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knocking them all down wherever I go— and other times Fm
on the ground and people are trompling all over me and my
insides are oozing out on the sidewalk。 I guess it's more like
a
nightmare than a plain
On Sundays the house was always full of folks because the
boarders had visitors。 Newspapers rustled and there was cigar
smoke； and footsteps always on the stairs。
'Some things you just naurally want to keep private。 Not
because they are bad； but because you just want them secret。
There are two or three things I wouldn't want even you to
know about'
Bubber got out when they came to the corner and helped her
lift the wagon down the curb and get it up on the next
sidewalk。
'But there's one thing I would give anything for。 And that's a
piano。 If we had a piano I'd practice every single night and
learn every piece in the world。 That's the thing I； want more
than anything else。'
They had come to their own home block now。 Their house
was only a few doors away。 It was one of the biggest houses
on the whole north side of town—three storiesi*
high。 But then there were fourteen people in the family。 There
weren't that many in the real； blood Kelly family— but they
ate there and slept there at five dollars a head and you plight
as well count them on in。 Mr。 Singer wasn't counted in that
because he only rented a room and kept it straightened up
himself。
The house was narrow and had not been painted for many
years。 It did hot seem to be built strong enough for its three
stories of height。 It sagged on one side。
Mick untied Ralph and lifted him from the wagon。 She darted
quickly through the hall； and from the corner of her eye she
saw that the living…room was full of boarders。 Her Dad was
there； too。 Her Mama would be in the kitchen。 They were all
hanging around waiting for dinner…time。
She went into the first of the three rooms that the family kept
for themselves。 She put Ralph down on the bed where her Dad
and Mama slept and gave him a string of beads to play with。
From behind the closed door of the next room she could hear
the sound of voices； and she decided to go inside。
Hazel and Etta stopped talking when they saw her。 Etta was
sitting in the chair by the window； painting her toe…nails with
the red polish。 Her hah… was done up in steel rollers and there
was a white dab of face cream on a little place under her chin
where a pimple had come out。 Hazel was flopped out lazy on
the bed as usual。 'What were you all jawing about？' It's none of
your nosy business；' Etta said。 'Just you hush up and leave us
alone。'
'It's my room just as much as it is either one of yours。 I have as
good a right hi here as you do。' Mick strutted from one corner
to the other until she had covered all the floor space。 'But then
I don't care anything about picking any fight。 All I want are
my own rights。'
Mick brushed back her shaggy bangs with the palm of her
hand。 She had done this so often that there was a little row of
cowlicks above her forehead。 She quivered her nose and made
faces at herself in the mirror。 Then she began walking around
the room again。
Hazel and Etta were O。K。 as far as sisters went。 But Etta was
like she was full of worms。 All she thought about was movie
stars and getting in the movies。 Once she had
35
written to Jeanette MacDonald and had got a typewritten letter
back saying that if ever she came out to Hollywood she could
come by and swim in her swimming pool。 And ever since that
swimming pool had been preying on Etta's mind。 All she
thought about was going to Hollywood when she could scrape
up the bus fare and getting a job as a secretary and being
buddies with Jeanette MacDonald and getting in the movies
herself。
She primped all the day long。 And that was the bad part。 Etta
wasn't naturally pretty like Hazel。 The main thing was she
didn't have any chin。 She would pull at her jaw and go through
a lot of chin exercises she had read in ft movie book。 She was
always looking at her side profile in the mirror and trying to
keep her mouth set in a certain way。 But it didn't do any good。
Sometimes Etta would hold her face with her hands and cry hi
the night about it。
Hazel was plain lazy。 She was good…looking but thick in the
head。 She was eighteen years old； and next to Bill she was the
oldest of all the kids in the family。 Maybe that was the trouble。
She got the first and biggest share of everything—the first
whack at the new clothes and the biggest part of any special
treat。 Hazel never had to grab for anything and she was soft。
'Are you just going to tramp around the room all day？ It makes
me sick to see you hi those silly boy's clothes。 Somebody
ought to clamp down on you； Mick Kelly； and make you
behave；' Etta said。
'Shut up；' said Mick。 'I wear shorts because I don't want to
wear your old hand…me…downs。 I don't want to be like either of
you and I don't want to look like either of you。 And I won't。
That's why I wear shorts。 I'd rather be a boy any day； and I
wish I could move in with Bill。'
Mick scrambled under the bed and brought out a large hatbox。
As she carried it to the door both of them called after her；
'Good riddance！'
Bill had the nicest room of anybody in the family。 Like a den
—and he had it all to himself—except for Bubber。 Bill had
pictures cut out from magazines tacked on the walls； mostly
faces of beautiful ladies； and in another corner were some
pictures Mick had painted last year herself at the free art class。
There was only a bed and a desk in the room。JO
Bill was sitting hunched over the desk； reading Popular
Mechanics。 She went up behind him and put her arms around
his shoulders。 'Hey； you old son…of…a…gun。'
He did not begin tussling with her like he used to do。 。Hey；' he
said； and shook his shoulders a little。
'Will it bother you if I stay in here a little while？'
'Sure—I don't mind if you want to stay。'
Mick knelt on the floor and untied the string on the big
hatbox。 Her hands hovered over the edge of the lid； but for
some reason she could not make up her mind to open it
'I been thinking about what I've done on this already；' she said。
'And it may work and it may not。'
Bill went on reading。 She still knelt over the box； but did not
open it。 Her eyes wandered over to Bill as he sat with his back
to her。 One of his big feet kept stepping on the other as he
read。 His shoes were scuffed。 Once their Dad had said that all
Bill's dinners went to his feet and his breakfast to one ear and
bis supper to the other ear； that was a sort of mean thing to say
and Bill had been sour over it for a month； but it was funny。
His ears flared out and were very red； and though he was just
out of high school he wore a size thirteen shoe。 He tried to
hide his feet by scraping one foot behind the other when he
stood up； but that only made it worse。
Mick opened the box a few inches and then shut it again。 She
felt too excited to look into it now。 She got up and walked
around the room until she could calm down a little。 After a
few minutes she stopped before the picture she had painted