Full Speed Ahead: My Journey with Kit

“Look!” Mr. Birdyseye shouts to the railroad bulls to get them to turn away. When they turn to see what he’s pointing to, he tells me and Kit to run. The two of us make a dash for freedom with Buddy on our heels. We run as far and as fast as we can across a stubby field and through a little orchard. We don’t know where we’re going, only that we’re going away from the boxcar and the railroad bulls.

After a little while, I turn back and see that the bulls aren’t chasing us anymore. Kit slows down too, and we walk along a dusty road into a little town. The sign says “Welcome to Lewis Falls.” I turn and ask how we’re going to get home. Kit squares her shoulders and says we’ll have to come up with a way to earn the train fare back to Cincinnati. I know she’s as tired and worried as me, but she doesn’t show it.

We walk past a general store. Its doors are open and they have a lunch counter inside. We can smell the coffee and apple pie wafting out. We can’t resist going inside. We have no money to pay for food, but that makes the hunger pangs even worse. The woman working asks if she can help us, and Kit cheerily asks if there’s a way that we could do chores to earn our train fare home. The woman hesitates, and I can tell she’s a nice person who would like to help us if she could. But she says the only chores that need to be done is scrubbing out the frying pans. But they’re so greasy and foul, she wouldn’t ask her worst enemy to scrub them. I happily thank her and turn to go, but Kit stops me and says that this might be our only chance. We better grab it.

Kit turns to face the woman and says that we’re grateful for the opportunity. We’ll clean the pans well. The woman shakes her head, but leads us to a big sink behind the lunch counter. There’s a cracked open back door next to the sink. It faces the wall so we have our backs to the lunch counter, but we’re still in the same room with the lady. The sink is piled high with greasy pots and pans. I pick up an icky scrub cloth with the tips of my fingers. Buddy lies down next to the sink, while Kit bustles about, turning on the tap, filling the sink with hot water, and piling the dirty pots and pans on the counter next to the sink. Kit scrapes the grease into the trash can, and then plunges the pots and pans into the sink. The least I can do is scrub them.

As I scrub, I think about how in the future, if I ever hear anyone talking about how nice it would be to live in the olden days, I’ll tell that person to wake up. Scrubbing pots and pans is disgusting business. As we scrub, Kit finds a thick slice of bacon stuck to one of the pans. She’s about to slip to Buddy when we see a boy peeking out at us through the back door. He clearly needs the bacon more than Buddy does. Kit passes it to him while I fill up a cup with water for him at the sink. He eats and drinks, smiles shyly, and disappears.

Except for the fact I’m slimy, I sort of like being behind the lunch counter because it’s right in the main room of the general store. We can peek over our shoulders and see and hear all the action. Customers come in and call out a hello to the woman, Mrs. Finch, who must be the owner. They buy sugar and nails, apples and pickles, buttons, and shoe polish. The wall on the opposite side of the sink is full of shelves stocked with cloth material. The materials are all dreamy, vintage stuff. But of course, they’re ordinary fabrics in the 1930s. I overhear a young woman saying that she wants to make a suit and she doesn’t know what materials to use.

Mrs. Finch asks her what she plans to wear the suit for, and I turn to Kit and nudge her and say that the woman looks like Ginger Rogers. Kit glances over her shoulder and agrees with me. Ginger Rogers bends down to look at Buddy. She seems smitten, because she picks him up and snuggles him as she explains to Mrs. Finch that she landed a job in Cincinnati. She needs to look tailored and business-like. I see that she is holding one bolt of fabric that is a floaty, flowered chiffon, and another that is a navy blue serge. I know which material she should choose. Making outfits from secondhand clothes has taught me a lot about fabrics. So even though it’s nervy of me, I pipe up that she should choose the navy. The chiffon will look too frilly for a business suit.

Ginger Rogers smiles and says the navy it is. Ginger Rogers carries Buddy over to the lunch counter while Mrs. Finch goes to cut the cloth. She explains that she’s excited about moving to Cincinnati. Her job starts next week. I poke Kit with my elbow. Now it’s her turn to grab the chance. Kit says that if she needs a place to live, her family has a boardinghouse in Cincinnati. It’s clean and safe and not too expensive. And the food is good. She points to Buddy and says that she’s already made friends with one of the boarders. Ginger Rogers says the dog is adorable. And she does need a place to stay.

Kit passes Ginger Rogers her home address and a neighbor’s telephone number, since the Kittredges turned off their phone line. Ginger Rogers asks if she can buy us sandwiches and pie as a thanks. Kit and I say yes! We finish the pots, dry our hands, and sit on stools at the lunch counter. I’ve never been so hungry before, but the sandwich and pie that Ginger Rogers buys for us are the best things I’ve eaten in my life.

When we’re done eating, after Ginger Rogers leaves, Mrs. Finch pays us for scrubbing the pots. You would have to pay me $100 to scrub pots again. But Mrs. Finch gives me and Kit two nickels each. Kit thanks Mrs. Finch and says that the money should be enough to buy our way home. When I look down at the two nickels in my hand, I feel so proud. I know that I earned these nickels, so I deserve to keep them for myself. But the face of the little poor boy haunts me. I think of how kind Mrs. Finch was to Kit and me, and how did Ginger Rogers bought us food, and I feel torn.