Will pushed out a sarcastic laugh. “So you
girls are playing school? Didn’t you get enough school during the regular
session to be sick of it?”
Buddy hopped onto the porch and rang our
school bell. “Yeah. Men—like us—are working. We’re repairing the barn.”
Bailey looked up as she sighed in
exasperation. “Playing carpenters.”
Manuela turned her face to the wall, took a
stubby pencil, and began copying from a McGuffey Reader onto a tablet supported
by a board.
“Manuela, how many days a month did you go to
school anyway?” Will bent over her to look at her work.
She covered the tablet but took care not to
lose her page in the reader. Gazing out into the yard, she considered his
question. “Oh, I don’t know. About two or three.”
“ABC’s.” Buddy, standing by Will, leaned over
her shoulder. “That’s baby stuff.”
“Hush, Buddy.” Bailey moved in front of her
twin and pushed him. “It’s baby stuff to you, but you didn’t have to miss
school because your grandmother got sick. You think you’re something because
you know who your papa was. Manuela don’t know stuff but it ain’t her fault.
She’s smart, ain’t she, Trudy?”
“Is that so?” Buddy pushed Bailey.
“And you had somebody older to walk to school
with you. And when your school closed down, your papa took you in the
automobile.”
Bailey pushed Buddy’s arm.
Buddy hit Bailey’s chest.
The twins locked up in a fight. Bailey, arms
flailing and feet kicking, resisted as I pulled her away.
Will grabbed Buddy’s arms. “Leave the girls
alone.”
- - -
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