A Tiny Piece of Sky by Shawn K. Stout Page B

was so confined, she found she could breathe. She looked up at the narrow strip of sky that lit the small space around her, and with stiff soldier arms followed the alley all the way to the street.
    The alley emptied out at Potomac Street, and she stood for a minute trying to decide which direction would be the quickest route home. Before she could make up her mind, Leroy Price came up behind her and kicked the backs of her knees so that her legs buckled and she fell to the brick sidewalk. “Smell that?” said Leroy to Marty, who was standing a few feet behind him. Leroy got close to Frankie and sniffed her hair. “Stinks like sauerkraut.”
    Frankie got to her feet and charged at Leroy, swinging. He put his hand on her forehead and kept her at such a distance that her arms couldn’t connect. And he laughed. Oh brother, did he laugh.
    Marty Price came forward then, just as casual as could be. “So, Frankie,” he said, “have you been swimming yet this summer?” He said this as if it were the most normal thing in the world to have a conversation with someone while she’s in the act of trying, albeit unsuccessfully, to knock their big brother’s head off. “Me and Leroy’s been twice,” he went on, “and I can do a backflip off the side. Just learned how.”
    Frankie was still swinging at Leroy and grunting like a trapped pig. “That’s nice, Marty,” she managed to say.
    â€œThink you might be going sometime soon?” he asked. “You can watch me.”
    Finally, Frankie’s flailing arms got tired and she quit fighting. “I don’t think so,” she said, catching her breath and turning her head under Leroy’s grip so she could eyeball him.
    â€œHow come?” said Marty.
    She grabbed Leroy’s wrist with both hands and tried to pry his hand loose. “Because I guess I have to be here, most days.”
    Leroy maintained his hold. “What kind of a restaurant is this, anyway?” He reached down with his thumb and pushed against the tip of Frankie’s nose. “What do Germans like to eat?”
    A fire ignited inside Frankie. “What did you say?” she yelled.
    Then Seaweed stepped out of the alley holding a wire brush. He cleared his throat and it sounded like a low warning growl of a dog. “Heard a lot of racket out here. Thought maybe one of the pigs from the butcher down the street done got loose. And here it was just you, Frankie.”
    Frankie gritted her teeth at him.
    Leroy let go of Frankie’s head, finally. “What business is it of yours?” he said.
    Seaweed looked right past Leroy and said to Frankie, “Your daddy come huntin’ for you in the kitchen.”
    Leroy kept his eyes on Seaweed, and while he did, Frankie kept hers on Leroy and thought of at least two clever things she wanted to say about him being so stupid, but since he wasn’t paying attention, she decided instead to kick him in the kneecaps. As she brought her leg back, though, Seaweed warned, “Now, Frankie. I know you don’t want to keep your daddy waiting.”
    Frankie dropped her leg mid-kick and nearly lost her balance. Leroy looked right at her. “Yeah, Frankie,” he said, laughing. “Better do what you’re told.”
    Frankie was burnt up about the both of them: Leroy, for being . . . well, Leroy, and Seaweed, for treating her like a Number Three.What she didn’t need was another keeper. She made her way back to the alley and kept going past Seaweed without even putting eyes on him.
    â€œSee you, Frankie,” said Marty, before Leroy smacked him on the back of his head.
    Frankie didn’t reply, but marched stiff-armed down the alley back toward the kitchen. Only then did she notice the wooden, painted sign on the door: colored entrance .
    â€œThere you are,” said Daddy, who, along with Mother and Elizabeth, was standing next to Mr. Stannum.