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Show Twisters . . . 89 Okay f said his grin, forget it. Arthur took off his shoes and settled himself at one end, stretching out across the two cots. It took me longer, pulling off one waterlogged sock after another, then rolling up the muddied bottoms of my jeans. I took my time inspecting my feet, which looked like pre-historic monsters they were so wrinkled and gray. By the time I got comfortable, Arthur was breathing hard. I lay there beside him without making a sound and watched him go to sleep. It took all of three minutes. With Arthur unconscious beside me, I turned my head the other way so I could see what was going on in the big room. The men had propped open the door and were standing near the entrance, smoking and talking in low voices. The one mother had taken two of her kids into the opposite bedroom unit and was washing them with a cloth that looked like t h e c u f f end of Stacey's sleeve. The girl with the bandaged arm lay very still, though she wasn't asleep. Her large, dark eyes were open. I wondered if I'd ever seen her at Dodge Elementary, but I didn't think I had. Stacey was now playing peek-a-boo with the baby, hiding behind the overstuffed chair, popping out with these squeaky sounds that made the little kid laugh. The baby's mother had her hands full trying to get her other one to sleep. What would it be like to have two crybabies7 And live in a trailer besides? I pulled my knees up trying to get comfortable, but the cut on my leg hurt too much that way, I was trying not to wake Arthur, but no matter how I arranged myself, I stuck to the plastic somewhere, I finally gave up and closed my eyes. |
