Chapter 52

           OnerainyafternoonwhenBonniewasbarelypastherfirstbirthday,Wademopedaboutthesittingroom,occasionallygoingtothewindowandflatteninghisnoseonthedrippingpane.Hewasaslender,weedyboy,smallforhiseightyears,quietalmosttoshyness,neverspeakingunlessspokento.Hewasboredandobviouslyatlossforentertainment,forEllawasbusyinthecornerwithherdolls,Scarlettwasathersecretarymutteringtoherselfassheaddedalongcolumnoffigures,andRhettwaslyingonthefloor,swinginghiswatchbyitschain,justoutofBonnie’sreach.

           AfterWadehadpickedupseveralbooksandletthemdropwithbangsandsigheddeeply,Scarlettturnedtohiminirritation.

           "Heavens,Wade!Runoutandplay."

           "Ican’t.It’sraining."

           "Isit?Ihadn’tnoticed.Well,dosomething.Youmakemenervous,fidgetingabout.GotellPorktohitchupthecarriageandtakeyouovertoplaywithBeau."

           "Heisn’thome,"sighedWade."He’satRaoulPicard’sbirthdayparty."

           RaoulwasthesmallsonofMaybelleandRenePicard—adetestablelittlebrat,Scarlettthought,morelikeanapethanachild.

           "Well,youcangotoseeanyoneyouwantto.RuntellPork."

           "Nobody’sathome,"answeredWade."Everybody’sattheparty."

           Theunspokenwords"everybody—butme"hungintheair;butScarlett,hermindonheraccountbooks,paidnoheed.

           Rhettraisedhimselftoasittingpostureandsaid:"Whyaren’tyouatthepartytoo,son?"

           Wadeedgedclosertohim,scuffingonefootandlookingunhappy.