When Ratboy Lived Next Door (19 page)

Willis straddled Junior's chest. Both boys were panting. Willis said, “I ain't moving till you say sorry.”

Junior said something I couldn't hear.

“Louder!” Willis said.

“Sorry!” Junior cried out. Willis slid off Junior and stood. Junior rose to his elbows and slowly stood up. Both boys' shirts were torn and there were splotches of blood everywhere.

Junior looked at Willis and finally nodded. I don't claim to understand boys and I don't know exactly what that nod meant, but I thought things were going to be okay between Junior and Willis from then on.

Junior limped away and Willis ran down the alley.

I thought, Gee whiz. Does he have to run every dang time something happens? But he came back in two seconds, pulling Bobby along with him.

“I'm sorry, I'm really sorry,” Bobby blubbered. “I didn't want to hurt either one of you. Honest! It was those boys. They made me!”

“If it was them, then you'll be nice to us from now on, right?” Willis gave him another shake.

“Of course! I like Lydia. I like you, too, Willis. Honest.”

I laughed. “Bobby, you are pathetic. Let him go, Willis.”

Willis released his grip and we watched Bobby run away, looking back over his shoulder.

“You're a sight, you know that?” I said to Willis. He had a nasty cut on the side of his face.

“Yeah, I suppose I am.”

The serial had already started and I didn't want to go all the way back home. “Come on, we'll run into Evan's Drugs and get some Band-Aids. That way we won't miss much of the movie.”

He fell into step with me as we walked down Main Street.

“Willis, do you realize you showed those boys? That means they'll be nicer to you, don't you think?”

I could tell he was pleased but all he said was “Maybe.”

“Still and all, you can't solve everything by hitting someone,” I said.

Willis looked disgusted. “Didn't you just say I showed them? Weren't you soundin' happy about it? Now you're complainin'.”

“I'm not complaining. I'm only trying to help you.”

“Well, excuse me!” he said. “But I thought I just helped
you.
”

“I didn't ask for your help,” I said, but then I noticed Elliot coming toward us and words flew out of my head.

“Hey, Lydia,” he said when we met up with him.

I gave out a weak “Hey.”

He turned to Willis. “You need to get home and see Carolyn. She's got something she wants to talk to you about.”

“Not now,” Willis said. “We'll miss the movie. I'll talk to her later.”

“No, this is important,” Elliot said in that no-nonsense way he had. “You run on and I'll keep Lydia company.”

My knees nearly buckled at that. I didn't exactly need company, but I wasn't about to tell Elliot that.

Willis hurried ahead of us. Elliot and I walked for a bit. He stopped and said, “How about we sit here and talk for a minute?”

We were standing by a house on a hill. There were three different sets of stairs leading to the yard. We were at the one farthest from the house. I sat down on a step and Elliot sat one below me so that our heads were about even.

I figured this was about his daddy. “I'm sorry I called the sheriff,” I said.

“I'm not. If you hadn't, it's hard to tell what he would have done. What he
did
do was bad enough.” He shifted on the step and said, “That's what I want to talk to you about. Carolyn and I agreed that things aren't going to get better. I don't know how much you've heard”—he looked uncomfortable—“but my pa is drunk nearly all the time. He— Well, this wasn't the first time he hit one of us, and that's just not right.”

“No,” I said. “Not right at all.”

He looked at me. “He's in jail now. This may be our only chance.”

“Chance for what?”

“Well, if we were to, say, go somewhere, he couldn't come after us.”

I felt the earth shift for a minute. Did he mean they were going to leave? I'd just made friends with Willis. And little Beth—how could I not see her anymore? Then I looked at Elliot and thought about not seeing him ever again. If I'd been the crying type, I'd have done it right then and there.

“So you can see the spot we're in.” He looked at me as if he really needed me to understand.

I cleared the lump from my throat. “Yeah.”

Neither of us spoke. Finally I said, “But won't he come after you later? I mean, my daddy would track us till the end of time if we up and left.”

Elliot snorted. “He'll look for a while, mostly because he wouldn't want anybody to think a woman got the best of him. The truth is, the only thing he'll really miss is his pickup truck.”

We sat there for a minute. Without looking at me he said, “I don't want to leave. And if I could change one thing, I'd change the way I turned away from you. We had some good times until then, didn't we?”

“We did,” I said. “But I don't blame you.”

His eyes shot toward me in surprise.

“I was wrong about Willis,” I said. “If
I
could change one thing, it would be the way I treated him.”

He gave a little laugh. “I guess you would. When I wanted you to be nicer to him, I never dreamed you'd be his girl.”

“His what?”

“I just never thought you might start liking him that way.”

For once in my life I thought before opening my mouth. I thought about how I'd worked in the gardens, just so I could be by Elliot's side. I thought about how I'd quit riding my bike to school and going to Daddy's gas station just so I could walk home with Elliot. Up till that minute I thought I'd done it because I wanted a big brother. But something snapped in me when he said I was Willis's girl and, whatever that was, it made me realize how much I wanted to be Elliot's girl.

I turned to him and said in my calmest voice, “Elliot, you're an idiot.”

I stood up from the step, dusted my bottom off, and walked toward home.

He called, “Lydia! Wait up!”

He caught up with me. “What did I do?”

“Just showed your stupidity, that's all.” I kept walking.

He jumped in front of me. “Hold on.”

I stepped around him and he grabbed my arm.

“I'm moving away,” he said. “Can't you give me one minute?”

That did it. Saying he was leaving made me take a deep breath to ease the heaviness in my chest.

“Tell me what I did wrong. I don't even know.”

“Let me give you a hint,” I said. “If I liked a boy, I wouldn't act with him like I act with Willis. If I liked a boy, I'd probably work side by side with him in the hot sun, busting up dirt clods, just to be near him. Or maybe I'd walk home in the rain just so we could share an umbrella.”

Elliot's eyes widened. “If you liked a boy, would you do something like offer to help him sell popcorn? Or maybe have
him
take a link out of your bike chain instead of your daddy who has a service garage for that kind of thing?”

“Yep, that's something I'd probably do.”

He put his hands on his hips and took a deep breath. “Then I'm an idiot.”

“I thought I already said that.”

Neither of us spoke. Finally he said, “I don't have a job anymore.”

“I know.”

“I've always worked, so I never got to take a girl to the Free Show.”

I swallowed hard. “I know that, too.”

He smoothed back his hair, made sure his shirt was tucked in nice, and said, “Lydia Carson, I would be honored if you would go with me to see the Free Show.”

I didn't say anything. I put my hand in his and we walked toward the grainy black-and-white picture that flickered on the Laundromat wall.

18

I sat in the tree house alone, watching the sun rise bit by bit. He wasn't coming. I'd been so sure he would. Suddenly his head popped up from the ladder.

I jumped and said, “You scared me to death! I thought you weren't coming.”

“Why would you think a dumb thing like that?” Willis asked as he threw a sack onto the tree-house floor.

“Because we said sunrise. That was ten minutes ago.”

“Maybe it comes up faster on your side of the fence,” he said, smiling at his little joke.

He flopped down next to me, clearly excited. “Okay, I got everything I was supposed t'bring. How about you?”

“Yes.” I handed him my sack.

He rummaged around, then looked at me. “I don't see no bandages.”

“Bandages. Shoot! You're right. I forgot those.”

“No bandages! You can't be trusted for anything, you know that?”

I could feel my blood boiling, but I tried to keep my tone light. “Well, it's not like we're going to cut off an arm or something.”

“You got that right. I'm not cuttin' anything now! No bandages,” he muttered to himself. “You're worse than worthless.”

I'd had enough. “Take that back.”

“No.” He looked as if he'd die before taking it back.

“Take it back, Willis, or I swear I'll call this off right now.”

“Go ahead. Call it off. Who wants to be tied to you for eternity, anyways? I'm finding a new best friend. One I can count on.
He
won't forget the bandages!”

He climbed over the side of the tree house, leaving me there alone. I sat still. I heard something rustle.

“Willis?”

“What?”

“You coming back up?”

“Yeah, beanbrain. Don't know why, though.”

He came back up the ladder and opened his bag. He took out an old metal lunch bucket he'd found at the junkyard.

“Won't that leak?”

“Might. I found a plastic tablecloth to wrap it in.
I
didn't forget anything.”

“You're
so
funny,” I said and handed him the scissors. “Don't cut off too much.”

“Ah, tell your mom you got bubble gum in your hair. You got no imagination, you know that?”

I wasn't worried what my mother would think. I didn't want Elliot to see me with a big chunk of hair gone. All of a sudden, things like that mattered. But I just said, “You're right. That's what I'll tell my mom. About the bubble gum.”

I felt the cold metal of the scissors against my head. One snip was all he took and I was relieved to see only a couple of dark curls in the lunchbox.

He handed me the scissors and sat down in front of me.

I ran my hand over his head. “I don't know what I'm supposed to cut. Your hair's so short your head is smooth as a potato. It's lumpy as one, too.”

“That's all those brains of mine. Not enough room in one head for all my brains.”

I laughed at that. He laughed, too. I sprinkled short pieces of his red hair on top of my darker strands. He pulled a pocketknife out of his back pocket and held it out to me. This was the part I dreaded.

“You go ahead,” I said.

“Fine,” he said. “I ain't no baby.”

I couldn't stand to look. When I turned back, he had a trickle of blood coming out of his finger. He held it over the lunchbox.

“I don't think you're getting the drops on the hair,” I said.

“Yes I am! Who thought this up, anyhow? You don't think I know how to make us blood brothers when it was my idea?”

I'd been letting the “brothers” part of this go. Willis came up with this as a way to say goodbye, and I was trying to do everything he wanted.

“Does it hurt?” I asked.

“Nah, no more than a sweat bee's sting.”

I took a deep breath, bit my lip, and ran the knife edge over my finger. At first I didn't feel anything. Then a sharp pain shot up my finger.

“Sweat bee's sting my butt!” I said as I held my finger over the rusty lunch box, letting the blood drop onto our hair.

“Well, it might hurt a pansy like you.”

“You're a riot this morning, Willis.”

“Don't get your shorts in a knot. Take off your sock and wrap your finger in it till the bleeding stops.”

“I'd never get the blood out,” I muttered.

“It won't matter. Just throw the sock away.”

“Good idea,” I said.

“Who's gonna take care of you when you don't have me, Lydia?”

I peered into his face. He looked so serious. “I'll get by, Willis. I'll be okay.”
We'll both be okay.

He looked away quickly. “It's all done except for our most prized possessions. I'm putting in Zorro's collar.”

Seeing it reminded me of the first time I saw that piece of rope—the day I met Willis. It was a good choice for the box.

I reached into my pocket and took out Robert's photo. I looked at his face for the last time, running my finger across the ragged part where Nanna had torn away his daddy. That picture had caused a lot of pain in our family, but it had also brought about healing. It was a good choice, too.

As I lay the picture inside the box, Willis said, “Lydia! You can't put your brother's picture in there! It's all you have of him.”

“No, it's not.” And I knew that to be true. “I have his hair. I have his eyes. And I have his mother. I don't need his picture anymore to know who he is.”
Or who I am.

I looked at Willis's worried face. “I'm gonna miss you, Willis.”

“I know that.”

We heard Elliot, down in our yard, clear his throat. “Willis? It's time to go.”

Willis looked at me as if it had just hit him that this was really goodbye. He grabbed the lunchbox, quickly wrapped it in the tablecloth, and shoved it into my hands.

“You'll bury this right beneath this tree, right?”

“Right. And we'll meet here and dig it up ten years from today.”

“Even if someone else is living here by then. And we'll never tell anyone.”