When Ratboy Lived Next Door (14 page)

I went into the house to get some ice tea. Unfortunately, none of us had remembered to fill the ice cube trays. It made me miss Nanna. I'd been thinking about writing her. I should write and tell her about how much better Mrs. Merrill was doing. Nanna would be so proud of her. She was using our clothesline, and even the day after Mr. Merrill was arrested, she came out and swept off her porch as if nothing had happened.

I wished then and there that I could be more like Nanna. If I were, I probably could give Willis “special handling,” the way Elliot did. Then Elliot and I could be friends again. But I wasn't like Nanna, and I thought Willis might have been too much even for her.

June 21, 1962

Dear Nanna,

Bet you never thought you'd get a letter from me.

I chewed on the pencil and rolled over on my bed. This was harder than I thought. If I told her about Mother's cooking it might make her worry that we'd all starve. I decided to keep things light in my first letter.

Nothing much has changed around here. Mrs. Merrill sure misses you but she's doing real fine. Why, you'd never have known that Mr. Merrill was in jail if Sheriff Yates hadn't called us. And she's doing something to every head she can get her hands on. Beth's hair is always fixed up real nice. She cut Willis's hair short. I think they call it a crew cut. I hope his pet raccoon doesn't get too close to her. He may end up looking like a poodle. Ha ha.

I've been doing the laundry but don't worry. I haven't turned everything pink yet. Just kidding. Tell Great-Aunt Louise hello from her Great-Niece Lydia. I miss you, Nanna.

Love,

Lydia

P.S. Could you send us your recipe for buttermilk cookies? Or if you have any extras made up, you could mail them just like they do to soldiers on the front. Ha ha.

I reached for the envelope I'd brought with me. It must have fallen to the floor. I lowered my arm over the side of the bed, feeling around, when my hand landed on a book. I pulled it out. It was the library book I'd checked out about raccoons! I'd clean forgot it. My heart pounded as I looked at the stamped date. It was fifteen days overdue.

I pedaled to the library so hard I practically flew. Grabbing the book out of the basket on my bike, I ran up the steps and opened the heavy door. I paused inside and tried to catch my breath. Looking down at the floor inside the cool vestibule, I made myself count the tiny floor tiles. After I got to thirty, I was calm enough to walk in slowly.

“Good morning, Lydia!”

I jumped. Would I ever get used to loud Mrs. Green?

“Hello, Miz Green. I've got something just awful to tell you.”

“Just awful? Oh, do tell.” She put her elbows on her desk and rested her chin on her hands. I could see the corners of her mouth twitching.

“Well, ma'am, I forgot to bring this book back. I'm so sorry! I promise it will never happen again!” My words got faster, spilling one on top of the other. “I'll pay the late fee but, please, Miz Green—Nanna would have my hide if she knew!”

“Oh, honey. I surely do miss your Nanna, but how am I going to tell her about it with her up in Michigan? And you know what I always say? I always say, how can a book get read if it's sitting here on our shelves? Why, it doesn't bother me a bit when a book's late.”

She leaned down and said in a whisper, “You might want to renew it next time, though. That way you won't have to pay late fees.”

“Yes, ma'am,” I said, wondering how much money this was going to cost me. A dollar a day, probably.

“That'll be thirty cents. Two cents a day. It's fifteen days overdue. I'm sorry to have to charge you, honey, but it's the rules.”

“Oh, yes ma'am! That's just fine!” I was so relieved I almost slid to the floor as I counted out the change.

Mrs. Green picked up the book and said, “I remember this book. It was to impress that special fella of yours.” She winked at me. “Did it work?”

“Miz Green, he's not my special anything.” I thought of how my experiment with Zorro had ended, with Willis throwing Beth's doll into the burn barrel. “And, no, I guess you could say it was a complete disaster.”

“Really? Well, maybe you just didn't use it right. Did you impress him with all you learned about raccoons?”

I let out a huff of air. “I can't say he was all that impressed.”

“Maybe you should renew the book and try a new tack.”

I started to say I didn't care one whit if Willis Merrill was impressed or not, but I caught myself. She had said, “Try a new tack.” It made me think of what Elliot had said, that Willis needed “special handling.”

“You know what, Miz Green? I think I might just renew that book, after all. That is, if it's all right with you.”

“Why sure, honey! Never let it be said that Beverly Green stood in the way of true love!”

Good gosh.

*   *   *

Monday morning, I waited in the tree house for Willis. I wanted to catch him before he got to Zorro's cage. I knew Zorro would run to me and I'd lose any chance of having Willis listen.

As soon as he walked out the back door, I said, “He likes peanut butter.”

Willis jumped at the sound of my voice. Normally it would have made me laugh, but I was trying a new tack today.

“You talkin' to me?”

“I said that Zorro likes peanut butter. Not as much as he likes nuts and fruit, but that's why he comes up here with me. I lured him with peanut butter.”

“You think you know more about my coon than me?” He snickered and shook his head.

“It's all in here.” I held up the library book. “It tells about raccoons and their likes and dislikes. For instance”—I thumbed quickly through the book—“it says right here, ‘A raccoon is a nocturnal mammal.' That means they would rather sleep during the day and play at night.”

Willis cocked his head and said, “Zorro sleeps at night.”

“He's probably bored. That cage is none too big for him. If he were in the wild, he'd be running at night.”

Willis seemed to be thinking about it for a minute. Then he waved one hand in the air as if to say I was as annoying as a fly. “You're crazy,” he said. “You're making that up.”

“No, I'm not. I know you don't like to read.” He shot an angry look at me, so I hurried on. “I don't, either. Heck, this is the only book I've ever checked out of the library that I didn't have to. I wanted to trick you, so I read up on raccoons. That's the plain truth.”

“Why are you telling me now?”

“I just didn't want you to think that Zorro liked me more than you, that's all.”

“I
know
he doesn't like you more than me!”

Oh, he could make my blood boil! Well, I promised myself that I'd just make an attempt today. That's all I had to do and I'd done it.

I climbed out of the tree and made myself walk at a normal pace instead of storming into the house the way I wanted to. I had just reached the back door when Willis asked, “That book got any pictures in it?”

*   *   *

I read to him in the tree house for at least half an hour. Willis hung on to every word.

“I never knew there was so much to know about coons,” he said.

“There's a lot in here about them,” I said. “Where did you get Zorro anyway?”

“Found him in a ditch alongside a road. His mama had been hit by a car. He was a tiny thing, and look how big he is now.” He pointed to Zorro's cage. “I did a good job raising him, even without that book!”

“Uh-huh,” I said, hiding my irritation. I'd had enough of this. My voice was hoarse. I was thirsty. And I had to go to the bathroom, plain and simple. I finished reading the chapter, then said in my nicest voice, “Well, I guess that's about it for today. Maybe I could read more to you tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow! You goin' somewhere or somethin'?”

“No, but we've read an awful lot. Aren't you getting thirsty?”

“No.”

He picked up the book and shoved it at me. My hands caught it out of reflex, but I just sat there surprised. Then he pushed the book at me again and grunted for me to read more.

We must've looked like Tarzan and Jane, stuck in a tree house with him shoving and grunting. I laughed at the thought.

When Willis heard me laugh, he hauled off and slapped me right in the face.

I let out a yelp and grabbed my cheek. No one had ever slapped me before. And it hurt! My eyes were stinging something awful and I couldn't talk because I knew I'd sob if I did.

Willis did what he always did and scurried out of the tree house. I watched his lanky body trudge toward Zorro's cage. I hated him so much. If I had told anyone what had happened, that person would have said, “You did all you could, Lydia. That boy just can't be helped.”

In the past, I would have yelled at him, but I knew Elliot wasn't going to like me again until I was nice to Willis. What if I changed how I acted? What if I didn't yell and get mad? Would Willis change, too? I took in great big gulps of air, trying to still the tears that threatened as I sat quietly watching him.

He got Zorro out of his cage, let the raccoon climb onto his back, and shot me a look. I was trying to keep my expression normal and made sure I looked right into his eyes. I'd read enough of this raccoon book to know that making eye contact was the best thing to do when dealing with a wild animal. How much wilder could you get than Willis Merrill?

He looked at me for a second, looked away, then looked back. He said, “You laughed at me.”

I took another deep breath and said, “I was looking at you when I laughed. But I was laughing at what I was thinking about, not at you.”

“Well, how's a body supposed to know the difference?” he said, heading back to the tree house.

“Wait! I'm coming down.” I tried to keep my voice light. I didn't want to be cornered in the tree if he got violent again. I was willing to take this special handling thing only so far.

“Whew!” I said when I reached the ground. “It's sure getting hot. I'm really thirsty. Let's go inside and get something to drink.”

Willis looked at my house and said, “I'll wait here.”

“Suit yourself.”

I turned to go and realized that's just the kind of thing I would have said before.

“How about this?” I asked. “How about I get us something to drink and we move to our front porch? It'll be cooler there, and I'll read some more.”

He looked at the porch warily.

“I can make us Kool-Aid.”

He brightened at that.

“Wait here. I'll be right back.” I started inside, then turned to Willis. “Hold the book for me, okay?”

You'd have thought I asked him to watch a pot of gold from the look on his face.

*   *   *

“You got any more?” Willis asked as he handed me his empty glass. It was his second one.

“I'm only allowed two glasses of Kool-Aid a day. Besides, if we drink it all up today, we won't have any for tomorrow, right?”

He thought that over. “Okay.”

This “special handling” of Willis was harder work than I'd guessed. I had to watch how I said everything. And I was trying real hard not to laugh. It made me tired. Plus I'd read more in one day than I normally read all summer.

I closed the book and asked, “Would you like to read more of the book tomorrow?”

“Yeah!”

“Okay. Can we make a deal?”

He jumped up and crossed his arms. “What's the hitch? I ain't got money if that's what you're after.”

“Money! I don't want money. But you remember when you slapped me? It's not a nice thing to do to anybody.”

“Neither's laughing.”

“We talked about that, remember? I was laughing, but I wasn't making fun of you. There's a difference. How about we make some rules. Rule number one is no making fun of each other.”

“What's rule number two?”

“Rule number two is that if we get mad, we say why we're mad. We never hit.”

“Can we have Kool-Aid every day?”

I almost laughed but, thank goodness, caught myself. I very seriously said, “Rule number three, we have Kool-Aid every day.”

“Three glasses of it.”

“Don't push it, Willis.”

13

I was feeling pretty good when I went in to dinner that night. Mother had a ham in the oven. How bad can you mess up a ham? Last night Mother had cooked a roast so dry you could hardly cut it. I'd filled up on mashed potatoes, eating around the lumps, and on the tops of dinner rolls—leaving the burnt bottoms.

I flopped into my chair. When Daddy asked, “How'd your day go, Ladybug?” I had something good to tell him for a change.

“Well, you know that boy from next door? Willis? I spent the afternoon reading to him.”

“He can't read?”

Daddy looked confused, and I realized I hadn't told him about Willis Merrill. Something kept me from telling him how mean and ornery Willis could be. “No, not too good.”

“So you're teaching him how?”

“Well, no, I guess I'll leave that to his teachers. But he loves to have a book read to him, so that's what I did.”

Mother said, “Well, if he can get you to read, he's got my thanks.”

What's it to you? I wanted to say to her. She had never before paid any attention to whether or not I read.

Then she set a plate of food in front of me. It was the same food as last night. I don't mean leftovers, I mean the very plate I had left unfinished the night before. The roast was drier now and the lumps of potatoes I'd picked out were still there, but cold, along with the burnt bottoms of the rolls.

“What's this?”

“It's your dinner. Eat up!” she said in a cheery voice.