Harry Sue Read Online Free

fingers.
    Christopher always said I made the best kind of company when he was inventing because I askedsmart questions. But I could also stay out of the way if need be.
    Even back then I felt like I had time on my hands, waiting as I was for Mary Bell to come back and get me. It would never do to call Granny's Lap home, so I had to get comfortable with other places. And I did. Over the years, I roamed the open spaces of Marshfield with Christopher and, when the weather was bad, I hung around with his mom, Mrs. Dinkins, holding the other end of the sheets as she folded them or being her “go-for-it” girl when her arms were elbow-deep in dough. Where Granny was mad just because I took up space, Ariel and Gerald Dinkins seemed to have room for one more.
    Or at least that's how it seemed. She trimmed my hair and he taught me how to ride using Homer's old bike. She baked me a birthday cake and he sang “Happy Birthday” just like Donald Duck.
    But it's a dangerous thing to call someone else's family your own, Fish. Some part of me refused to let them take the place of Mary Bell. And after what happened to Christopher, it was a good thing I held back.
    Where I loved to be more than anywhere else was Mrs. Mead's garden. Christopher took me there not long after I landed in Marshfield. We didn't go by the road or through our yard to hers—as she lived right next door to Granny—but through the little patch of woods that separated Mrs. Mead's house from the Palmers' house on the other side.
    “Check this out, Harry Sue,” he said, pulling me down on my knees. I looked at the ground and saw a plant with leaves like green butterfly wings. Next to the plant on the ground were what seemed to be shriveled marbles, all caught up in a green string.
    “It's a twin flower,” he said, touching the little marbles carefully. “After it blooms and makes a seed, the stem wraps around the seed and curls it back down toward the earth. Most plants just let go of their seeds, but this here's a plant that doesn't like to take chances.” He smiled at me through the curls that always hung down over his eyes.
    I pressed the seeds to show I was listening, but then I stood up. Something made me want to go forward. That day, I felt no patience for studying such things, so I left Christopher leaning over that plant in wonder, and kept on my way. Farther down the path, I rounded the corner of an old garage and was surprised to come upon Mrs. Mead herself, kneeling over the ground and poking little holes in the earth with her finger.
    “My land, you surprised me,” she said, pulling together the collar of the bathrobe she wore on cold days. I remember that bathrobe. It was heavy and white and made out of some shiny material thatmade it sparkle in the sun. And it seemed like the least practical thing to wear for digging in the dirt.
    “I'm planting the lettuce and the spinach today, Harry Sue,” she said, like she'd known me all my life. “But I do have trouble getting up. Give me a hand, dear.”
    I grabbed her free hand and turned to offer her my good shoulder to lean on.
    “It's a pity I'm not as strong as your granny,” she said, grunting a little on the way up. “Now let's hold it just a minute. Steady.”
    We stayed still like that for a long time so Mrs. Mead could stand on her own without tipping.
    “What a good girl you are! I might have been down there all day.” She took my face in both her hands and kissed me right on the forehead. It left a big wet mark. I wanted to wipe it off, but for some reason I didn't.
    “Now, now, it's not as bad as all that,” said Mrs. Mead, studying my face. “And it will have to do for when I'm not around.”
    None of what she said made any sense, which must be why I always remembered it. But I liked that I could come to her garden if I wanted to. Granny didn't allow much socializing with the neighbors, but in July, when the pole beans and the sunflowers made a forest out of a flat place, I would