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Show Twisters . . . 19 "Arthur and I were just leaving to ride hikes." "Hey, wait-tell you what-I just stopped by to borrow Linda's bowling ball. Riverside's league starts tonight. And in case I can make myself go-" She rolled her eyes. "You know where she keeps it?" "You going to Westside Lanes or Meves?" Arthur asked my aunt as I headed for the hall closet. "Meves, but only if I can't get out of it. I mean . . . I'm a dancer, you know? It's just not my thing. I'd almost rather stay home and straighten my hair." It was a family joke; blonde, curlytop Goldie staying home to straighten her hair. She was always getting suckered in on something she didn't want to do. Aunt Goldie thanked me for the bowling ball and left the house when we did, but not before kissing me on top of the head. "Be careful or the wind'11 blow you over," she warned as she got in her car and backed out. I could see what she meant once we hit the street. Even riding my slick new Voyageur, head down in first gear, it was tough going. Arthur-on his dented-up, rusted-out, untuned BMX-was practically standing still. "Let's go over to your house," I shouted, thinking of Stacey. "Why?" "I don't know." I sped up, tested my brakes. Arthur popped a wheelie, then squeaked to a halt alongside me. He tried spitting into the wind, but it splattered over the curb two yards behind us. Some breeze! "Bet I could stay all night with you," he said, in the sly way he has of inviting himself. |
