the special school.
When we left the house, May took my hand
instead of Cary's. He paused for a moment, visibly
annoyed, but said nothing about it.
"Let's go. We don't want to be late," he
muttered and plodded along ahead of us, moving so
quickly, May practically had to run to keep up. We dropped her off first and then started for our school. I
tried to make conversation.
"How long have you been constructing model
ships?" I asked. He glanced at me as if I had asked a
stupid question.
"A long time and they're not toys," he added. "I didn't say they were. I know grown-ups can
have hobbies, too. Papa George used to carve out
flutes from hickory branches. He even made my
fiddle."
"Why do you call this person Papa George?" he
said disdainfully. "He's not your grandfather. This
Sunday you'll meet your grandfather."
"Papa George is the only grandfather I've
known. He and Mama Arlene are my real
grandparents as far as I'm concerned," I replied firmly. "Don't they have any children of their own?" "So why didn't HaiIle leave you with them
while she went rushing off to become a movie star?"
he asked, his eyes sparkling wickedly.
"Papa George is very sick. He suffers from
black lung," I replied.
He grunted. "That's a convenient excuse," he
said. Furious, I seized him at the elbow and pulled
him to a stop, spinning him around. He was genuinely shocked at my outburst of physical strength. I shocked
myself.
"It's not an excuse. He's very sick. I don't know