Running Lean by Diana L. Sharples Page A

“I left them right here by the couch. Calvin, did you do something with my sandals?”
    He scrunched up his face. “I didn’t touch your stinky sandals.”
    “Shut up. They are not stinky.”
    Dad’s heavy tread thumped the floor behind the couch. “Y’all stop arguing. You’ll upset your mama.” He followed Mom into the kitchen. “Babe, help me with this tie, will you?”
    Upstairs, a little-boy voice bellowed, “
Cowabunga!
”
    The distinct hollow sound of a bouncing ball struck the steps three times. Calvin turned his head in time to see a soccer ball rebound off the last step then come down on top of Mom’s antique curio cabinet. Everything inside the curio tinkled and rattled. A bronze horse figurine tipped off the top and thudded to the floor. A stack of mail fluttered down after it.
    “What was that?” Mom shouted. She rounded the corner from the kitchen.
    “Nothing broke,” Jacob called.
    “
Jacob!
How many times have I told you not to throw footballs, basketballs, baseballs, volleyballs, soccer balls, hockey pucks, Frisbees, or foosballs in the house?”
    “A hundred and eleven?” Jacob’s voice faded as he dashed into some hiding place upstairs.
    An involuntary grin came to Calvin’s tight lips. Laughing would guarantee a smack on the back of his head.
    Michael would have loved it.
    Calvin missed laughter.
    Mom muttered to herself as she checked the curio contents and bent to retrieve the figurine. “Lizzie, did you get your baby sister dressed?”
    “Yes, Mom. She’s in her playpen. I still can’t find my sandals.”
    Zachary, smartly dressed in a pale yellow shirt and a purple-and-gold—striped clip-on tie, came into the room and threw himself onto the couch beside Calvin. Grinning, he raised a finger to his lips to signal Calvin’s silence.
    Having restored everything to its proper place on the curio,Mom turned. She sighed and rolled her eyes toward the ceiling. “Elizabeth, your sandals are on top of the drapery rod.”
    Lizzie whirled toward the windows and gasped. “Zachary!”
    “Ha, ha!” Zachary rolled off the couch and crawled under an end table to escape his enraged sister.
    Lizzie climbed on Dad’s recliner to retrieve her sandals while Zachary ran outside. Yapping, Scamp dashed out behind Zachary before the screen door smacked the frame. Jacob appeared at the foot of the stairs. Still in his underwear. Silence fell for a single breath.
    “Oh, dear Lord, have mercy on this family,” Mom said in a tone that sounded nothing like a prayer. “Calvin, would you
please
get the rest of the kids into the van while I dress this child?”
    Calvin bounded up. He grabbed Mom’s keys off the end table—where she had left them after her third trip to the grocery store yesterday. “Everyone, in the van. Lizzie, get Emily.”
    “Ooh, thinks he’s the boss now,” Lizzie cooed, “like he’s just so perfect.”
    “Not,” Peyton muttered as she beat him to the front door.
    “Wow. We’re all just
so
holy, aren’t we?” Calvin thudded across the porch behind her.
    Inside the house, Jacob wailed, Mom complained, and Dad barked short commands. Calvin searched for Zachary under the front porch. He could guess what Mom would say about the kid’s soiled church clothes. He didn’t want to think about what she’d say if Peyton ratted on him about what she thought she’d seen last night.
Happy Easter
.
    Piano notes echoed sweetly through the sanctuary and a hundred voices lifted to the ceiling.
Alleluia, He is risen, Alleluia
. Calvin sang half-heartedly. He glanced at Peyton, who was standing at theother end of their pew, and caught her staring. Probably thinking he was a hypocrite for singing at all.
    The hymn ended and a woman stood to sing a solo. Calvin sat down while attempting to arrange his khaki slacks. The hand-me-downs from Michael were already too small. When the hymn moved into an instrumental part, Calvin leaned toward his father to whisper, “Can I borrow the truck