Me and Fat Glenda by Lila Perl Page A

joke.”
    It turned out that Roddy Fenton was telling the truth. On Sunday, Mr. Creasey showed up at our house, driving an old beat-up black Ford. Instead of his green eyeshade he was wearing a straw hat, even though it was already October and getting a little chilly. Mom and I were both in the house. We could see Pop and Mr. Creasey talking in the yard. Most of the time they just strolled around as they chatted, and Pop seemed to be showing his junk sculpture to Mr. Creasey. Once, Mr. Creasey even went up a few rungs on Drew’s ladder to get a better look at the construction under progress. This stovepipe one was going to be a monster, about fourteen feet high, Drew said.
    After about half an hour, Mr. Creasey left and Pop came inside.
    â€œDid he come for the rent?” Inez asked matter-of-factly.
    â€œNo,” Drew said. “I dropped that off a few days ago.”
    â€œHe came on account of the petition, didn’t he?” I blurted.
    Inez and Drew both looked at me in surprise.
    â€œOh, so you knew about that,” Pop said.
    â€œI heard about it the other day. A kid from school told me.”
    â€œWhy didn’t you tell us?” Drew asked.
    â€œI thought he was making it up,” I said sheepishly. “At least, I hoped he was.”
    Drew outlined the petition for Inez while she listened to him wide-eyed.
    â€œOf all the nonsense I ever heard,” Mom exclaimed. “Did you explain about your sculpture, Drew?”
    â€œOf course. You saw us out there. Creasey was as nice as could be about it. He was quite interested in ‘Stovepipes,’ too. Took a long look at it.”
    â€œSo that’s all settled then,” Inez said.
    â€œWell, I guess so. Creasey’s on the town council. He says as long as we’re not running a business enterprise, the other members can’t register any official beef against us. Said he was delighted to learn it was just a hobby after all and that he was impressed with the ‘vigor and originality’ of my work.”
    â€œHe’s a dear fellow,” Inez said absently. She was busy setting up her loom for a new weaving project.
    â€œWhat about the garbage truck?” I asked. Even though I knew how calm Inez and Drew could be about things that got other people terribly upset, it was amazing to me that they didn’t seem more uneasy and hurt about the petition. After all, it was a serious thing.
    â€œWhat about the garbage truck?” Drew wanted to know.
    â€œCan you go on keeping that in front of the house?”
    â€œWell, actually Creasey said he couldn’t see any technical objection to it as long as it isn’t being used for commercial purposes.”
    â€œBut it is awfully ugly,” I said.
    â€œIt’s also serviceable, Sara love, and it cost a song,” Mom commented. “I’ve gotten to love that old load.”
    â€œWell everybody else around here just hates it!” I said. “Did you know that? Even you’ve got to admit it’s pretty terrible-looking.”
    â€œOh rubbish,” Inez said impatiently.
    Drew was staring out the window at the truck, which was parked as usual in front of the house. “I could rip down a section of fence and pull it into the yard under those trees,” he said.
    â€œWhy should you?” Inez wanted to know.
    â€œOh, maybe just for Creasey’s sake. He’s being nice about things. And people are talking about it, I.”
    â€œWell of all the nerve . . .” Inez began.
    â€œNobody would say anything about anything we did if you just didn’t make it so noticeable,” I broke in.
    â€œNoticeable? What’s that supposed to mean?” Inez wanted to know.
    â€œOh Inez,” I said imploringly, “can’t you see that we’re different from everybody else around here? I know we were like this in California, too. But there we weren’t the only ones in the whole town. Here we really