The Mighty Miss Malone (8 page)

Just before the last bell rang on the last day of school, Mrs. Needham passed out our report cards. Worst first. It was a true relief that everything was back to normal. When Dolly Peaches’s name was called he said, “I sure will enjoy not seeing you every weekday.”

The whole class went, “Ooooh!” and waited for Mrs. Needham to beat him into a bloody pulp, but she just called, “Benny Cobb.”

Right after the kindest, most loving friend in the world, Miss Clarice Anne Johnson, picked up her report card, my name was called.

Last!

Instead of holding it so the rest of them could see, I folded it and walked back to my seat.

Mrs. Needham leaned on the front of her desk. “Well, students, another year has come to an end. I hope all of you have a good summer. And let’s all keep our fingers crossed for Mr. Joseph Louis Barrow, the Brown Bomber.”

Cheers came from everywhere!

Mrs. Needham said, “It won’t be long before he and that horrible German will be fighting. Normally I am opposed to violence of any kind, but this fight is something special and Joe needs all of our support, so let’s remember him any way we can.”

She timed her speech perfect, the bell rang and even though everyone was wound tight as a spring waiting to get into the summer, nobody moved. Mrs. Needham said, “Enjoy your vacation. Class dismissed,” and students shot out of the room like lava out of a volcano.

Me and Clarice helped her load her things into boxes and waved to her as we left. “See you in September!”

Three blocks from school, in a vacant lot, there was a big circle of children screaming and laughing and punching their fists in the air.

Every Friday after school the hooligans get even with each other and meet to fight. Since this was the last Friday of the year there was a lot of getting even to do; the fight circle was two times bigger than usual.

Me and Clarice Anne Johnson hooked arms, leaned our
heads into one another and walked by. Right after we passed the crowd Clarice stopped. “Deza! Did you hear that?”

I said, “Yes, I’m sure it’s a swearword, but I’m going to ignore those little hoodlums and you should too.”

She shushed me. “Listen!”

The crowd was singing,

I dropped my books and ran back to the pack of yelling kids, pushing and clawing people aside until I got to the center.

My heart broke in two. Jimmie was curled in a ball with splashes of blood all over his shirt and that monster Dolly Peaches standing over him with his fists balled up and a grin that would make any alligator or dinosaur proud.

I heard a scream that didn’t sound human and was so loud that I bet people in China, which is geologically exactly on the other side of the Earth from Gary, could hear it.

I slapped my hands over my ears and didn’t know who was wailing until Clarice Anne Johnson said right in my ear, “Deza! Stop screaming! Let’s get Mrs. Needham.”

She yelled real loud, “Let’s get Mrs. Needham … 
and the police
!”

That only got the crowd more excited. They bunched around us tighter and tighter. Me and Clarice were trapped in a wall made out of evil and meanness.

Dolly Peaches looked right at me. “If it ain’t another circus
act from the broke-butt, poorhouse Malones. It’s Pee-Wee’s show-off, crybaby, stank-mouth sister, Number Two!”

He pointed at me. “Here’s one ’n’em limparisk poems you can run and tell that old cow Needham.”

He crunched his foot down on Jimmie’s back.

I heard that horrible scream again and Clarice held my waist even tighter.

Dolly Peaches sang,

When his foot went up again I remembered what Father had told Jimmie when he was teaching him how to box. “Twist your hips when you throw a punch. You have to shift all of your weight into it, and the only way to do that is to twist your hips. It’s physics.

“It’s just like hitting a baseball, if you use only your arms you aren’t going to hit the ball far, but put your hips into it and … POW! … you’ll knock that baby clean out of the park.”

He showed us how to throw punches with our waists. Then, “Don’t be a headhunter. Punching someone in the head is a
good way to break your hand. Go for the belly, it’ll get their attention just as surely as a pop to the head.”

Dolly brought his foot down on Jimmie again. I tore away from Clarice and shoved Dolly as hard as I could from behind. He stumbled and would have fallen if the circle of kids hadn’t held him up.

He turned to see who had nerve enough to push him, and gave me one of his alligator smiles.

Everyone let out a long “Oooh …!” Clarice Anne Johnson threw her hands over her ears and looked shell-shocked.

Dolly stepped over Jimmie and stood in my face. He pinched his nose between his thumb and finger like he was smelling a pile of garbage.

“So, Stank-Bug, you think just ’cause you’s smart and a girl I won’t knock you out too? I ain’t no gentleman. I’m gonna show you exactly how Joe Louis is gonna crush Max Smelling.”

Dolly took a step back and spit in each hand. “Dee-za, get ready to meet your midget brother. I got him a one-way ticket to the city of Kicked-Your-Butt, U.S.A., and I’m buying you one too!”

Dolly swung his right hand hard and caught me in the neck and the jaw.

It felt like I swallowed a firecracker.

Red light and white pain came out of my back teeth on the left. I felt something loose in my mouth and thought I’d lost a tooth, but as my tongue turned it over in my cheek I knew it was one of the pieces of camphor-soaked cotton I keep in my back teeth to stop them from hurting.

He’d hit me his hardest, but hadn’t twisted his waist. He didn’t even knock me down.

The crowd roared. He raised his hands over his head and I put my fists up like Father showed us.

Dolly said, “Hey, Pee-Wee, old Number Two can take a punch better than you!”

More laughs.

“But if she don’t go down with this one y’all can call me Dolly-Girl Peaches.”

He showed his teeth and reached his right hand back as far as he could. And threw another arm punch.

I heard, “Well, kiddo, here’s our chance.…”

I planted my feet and threw all my weight into a uppercut aimed at Dolly’s belly.

He ran right into it.

If his spine hadn’t gotten in the way, my fist would’ve poked a hole clean through his back! He grabbed his stomach and dropped. First his knees, then the rest of him fell like a mighty oak. He rolled onto his back.

Father also told us, “Press the advantage. One good punch doesn’t mean the fight is over. A wounded animal is more dangerous than any other kind.”

I sat on Dolly’s chest and grabbed his hair. “Dolly Peaches, I’ll stay here until you apologize for everything.” I looked at Clarice. “Keep track of how many times he has to apologize.”

I dug my fingers into Dolly’s hair. “First you will apologize for hurting my brother, then you’re going to apologize for talking about my father, who did actually eat some bugs but did it
for a very selfless and noble reason, then for calling Mrs. Needham a cow, then for mispronouncing my name on purpose, then for that horrible poem, which wasn’t anything close to being a
limerick
.”

Clarice held up five fingers. “What about for calling you Number Two?”

I said, “That’s too immature to even think about. Five will do.”

Dolly’s eyes were rimmed with tears and his nose streamed a disgusting river. His mouth opened and shut, just like one of those out-of-luck, soon-to-be-fried catfish Father used to bring home from the river. He tried to say something over the mocking laughs from the crowd.

I raised my arm over my head. “Hush!”

And they listened! The crowd turned into a pack of librarians as the “Shhhs” started at the front row and washed back.

I leaned close so I could hear Dolly Peaches. He half-gasped, “Sorry … sorry … sorry … sorry … sorry.” Five times!

Then he whispered, “Oh, please, get me a am-bo-lamps, sweet baby Jesus, I’m dying here.”

Jimmie stood up. The blood of the Malones was pouring from a cut on his forehead. His face got tighter and tighter and he was just as angry as he’d been scared a second before. He looked right at me. “Why, Deza?
Why
?” He pushed his way through the crowd and disappeared.

Clarice said, “Deza! Let’s go! Looks like Dolly-Girl here has had enough.”

I love that girl!

She dragged me through the crowd to go pick up my books.

As soon as we were far enough away she whispered, “Oh, Deza! Did you see the look on Dolly’s face? He
is
close to dying. We’ll just have to go on the lam! I hear there’s a place just outside of town where we can hop a freight train and be in California in two weeks.”

She looked around to make sure no one was listening. “I have a cousin in San Diego who was tried for murder and got off, I’m sure he’ll help us to—”

“Clarice Anne Johnson! Would you be still for a minute, please! Dolly isn’t going to die, he’s just like all the other bullies, a big nothing. Besides, I can’t for the life of me understand how a boy would have the nerve to be a bully when he’s been forced to go through life with a name like Dolly Peaches! What on earth was his mother thinking? And Clarice, why have so many of your relatives been charged with murder?”

She ignored my question. “Oh, Deza, you were so brave! You must have been terrified! Look, your hands are still shaking. And you’re crying!”

She grabbed my right hand and I noticed how terribly it trembled.

The real reason I was shaking dawned on me like a cold, lonely sun coming up on a frozen February Gary morning. This wasn’t something new. This didn’t have a thing to do with being scared. This was the same way I felt when I’d get to the end of a really good book. I was shaking now because I
really, really
liked what had just happened!

I
loved
how I had raised my arm like I was carrying a magical sword and all the little thugs got quiet. They parted for me and Clarice like the Red Sea did for Moses! But most of all I
loved
knowing that when something was happening to someone, I could do more than wring my hands, I could strike back!

I loved those feelings at the same time I hated them.

Fighting is wrong and very unladylike, but worse than that, by gut-punching the biggest bully at Lincoln Woods School I had humiliated Jimmie. And even though I’d stopped him from being hurt and maybe even murdered, I now saw a very scary side of myself.

Brain number two was starting to take over.

All I could hope was that Jimmie would understand that I was trying to rescue him.

All I could hope was that the crown of being biggest bully wouldn’t automatically come to me, because, even though I had
really
enjoyed beating that million-tooth monster, that crown would rest uneasy on my head.

We stopped at the library, then left, too worried and excited to sit and read. I walked Clarice to her house, we did our motto, then I ran to see if Jimmie had made it home.