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Show Twisters . . . 30 run over and check on Mrs. Smiley. When she turns that hearing aid down--" After awhile she hung up again. "Doesn't anybody stay home?" she muttered. By then I was standing in the kitchen doorway, trying to tell her Aunt Goldie might have gone bowling. "Who you calling now?" I asked instead. Her attacks on the phone were suddenly more interesting than what was happening in living color on the nineteen-inch screen. "Mrs. Smiley. Ssssh-" "She's trying to finish a needlepoint cushion for the Presbyterians," Arthur piped up from the sofa. "Yeah," I remembered, whispering in Mom's face, "and I'm supposed to tell you not to forget she's coming Friday for you to fix her hair." All the while Mom was waving her hand for us to be quiet, so I backed away. Next thing I knew she was at the hall closet, putting her red wind-breaker on over her jeans and Hastings College T-shirt. "She doesn't answer," she said, "I'm driving over there. Now listen, both of you." We listened. She was using a very firm voice. "I want you to take this flashlight-" she got it off the shelf and handed it to me, "--and a blanket and put them in the downstairs bath. I want you to do it this minute!" I nodded, trying the flashlight to make sure it worked. "If the siren starts, get Ryan and go downstairs. Don't wake him up if you can help it, all right?" Arthur's eyes got big listening to Mom. He told me once they never |