Island Angels

Home School Hoboes

One week later, Brittany and Blair became home schooled. Neither girl wanted education; but what better way to get food, than by latching onto the Claysons' school?

Every morning, they pounded on Maggie Clayson's door. How do bees make honey? they asked. Where do blueberries grow? What are clam shells made of?

Without fail, Jason let them in. And, until his mother caught them, their answers came in the form of food. Honey, blueberry pancakes, fish chowder...

Then Jenny had a few days off. She took over kitchen duties while Miss Maggie, Jasper, and Jason travelled to Portland. But Jenny Clayson was no Yankee chef. She served potato chips, pickles, and bologna sandwiches on white bread.

"Why aren't you fixing clams today?" Blair asked, as she devoured her fourth sandwich.

"Be quiet, Blair." Brittany reached for her third. "You liked bologna when Delaina served it."

From her dish sink, Jenny scowled. "Why can't Delaina feed you?"

"That was back home," Brittany explained. "She's still in Ohio."

"Who's taking care of you now?"

Neither girl answered.

"You're over here every day," she continued. "Jason's gone, and you're still hanging around. Don't you have a mom?"

"Mom takes care of Opal Mildred. Can't I cut your hair?"

"Or color it," Blair offered. "She could dye your hair green."

Jenny tossed aside her dish towel. "Maybe I'll consider it when you take a bath."

Brittany's eyes lit up. "Can we use your"—

"Don't even think of it. Mom crammed it full of sea creatures."

"Can we see?"

"Does your tap run salt water?"

Jenny stared, pointedly, at the door.

"Do you have a phone?" Brittany asked. "We could call Delaina for help."

"Phone service on Abenaki? You have got to be kidding." She lowered her voice. "I don't really hate kids. If you promise to not bug Jason during math class, I'll show you a secret."

"Please!"

Jenny reached into her purse and pulled out a small black box. "This," she said, "is a mobile phone."

Blair grabbed, but Jenny whisked it away.

"I couldn't live on this god-forsaken island without it," she said. "Especially when the boyfriend lives in Bangor. But it's a huge secret. You must never tell Mom."

"About the phone, or the boyfriend?" Brittany asked.

"Both." She stuffed it back into her purse. "Now you're going to ask if you can call Delaina. The answer is no, because minutes cost money."

"I thought time was free."

"Gullible Jenny, trusting too soon," she muttered. "That's enough for today. Try to forget, okay?" She shoved vanilla wafers into Blair's hand.

But Brittany didn't move. From her knapsack, she had pulled her Samson Transit Lines notepad, and had written Delaina's phone number. With one hand, she took cookies; with the other, she shoved the number under a placemat.