Tending to Grace by Kimberly Newton Fusco

Author:Kimberly Newton Fusco
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction
ISBN: 9780307433824
Publisher: Random House Children's Books
Published: 2007-12-17T16:00:00+00:00

48

“I could use some ice cream,” Agatha says as we back out of the parking space.

She pulls out into traffic and drives about a mile before stopping in front of Hal’s Ice Cream.

A long line of mothers and fathers and children stands waiting for takeout. One father in front of us pulls a toddler up into his arms while another child sends a toy truck roaring along the floor.

I stare at the menu hanging on the wall to keep my mind off the waitress, who rushes through her customers. “What can I get you?” she asks when it is our turn. She eyes Agatha’s hat and feather.

“Let’s see,” says Agatha. “Do you want to order first, Cornelia?” I shake my head quickly and begin turning myself to stone.

“All right, then.” Agatha looks over to see what a young couple is eating. The waitress taps her pencil against her order pad. “Yes, that’s it,” Agatha says finally. “I’ll have a hot fudge sundae with strawberry ice cream, whipped cream, and nuts. Extra nuts. A large sundae. Extra large.” Agatha chuckles and her feather bobs.

“What will you have?” The waitress has turned to me.

I turn to Agatha. “Order for m-m-m-me,” I whisper.

“No,” she says in a voice three times as loud as mine. “You got to make your own way.” She rustles through her overall pockets, looking for money.

“I don’t care who orders, but somebody’s got to.” The waitress looks up at the clock.

I take a deep breath.

“C-c-c-c-o ...” The waitress sighs and taps her pencil. I push my foot into the floor, trying to force the sounds out. “C-c-c-c ...” Then I look at the floor.

“Well, make up your mind—I haven’t got all day, you know.” The waitress looks away.

“C-c-c-o ...” I stop again.

“Chocolate?” She taps her pencil faster. “Is that what you’re trying to say? Chocolate?”

I shake my head miserably. I look up at Agatha. She looks straight at me.

“No. Not ch-ch-ch . . .” The waitress looks at a woman beside us and rolls her eyes.

“Is there something the matter with you?” the waitress asks.

I fold into myself. Where’s my mother? I look for her in the crowd.

“Can you please order for this girl?” the waitress asks Agatha.

Agatha shakes her head.

“Strawberry,” I say in a voice so quiet I can hardly hear myself.

“Is this some kind of a joke?” the waitress snaps. “Don’t think I don’t have enough to do,” she says loud enough for nearly everyone else to hear—and everyone does, I’m sure, because they are staring at me.

In a moment the waitress hands Agatha a sundae the size of a sky-scraper. I lick my cone slowly because I hate strawberry ice cream.

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