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  About this Book

  I wake up. The smell of ashes burns in my nose. A fire burns in my head. My ears want to drench the promise that repeats itself:

  If you ever, ever, ever

  Try to sneak away,

  I'll be waiting in the night.

  I'll be waiting in the day.

  You never will escape me.

  You never will be free.

  You're my forever, ever, ever

  You're the lock that fits my key.

  It's the monster. I don't understand. But it is the monster.

  "Because with you . . . I created a monster"

  Rinnie Gardener's life looks like a perfect painting from the outside—a loving family and a beautiful house. But when the paint is stripped away, this dream dissolves to dust. Her parents divorce. Her father treats her like a stranger. Her mother, looming like a black cloud, treats her worse. Painful words become painful bruises. Rinnie's own body becomes a source of self-punishment.

  As her life seemingly falls apart, Rinnie has the courage to pick up the pieces. In a brilliantly unique style and voice, Rinnie tells her story—a search for identity, love, and healing. She must look in the darkest places to repaint the canvas of her life. She must face the monster.

  About the Author

  Photo by Brad Baskin

  Janie Baskin is in a lifelong affair with curiosity. Her unique gifts for observation and insight empower her work as a teacher, artist, writer, and illustrator of children's books. The passion to create is her constant companion—whether in the kitchen, the studio, or wherever her travels take her across the globe. This is her first novel.

  Contents

  Cover

  About this Book

  About the Author

  Title Page

  Dedication

  * * *

  PART ONE: The First Ten Years

  YAH, RINNIE

  MONKEY BUSINESS

  ANGEL BABY

  BABY IDEAS

  A MAID, a NURSE, and SLEEPING BEAUTY

  VACANCY

  GAGA

  KINDERGARTEN

  ENCOURAGEMENT

  THE BASEMENT

  WOOD CHUCK HOLLOW

  FRANCHONS

  WHAT IS a WHILE?

  WHERE IS THERE?

  GRANDMA GARDENER

  GETTING READY

  LOOKING

  FIRST GRADE

  GAGA’S HOUSE

  TERRIFIED

  WOOLY WILLY

  SECOND GRADE

  FUN

  THE OTHER SITTER

  EIGHT CANDLES

  CLOUDS and REDWOOD

  BUBBLEGUM

  FIRST IMPRESSIONS

  LAND and WATER SPORTS

  WATERSKIING

  JUSTICE

  TOP BUNK

  GOING HOME

  BEDTIME

  DRESS UP

  THIRD GRADE

  MONEY TREES

  FOLLOW the LEADER

  GOOD ADVICE

  CRIME and PUNISHMENT

  SCARED

  WEEKDAYS

  NINE

  PERSONALITY

  LITTLE BOOK of QUESTIONS

  BROWNIES

  BAD DREAM

  HORSES

  SHADY LANE

  OOPS

  LITTLE BOOK of QUESTIONS

  WEATHER

  INTUITION

  PART TWO: The Next Six Years

  MOVING OUT

  DEAR GOD

  THE SENECA

  SIXTH GRADE

  LITTLE BOOK of QUESTIONS

  CREEPY CRAWLERS

  SEVENTH GRADE

  I’LL VOLUNTEER!

  POWER

  WHERE DOES HURT LIVE?

  FLUBBER

  PACKING

  SISTERS

  CONGRATULATIONS

  COINCIDENCE

  FAMILY

  POP POP

  LITTLE BOOK of QUESTIONS

  LITTLE BOOK of QUESTIONS

  REALLY?

  LETTER TWENTY-THREE

  EVAN, WHERE DID YOU GO?

  FIRST DATE

  GOT YOU LAST

  NOTE to MYSELF

  GRANDMA SHER II

  INGENUITY

  A BRIEF MISTAKE

  TICKET to PARADISE

  MORE CARL

  NOTE to MYSELF

  BIG SHOES

  INTEGRITY

  LEGALITIES

  NOTE to MYSELF

  REPLACEABLE

  EVAN

  COOKING LESSON

  DR. DIDIER

  SOCIAL ACTION

  NOTE to MYSELF

  ANOTHER NOTE to MYSELF

  LITTLE BOOK of QUESTIONS

  SUNDAYS

  UNBELIEVABLE

  I CAN DO IT

  DO YOU MISS ME?

  DO I MISS YOU?

  RITUAL

  NOTE to MYSELF

  SOAPSUDS

  JACK

  NOTE to MYSELF

  I’M HERE TOO

  TWO POEMS

  CHILLS

  ONE MORE POEM

  MONDAY MORNING

  FAMILY SECRET

  BEAUTY

  ELEVENTH GRADE

  NO MORE POP POP

  LITTLE BOOK of QUESTIONS

  THAT’S HOW IT IS

  IS POP POP FOREVER?

  LITTLE BOOK of QUESTIONS

  ALWAYS

  NOTE to MYSELF

  CHIP on a SHOULDER

  BEING THERE

  THE PUZZLE

  PAVING the ROAD

  NOTE to MYSELF

  THANK YOU

  I DON’T WANT to SHARE

  CLUE

  IF ONLY

  RINNIE the LIONHEART

  I’M HAROLD

  LITTLE BOOK of QUESTIONS

  FRIDAY

  CAN’T YOU SEE ME

  NOTE to MYSELF

  RECIPE for SWEET DREAMS

  ANOTHER FRIDAY

  NOTE to MYSELF

  MEASURING

  WHAT’S MY STORY?

  WHY I HATE LIVER

  TIME

  HOW DO YOU SPELL MONSTER?

  ONCE UPON a TIME . . .

  JUST for ME

  SUPPORT

  REMEMBERING

  COOKING LESSON

  HISTORY

  ART IMITATES LIFE

  PICTURE-PERFECT

  HOME COOKING

  TIME OUT

  MAY I BE EXCUSED?

  BE CAREFUL WHAT YOU WISH FOR

  HEAVEN

  CHANGE OF PALACE

  NOTE to MYSELF

  BREAKFAST

  NOTE to MYSELF

  NOTE to MYSELF

  BINGE

  SHAME

  ELECTIVE

  CUPCAKES

  SEDUCTION

  LITTLE BOOK of QUESTIONS

  A GOOD LESSON

  OBSERVATION

  FIVE THOUGHTS THIS WEEK

  MAYBE I WILL . . .

  SHOW BUT NO TELL

  TELL

  SWIRL

  NOTE to MYSELF

  MOM’S LAST WORDS

  PAINTING ONE

  TWO PAINTINGS

  COURAGE

  CIRCLE TIME

  PRESCRIPTION FOR “HAPPY”

  WATER TABLE

  MONKEY BARS

  NO THANK YOU

  EVALUATION

  OPENINGS

  EPILOGUE

  * * *

  Acknowledgements

  Note to Our Readers

  Copyright

  More Books from Scarlet Voyage

  This book is dedicated to Flo who lives in my heart, and to Ruth who illuminated my path with her wisdom.

  PART ONE : The First Ten Years

  YAH, RINNIE

  “You girls draw me so
mething pretty,” Verna says, handing us paper and what she calls a rainbow-in-a-box. “Just be sure to keep those colors on the paper. Lord knows your mama’s given me enough house-cleaning to last a lifetime.”

  “Thank you, Verna,” we say. “We promise to be sure.”

  “1958—you’d think Mrs. Gardener never heard of Abraham Lincoln,” Verna mumbles.

  I love the smell of waxy crayons and their jiggy jag lines.

  “When all the colors slide over each other, it makes a rainbow out of the box,” I say to my sister, Liz.

  “That’s scribbling, Margo,” she says. “I don’t scribble. My picture is our house. 61 Peregrine Avenue, Cincinnati, Ohio.” Lizzie underlines the letters with red zigzags. “Here’re the thorn bushes, our tree house, and our sandbox.” She sits back on her knees, chest out like she’s about to sneeze.

  I don’t care what a Cincinnati, Ohio is. “Scribble scrabble, scribble scrabble, scribbly scribbly scribble scrabble.” The words pop out of my mouth. They are hard, soft, and sweet at the same time.

  “Scribble sounds like chocolate caramels or ice cream,” I tell Liz, drawing more wiggly lines. She colors a yellow sun in the corner of her picture.

  I push my crayons away so I can watch television.

  “Yah, Rinnie,” yells a man on TV. “Yah, Rinnie, get the child out of the house.”

  A big dog with a fluffy tail runs into a house on fire. When he comes out, his fur is dirty. In his mouth, he drags a boy by the pants.

  “Good work, Rinnie. You’re the smartest, fastest, strongest dog in the world!” says the man, clapping his hand on Rinnie’s back.

  I want to be Rin Tin Tin.

  “Lizzie, if you call me Rin Tin Tin, I will do anything you ask. Say, yah, Rinnie.”

  “What?” Lizzie asks.

  “I’m Rin Tin Tin,” I say.

  “OK. Rin Tin Tin, get me an oatmeal cookie. YAH, Rinnie! Go see if Verna’s made lunch yet. YAH, Rinnie! Hand me the coloring book on the chair. YAH, Rinnie!”

  I am the strongest, fastest, smartest dog in the world. I see myself run across the brown grass waiting for it to turn green—and to save people.

  MONKEY BUSINESS

  “The door to the extra bedroom has to be kept shut,” Verna says. Her whisper is so soft the sound almost tiptoes past my ears. The gold tooth on the side of Verna’s mouth winks at me. It shines like the slicked-down black hair she calls a wig. It matches her clothes.

  There’s a secret on the other side of the door. My three-year-old feet creep, creep, creep forward.

  The upstairs hallway is lit from below. I take off my shoes so no one can hear me. Downstairs, in the den, the ladies in Mommy’s bridge club play cards and laugh. They sound like the birds outside, tweeting loudly for the same worm. No one can see me. My toes are so close to the crack where the light peeks from under the door. I’m almost inside the room with the secret. I reach for the knob, and turn it slowly—slow-ly so it doesn’t make one squeak. Push. The door opens.

  Light from the morning sun blinks through the blinds and makes stripes where I stand. Tiny white dots cover the green carpet like snowflakes on grass. The walls used to be white. Now they are painted with giraffes, monkeys, and elephants. It looks like a monkey is climbing into the old crib I used before I became a big girl. I look up and see a familiar shape, like an upside-down cereal bowl stuck on the ceiling, but it is the light.

  “Heee,” says a voice. I turn around. The “heee” came from the crib! It came from under a green blanket. It heeed again, gurbled, and moved.

  “Margo,” Verna whispers.

  “I’m Rinnie. Rinnie, Rinnie, Rinnie! Please call me Rinnie, Verna.”

  “Get out of the baby’s room. If Mrs. G. catches you, you’ll get a spanking . . . Rinnie.”

  “A baby is in there?” I ask. “I didn’t know we had a baby. Why do we have a baby, and how did it get in?”

  The baby starts to whimper. Mimi comes in and picks the baby up. Verna shoos me into the hall. Muscles make little brown hills on her arms when she turns me away.

  Why is my nurse holding that baby? “Mimi, is that your baby?” I ask. She shakes her head.

  The laughter from downstairs gets closer. The bridge club follows Mommy into the baby’s room. A lady shuts the door. The hallway is quiet.

  “A baby,” I say to Verna. “What will we do with a baby?”

  ANGEL BABY

  I listen to the giggles and coos in the baby’s room. The baby must be doing tricks. Why else would the grown-ups laugh and give it so much attention? I can’t think of anything the baby does that I can’t do. I can roll in a ball and stretch my arms. I can smack my lips. I can do things the baby can’t. I know how to zip. I practice my tricks and want to show Mommy.

  Verna opens the door. “Mrs. G, do you want the pastries put out now?” she asks Mommy. “I have the porch tables set with the pink linens.”

  “’Scuse me,” I say, squeezing my way in and through too many legs. “Mommy, look.” I pat the round tummy above me. “Mommy look at my funny face,” I say, pointing my face in her direction. Mommy touches the top of my head and says we’ll talk after the company goes home.

  “But Mommy, look how high I can reach.”

  Mommy’s big hands brush mine to her sides. “Later, Margo. Later.”

  “It’s Rinnie, Mommy. Call me Rinnie.” I try to get small, and I squish my way through the forest of legs to find Verna.

  “What are you doing, girl?” she says.

  “Tricks, like the baby,” I say, curling my head under my legs until I feel like a roundish bump.

  Through my legs, I see white nurse’s shoes.

  “Look at my trick, Mimi,” I call.

  She makes her super-d-duper smile and points her thumb up in the air before she turns the other way.

  I see Mimi pull something from the crib that looks like messy laundry. Mommy’s bridge club is around her, still talking, talking, talking.

  Mimi takes the bundle and sits in the chair with a high back. My hide-and-seek chair. She pulls a bottle out of her pocket and sticks it in the laundry mess. The bridge club doesn’t stay. They go to the room with candies and nuts and the table with cards.

  I put my thumb in my mouth and move toward Mimi without picking my feet up off the floor. I put my head on Mimi’s bony knee. “Are you holding a baby in your lap?” I ask.

  “I’m holding your brother,” Mimi says. “Can you see him?”

  I dig my toes into the carpet and rise high enough to see a little blue-pink face. His eyes are closed. “Why are his cheeks moving in and out, in and out, in and out?”

  “He’s sucking milk from the bottle,” Mimi says.

  “Can I try it?”

  “You have already tried it. When you were a baby, I held you and fed you just like this,” Mimi says.

  I put my head back on Mimi’s bony knee. “Now I’m big, but I would fit in your lap.”

  “I think so, too,” Mimi says, shifting the baby.

  I climb onto Mimi’s leg. “How do you know it’s a brother, Mimi?” I say.

  “The angels told me.”

  BABY IDEAS

  The baby’s name is Evan, and he doesn’t do much. Mimi feeds and rocks Evan and shushes him when he cries. Lizzie and I watch as Mimi moves her arms in the air like a whirlybird and makes sounds like the wind. Evan opens his mouth and smiles. Plop, goes a spoonful of baby mush into Evan’s toothless grin.

  “Bingo!” Mimi says.

  “You’re like a mommy bird dropping a worm in her baby’s beak,” Lizzie says.

  “Mimi, watch us,” I say, and I take my sister’s hand. We twist and turn across the kitchen, our arms flapping like crazy birds. Flap, hop, flap, hop. “We’re whirlybirds! Look, Evan, look!” we shout. I open my mouth and eat a pretend spoonful of mush.

  Evan’s eyes pop like a jack-in-the-box.

  “I know what babies are for—they’re ’sposed to watch us!”

  A MAID, a NURSE, and SLEE
PING BEAUTY

  “Wash up, lunch is ready,” Verna says, wiping her dirt-colored hands on the white apron covering her uniform. She reminds me of a penguin only instead of being round she is long. Verna doesn’t have extra padding anywhere.

  I crawl onto the wooden bench dragging my baby doll, Dollie, to the table. Croquette, our dog, sits at one end waiting for something to drop. Next to Lizzie, she is my best friend because she sleeps on my bed, next to my legs, every night.

  “Move over, Rinnie. I’m the big sister,” Liz says. “I get to sit next to Evan and help Mimi feed him.”

  I scootch across the bench with Dollie.

  “Hootchie kootchie, here comes the wind,” Mimi sings, twirling in front of Evan’s high chair. “Here I come,” she says, pushing a spoonful of yellow into his mouth.

  “BRZZZZZ,” I say, flying my grilled cheese sandwich. “BRZZZZZ, open your mouth, Dollie, here I come.”

  “Rinnie, put that sandwich in your mouth. Lizzie, sit down and eat your lunch,” Verna says. “Mimi’s the nurse. She’ll feed Evan.”

  Liz sits and pulls on the melted cheese dripping from her bread.

  “Ta da,” she says, licking her lips. “I made the cheese disappear.”

  Dollie and I eat my sandwich, and Verna says I can have a cinnamon graham cracker for dessert.

  “Lizzie, when you finish your lunch you can tickle your brother’s toes and make him smile, so he’ll open his mouth,” Mimi says.

  “You can tickle Evan’s toes tonight,” Liz says, pointing to me.

  “Okie dokie, pinokie,” I say, putting Dollie on the floor for a nap. “Verna, will you play with me?”

  “Good Lord, girl, I have to wash dishes, polish the candle-sticks, vacuum the third-floor bedroom, dust every room up and down, and wake up your mother. It’s past noon. Then I have to see what special chore she has me doing this afternoon. The only thing this house is missing is a moat. You and Lizzie play on the swings,” she says, holding the screen door open. Croquette zooms past us and we follow.

  On the swings, we pump our legs harder and harder and go faster and higher. We can see over the top of our neighbor’s apple tree. Croquette barks when the swings get close to her. I think she would like me to take her flying with me.

  “Liz, why doesn’t Mommy make breakfast or lunch?”

  “Because she’s getting her beauty sleep,” Liz says, holding her legs out to fly with the swing.