Cutler 1 - Dawn (9 page)

"What? You can't just have an apple for lunch. Let me buy you lunch today."

"Oh, no, I don't have much of an appetite anyway and—."

"Please. I never bought a girl lunch before. All the girls I ever knew could buy me lunch twice over," he added, laughing.

"If I can't take you for rides, at least let me do this."

"Well . . . okay," I said. "Maybe just this once."

We found a table off to the side and got into the lunch line. The girls who sat with Louise and the older girls all gazed with curiosity, especially the ones at Clara Sue's table. I saw the way she nodded and whispered. Ironically, my being with Philip helped confirm the ugly rumors she was spreading about me. I knew all their eyes would be glued to Philip and me when we approached the cashier, and they would all know he had bought me lunch. The thought of what she'd say then made me feel like ripping those golden strands out of Clara Sue's head.

"So," Philip said, turning to me after we sat down and started to eat, "there's no chance of your getting out for a ride soon, huh?"

"I told you, Philip—"

"Yeah, yeah. Listen, how about this," he said. "I'll come by your place about seven tonight. You sneak out. Tell your parents you're going to study with a friend or something. They won't know the difference and—"

"I don't lie to my parents, Philip," I said.

"It won't be a lie, exactly. I'll study something with you. How's that?"

I shook my head.

"I can't," I said. "Please don't ask me to lie."

Before he could say anything else, we suddenly heard a commotion and turned in Jimmy's direction. Some boys had gone over to Jimmy's table and said something to him, and whatever they had said had set him off like a firecracker. In seconds he was up and at them, pushing and wrestling with boys bigger than him. It drew the attention of the entire cafeteria.

"They're ganging up on him," Philip said, and shot off to jump into the fray. Teachers rushed in; cafeteria staff came around the counter. It only took a few moments to break it up, but to me it seemed like ages. All the boys involved were marched out of the cafeteria just as the bell rang for the students to return to class.

I was on pins and needles most of the afternoon. Whenever the bell rang to change classes, I, along with most everyone else, walked past Mrs. Turnbell's office to see what was happening. Louise, who was as good as a news service, found out that four boys, as well as Jimmy and Philip, had been brought to the office and kept sitting in the outer office while Mrs. Turnbell questioned each of them privately. Daddy had been called into Mrs. Turnbell's office, too.

By the day's end the verdict was known. All the boys except Jimmy were assigned detention for roughhousing in the cafeteria. Jimmy was declared the cause of it all and was suspended three days and put on probation.

I had ten minutes before I had to report to detention, so I rushed gown to Daddy's office looking for him and Jimmy. As soon as I reached the basement, I could hear Daddy's shouting.

"How do you think this looks—my son being suspended? l got to have the respect of my men. Now they'll be laughing at me behind my back!"

"It wasn't my fault," Jimmy protested.

"Not your fault? You're always in trouble. Since when's it not your fault? Here they're doing us a favor letting you and Dawn attend the school—"

"It ain't no favor to me" Jimmy snapped back. Before he could say another word, Daddy's hand came flying up and slapped him across the face. Jimmy fell back and saw me standing in the doorway. He looked at Daddy and then rushed out past me.

"Jimmy!" I cried and hurried to catch up with him. He didn't stop until he reached the exit. "Where are you going?" I asked.

"Out of here and for good," he said, his face beet red. "I knew it wouldn't be any good. I hate it here!
I hate it!"
he screamed and ran off.

"Jimmy!"

He didn't turn back, and the clock was ticking against me. I couldn't be late for detention, too, especially after all this. Feeling as if I were bound and gagged, more frustrated than I'd ever been in my life, I lowered my head and hurried up the stairs and to the detention room, my tears flowing freely.

Everything had started to look like it would work out—my music, piano lessons, Philip, and now, just as if it had all been made of soap bubbles, it burst around me, splashing alongside my tears on the floor.

As soon as detention ended, I hurried downstairs to Daddy, hoping that he had calmed down. Cautiously I entered the office. He was sitting behind his desk with his back to the door, staring at the wall.

"Hi, Daddy," I said. He turned around, and I tried to judge his mood.

"I'm sorry about what happened, Daddy," I said quickly, "but it's not all my and Jimmy's fault, either. Mrs. Turnbell has been out to get us. She didn't like us from the start. You must have seen that in her face the first day," I protested.

"Oh, I know it bent her out a whack to have her told my children get to go here, but it's not the first time Jimmy's been in a ruckus, Dawn. And he's been late to class, too, and snippy with some of his teachers! See, no matter what you do for him, he's going to be bad."

"It's harder for Jimmy, Daddy. He hasn't had the chance to be a real student until now, and these rich boys have been picking on him something terrible. I know. Up until now, he's taken all they've thrown at him and held his temper, just because he wanted to please you . . . and me," I added. I wouldn't dare tell him what some of the nastier girls were doing to me.

"I don't know," Daddy said, shaking his head. "He's bound for trouble's doors, I think. Takes after my brother Reuben, who, the last time I heard, was in jail."

"In jail? For what?" I asked, astounded with this sudden bit of information. Daddy had never mentioned his brother Reuben before.

"Stealing. He was always into one thing or another all his life."

"Is Reuben older or younger than you, Daddy?"

"He's older, by little more than a year. Jimmy even looks like him and sulks just the 'way he used to." Daddy shook his head. "Don't look good," he added.

"He won't be as bad as Reuben!" I cried. "Jimmy's not evil. He wants to be good and do well in school. I just know he does. He just needs a fair chance. I can talk to him and get him to try again. You'll see."

"I don't know. I don't know," he repeated and shook his head. Then he rose with a great effort. "Shouldn't have come here," he mumbled. "It was bad luck."

I followed Daddy out, walking in the coolness of his shadow. Maybe it was bad luck to try to do things that are beyond you. Maybe we just belonged in the poor world, gazing dreamily at the rich people as they went by, and looking hungrily in store windows. Maybe we were meant to always struggle to make ends meet. Maybe that was our terrible destiny, and we couldn't do anything about it.

"How come you never told me about Reuben before, Daddy?"

"Well, he was in trouble so much, I just put him out of mind," Daddy explained quickly.

We stepped out into the dreariest day I had seen in a long time, I thought. The sky was a bitter gray with a layer of clouds moving rapidly under another, thicker layer. The wind was cooler and sharper.

"Looks like it's going to be a cold rain soon," Daddy said. He started the car. "Can't wait for spring."

"When did you hear about your brother Reuben, Daddy?" I asked as we started away.

"Oh, about two years ago or so," he said casually. Two years ago? I thought. But how could he? We weren't near the family then.

"Do they have phones on the farm?" I asked incredulously. From all I had been able to learn about the farms back in Georgia, they sounded too poor to afford phones, especially if we couldn't.

"Phones?" He laughed. "Hardly. They don't have running water or electricity. The homestead, if you can call it that, has a hand pump and there's an outhouse. At night they use oil lamps. Some of them crackers think a phone's the devil's own invention and never in their lives have put their ear against one or want to."

"Then how did you hear about your brother only two years or so ago, Daddy?" I asked quickly. "Did you get a letter?"

"A letter. Hardly. There ain't a one of them who can write more than his name, if that much."

"Then how did you learn about Reuben?" I asked again. For a moment he didn't respond. I didn't think he was going to, so I added, "You didn't go back there yourself one time without us, did you, Daddy?"

The way he looked at me told me I had hit the mark.

"You're getting pretty smart, Dawn. It's not easy keeping something under the covers when you're around. Don't say nothing about it to your ma, but I did go back one time for a few hours. I was working close enough to make the drive and return the same night and I did it without saying nothing."

"Well, if we were that close, why didn't we all go, Daddy?"

"I said I was close. I woulda had to go hours back to get you and then hours back to where I was and then hours to the farm," he explained.

"Who did you see on the farm, Daddy?"

"I saw my ma. Pa died a while back. Just keeled over in a field one day clutching his heart." Tears came into Daddy's eyes, but he quickly blinked them back. "Ma looked so old," he added, shaking his head. "I was sorry I went. It near broke my heart to look at her sitting there in her rocker. Pa's death and Reuben's going to jail and problems with some of my other brothers and sisters grayed her skin as well as her hair. She didn't even recognize me, and when I told her who I was, she said, 'Ormand's in the house churnin' up some butter for me.' I used to do that for her all the time," he added, smiling.

"Did you see your sister Lizzy?"

"Yeah, she was there, married with four of her own kids, two not a year apart. She's the one told me about Reuben. I didn't stay there long, and I never told your ma because it was all bad news, so don't you go blabbing now."

"I won't. I promise. I'm sorry I didn't get to see Grandpa, though," I said sadly.

"Yeah, you would have liked him. He probably would have got out his harmonica and stumped out something for you, and then maybe the two of you would have sung and played something together," Daddy said, dreaming aloud.

"You must have told me about his playing the harmonica before, Daddy, because that stuck in my mind."

"Must have," he said. He started to hum something I imagined his father played, and I didn't say anything and he didn't say anything until we were home, but I wondered about Daddy and what other secrets he had.

Jimmy hadn't been home yet, so Momma didn't know a thing about the troubles at school. Daddy and I looked at each other after looking at her and silently decided to keep it all to ourselves.

"Where's Jimmy?" she asked.

"He's with some new friends," Daddy said. Momma took a look at me and saw the lie, but she didn't question it.

But when Jimmy didn't come home for supper, we had to tell Momma about the fight and his getting into trouble. She nodded as we spoke.

"I knew it anyway," she said. "Neither of you are worth a pig's knuckle when it comes to telling white lies—or any lies for that matter." She sighed. "That boy's just not happy, might never be," she added with a tone of prophetic doom.

"Oh, no, Momma. Jimmy's going to be something great yet. I just know it. He's very smart. You'll see," I insisted.

"Hope so," she said. She started to cough again. Her cough had changed, become deeper, shaking her entire body silently sometimes. Momma claimed that meant she was getting better, driving it down and out, but I didn't feel good about it, and I still longed for her to go to a real doctor or a hospital.

After I cleaned the dishes and put everything away, I practiced a song. Daddy and Fern were my audience, with Fern very attentive whenever I sang. She clapped her little hands together whenever Daddy clapped his hands. Momma listened from her bedroom, calling out once in a while to tell me how good I sounded.

It grew dark and the cold rain Daddy had forecast came, the drops splattering our windows. They sounded like thousands of fingers being tapped against the glass. There was thunder and lightning, and the wind whipped around the apartment house, whistling through all the cracks and crannies. I had to put another blanket on Momma when her teeth started chattering. We decided we would let little Fern sleep in her clothes this night. I felt so sorry and worried for Jimmy because he was still out there somewhere, wandering about in the dark, stormy night—I thought my heart might break. I knew he didn't have any money with him, so I was sure he had gone without any supper. I had wrapped him up a plate of food that was ready to be warmed up the moment he returned.

But the night wore on and he didn't come home. I stayed awake as long as I could, staring at the door and listening for Jimmy's footsteps in the hallway, but whenever I heard footsteps, they were going upstairs or into another apartment. Once in a while I went to a window and gazed out through the cloudy glass and into the rainy darkness.

I finally went to sleep, too, but sometime in the middle of the night, I awoke to the sound of the front door opening.

"Where were you?" I whispered. I couldn't see his eyes or much of his face in the darkness.

"I was going to run away," he said. "I even got as far as fifty miles outside of Richmond."

"James Gary Longchamp, you didn't?"

"I did, I hitched a couple of rides, and the second one letting me out at a roadside restaurant. All's I had on me was some change, so I got a cup of coffee. The waitress took pity on me and brought me a roll and butter. Then she started asking me questions. She has a boy about my age, too, and works all the time because her husband was killed in a car accident about five years ago.

"I was going to go out and keep hitchhiking, but it started to rain so hard, I couldn't get out. The waitress knew this truck driver who, was heading back to Richmond, and she asked him to take me along, so i came back. But I ain't staying, and I ain't going back to that snob school, and you shouldn't either, Dawn," he said with determination.