Glory Girl Read Online Free Page B

voices.’ She said, ‘It does me good to know there’s one Christian family left in the world that—’” He broke off.
    Anna said, “Dad, he’s waiting.”
    Mr. Glory struck the nearest wall with his fist and looked up at the ceiling. Then, like a balloon losing air, he sank down onto a chair. “And now, just when it’s all beginning to happen for us, Newt gets a parole.”
    “Dad, he’s waiting.”
    Mr. Glory shook his head. “It’s the end of everything.”
    Anna looked at her mother, her sister. No one moved.
    Anna went back and picked up the phone. “Uncle Newt, it’s me again, Anna. Dad can’t come to the phone right now. You want me to have him call you back? … I will. Good-bye.”

The Bow-Legged Bank Robber
    “T ELL ME EVERYTHING YOU remember about Uncle Newt,” Anna said.
    “I don’t remember anything.”
    “Angel, you do. Look at me. You always go around pretending you don’t know what’s going on, and you do! You know every single thing that happens in this family.”
    After the telephone call Mr. Glory had sent everyone out of the living room so he could think. Now Angel and Anna were in their bedroom with the door shut. They could hear their father pacing back and forth on the worn rug, pausing as he reached the wall and turned. He was puffing so hard on a cigarette that they could smell smoke in their bedroom.
    “Well, what can you remember?”
    “Nothing.”
    “Leave your hair alone for five seconds. Now look at me and tell me what you remember.”
    “There’s really nothing to tell. Uncle Newt wasn’t tall and he wasn’t short. He wasn’t good-looking and he wasn’t ugly. His hair wasn’t dark and it wasn’t light.”
    She waved her comb from side to side as she spoke, pointing to opposite walls. “He was the kind of man—well, like if he had kids, his kids would never run around wondering, ‘Can I be better than Pa?’ You know, like we used to wonder if we could turn out better than Mom? Because there’s nothing to be better than !”
    Anna drew in her breath. She felt as if she herself had just been described. She’s not tall and she’s not short, and she’s not pretty and she’s not ugly, and no one will ever run around wondering, “Can I be better than Anna?” because everybody can.
    “That’s a terrible way to describe somebody,” she said, stung.
    “This is why I never want to tell you anything. You jump on everything I say.”
    “Well, it’s sad to describe people in negatives. He’s not this. He’s not that.”
    “What else are you going to do when there’s nothing positive?”
    Anna’s shoulders sagged. “I don’t know.”
    Angel watched Anna. “Oh, all right, I just thought of something. When Uncle Newt robbed the bank—Anna, you have to remember that.”
    “I don’t.”
    “Everyone was so ashamed. Mom wouldn’t show her face in the Piggly Wiggly. She went clear to Anderson to buy groceries where nobody knew her.”
    Anna shook her head. “I can just barely remember it.”
    “Well, when Uncle Newt robbed the bank—it was First Federal—he took this fellow with him who had real bowed legs— real bowed—you could have thrown a basketball through his knees. And the bank got the whole robbery on video tape.”
    “So?”
    “So Uncle Newt and this man, they had on ski masks so nobody would recognize them, but when they walked out of the bank—still on camera—there were these legs!” Angel made a wide gesture in the air with her comb.
    “What about it?”
    “Anna, nobody in the bank could have described Uncle Newt. There was nothing to describe. If he hadn’t taken the bowlegged man along—well, they would never have gotten caught. If he’d taken somebody else—well, they could have turned out to be …” She paused. “Name me some famous bank robbers.”
    “Bonnie and Clyde.”
    “They could have turned out to be Bonnie and Clyde.”
    “How do you know all this?”
    “I listened, and I remember there was a picture in