Close to Famous (14 page)

“How much you charging?” Clay asked.

Wayne thought about that. “Dollar seventy-five”

“Yesterday they were a dollar fifty.”

“Hold on to your seats, boys. These are about to be famous.”

Yes!

“You add one with my eggs instead of toast?” Clay asked him.

“Nope.”

Two men at the counter were wearing green uniforms and mirrored sunglasses. I bet they worked at the prison. “Give me one of each,” one of the men said.

“Same,” said the other.

Wayne pointed to a plate and said to me, “Give Charlie and Zeke what they asked for.”

I put a muffin and a cupcake on two plates and put them in front of the men. Charlie and Zeke ate them fast without saying anything. The biggest man burped, chugged down coffee, pushed the empty plate toward me. “Hit me again.”

“Same.”

“I want a cupcake,” Betty said, and another man said he'd take what was left.

Clay raised his hand. “What about me?”

“He who hesitates is lost,” Wayne told him.

“You want me to bring more tomorrow?” I asked.

“Yep.”

I decided to leave while I was ahead.

The bus was orange, there was no missing that. A lady was standing outside of it saying hi to everybody. Little kids were getting books, and other people were bringing books back. I got close to this lady who was smiling and laughing. She was wearing dangling book earrings.

I saw Garland coming out of the bus. “Hey!” he shouted.

“Hey.”

“Mrs. Worth,” Garland said, “this is Foster. She's new to town.”

“Welcome to the Bookmobile, Foster. What kind of a book can I get you?”

“Uh . . .”

I felt like I had a sign around my neck: THIS GIRL CAN' T READ.

Her book earrings swayed.

“She's a baker,” Garland said.

Mrs. Worth patted her stomach. “I'm an eater. I've got all kinds of cookbooks inside. Garland knows where they are.”

You don't know how much I'd love to read a cookbook.

“Come on, Foster!” He climbed in the bus.

Okay, but . . .

I followed him. There was a desk with a swivel chair and posters of people holding books, there were tall cases slanted back stuffed with books, and there was Amy sitting on the floor reading. She was wearing shorts and a black shirt with a purple thunderbolt across it.

Garland stepped over her.

She kept reading. “I see you, Garland.”

I bent down so she could see my face and waved. Amy said, “Welcome to the inner sanctum, Foster.”

I giggled. Garland climbed up a step stool and handed me books—one with chocolate cookies on the cover, one with a beautifully set table, one with a deepdish blueberry pie. He looked through the stack and handed one down with a strawberry cake on the cover.

Cookbooks are heavy. “These look good,” I told him.

“Wait, there's more.”

“That's okay, Garland, these are—”

Amy looked up. “Do you guys think having free coffee and cookies on Saturday will bring people to the store? ”

“I thought your dad said you couldn't do that,” I mentioned

“Let's assume I can convince him. What do you think?”

“It sounds good,” Garland said.

“It depends on the cookies,” I added.

Amy was surprised. “It does?”

“Totally.”

“I thought Oreos.”

I shook my head.

“Chips Ahoy?”

“Boring won't work,” I told her.

“My whole life is boring, Foster! I'm trying to bring new ideas to the hardware store and my dad just looks at me like I'm an alien.”

“You are an alien.” Garland held up another cookbook. It was big, it was yellow, and it had Sonny Kroll's picture on it.

I couldn't believe it.

“
Sonny Side Up
with Sonny Kroll. You want it?”

I didn't know Sonny had a book! “I want it.” I put the others down. He handed it to me. I held it like it was made of diamonds.

“Come on.” He climbed down and stepped over Amy, and we headed outside. “Foster wants this one, Mrs. Worth”

“Good choice. This book just came out. I love that man's show.”

She filled out a card for me, and when I told her where I lived, she said, “Address: Silver Bullet behind Kitty and Lester's, Culpepper, West VA, USA.”

I grinned. That's an excellent address.

She stamped the book and gave it to me. “You bring it back in three weeks.”

I held it over my heart.

Mrs. Worth smiled. “That's where a book should be carried.”

I HELD TIGHT to Sonny's cookbook as Garland and I walked up a path behind Angry Wayne's. “My mom and I started Helping Hands House a year ago,” he told me.

“It's where prisoners' families stay, right?”

“Yeah. They stay for a few days and we try to help them with the expenses.” Garland shook his head. “But we're basically broke.”

We walked toward a broken-down house. Three women were sitting on the porch steps. A little girl came running up to us.

“Did you bring breakfast?” she asked us.

Garland bent down. “Didn't you get breakfast?”

“No.”

One of the women walked up. “We're low on food.”

“I want scrambled eggs,” the little girl whispered.

Garland's jaw got hard as we walked inside, past rickety stairs, to the kitchen. He opened the refrigerator. No eggs, no toast. There was some margarine and juice. The little girl followed me. She held up an empty jar. “The grape jelly's gone, too.”

I put Sonny's book on top of the refrigerator. “Maybe I can help. I'll be right back, okay?” I ran outside, down the path, and into Angry Wayne's.

The sheriff, Betty, and two other men sat at the counter.

“Heard crime's up by Fish's place.”

Mama hadn't told me that!

The sheriff nodded. “Wait till more of 'em get out on parole and have to get jobs around here. We're going to see some changes, boy.”

“We're going to see some changes,” they all said. Betty took a big gulp of coffee.

Wayne threw a ball at the wall; the buzzer went off. “One a these days I'm going to make a citizen's arrest!”

The sheriff chuckled. “I'd pay to see that.”

“If you see it, Boone, you'd better come and help me!”

Here goes. “I need a favor, sir.”

Angry Wayne glared at me. He didn't seem to be the kind that did too many favors.

“I need some eggs and bread for Helping Hands. There's a little girl over there who hasn't had breakfast.”

“How crazy are you, girl?”

“Those people are freeloaders—every last one of them.”

Betty slapped the counter. “They've got real needs, Wayne. Those families are broke and hurting.”

I gulped. “You could just take the money out of what you owe me, sir.”

The door opened and Garland walked in.

“You in on this scheme?” Wayne asked him.

Garland stood next to me. Betty leaned across the counter. “Do something for someone, Wayne.”

His face got pink. He threw a ball at the buzzer.

Garland whispered, “Let's go, Foster.” We headed out the door.

“How many eggs you need?” Wayne asked.

I turned around. “A dozen.”

“Two dozen,” Garland said.

Wayne walked in the back and came out with two cartons of eggs. He took a loaf of bread down from the shelf. I needed one more thing.

“Thank you so much! Have you got a little grape jelly for this little girl who—”

Betty pointed. “It's behind the counter.”

“I know where it is!” Angry Wayne reached down and slammed a jar of grape jelly on the counter. “Now git.”

Garland grabbed the jelly. We shouted, “Thank you!” and tore out the door.

We ran into Helping Hands. “Okay, we've got breakfast with grape jelly!”

The kids shouted yay and I set to work. Garland plugged in the toaster. I broke eggs into a bowl one-handed like I learned on the Food Network.

“How do you do that?” the little girl asked. She was the cutest thing, with long dark hair and blue eyes.

“You flick your wrist.”

“I want to try!”

I pictured eggs all over the floor. “You have to be older.”

She flopped down. “You have to be older for everything!”

“Not for grape jelly.” I handed it to her. “You put it on the table.”

She held up a book. “After breakfast will you read me a story?”

I wished I could. I beat the eggs. “I might have to leave right after.”

“I'll read it to you,” Garland told her. “What's your name?”

“Delilah May Canning.”

“I'm Foster,” I said.

“That's a boy's name!”

I added a little salt. “Do I look like a boy?”

“Nope.” Garland plugged in the toaster. That got me grinning.

I scrambled eggs. Garland toasted bread. We fed nine people breakfast. I hadn't felt this good in I don't know when.

Delilah May Canning held her book up. “It's time for my story!”

“You read it,” I told Garland. I took Sonny's cookbook from the top of the refrigerator and headed home.

I'd just come out of FOOD when Miss Charleena pulled up in her little blue sports car. She was wearing a hot pink top, white jeans, and long gold earrings, and she was smiling. “Where have you been?”