FIRST THING IN THE morning, Frankie dropped the letter to Joan at the post office. On the walk back to the apartment, she was feeling a good bit alone and sorry for herself, which are quite frankly terrible feelings to feel, and so with her mind occupied on such things, she didn’t see Ava and Martha coming out of the alleyway. They were both in bathing suits and swim caps with towels hung around their necks. Seeing that Frankie didn’t notice them, and always up for a good scare, Ava and Martha jumped out at her as she passed. Frankie hollered and stumbled backward, nearly landing on her behind. “What a dirty trick!” she said, after regaining her balance.
“Gotcha!” Ava twisted up her towel and snapped its tail end at Frankie.
What a snap it was, too. It produced a sting on Frankie’s arm that made her screech like a gobble-pipe. Ava bent over in a fit of giggles, while Martha continued chewing on a chunk of buttered bread with her mouth open.
“Cut it out!” Frankie yelled, examining the red mark on her arm. “That smarts.”
“You should’ve seen your face,” said Ava, slapping her knee. Then she instructed Martha to help her reenact the whole scene so Frankie could witness firsthand the general hilarity of it all. “Martha, you be me,” said Ava, positioning her in the alley. “Okay, now, I’ll be Frankie.” Ava backed up about ten steps. Then she slumped her shoulders and put on the most sullen face, as if she’d just been handed a life sentence without parole.
“That doesn’t look like me,” protested Frankie.
“It certainly does,” said Ava. “Try looking in the mirror sometime.” She turned to her sister. “Ready, Martha?”
Martha popped the last chunk of crusty bread into her mouth and nodded. Then she adjusted her swim cap and put her hands on her bare knees, readying for the jump. Ava began walking slowly, in the same way that Frankie had, and when she got to the opening of the alleyway, nodded at Martha to do her thing. Right on cue, Martha leaped forward like a jumping frog. Then Ava launched herself into the air, squealing ridiculously and waving her arms around like she was one of Prince John’s cronies from The Adventures of Robin Hood who had just been stabbed through the heart.
Frankie rolled her eyes at the overdone performance and started past Ava, who was now nearly seizing with laughter.
“Where you going, Frankie?” asked Martha.
Frankie climbed the stairs to the front door of the apartment building. “Inside,” she said flatly.
“Aw, come on,” said Ava. “I was only kidding around. Come swimming with us.”
“Yeah, come on,” said Martha. “Ava is gonna try and sink me. And she’s gonna need some help because she told me just this morning that I was so full of hot air.”
“Ain’t that the truth,” said Ava.
“I don’t think that’s what she meant, Martha,” said Frankie.
“Anyway, come on,” said Ava. “I’ve been on punishment for five whole days, since Mary Jacobs told her mother that I ripped the eyes off her teddy.” She gritted her teeth and said under her breath, “No-good Mary Jacobs.” Then Ava wiped a bead of sweat that was finding its way down her nose. “And I’ve been itching for a swim.”
“Did you?” Frankie wondered.
“Did I what?”
“Did you pull the eyeballs off that teddy?”
“Of course I did it,” said Ava. “You knew I did it. Everybody in the whole school knew I did it. But I gave them back to her the next day, and she still told on me.” Ava looked down the street and narrowed her eyes. She stared intently at nothing, her face calm and almost peaceful as she plotted heinous revenge. Poor Mary Jacobs. It would not end well for her. Then, after a long, eerie moment, Ava returned from wherever she was, her mouth tightening at the corners. “So are you coming or not?”
Frankie shrugged.
“Great snakes,” said Ava. “What else is there to do?”
Frankie knew she had a point. It was either swimming with her cousins—which would be sort of fun, although not as much fun without Joan—or hanging upside down on the jungle gym out back until her head filled up with enough blood that she got a headache. “Okay,” Frankie said, after giving both options a good deal of thought. “Let me get my suit.”
Frankie pulled open the door and ran into their apartment. She called into the kitchen on the way down the hall to her room, “I’m going swimming with Ava and Martha!”
Mother, who was pouring coffee grounds into the percolator, called back, “I don’t think so, young lady.”
Frankie stopped halfway down the hall, turned around, and marched back to the kitchen. “Why not?”
“Because you’re going to the restaurant this morning to help your father,” Mother said. “That’s why not.” She put a plate of buttered white toast on the kitchen table and licked a dollop of butter from her thumb. “We’re leaving right after breakfast.”
“But why do I have to help?” said Frankie.
Mother raised her eyebrows and cocked her head to the side as if she didn’t understand the question. Frankie repeated the question, which turned out to be a mistake. Mother’s eyes grew bigger, magnified behind her thick, horn-rimmed eyeglasses. There was indignation swirling inside them, plain as day. “Because you do,” she said, as if that answered everything.
“What about Elizabeth?” said Frankie.
“You don’t worry yourself about your sister,” said Mother, grabbing a handful of silverware from the drawer. “She’ll be along later, after her riding lessons.”
Frankie shook her head. “No fair.”
“I don’t want to hear it,” said Mother. “No one ever said life was fair.” She set the silverware on the table, and as she did, a butter knife slipped out of her hand and landed on the floor. Mother stood over the knife, looking down on it as if she were trying to decide whether to pick it up. “Well, you know what that means.”
“What?” said Frankie. There were so many superstitions that Mother knew of and believed in with the whole of her heart that Frankie couldn’t keep them all straight in her head.
“A man’s going to visit,” said Mother. Then she picked up the knife, wiped it on the apron of her skirt, and set it back on the table. “I wonder who it will be.”
Frankie trudged into the living room, the dread of the day to come pressing down on her shoulders and slowing her steps. She managed to open the front window that looked onto the street and stick her head out. Ava and Martha were just where she had left them, on the sidewalk playing a clapping game and belting out:
Alice stepped into the bathtub
She pulled out the plug.
Oh my goodness
Oh my soul
There goes Alice down the HOLE . . .
Frankie felt a pang of jealousy seeing the two of them, and now more than before wanted to join them for a swim. She whistled at them to get their attention and then said, “Go on without me. I can’t go.”
“Why on earth not?” said Ava.
Frankie just shook her head. “I have to help at the restaurant.”
“Too bad for you,” said Ava. “See you around.” She grabbed Martha’s hand, and they skipped away down the block as Frankie closed the window.