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Show 9-8 "I ran away from home. I mean, from Ruth's house. Well, I mean, I didn't exactly tell Ruth the truth." I had been busily buckling and unbuckling the straps of the bookbag as I said this. Now I looked up into Andrew's face. He was grinning, his thin lips pulled back from his teeth. "Well, if that don't beat the band," he muttered. "Imagine. A little girl lies so she can come to see me." Then he chuckled. "What'11 happen when you get home?" I shrugged. "They won't know. Besides, my father thinks its all right. He likes you. I can tell. So when he gets time, he'll tell Mother to let me come and it'll be all right all the way around." "I sure hope so. I do look forward to seeing you." He looked at me another long moment. "And that bookbag of yours. What have you got for me today, Annie?" He pulled it to him and worked at the straps. I watched as he clumsily opened the bag and dumped out the books and the bread onto the table. He grinned at me again and I laughed out loud. I felt as if I would choke from happiness. We talked and laughed all morning. We poured over the book of Egypt that I had brought, read the captions, examined the photographs of the pyrimids and the statues. I told him about my dream of sailing up the Nile. I didn't tell him that he was part of the dream, but when I had finished, I asked him if he would like to come along. He said he would. I knew that people were moving around us, nuns pushing and patting at the men, patients in wheelchairs rolling across the bumpy ground, men walking in slow careful steps through the shadows. I noticed several of them look at us, especially when we laughed. We shattered their silence and I didn't care if they minded. No one told us to hush. Several men in wheelchairs sat a short distance |
