The Revenge of the Radioactive Lady Read Online Free Page A

kingdom. She was always trying to instruct Ava, her clueless older sister, not to seem so
interested
in a boy she liked, but would Ava listen?
    “What’s her name?” the lady asked. She wore a straw hat; khaki pants; white long-sleeved shirt; and hideous, puffy white walking shoes. Typical old person. Even though it was May, and in the eighties, we have to keep every inch of our flesh covered! It looked like the old lady had no breasts at all under her shirt.
    Suzi wore a denim skirt, flip-flops, and a tank shirt, and she felt suddenly like the sleazy little tramp her mother often suggested she looked like without ever actually coming out and saying it. “Are you going to wear
that
to school?”
    The old lady’s blue eyes, in her pale face, were wide and intense. “Your dog’s name?” she said.
    Suzi explained the origin of Parson’s name. Christmas, five years ago, they brought the poodle home and they were listening to that song all the time, and it was her favorite, “Winter Wonderland,” the Johnny Mathis version, and she noticed that their new little poodle, sitting onher hind legs, looked just like the snowman they built in the meadow, hence, Parson Brown, even though the poodle was a girl. She tried to tell this in an animated way, even though she was sick to death of the story. They ought to just rename the damn dog.
    “Well, isn’t that cute!” said the old lady, and then, with hardly a pause, “Where do you live?”
    Suzi told her, thinking that this woman surely knew already, because she’d seen the woman watching from afar when she and Parson ran down their driveway, but maybe the old woman was just being polite.
    “I live on Reeve’s Court,” the old lady volunteered, “down at the dead end, white house with blue shutters.”
    Suzi made a polite sound, thinking of her soccer uniform and how she hadn’t assembled the parts yet and how angry it made her mother when she didn’t do it the night before, which she never did because she liked to live dangerously, and, okay, it was entertaining, she had to admit, watching her mother getting angrier and angrier while trying not to, so predictable, but she had to make sure her mother didn’t get too angry, or it would quickly stop being funny and start being scary. Whew. It was hard work being thirteen.
    “You have a brother, am I right?” said the old lady.
    The two dogs were sniffing each other’s faces now, so Suzi decided to give Parson another few seconds. Buster was so cute, with that long sausage body and little flap ears. If she ever was allowed to get another dog, she wanted a corgi.
    “How old is he?” the woman asked her, leaning forward slightly. “Your brother?”
    Suzi thought it was a rather peculiar question, but what else to do but answer? She told her about Otis, sixteen, and Ava, who was eighteen, and added that she was thirteen.
    “I live alone now,” the old lady volunteered. “I moved here a few months ago when my son got a job teaching at the FSU medical school,but then he lost his job—long story—and they moved to Houston and here I still am! I reckon I ought to follow them, but I just bought the house and I like Tallahassee.” She stretched her lips out in a sort-of smile.
    The old kook must be as lonely as her dog, telling her whole life story to some random kid. And Suzi could’ve sworn she’d seen the woman for years in their neighborhood, but maybe not. “Oh,” said Suzi.
    “Mrs. Archer’s my name,” said the woman. “Nancy Archer. My friends call me Nance.”
    Nance? What kind of nickname was that for an old lady? Suzi—full name Suzannah—when she turned eleven, had toyed with the idea of making people call her Zan just to piss them off, but decided it wasn’t worth it.
    “Who else lives in your house with you and your brother and sister and doggie?” Nance asked her. Buster was busily sniffing a mailbox and Parson was watching him, looking a little forlorn. This was another abnormal question,