t really know what to do for herself.”
“I think you’re right. She’s floundering.”
“And I’m supposed to step in to guide her.” The little angel put her leftover yarn in her pocket. She looked up at the archangel earnestly. “I’ll make sure she goes to the library tomorrow.”
“Good start.”
The Library
“Race you home?” asked Kirby.
Danielle threw her backpack over one shoulder. “That sounds good. Ouch!”
“What happened?”
“Something poked me.” Danielle opened her backpack and checked. “It must have been the corner of my ruler.” She rearranged things and took a look at the yellow sheet of paper with the directions for the science project. “I guess I really shouldn’t run with you.”
“Why not?”
“If I ride the bus home, I can get to the library faster and check out a volcano book.”
“Oh, yeah, that. I checked one out yesterday. All right, then, I’ll see you tomorrow morning at track practice, right?” Kirby ran off.
Danielle climbed on the bus. Clarissa was at the rear. When Danielle smiled at her, Clarissa came up and sat by her.
“Want half of my apple?” Clarissa held up a half-eaten apple. It was brown on the bitten side.
“No thanks.”
“Look, Danielle, I’m hungry and it’s not nice to eat in front of people if they’re not eating, but the only other things I have left from lunch are my cookies, and I love them.”
“That’s okay, I’m not hungry, Clarissa. Eat your cookies.”
Clarissa ripped open a four-pack of Oreo cookies and gobbled them.
Danielle remembered how nice it was when she was Clarissa’s age and she brought a lunch box every day. Ma used to put in treats. But this year the girls in her grade were all buying. Danielle didn’t know why they bought—the lunch at school wasn’t great unless it was pizza, and pizza was only once a week—but she didn’t feel like being different. She looked out the window and tried not to smell the Oreo cookies.
When they got home, Ma was cooking soup. “Who wants to help me chop vegetables?”
“I do,” said Clarissa.
“I’m going to the library,” said Danielle.
“Fine. Don’t forget your bike helmet.”
Danielle put on her helmet and rode across town as fast as she could. She locked up her bike and went in. The library’s card catalog had been computerized last year, so Danielle went right to the computer and typed in “volcano” under “subject heading.” There were six titles. She copied down all the call numbers and went searching.
The first book wasn’t there. Neither was the second. Nor the third. None of them were there. That had to be wrong. She went back to the computer and checked the call numbers. They were right. She walked over to the circulation desk. “Excuse me, ma’am.”
“Can I help you?”
“I need to find a book on volcanoes.”
“Who doesn’t?”
“What?”
&n
bsp; The librarian smiled. “More than a dozen children came in yesterday looking for books on volcanoes. They’re all checked out.”
“Oh.” Danielle looked at the list of call numbers in her hand. What was she supposed to do now? She stood there.
“Could I see your list a minute?” The librarian reached for Danielle’s sheet of paper. She typed at the keyboard of her computer. “Two of these books can be found at the Ridley Library. And the Springfield Library has one of them. Plus they have several more books on volcanoes. They’re a much bigger library, you know.”
Ridley was in one direction, and Springfield was in the opposite. But both of them were far enough away that Ma wouldn’t like it if Danielle tried to ride her bike there. And she didn’t know where those libraries were, anyway.
“Oh, dear,” said the librarian, typing quickly. “All of them are checked out—at both libraries. But, look here, there’s a book at the Nether Providence Library. That’s not too far away. Do you want me to request it for you by interlibrary loan?”
“How long does that take?”
“A few days. Certainly not more than a week.”
“I need it fast.”
“I could call and put a hold on it for you. Then you could get someone to drive you there tomorrow to pick it up.”
“Okay. Thank you.”
“What’s your name?”
“Danielle LeFevre.”
“I’ll take care of it. But make sure you go tomorrow. Holds are automatically canceled after twenty-four hours.”
Angel Talk
Did you make the ruler poke Danielle?” asked the Archangel of Responsibility.
“No. I mean, I poked her, but not with the ruler.”
“What did you use?”
“A knitting needle.”
The archangel dropped his chin forward. “A knitting needle? That could hurt.”
“I did it gently. I know just how. I poke the other little angels all the time.”
“Why?”
“You know, it speeds them along when they’re supposed to be working. I’m the Little Angel of Responsibility, after all.”
The archangel scratched the very top of his head again. He looked so funny that the little angel laughed. He smiled. “You didn’t hurt Danielle, or she would have been upset. So I guess that’s okay. Now the job is to make sure she gets to the Nether Providence Library tomorrow.”
“I can poke her parents,” said the little angel.
“That’s a bad idea.” The archangel frowned. “Grown-ups don’t take well to invisible pokes.”
“Well, then, I’ll stick to poking Danielle.”
Away
Saturday morning track training was fun. First, everyone dropped for push-ups. Danielle wasn’t great at push-ups, but she did one more than last week, so that was a positive sign. Then they did jumping jacks. Danielle could jump forever. Then they spread their feet and touched their toes with the opposite hand. Danielle was good at that, too. Finally, they ran. And ran. And ran.
When it was over, Danielle ran home. It wasn’t even lunchtime yet. Ma could easily take her to the Nether Providence Library. Or Pa could. She went inside and rubbed Rosie behind the ears as the dog licked her. Then she walked through the kitchen into the living room.
“Danielle, hi.” Ma stood beside a small suitcase and a pile of photographic equipment.
“What’s going on?”
“I got invited to cover a family reunion at the Darlington estate outside Harrisburg.” Ma beamed. “They called me last night. There will be a regular photographer there, too, taking all the usual kinds of photos. But they added me at the last minute to take whatever shots I want.”
Harrisburg? Harrisburg was the capital of the state. And it wasn’t close. Danielle tapped her sneaker tip against a leg of the tripod. “Today?”
“Actually, it’s tomorrow, but I’m leaving in just a little while because I have to walk all around the estate and get a feel for the place.” Ma opened a paper bag and studied the contents as she talked. “Then I’ll know where to position myself for viewing the different areas where the people will be. They’ve set aside a room for me in their guest house.” She looked up at Danielle. “It’s so exciting.”
“When are you coming back?”
“Late Sunday night or maybe not till Monday. It all depends.”
Danielle’s mouth went dry. Ma had never been away overnight before. “Who’s going to take care of us?”
Ma laughed. “You’re all pretty big now. You can take care of each other. And Pa will be here.”
Danielle listened hard. The house felt empty. “Where are they? Where’s Clarissa and Roger and Pa?”
“Clarissa’s at Shelby’s house, and Roger’s with Pa. They’re buying me film for the Canon.” Ma glanced around, as though checking to make sure everything was there. “And batteries for my new strobe.” She picked up the strobe light and packed it carefully into its case. She took the power pack she had to wear around her waist for it and tucked that in beside the strobe. “Then I’ll be all set.”
Danielle dropped onto the couch. Ma was famous. And now she was leaving them.
But she’d be back. And Pa could handle things. With Danielle’s help.
Ma made little clicking noises with her tongue against the roof of her mouth. She sounded like a sputtering motor. “Is there anything you need before I leave?”
Danielle thought about the volcano book waiting for her at the Nether Providence Library. It seemed like a million miles away. How could she bother Ma with that now? She shook her head.
“Are you sure? Daddy told me about some field trip. Do you need to take a bag lunch on Monday?”
“No. That’s not for a long time.”
“Oh. Do you have a track meet tomorrow? Because I can do a quick laundry if you need your track shirt.”
“No track meets yet, Ma. Anyway, I know how to do the wash.”
Ma smiled. “You’re so grown up, Danielle. You hardly need me at all.”
Angel Talk
The Archangel of Responsibility cocked his head and ran his tongue across his top teeth under his lip. He didn’t look happy. “Are you waiting for something, little angel?”
“What do you mean?”
“I don’t understand why you didn’t poke Danielle to make her speak up. She needs to get the library book or she can’t do her science project.”
“Her mother has too much on her mind,” said the little angel. “Her father can take her to the library.”
“If she tells her father. But what if she doesn’t?”
“I’ll make her,” said the Little Angel of Responsibility.
“Hmmm.”
All Week
Danielle helped Pa do the laundry. Then she played with Roger while Pa worked on a memo for his job. Then the three of them cooked dinner together and watched a video and went to bed. Clarissa spent the night at Shelby’s.
On Sunday Danielle read a book to Roger while Pa read the newspaper. Then Clarissa came home, and everyone went ice-skating at the indoor rink over in Aston. Then Danielle helped make lunch and clean up afterward. Then they raked leaves and shopped for dinner and cooked and read and told stories and went to bed.
When Danielle woke up on Monday, Ma was home. She made everyone breakfast and talked and talked about the weekend.
Danielle had math homework on Monday, but somehow she never managed to do it. The test on Tuesday went badly. Mrs. Cronin told her that if she didn’t start making up all the overdue work, she was going to fail math. Danielle tried her best not to think about it.
On Wednesday she had her weekly spelling test. That wasn’t so bad in spite of the fact that she hadn’t done her homework, because she was such a good speller. But Mrs. Cronin told her that tests were only half her grade for spelling—homework was the other half. Danielle tried her best not to think about that, either.
Danielle didn’t run to school on Monday or Tuesday or Wednesday. And she didn’t run
home. She felt too tired to run. So she took the bus. Maybe she wouldn’t do track this season, after all. She didn’t seem to have the energy.
When she got home each day, Ma was busy in her darkroom or on the phone talking about some new event she’d been hired to photograph. So Danielle watched TV or played with Roger or took Rosie for a walk. Sometimes she felt okay, but mostly she felt lonely. The knot of worry in her stomach never loosened.
And late at night, after her shower, Danielle looked at herself in the mirror and wondered about all the little bruises on her arms. Something had been poking her for the last few days. She felt pokes when she first came home from school, and after dinner, and every time she sat down just to rest. It worried her. Maybe she had a disease. Maybe she would be one big bruise before long.
And Ma would never even notice.
Angel Talk
Your pokes aren’t working.” “I know,” said the little angel. “You said this would be an easy task, but it isn’t easy at all.”
“It might have been easy if you’d kept focused on Danielle right from the start and not gone off making her mother a pot holder and a bookmark.”
“Oh, yeah.” The Little Angel of Responsibility took out her knitting needles and looked at them sorrowfully. “Well, I’m really working hard now, but I can’t figure Danielle out. When I poke her, instead of doing her work, she just rubs the spot I poked.” She clicked her knitting needles together in worry. “Oh, dear. She’s so far behind now, she can never catch up.”
“I bet that’s exactly what she thinks.”
“What can I do? Danielle’s given up. I could poke her a hundred times a day and it wouldn’t do any good.”
The Archangel of Responsibility shook his head. “A hundred times is a bit too much, don’t you think?”
“Then I’m going to try something else,” said the little angel.
“What?”
“I’m not going to tell you, because I don’t think you’ll approve. But I have to try it.”
Running Away Page 2