Read Online A Sliver of Sun by Dianna Dorisi Winget - Free Book Online
Authors: Dianna Dorisi Winget
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filled my head. What
did
happen to them? Did they get hung up by their toes? Beat with a wet noodle? Put in a straight jacket?
“They go to solitary,” Ben finally said, solving the mystery. He pointed Ginger to the nearest pecan tree. “Get over there and face that tree.” He gestured me to an oak about twenty feet away. “And you go face that one, and I don’t wanna hear a peep from either of you.”
“For how long?” Ginger asked.
“I’ll let you know.”
Ginger shoved her feet in her flip flops and sulked off like she’d been given a life sentence. But I headed for my tree feeling relieved. Relieved Ben hadn’t doled out a worse punishment, and that he hadn’t demanded more explanation about Mama and the baby names.
I eased up against the tree trunk and rested my forehead against my arm. My tree was covered with spongy Spanish moss that smelled fresh and good, but I was glad to see Ginger’s tree had a rough, scaly trunk. Served her right, the little whiner.
And as for Mama, well, if I
had
been bratty to her, I figured I had a right. She’s the one who had dropped the whole Vanessa Rose thing on me. What a dumb name. Not anywhere near as good as the one Daddy had given me.
Ben headed back over to the Mustang and started clanging around again. He wore a blue tank top, and you could tell how far down the sleeves came on his prison guard uniform because his arms were a shade browner below. I remembered how he’d called us ‘two year olds,’ and it made my face heat up all over again on account of I knew he was right. I didn’t understand what made me like Ginger one minute and want to kill her the next. Maybe it was because she was only my step-sister and not my real one.
Two tiny ants scurried across my elbow before disappearing into the moss. I peeled away a chunk of bark looking for them, but they were gone. I dug a little U-shaped trench with my bare toes on both sides of the tree until a fuzzy tickle distracted me. Mowgli brushed past my ankle.
“Hey, boy,” I whispered. “Hey, Mowgli.” I reached out my toes to touch him, but he moved just out of reach and sat down to lick himself. Ben dragged the garden hose past a few minutes later, and I peeked around the tree to watch him spraying off engine parts. I wondered how long he’d make us stand there.
It brought to mind a poem by Shel Silverstein. I couldn’t remember the title, but it was about a boy who got sent to the corner for fidgeting too much in class. But the teacher forgot he was there, and the next day summer break started, so he stood there all summer. And then in September, they closed the school down, so the boy stood there for decades, all alone and forgotten in a boarded up building.
I figured Ben would be more than happy to stick
me
away in some boarded up, abandoned building. What reason did he have to like me? All I did was make his life harder. Sure he loved Mama, but I wondered if he ever regretted marrying her on account of me. And the thought made my eyes smart with tears.
I closed my eyes and pretended I was back home again in our old apartment. I could see my bedroom with my toys spilling out from under the bed, and the way the fan made my blue curtains ripple. I could hear the radio playing in the living room, and I could see Mama and me sitting together on our old green couch, just the two of us — with no Ben and no Ginger and no thought of any future baby in the picture.
But after awhile, a bee buzzed my ear and made me open my eyes. A rainbow of water droplets sprayed from Ben’s hose, and Ginger scratched her leg, and I knew that no amount of wishing or daydreaming could make things like they used to be.
Chapter Eight
T he next morning, Ramsay was late for school again. He slid into his seat ten minutes after the bell, one of his pant legs caught in his sock, and papers spilling out his backpack. I turned away, embarrassed. Too bad his desk was so close to mine.
Mrs. Holloway twisted around from her
did
happen to them? Did they get hung up by their toes? Beat with a wet noodle? Put in a straight jacket?
“They go to solitary,” Ben finally said, solving the mystery. He pointed Ginger to the nearest pecan tree. “Get over there and face that tree.” He gestured me to an oak about twenty feet away. “And you go face that one, and I don’t wanna hear a peep from either of you.”
“For how long?” Ginger asked.
“I’ll let you know.”
Ginger shoved her feet in her flip flops and sulked off like she’d been given a life sentence. But I headed for my tree feeling relieved. Relieved Ben hadn’t doled out a worse punishment, and that he hadn’t demanded more explanation about Mama and the baby names.
I eased up against the tree trunk and rested my forehead against my arm. My tree was covered with spongy Spanish moss that smelled fresh and good, but I was glad to see Ginger’s tree had a rough, scaly trunk. Served her right, the little whiner.
And as for Mama, well, if I
had
been bratty to her, I figured I had a right. She’s the one who had dropped the whole Vanessa Rose thing on me. What a dumb name. Not anywhere near as good as the one Daddy had given me.
Ben headed back over to the Mustang and started clanging around again. He wore a blue tank top, and you could tell how far down the sleeves came on his prison guard uniform because his arms were a shade browner below. I remembered how he’d called us ‘two year olds,’ and it made my face heat up all over again on account of I knew he was right. I didn’t understand what made me like Ginger one minute and want to kill her the next. Maybe it was because she was only my step-sister and not my real one.
Two tiny ants scurried across my elbow before disappearing into the moss. I peeled away a chunk of bark looking for them, but they were gone. I dug a little U-shaped trench with my bare toes on both sides of the tree until a fuzzy tickle distracted me. Mowgli brushed past my ankle.
“Hey, boy,” I whispered. “Hey, Mowgli.” I reached out my toes to touch him, but he moved just out of reach and sat down to lick himself. Ben dragged the garden hose past a few minutes later, and I peeked around the tree to watch him spraying off engine parts. I wondered how long he’d make us stand there.
It brought to mind a poem by Shel Silverstein. I couldn’t remember the title, but it was about a boy who got sent to the corner for fidgeting too much in class. But the teacher forgot he was there, and the next day summer break started, so he stood there all summer. And then in September, they closed the school down, so the boy stood there for decades, all alone and forgotten in a boarded up building.
I figured Ben would be more than happy to stick
me
away in some boarded up, abandoned building. What reason did he have to like me? All I did was make his life harder. Sure he loved Mama, but I wondered if he ever regretted marrying her on account of me. And the thought made my eyes smart with tears.
I closed my eyes and pretended I was back home again in our old apartment. I could see my bedroom with my toys spilling out from under the bed, and the way the fan made my blue curtains ripple. I could hear the radio playing in the living room, and I could see Mama and me sitting together on our old green couch, just the two of us — with no Ben and no Ginger and no thought of any future baby in the picture.
But after awhile, a bee buzzed my ear and made me open my eyes. A rainbow of water droplets sprayed from Ben’s hose, and Ginger scratched her leg, and I knew that no amount of wishing or daydreaming could make things like they used to be.
Chapter Eight
T he next morning, Ramsay was late for school again. He slid into his seat ten minutes after the bell, one of his pant legs caught in his sock, and papers spilling out his backpack. I turned away, embarrassed. Too bad his desk was so close to mine.
Mrs. Holloway twisted around from her
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