The Way to Stay in Destiny by Augusta Scattergood

Author:Augusta Scattergood
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Scholastic Inc.
Published: 2014-01-28T16:00:00+00:00

* * *

I leave early for school the next morning. On the way out the door, I pass the front hall radiator. Which holds Anabel’s mom’s basket, pretty much tucked out of sight. Nothing written about putting money in, but everybody who’s danced in Miss Sister’s classes forever must know the drill. The rest of us don’t matter.

Won’t hurt to peek inside, will it? Three tens, four ones, two quarters. I’m fastening the little hook, closing the basket up tight, when Mamie appears.

“What’re you doing?” she bellows out.

“Nothing.” I step away from the radiator.

“You bothering Miss Sister’s gift money?”

“No.”

Leaving Mamie standing with her hand on her hip and her tongue sticking out, I open the front door and head for Johnson Junior High.

First person I see? Down the sidewalk? Anabel, squashed up next to a giant gardenia bush like she’s trying to disappear. “Pssst! Theo! Over here.”

“Why’re you hiding?”

“I can’t go near that place.” She nods toward the dance studio. “Remember? I’m avoiding Miss Sister. She thinks I’ve hurt my foot. Ma’s sure I’m gonna be a flapper.”

“A flapper?”

“In the stupid dance recital.” She steps around the bush. “Those ladies who danced the Charleston a million years ago? Wearing high heels and fringe and feathers.” Anabel snorts out a pig-sounding laugh. “I am not letting my mother put feathers in this.” She points to her ponytail tied up with a thick band and the shaggy black bangs that cover her eyebrows.

“I may be helping out with the recital,” I say.

“Dancing?” Anabel stops and gives me a look. “You want to take my place?”

“Very funny. I’m playing the piano.”

She shakes her head, rolls her eyes, and mumbles something about why I’d want to be anywhere near the dance studio for any reason. “You like listening to all that music? Nonstop?”

“I like playing the piano. I can learn almost anything I hear. But you can’t let on to anybody,” I say.

“Why not? Who cares?”

Now we’re walking fast down the sidewalk, but I stop and say, “My uncle, for one. He’s not too crazy about pianos. Told me I couldn’t play.”

Since she hasn’t fallen on her face laughing, maybe she doesn’t mind having a friend who loves to play the piano. Or one whose uncle is just plain mean.

“Your uncle sounds like he’d get along real good with my mom,” she says. “Still haven’t told her this project doesn’t feature baseball players in tap shoes.” I laugh at that picture.

Once we’re safely away from the Rest Easy, I open my knapsack.

“Found this in the attic. Might be good for our project, but it’s locked.” I turn the metal box upside down. “See that note taped to the bottom?”

Anabel shakes it. She reads the note. “Henry? Get it open, Theo,” she says.

I grab a big rock by my foot. Should I do it? It is Miss Sister’s, officially. But she probably doesn’t even know what’s in that attic. Two hard blasts and the lock springs open. “Guess it’s pretty old.”

“Yeah! Old.” She lifts the top and peers inside.

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