The Sound of Life and Everything (12 page)

“What new move-ins?” I replied. “The last new move-ins were the Higginbottoms, and he died two months later!”

Mr. Lloyd scowled. “Hold your tongue! Hasn't anyone ever taught you not to speak ill of the dead?”

“I don't know,” I said. “Hasn't anyone ever taught you not to speak ill of the living?”

Mr. Lloyd set his sights on Mama. “Are you just going to stand there while your daughter says such things?”

“No, I'm gonna stand here until you enroll this boy in school.”

Mr. Lloyd stuck out his stomach, which was impressive not just for its size but for its resemblance to an inner tube. “Then you're going to stand there for an awfully long time, because the St. Jude School for Boys and Girls refuses to accept him. We may not have all the resources at the disposal of the city schools, but we pride ourselves on the education we can and do provide, and we can't provide that education if there are
opponents
in the classroom.”

“The war's over,” Mama said. “Or hasn't anyone told you?”

Mr. Lloyd's lip curled. “Some wars never end.”

Takuma might not have understood every word that they'd exchanged, but he knew fighting words when he heard them. Still, he didn't raise his fists, just stuck out his chest. It was even more impressive than Mr. Lloyd's stomach.

Miss Shepherd shuffled through her folders. “There's a colored school in Santa Ana. If you'd like, Mrs. Higbee, I can get the address for you.”

Mama raised her eyebrows. “You expect us to drive to Santa Ana when there's a decent school right here?”

Mr. Lloyd grinned wickedly. “You know what they say, Anna—
separate
but equal.”

Mama's eyebrows drooped, and Mr. Lloyd's smile turned smug. He obviously thought he'd won, but she was just getting warmed up. Red-hot rage crept up her neck, but just before she blew her lid, Takuma touched her arm. He might as well have pricked her with a pin.

“Well, then,” she said, deflating, “I guess we'll just be on our way.”

Mr. Lloyd held up his coffee. “We wish you the best of luck.”

“Sure you do,” she muttered as she headed for the door.

I thought Takuma would go with her, since he was clinging to her arm, but Mama was too quick for him. When he could no longer hold on, he teetered, then went down.

Mr. Lloyd chuckled. “If this is his idea of a protest, he needs to work on his technique.”

Mama didn't comment, just grabbed Takuma's arm and helped him to his feet. She pressed her lips into a line as she gave him a once-over, but when I tried to ask her what was wrong, she cut me off with a sharp look.

Mr. Lloyd glanced at his watch. “You'd better take him out the back. I don't want him to scare the children.”

“We don't scare that easily,” I said, blowing a string of hair out of my face.

Mr. Lloyd just stood there watching, but instead of getting mad, I cringed. A month ago, I might have stared at a Japanese man, too. Now it shamed me to think that I'd ever been that person.

17

I tried to wheedle Mama into taking me home, too,
but she flatly refused. My education had to count for two, so I'd better make the most of it. Her declaration was so stirring it almost made me want to try.

After dinner, me and Takuma traded more words in the living room. I would have preferred the peace and quiet of our platform in the trees, but after Takuma took that tumble, staying on solid ground seemed safer.

Or at least that was what I thought until Daddy showed up.

I'd never thought of Daddy as an especially large man, but his surly silence filled the archway. Takuma leaped to his feet as soon as he spotted Daddy, but I folded my arms across my chest and hunkered down in his armchair.

“Did you need something?” I asked.

“
Dragnet
's on,” he said. “Or have you already forgotten?”

“I haven't forgotten,” I replied. “But in case you haven't noticed, me and Takuma are busy.”

“Well, then, you'd better go and be busy somewhere else, because I'm going to watch.”

I stuck out my chin. “We can watch, too, can't we?”

Daddy shook his head. “You heard your mother. No more
Dragnet.
”

“But you let me watch two weeks ago!”

“Sorry,” Daddy said, “but that was then, and this is now.” He picked me up as easily as if I were a feather. “So if you'll take our guest and go, I'd be much obliged.”

Takuma headed for the door, but I folded my arms across my chest.

“You can't just send us away. We have rights, you know!”

Daddy's forehead wrinkled, but Takuma said, “Go, Ella Mae.”

“No, I won't go!” I said. I meant it to sound obstinate, but it came out like a sob. “I'm the official tuner!”

I expected him to ground me, but he just stood there, almost crying. Daddy never cried, so this was something to write home about, but before I had a chance to ask why his tear ducts were malfunctioning, Mama burst into the room.

“What's goin' on?” she asked. Her cheeks were streaked with flour, and she was carrying a half-made pie crust.

“Daddy's watchin'
Dragnet,
and he won't let us stay!”

Mama's gaze flitted to Takuma, then lingered on Daddy. She must have concluded that his tear ducts were malfunctioning, too, because she rubbed her neck and said, “Ella Mae, just leave him be.”

I opened my mouth to argue, but the doorbell cut me off.

Mama motioned toward the entryway. “Please get the door,” she told me.

Reluctantly, I got the door. I expected it to be a salesman—they always had some new elixir that they wanted us to buy—but it was only Gracie. Her gleaming bicycle was propped against our not-white picket fence.

“What are you doin' here?” I asked.

“Hello, Ella Mae,” she said, craning her neck to see around me. “I heard about what happened in the office before school, so I thought I'd pedal over and offer my assistance . . .”

She trailed off when Takuma made an overdue appearance. Her face flushed red, but not like Daddy's.

“Excuse me,” Gracie said. “It wasn't my intention to intrude. Miss Shepherd made it sound like you were planning to homeschool, and I thought you might be able to use another teacher.”

I started to close the door. “Sorry, but we don't need your help.”

Mama caught it with her foot. “On the contrary,” she said, “we need all the help that we can get.”

Gracie beamed. “Thank you, Auntie Anna.”

“No, thank
you,
” Mama said, bumping me out of the way. She drew Gracie into the house and turned her to face Takuma. “Gracie, this is Takuma. Takuma, this is Gracie.”

I knotted my arms across my chest. “There's no sense introducin' 'em, since they're just gonna ignore each other—”

“Pleased to meet you,” Gracie said as she extended her hand.

I gaped at Gracie's hand, but he clasped it in both of his and pressed his forehead to her palm. They stayed in this position for an uncomfortable amount of time, until I was forced to intervene.

“All right, that's enough,” I said.

Mama smiled. “Ella Mae, why don't you fill Gracie in on your teaching methods?”

I checked the living room, but Sergeant Friday was already halfway through his monologue, so I led them into the kitchen.

Gracie sat in Mama's chair. “Which curriculum have you been using?”

I scuffed my foot. “Oh, well, we haven't been usin' a
curriculum.
” The word tasted funny in my mouth, like I was eating Miss Fightmaster's lunch. “We've just been tellin' stories, tradin' words.”

“Storytelling is an art form,” Gracie said, “and there's something to be said for unstructured learning, but if we want proven results, we'll have to use a proven system.”

She went on, of course, but I stopped paying attention. I wasn't interested in proven systems so much as being with Takuma, laughing at jokes and telling stories, but something told me that those days were about to be a distant memory.

• • •

Gracie came back every day for the next week and a half, plying Takuma with flash cards and homemade gingersnaps. Theo never came with her, and at school, we didn't talk. It was weird to see his sister more than I saw him, but there was no way to avoid it. Theo wasn't of a mind to get to know Takuma, and I wasn't of a mind to leave him alone with Gracie.

At least I had Sunday to look forward to. Gracie had to go to church, so we had the whole day to ourselves. I couldn't wait to teach Takuma how to play marbles.

But Mama had other ideas.

“Get up,” she said belligerently as she threw my curtains open, then yanked my covers off.

“But it's Sunday!” I said as I scrambled for my patchwork quilt.

“I know,” Mama replied. “We leave for church in seven minutes. And this time, we're
all
going.”

“But Daddy said—”

“Yes, Daddy
said.
” She wadded up my quilt. “Even parents change their minds sometimes.”

I sat straight up in bed, suddenly very interested. “How did you convince him? Did you have to box his ears?”

Instead of answering, she checked her watch. “You're down to six minutes and twelve seconds, so you'd better hop to it.”

Ten minutes and two seconds later, we arrived at the old adobe church in our Sunday best (or Sunday borrowed, in Takuma's case). Mama had spent the night altering a pair of Daniel's slacks, but they still exposed an inch of Takuma's socks.

No sooner had I climbed out of the car than I spotted the Clausens, which struck me as unusual. Auntie Mildred always arrived at least ten minutes early. Still, I didn't think much of it, just smoothed a lock of hair down with my spit. Luckily, we'd run out of time to redo my braids.

I pretended not to notice Theo, but as soon as he noticed me, he made a beeline for the door. He only made it a few feet before Auntie Mildred hauled him back. A shiver skittered down my spine that had nothing to do with the cool breeze. I couldn't remember the last time Auntie Mildred had run late or Theo had galloped
into
church. It was practically apocalyptic.

I slid backward a step and peered around the parking lot. And realized the other churchgoers were all peering at
us
like a sea of slack-jawed fish.

“What are they starin' at?” I muttered.

“What do you think?” Daddy replied.

Mama drew a bracing breath, then seized my hand and said, “Come on.”

It took all my concentration not to lose my balance as I stumbled along behind Mama, whose sensible black pumps were carving deep tracks in the gravel. I tried to glance back at Takuma, but Mama's pace was unrelenting. It was like she thought the church might blast off to the moon without us.

“Morning, Reverend!” Mama said from halfway across the parking lot. “It's a fine day for a sermon!”

I squinted at the sky, which was dark and threatening rain. The reverend, who was guarding the church steps like a pit bull, knotted his arms across his pin-striped vest.

If Mama was intimidated, she managed not to show it. “I've been lookin' forward to that lesson on the Good Samaritan all week!”

Reverend Simms's eyes narrowed. I could feel the crowd shifting behind us, but whether they were advancing or retreating, I couldn't have said. When I glanced over my shoulder, my gaze settled on Takuma. He was still trudging up the walk, his dark head bowed as if in prayer. When Mama let me go, I sneaked back to walk with him.

“Did you hear me?” Mama asked. “I said, I've been looking forward to your lesson—”

“I heard you,” the reverend said, then tipped his hat at Daddy (who'd been shadowing Takuma).

“Good morning, Reverend,” Daddy mumbled.

I hauled Takuma up the steps. “This is Takuma,” I told him.

Reverend Simms's lip curled. “Yes, I've heard all about your
guest.
”

I felt Takuma stiffen. Was he about to fall again? I tightened my grip on his arm in case he was feeling woozy. It wouldn't help our case if he fell flat on his face.

Mama made a show of glancing at her watch. “Looks like we'd better get inside! Sunday school's about to start.”

“You know your family's always welcome at the First Baptist Church,” he said, then glowered at Takuma. “But I won't allow his kind to worship in the house of God.”

Mama's eyes flashed fiercely. Her rouge looked more like war paint. “You let the Dents in every week. What makes this boy any different?”

“Maleah and her children may be colored, but at least they're not unnatural.”

The crowd went perfectly still. Two branches scraped together, and across the parking lot, a baby howled.

“What does
that
mean?” Theo asked loud enough for us to hear.

“It means,” the reverend said, “that this so-called
boy
was born of science, not of God. It means he's not a boy at all.”

I stuck both hands on my hips. “How do you know what he is or ain't?”

Mama snorted. “Ain't it obvious? Your auntie must have told 'em.”

Betrayal coiled in my stomach like a pack of slippery snakes. We'd gone with her to the lab and even rescued her from Dr. Franks, and this was how she'd paid us back, by blabbing our secrets to the neighbors? Auntie Mildred might have been a blockhead, but she'd always been
our
blockhead. Now I couldn't have said whose side she was on.

I rolled up my sleeves. “Did you tell 'em this was
your
idea?”

Auntie Mildred's pale pink hat popped up from behind her car. “I don't know what you mean.”

My hands balled into fists, but Takuma shook his head.

“Steady, sweetness,” Mama said.

“But she tattled on Takuma!”

“Yes,” Mama said, “she did.”

“Doesn't that make you angry?”

“Yes,” Mama said, “it does.”

But she didn't look angry to me. In fact, she looked downright peaceful. Guess it was time to take matters into my own hands.

“So he was born in a lab. Big deal. Just because he came out of a horse pill doesn't mean he's not a boy. He's as good at climbin' trees as any boy I've ever met.”

The reverend didn't look convinced.

Mama cleared her throat. “The boy is what he is, and what he is ain't the boy's fault. If the rest of us are good enough to listen to your sermons, then I'd say he's good enough, too.”

The reverend made a face. “I guess that's where we disagree.”

I threw up my arms. “He's a human being, for Pete's sake!”

The reverend's face flushed purple. “No, he's an abomination, and I won't tolerate his kind in the house of God.”

I shrank away from Reverend Simms. I'd never seen him so upset, not even when Mr. Jaeger hurled all over the last couple of pews. He'd just been found not guilty of murdering the foreman he worked for, so he'd spent the night out celebrating with his unruly friends. When he came to church the next morning, Reverend Simms hadn't told him to repent, just dragged him up by his suspenders and sent him back to bed.