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Fall Down Seven. C. E. Edmonson
Читать онлайн.Название Fall Down Seven
Год выпуска 0
isbn 9781456625269
Автор произведения C. E. Edmonson
Жанр Учебная литература
Издательство Ingram
I assumed my brother was talking about the cold, but he might have been referring to the many skyscrapers we passed, buildings reaching fifty and sixty stories into the sky. Massive, monstrous buildings. I’d never seen anything like them, not outside of magazines, and I was impressed enough to admit I was definitely a small-town hick. My head swiveled back and forth like the windshield wiper on a car.
Marshall Field’s, only five stories high, wasn’t a skyscraper, but when we went through the door I was still enthralled. And not only by the heat. The center of the building was completely open, from the marble floor to a mosaic ceiling made of glass that reflected colors so bright they dazzled my eyes. Balconies supported by thick, square columns surrounded each of the store’s many shopping levels. It was a long way down from the upper level.
But it wasn’t too far for the Whizz. His equilibrium recovered, he made a beeline for the railing the minute the elevator doors opened.
Mom stopped him. “Charles Junior.”
The Whizz skidded to a halt and turned. “Mom?”
“You’re not at home. Behave yourself.”
Mom’s reminder sobered me up. No, we weren’t at home, and we weren’t likely to return home for a long time. I took charge of the Whizz—my role as I understood it—and guided him through the fitting process.
He finally drew the line after slipping into his fourth coat. “C’mon, Emiko.”
“You want to be cold?”
“I want to go home where it’s warm.”
Out of the mouths of babes. The Whizz had said what we were all thinking. But going home wasn’t an option, and we all knew it. The comment was simply ignored.
We left the store wearing our new wool coats, our new hats, and our new gloves. Though still shockingly foreign, the cold and the wind were at least bearable now. And spring was coming, followed by summer. Maybe there was good reason for my brother’s optimism. An Asian family we passed—mother, father, grandmother, and three children—wore no badges. They might have been Chinese or Thai or Filipino. They might even have been Japanese.
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