LITMIR.BIZ

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what?” said Kit, suddenly inspired. “I have a newspaper article about Ernie Lombardi. It has a photograph of him holding seven baseballs in one hand at the same time. It used to be tacked up on my wall. My mother wouldn’t let me put it back up after my room was painted pink, but I bet I can find it. Want to see it?”

      Stirling nodded vigorously, and Kit noticed that his eyes weren’t colorless at all. They were gray.

      “Okay!” she said. “I’ll get the article and you can read all about it!” Kit tore back to her room and rummaged through the drawers of her desk. Where was that newspaper article with the photo of Schnozz? She hoped Mother hadn’t thrown it away! Scrambling wildly through the bottom drawer, Kit found the scrap of newspaper at last. She raced back to Stirling’s room shouting, “I found it!”

      Kit flung open the door and BAM! The door hit Mrs. Howard, who was standing right inside with a silver tray in her hands.

      “MY LAND!” shrieked Mrs. Howard. She lurched forward and the tray, which had one of Mother’s best china teacups and saucers on it, went flying. The hot tea sloshed out all over the rug. The cup hit the floor and shattered, and the tray clanged to the ground with a noise like cymbals.

      “Oh dear, oh dear!” fussed Mrs. Howard. At the same time, Stirling started to cough loudly. Kit tried to apologize in a voice louder than his coughs, and Charlie appeared and added to the commotion by asking, “What happened? What’s all the noise?”

      They were all talking at once when Mother came in. “Good gracious!” she said above all the racket. “Now what?”

      Everyone stopped talking, even Mrs. Howard.

      “Will someone please tell me what is going on?” asked Mother, not sounding at all like her usual serene self.

      Everyone looked at Kit.

      Kit knew that Mother disliked messes, so she tried to explain how this one was just an accident. “I was coming in here to show Stirling my picture of Ernie Lombardi,” she said, “and I didn’t know that Mrs. Howard was right behind the door. I was in a hurry and I—”

      Mother held up her hand to stop Kit. “Don’t tell me,” she said. “I can imagine the rest.” She shook her head. “How many times have I told you to slow down and watch where you’re going, Kit?”

      “I’m sorry,” said Kit.

      Mother stooped down to pick up the broken cup. “Just look at what you’ve done,” she said.

      Kit was shocked. It wasn’t like Mother to scold her like this. “But it wasn’t my fault,” she protested. “It was an accident. It was nobody’s fault.”

      “Nobody’s fault,” repeated Mother. “And yet look at the mess we are in.” She looked up at Kit. “Please go now,” she said. “I’ll help Mrs. Howard clean up. And Kit, dear, please don’t barge in here bothering Stirling and making messes anymore.”

      “But I didn’t—” Kit began.

      “That’s enough, Kit,” said Mother. “Go now.”

      Kit gave up. She turned on her heel and stormed back to her room. Mother seemed to think that the mess was all her fault, but it wasn’t! She didn’t mean to knock into Mrs. Howard. Stupid old Stirling was more to blame for the mess than Kit was. If he weren’t sick, his mother wouldn’t have been bringing him hot tea in the middle of the afternoon in the first place!

      Kit flung herself down at the desk and looked at the wrinkled newspaper article in her hand. What did it matter that her photo of Ernie Lombardi holding seven baseballs was all crumpled up? She couldn’t put it up on her new pink walls, and she sure wasn’t going to show it to Stirling. She wasn’t going to try to be nice to old sniffle-nose Stirling ever again. Look at the trouble it caused her.

      Nothing made Kit more angry than being unjustly accused. She didn’t mind a good fair fight. But to be blamed for something that was not her fault? That she could not stand. In books when people were accused of crimes they didn’t commit, someone like Nancy Drew or Dick Tracy always came around and proved that they were innocent. Kit could see that in her case, she was going to have to speak for herself. She knew just how to do it, too. She’d write a special newspaper for Dad. Then at least one person would know her side of the story.

      Kit rolled a piece of paper into the typewriter. In capital letters, she typed her headline:

      IT’S NOT FAIR!

      It’s Not Fair

       CHAPTER 3

      ounding the typewriter keys as hard as she could made Kit feel better. The good thing about writing was that she got to tell the whole story without anyone interrupting or contradicting her. Kit was pleased with her article when it was finished. It explained exactly what had happened and how the teacup was broken. Then at the end it said:

      Kit pulled her article out of the typewriter and marched outside to sit on the steps and wait for Dad to come home. She brought her book about Robin Hood to read while she waited.

      She had not been reading long before the screen door squeaked open and slammed shut behind her. Kit didn’t even lift her eyes off the page.

      Charlie sat next to her. “Hi,” he said.

      Kit didn’t answer. She was a little put out with Charlie for adding to the trouble in Stirling’s room.

      “What’s eating you, Squirt?” Charlie asked.

      “Nothing,” said Kit as huffily as she could.

      Charlie looked at the piece of paper next to Kit. “Is that one of your newspapers for Dad?” he asked.

      “Yup,” said Kit.

      Charlie picked up Kit’s newspaper and looked at the headline. “‘It’s Not Fair,’” he read aloud. Then he asked, “What’s this all about?”

      “It’s about how it’s wrong to blame people for things that are not their fault,” said Kit. “For example, me, for the mess this afternoon.”

      “Aw, come on, Kit,” said Charlie. “That’s nothing. You shouldn’t make such a big deal of it.”

      “That’s easy for you to say!” she said.

      Charlie took a deep breath in and then let it out. “Listen, Kit,” he said, in a voice that was suddenly serious, “I wouldn’t bother Dad with this newspaper today if I were you.”

      Kit slammed her book shut and looked sideways at Charlie. “And why not?” she asked.

      Charlie glanced over his shoulder to be sure that no one except Kit would hear him. “You know how lots of people have lost their jobs because of the Depression, don’t you?” he asked.

      “Sure,” said Kit. “Like Mr. Howard.”

      “Well,” said Charlie, “yesterday Dad told Mother and me that he’s closing down his car dealership and going out of business.”

      “What?” said Kit. She was horrified. “But…” she sputtered. “But why?”

      “Why do you think?” said Charlie. “Because nobody has money to buy a car anymore. They haven’t for a long time now.”

      “Well, how come Dad didn’t say anything before this?” Kit asked.

      “He didn’t want us to worry,” said Charlie.

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