Penny from Heaven Read Online Free Page B

yours?”
    Scarlett O’Hara is sitting on the porch, looking out at the squirrels in the backyard. All at once a large puddle forms at her feet.
    “Scarlett!” I say, but it’s too late. She blinks up at me and wags her tail.
    “Out of here, mutt,” Pop-pop says, holding the door open and glaring at Scarlett O’Hara.
    “Go on, Scarlett,” I say, and she bolts out after a squirrel.
    Scarlett loves chasing other animals. Anytime she senses another creature, she goes after it. Once she chased a chipmunk all around the house before scaring it into running up the chimney, which Mother didn’t think was very clever but I thought was pretty funny, especially when the chipmunk came back down all covered in soot and ran around the parlor.
    “Pop-pop,” I ask, “do you think something’s wrong with Scarlett O’Hara?”
    “She’s an old dog,” he says.
    Scarlett O’Hara’s almost fifteen, which I guess is old in dog years, although she sure doesn’t act old. My father gave my mother Scarlett O’Hara when she was just a puppy, but now she’s my dog. Mother says that when I was a baby, Scarlett would bark whenever I cried.
    “What does that have to do with tinkling on the floor?” I ask.
    He groans and stands up. “When you get old, sometimes your innards stop working the way they should.”
    “Does that mean she’s going to die?”
    “We’re all going to die,” he says. “I’m planning on dropping dead next week. That way I don’t have to wear a necktie to that social with your grandmother.”
    We paint together for a while, and then Me-me comes out to the porch with meat loaf sandwiches and lemonade. I don’t like meat loaf to begin with, and Me-me’s meat loaf is dry and crusty. Pop-pop starts right in on his sandwich, but when I try to take a bite of mine, my stomach gives a little flip. All this talk of dying is getting to me. Either that or it’s the meat loaf. It’s hard to say.
    I pull the lucky bean out of my pocket. It doesn’t look very lucky. I think of my dream. Would my father have died if he’d had this bean? I know he got sick and was taken to the hospital and died there, but no one on either side of the family ever really talks about what was wrong with him.
    “Pop-pop, what did my father die from?” I ask.
    “What? What?” he sputters.
    “I just thought you might know, is all.”
    “How would I know?” he asks with a huff. “Do I look like a doctor?”
    Before I can say anything, the squirrel Scarlett O’Hara’s been chasing runs in through the open screen door and starts racing around the enclosed porch, with Scarlett right behind it. Scarlett streaks by the desk, smearing black paint all along her side.
    “Penny, get that blasted dog out of here!” Pop-pop hollers.
    “Scarlett O’Hara,” I call. I lunge for her, but she outmaneuvers me, and my foot catches in the rug.
    And that’s when I go tumbling headfirst right into the can of paint.

    “Oh, Penny,” Me-me says with a sigh.
    We’re in the upstairs bathroom, hers and Pop-pop’s. Leaky toilet aside, I’ve always liked it better. It’s bigger than mine and Mother’s. The bathtub has great big claw feet and it’s deep, so deep that you can almost disappear in it when there are bubbles.
    Me-me’s looking over my shoulder into the mirror on the wall. One chunk of my hair has a swipe of black paint on it that even the turpentine won’t take out. Me-me is going to shave down Scarlett O’Hara where she got paint on her fur, but she doesn’t know what to do with me.
    “You have such pretty hair,” she says, touching my curls. “Your mother’s hair looked the same way when she was a girl.”
    It was burned by a perm? I want to say. Instead, I say, “Maybe I can try soaking it for a while.”
    She runs a big bath, pours in some bubbles, and I slip out of my clothes and get into the tub, leaning back against the high white rim. I close my eyes as Me-me soaps up my hair, her fingers strong. It feels