Ask Anybody by Constance C. Greene

their names on it, the date, and list the items they give us and their value. Price everything high, real high. That’s important. That way, the more they give us, the more the tax deduction they get. And aim for the old folks. The older the better. The old people always have lots of stuff squirreled away in their houses. And they’re all worried about money, getting sick and having to pay all those hospital bills and all, so if you tell ’em they get a big tax deduction for their things, they practically give you the shirt off their backs.” Nell grinned. “I know because I did it. Plenty of times.”
    â€œThat way,” Rowena said, a smile breaking out on her face as she got the idea, “we help them, they help us. One hand washes the other.”
    â€œYou got it,” Nell said.
    â€œWhat do they do with the tax deduction after we make it out and give it to them? What happens to it so they save money on their income tax?” I asked.
    â€œThey attach the piece of paper to their income tax returns and the government gives ’em the deduction next year. That way”—I was fascinated watching the way her tongue rolled around in her mouth—“that way they save piles of money.”
    I think I’d have known she was lying even if it hadn’t been for her tongue. It was too easy. I’d watched my father make out his returns too many times, heard him complaining, seen him scratch his head, perplexed, as he tried to fill out the forms, to know it wasn’t a simple problem to solve.
    â€œWho’ll drive us around? Your Uncle Joe?” Betty said.
    â€œHe’s not here,” Nell said. “I’ll drive. If we stick to the back roads, we’ll be all right.”
    â€œYou’re kidding,” I said.
    She gave me one of her flat stares. “No, I’m not,” she said. “I know how to drive. Done it plenty of times, since I was about eight or nine. I know what I’m doing. It’s not hard.” She walked toward the old pickup parked in the driveway. “Who wants to come?”
    Leo came to life. “I’ll tell!” he hollered, jumping up and down, hitching up his trousers in a nervous way. Leo looks like he has a lot of bad dreams.
    â€œNo, you won’t,” Nell told him. “Not if you know what’s good for you, you won’t.”
    Leo subsided and sat on the edge of the bottom step, watching, his pale eyes slipping from side to side, seeing if anybody was going to try to stop her. Presently he put his finger up his nose and left it there, keeping it warm.
    Nobody moved.
    I stayed where I was, heard the truck engine start up, and watched as Nell drove around the corner of the house and stopped in front of us. I could see her perched on the edge of the seat so her feet could reach the gas pedal.
    â€œSee how I do it!” she cried, putting the truck in gear. She went forward, chugging and leaping, her head jerking back and forth like it might snap off.
    â€œHop in!” she shouted.
    â€œNot me,” Betty muttered. “Not on your life. My father’d have my hide.”
    Rowena nodded in wordless agreement. Nell gunned the engine, showing off. “You all are nothing but a bunch of scaredy cats!” she taunted.
    Leo got up from his place on the steps and began pacing back and forth, his hands clasped behind his back, head down. The old dog came ambling from wherever it was he’d been sleeping. He was so thin I could see his ribs, count ’em, one by one. He had cataracts in both eyes and couldn’t see too well, and he was deaf. Otherwise, he was in good shape, and I never saw a dog go after a bone like he did. He enjoyed eating and sleeping and chasing cars, and when strangers approached, he let out a resounding bark. I remembered that first day when we’d gone to welcome the new family and the way the dog had come to check us out, as if he owned the place. I liked