Belle Teal (11 page)

Darryl accepts the plate and the boys move on.

Is Little Boss ever going to be surprised when me and Darryl take off our costumes, I think.

Clarice and me wait on line for cups of punch. When I finally reach the head of the line and hold out my hand to take the cup from the punch-server, the kid behind me reaches out and grabs it first. And the kid behind her grabs the next cup.

I am thirsty, but I decide to step over toward Mama and Gran for a moment. I am hoping to draw a little comfort from them even though they don't know who I am.

“Adele,” I hear Gran say to Mama, “what are all these haints doing at church?”

I leave quickly. I am separated from Clarice, and I feel nervous. For the rest of the party, I do not leave Clarice's side. Sometimes we hook up with the boys, sometimes we are on our own. It is almost nine o'clock, just before the party is to end, when we manage to whisk Darryl away from Little Boss and Chas and Vernon. Darryl is holding a ball and paddle, a prize Little Boss won for him at the ring toss.

“It's time to take off our costumes,” I whisper to Darryl. “The party is almost over.”

“I feel kind of bad,” says Darryl. “Little Boss is being so nice to me.”

“That's the point,” I say. “Let's show him who he had so much fun with all night.”

Clarice calls the boys over to us. The six of us are standing right in the middle of the whole party. “One, two, three,” says Clarice.

And Darryl whips off the paper Mickey head while I pull off my devil hood.

Little Boss and Chas and Vernon stare at us. So do a bunch of other kids. They are so quiet that for a moment it seems to me the whole party is quiet. That is not true, though. There is still a roar of noise around us.

But the boys' faces, they are not at all what I pictured every time I imagined this moment. Suddenly I see what I have done. My knees go weak and I grab onto Clarice's hand.

I
n the next second, Chas flicks forward like a snake's tongue and throws his whole plate of food on the floor. Then he lunges for Darryl with his hands in fists. Quick-like, me and Clarice jump in front of Darryl.

“Hey!” I say to Chas. “Don't you touch him.”

Chas looks around and sees a teacher nearby, so he backs off.

Then Travis, this fourth-grader, he looks at Little Boss and laughs. “You!” he cries. “You gave your prize to the
nigger
boy!”

“He —” Vernon starts to say.

“You all spent the party with him!” Travis is hooting at Vernon and Chas and Little Boss, whose faces have turned bright red.

A small crowd of kids are collecting around us, but suddenly Little Boss, he isn't looking at me or Darryl or any of the kids. His eyes have lifted up and moved across the room. I look where he is looking and my own eyes fall on Big Boss. He is slouched by the doorway, leaning against the wall in a pair of dirty jeans, his jaw working on a wad of chewing tobacco. He is glaring at Little Boss.

How long has Big Boss been watching? I wonder.

Now Darryl and Chas and Vernon and Clarice, they all see Big Boss too. Behind me, Darryl starts to back away. Clarice's eyes get huge, and Chas elbows me roughly in my ribs and says, “Nice going, Belle Teal.”

I have a huge fear of Big Boss, but I have to look at him one more time, like peeking under a Band-Aid at a scrape. So I do. The expression on his face doesn't change, but very slowly he raises up his hand and crooks his finger at Little Boss. Little Boss walks across the room to him and they disappear into the hallway.

Chas and Vernon look at Clarice and Darryl and me with disgust. I do not know what to say to them, so it is a lucky thing when Gran scuttles up to me and says, “There you are . . . honey. Sunday school is over. Time to leave your friends and get on home.”

I have never been to Sunday school in my life, but this is not the time to go into that. I grab Darryl by the wrist and say, “Come on. We'll walk you out to your car.”

Clarice is running off to find her parents. “Come over tomorrow!” she calls to me.

“Okay,” I say, and I am having trouble catching my breath, even though I have been standing still.

I try to calm down a little. Then I introduce Mama and Gran to Darryl and thank the Lord that Gran does not call me Lyman or say anything further about church.

“Darryl's father is parked outside,” I say to Mama.

Mama does not know what happened at the party and I do not plan on telling her about it, but she did see Big Boss, so now she takes me by one hand and Darryl by the other, and says, “Let's walk on out together then.”

Mama, she does not miss a trick.

I am shaking as we leave school, but Big Boss's truck is nowhere in sight.

“There's our car,” says Darryl, pointing.

I peer inside it, trying to get a glimpse of Mr. Craig, but all I can see is someone very tall wearing a hat. As Darryl climbs into the car I give Mr. Craig a cautious wave, and he gives me a little wave back before he drives off. Soon me and Mama and Gran have driven safely up our hill.

 

The next day is Thursday, but it feels like Saturday, I think because of no school and the party the night before. I sleep late. But the moment I wake up I shoot out of bed. The very first thing I remember is Big Boss. The picture of him leaning against the wall and eyeing Little Boss comes into my mind and won't leave. I try thinking of fun things — making my costume and the parade and cookies and candy — but they all lead to the party and our Halloween trick.

What have I done to Little Boss?

I pull out my journal and write everything down. Then I get dressed and go into the kitchen. There's Gran singing “Waitin' for the Train to Come In” and looking over a collection of bottles and jars and packages that are spread across the table.

“What's all that?” I ask her.

“Why, I'm getting ready to make our fruitcakes,” says Gran.

I can't help smiling. That is a very good sign.

I head on to Clarice's as soon as I have done my chores. I tromp down our hill in my too-tight boots and look at the trees, which are nearly bare. I use my thinking time to go over the results of the Halloween trick. All I wanted was for the boys to see that they could have fun with Darryl. But Big Boss showed up. And Little Boss . . . I suddenly remember that maybe he has a crush on me. Everything is a confusion.

I am in a state by the time I get to Clarice's, even though I am cheered by the bunch of dried corn on the Bakers' front door.

Clarice answers the bell when I ring, and she looks like she is in a state herself.

“Let's go to your room and talk,” I say while I am still taking off my coat.

“We can't. Shari's in there with Patsy and Deanna, and Deanna is crying about a boyfriend.”

The only place Clarice and me can get some privacy is in the Bakers' rumpus room, which is in the basement with their bomb shelter in case someone foreign drops a missile on us. Mama and Gran and I do not have a bomb shelter, but Clarice says we can always go to their house if a war starts.

We sit on the rumpus-room couch and drink Cokes and help ourselves to a dish of Halloween candy.

“I've got to talk to Little Boss,” I say. “This is killing me.”

“Call him, then,” says Clarice, waving her hand toward the phone.

“I can't. They don't have a phone, remember?”

“Then let's go over there.”

“And run into Big Boss? Are you kidding?”

“It's Thursday. He should be at work.”

“With Big Boss, you never know. I'm not going over there.”

We lean back in the couch and each eat a Tootsie Roll.

“Your grandmother thought you all were at church last night?” Clarice says after a moment.

“Yeah. And I'm not sure who she thought I was. Maybe Mama, when Mama was little. She was talking about Sunday school and church gloves. You know she made Mama and Lyman go to Sunday school and church every single Sunday while they were growing up. That's why Mama won't hold with church stuff now.”

“But how could your grandmother look around the Halloween party and think she was in church?”

“I don't know. How could she look at me and call me Adele? Or
Lyman
?”

Clarice shrugs. We are stumped.

“Want to watch TV?” asks Clarice.

I shake my head. I don't want to go upstairs. I want us to be alone. But there isn't much to do down here. We try looking at one of Shari's fashion magazines, but it just isn't us. Hairdos and makeup and all.

“Do you think we'll ever care about this stuff?” Clarice wants to know. She is wrinkling her nose at a photo of a girl about Shari's age who's holding up a tube of lipstick.

“Maybe when we're older,” I say. I don't want to rule out any possibilities. Then I heave an enormous sigh and add, “One thing, Clarice, do you think Little Boss might have a crush on me?”

Clarice drops the magazine.
“What?”

“I don't know. Last night, when he thought Darryl was me, he got him a plate of food, and he won him that prize and all. And you know how he's always teasing me. Could be that he likes me.”

I half expect Clarice to laugh, but she does not. Instead, all serious-like, she says, “I guess it could be. Lord, no wonder he was so embarrassed last night. It wasn't even just our trick. Or that Big Boss saw him get tricked.”

“I know.” Now I feel more miserable than ever. I decide there is nothing to do but wait until Monday and talk to him at school.

 

On Monday morning I am the first one off the bus. I fly down the steps and along the walk to the front door of Coker Creek. When I get to our classroom I look inside. Little Boss isn't there yet. I will wait for him by the door.

I wait until the last bell has rung and Miss Casey is about to take attendance. No Little Boss.

He shows up the next morning, though. I am posted by our door again. Clarice, Chas, and Vernon, they are all in the classroom.

“Little Boss!” I cry when I see him.

“Hey, Belle Teal,” he answers. He does not sound too mad. Then I notice that he is holding his notebook and lunch and everything all in one arm, and keeping his other arm pulled against his chest.

“What's the matter?” I ask. “Did you hurt yourself?” I try to roll back the sleeve of his jacket for a better look.

Little Boss jumps a mile.

“Take off your coat,” I command.

“No.”

“Well, you're going to have to. Miss Casey won't let you wear it inside.”

Little Boss shrugs out of his jacket. His left wrist is in a splint.

“What happened?” I say, suspicious-like.

“I fell down the stairs. That's why I didn't come to school yesterday.”

“How did you fall?” I want to know.

“I just fell is all.”

“Well . . . Little Boss, about the party. I'm sorry —”

But Little Boss walks ahead of me into the classroom. “Come on. We don't want to be late.”

“But I really am sorry —”

“Don't mention it, Belle Teal.”

I don't. I never mention it again. And when Chas and Vernon see Little Boss's splint, they don't mention it either.

I
am not one for bragging, but I have to say that the fruitcakes me and Mama and Gran make every year are some of the best in the county. Now, I am aware of the unfortunate reputation of fruitcakes. They have a funny name, and people joke about there being just the one fruitcake that gets passed around from person to person year after year. Plus, as Mama says, some fruitcakes have a weight problem.

But our fruitcakes are really something special. They do
not
weigh a ton. And they are made from Gran's secret family recipe, which among other things, calls for marmalade and bourbon. Followed by a special aging process while the cakes sit in their tins in bourbon-soaked cheesecloth for several weeks, which is why we always bake our cakes on the day after Thanksgiving. If we want to give them as Christmas gifts, they'll have just enough time to age before we start handing out the tins.