Chasing Jupiter by Rachel Coker

like something a handyman dad would build.
    “Can we have two pies, please?” Mrs. Greene pulled a five-dollar bill out of her pocketbook. “I’m going to bring one to Mrs. Nice. She can’t get out of the house herself, you know.”
    My eyes flickered to the ground. “Right.” I accepted the money and stuffed it in our savings jar, then handed Mrs. Greene a dollar from the change stash I’d created.
Nine dollars
.
    Pastor Greene picked up the pies, balancing them in his two hands. “I think this is the most delicious load I’ve ever had the pleasure of carrying for you, dear.” He winked at his wife.
    She turned back to me. “Scarlett, I’ve really got to run, but I’ll be back for more pies next week. I promise.” She squeezed my hand, leaning close enough for me to smell her lemony-fresh perfume. Then she dropped my hand and scurried back to their car.
    They pulled out of the driveway just as another car pulled in. Cliff glanced at me, raising his eyebrows. I smiled.
We’ll have that rocket in no time
.
    The sun was just beginning to set, turning the sky into a warm palette of roses and peaches. Frank sighed and stretched out on the grass, closing his eyes. “Ugh. I don’t want to leave.”
    Cliff nudged him. “You’ve got to go. We’ll see you tomorrow.”
    Frank opened one eye and glanced at me. “Did I ever tell you that you have an ornery little brother?”
    “What does
ornery
mean?” Cliff sat up. “Scarlett, what does that word mean?”
    I smiled. My fingers flipped through the money quickly, smoothing out the bills. “At times I find him rather cantankerous.”
    Cliff’s mouth dropped into a small O. “I don’t know any of these words!”
    “Sometimes he does act in a juvenile manner.”
    Cliff frowned. “How do you even know all these words without looking in a dictionary?”
    I reached out and closed his mouth, pinching his chin. “But I find him absolutely congenial.”
    He made a face and squirmed away. Right. I forgot about the no-touching thing. But he still managed a small smile. “I’m going inside.”
    We watched him leave in silence. Then Frank climbed to his feet. “Hey, how much did we make?”
    I patted the money. “Eleven dollars. Plus the money from the three pies your mom ordered. So that makes seventeen.”
    His eyebrows rose. “Why, if we keep doing that well, we’ll have that rocket by the end of summer! We only need about fifty or sixty bucks for all the wood and metal supplies.”
    “Well, that’s the plan.” I shut down the stand and grabbed the last two pies, while Frank grabbed the three for his mom. The sweet, tangy smell still tickled my nose. “And we have two extras. One for you”—I balanced a pie on top of Frank’s already large load—”and one for us. Good night!”
    He took a big whiff of the pie, his lips curling up in childish delight. “Yum. Four pies in one night. Someone’s going to have a stomachache tomorrow.”
    I rolled my eyes as he placed his collection of baked goods in a box he’d lashed to his handlebars, then headed home.
    “Hey, Mama! I still have one pie left!” The door slammed behind me. I brushed into the kitchen and placed the pie on the counter. “We can eat it after supper!” The supper Mama had promised to make, since I’d be busy with the pie stand all day.
    Silence. Mama wasn’t in the kitchen. The counters were caked in grease and flour, the oven was still on, and cracked eggshells lay on empty plates. “Mama?”
Why would she just stop in the middle?
    Voices drifted in from the living room. Mama and Dad.
    I tiptoed through the hallway, a sick feeling in my stomach. My conscience was itching.
I don’t have to sneak. This is my house. I can just walk in and—
    “No, Bill, you really don’t understand.” Mama’s voice sounded tense. Stressed.
    “It’s just twenty bucks. I don’t get how that’s a problem.”
    “Of course you don’t!” Mama sighed. “We just can’t keep giving money to these