Rorey's Secret Read Online Free Page B

kitchen a few times, trying to look useful, and then went out and sat on the back porch. Finally, after quite a while, she hollered, “He’s here!”
    She must have meant Franky, of course, but she didn’t say so. I glanced out the window and was immediately glad I did. Franky’s limp looked far worse than usual. He was hurt, I could tell.
    I rushed out the door, thinking that surely George was right behind me. But when I got to Franky, it was Kirk speaking up at my side, and I saw that George hadn’t even come outside.
    “Fight! You was in a fight!”
    Franky didn’t say anything in reply to his brother, didn’t even look his way. Instead, I saw his gaze resting on Rorey, who hadn’t moved from the back porch step.
    He was banged up a little, with one eye going purplish and a cut on his lip.
    “What happened, Frank?” I asked him. “Goodness, are you all right?”
    “I’m all right.”
    Kirk smiled hugely. “Fought back this time, didn’t you, Franky? Finally had enough?”
    I knew how some of the other boys in the area treated Franky, teasing him mercilessly when they got the chance. But how had he encountered anyone today? School was let out already, and I wouldn’t have expected anyone to be between here and the Posts’ farm. Neither Elvira’s husband nor her brother-in-law would have let such a thing go on anyway, if they’d seen it.
    “Who was it?” Kirk persisted. “Bobby Mueller? Or the Everly twins? I heard they was doin’ some work on Mueller’s farrowing house.”
    “Be quiet, Kirk,” I commanded. “Franky, can we help you to the house?”
    “I don’t need help. Better wash up, though, ’fore Pa sees me.”
    “Ah, he won’t mind much,” said Harry, who’d suddenly come up alongside us. “If somebody fights at you, you got a right to fight back. He knows that. Looks like you got whupped, though, Franky. Did you get whupped?” Franky looked from one brother to the other but didn’t say a word, and I didn’t feel like pressing him for any explanations. Maybe I could talk to him about it later. Maybe. When no one else was around to be enjoying the story.
    Franky handed me the book in his hand. “Sorry if it got mussed. I might have to make it up to Mrs. Post. She didn’t really want me to take it, anyway. Didn’t think I’d understand it.”
    I looked down at the volume and smiled. Silas Marner by George Eliot. Why was it so hard for others to see the searching mind that made Franky want to reach out for books like this? I knew he’d sit just as long as I’d let him, soaking up every word the way he’d done with all the other books I’d read.
    “Ugh!” Kirk said quickly. “What do you want with that book, Franky? No wonder people tease you. You’re just plain odd.”
    That didn’t deserve a reply, and Franky knew it. I tried to take his arm, but he wouldn’t let me. He limped the rest of the way to the house all on his own, pulled off his shirt on the porch, and washed up best he could. I tried to help, but he’d barely let me touch him. He looked in Rorey’s direction just once more, and she went back inside without saying anything. I wondered what was going on between them.
    Franky wasn’t hurt badly, but his eye was getting blacker, and the cut lip made him look pretty awful. The knuckles on one hand were banged up too, leading me to think that maybe Kirk had been right about him fighting back, as out of character as that seemed. I wasn’t sure why his limp was worse, but somebody had lit into him pretty frightfully, and I really would have liked an explanation.
    “Kirk,” I commanded, “get me some warm water from the kettle on the stove. And Harry, run and get one of Robert’s shirts for me, will you?”
    When they were both gone, I tried to dab at Franky’s eye. “Will you tell me who did this?”
    He smiled just a little. “You’re a real good mom, Mrs. Wortham. But don’t fuss on me, okay?”
    George stepped out the back door, and I hoped he’d