When Ratboy Lived Next Door (9 page)

The day after Memorial Day, May 31, was the last day of school. Hallelujah! And it wasn't a real school day. We went just in the morning to clean out our desks and to pick up our report cards. Mrs. Warren passed them out, telling us how much she had enjoyed having us and how she would miss us. She didn't fool us one bit: we knew she was tickled pink to be rid of us.

I slowly slid my report card out of its manila envelope. At the bottom I found the word I was looking for: “promoted,” as in promoted to seventh grade. I knew my grades were good enough, but I never rested easy until I saw that word at the bottom of the year's last report card.

Willis didn't come to school that day, but Mrs. Merrill finally did, holding tight to Beth's hand. I remembered what she'd said to Elliot and wondered if her husband knew she was there. It made me wonder if there was a little more pluck to her than I'd thought.

“Can I help you, Mrs. Merrill?” I said.

“I just need to see the principal, but thank you for offering.” She said it politely, but I noticed she squeezed Beth's hand harder when she went to the office.

*   *   *

It ended up being Junior Plunkett who solved the mystery of where Willis had been since his first day in our school. Junior was the son of the school nurse, who liked to think she had her finger on the pulse of the school. She was also a blabbermouth, and Junior soaked up everything she said like a sponge.

After we got our report cards, we all gathered in front of the school for our official class portrait, then went inside to collect anything worth saving from our desks before going home. On the way back in, Junior said, “That new kid was in the principal's office all of last week. They were doing tests to figure out where to stick him.” Then he shut up with a smug look, waiting for us to beg him to finish.

Bobby gave in right away. “Aw, come on, Junior. Tell us.”

“What's it worth to you?”

“Either tell us or don't,” I snapped.

“Well,” Junior puffed up as if he had some big FBI secret. “They were gonna keep him back a year, then two. Then he went and did something that only a crazy person would do.” He paused for effect. “He spit in the principal's face.”

We all gasped.

“It's true as I'm standing here.”

He was right. Only a crazy person would spit in the principal's face.

“So,” Junior continued, “they decided to put him in Special Ed! That's where he's been this week.”

“Nah,” Bobby said. “We'd have seen him.”

“You know they don't allow the Special Ed kids to eat in the cafeteria or have recess with the rest of us,” Junior said.

Special Ed was the room on the top floor of the school near the back. When you walked by, you'd see one kid sitting in a chair drooling and another walking around a circular table, again and again. Whenever I saw that boy, I always wondered which class was directly beneath him, because one of these days he'd wear a hole clean through, and he and the table would both come crashing down on a round disk of floor.

“Special Ed?” We whispered those dreaded words to each other. It wasn't an option any of us had considered. Willis was mean and headstrong, but he didn't drool. He seemed to carry on like a normal human being. Mostly. A mean normal human being.

You could see the air going out of Bobby. His new friend, his ticket to the other boys' games at recess, had just been snatched beyond his reach. Whether it was right or wrong, the truth was nobody wanted a friend in Special Ed.

Then something wonderful dawned on me: Next year I'd be in seventh grade, and grades seven through twelve went to the high school. Special Ed kids stayed in the grade school, no matter what their age. Willis wouldn't be in my class anymore. He wouldn't even be in my school. Bobby Wayans was crushed. To top it off, this was the last day of school for the summer.

All in all, it made for a perfect day.

*   *   *

Friday night, Daddy shoveled peas into his mouth as fast as he could. “I'm sorry I can't walk you ladies to the Free Show, but I promised Sam I'd—”

“Help with the projector. Yes, dear. You mentioned it several times.”

It made my stomach ache when Mother talked to Daddy like that. I looked up and knew that even she saw the hurt on his face.

“It's only a few blocks to the library. We'll be fine,” she said in a softer tone.

“What's the movie tonight, Daddy?” I said.

“Ma and Pa Kettle at the Fair.”

“Great!” I smiled real big, hoping to cheer him.

He patted me on the shoulder. “Well, then, I'd best be getting along.”

Daddy and Sam had spent the better part of the week rounding up an old chicken coop to act as a projection room for the Free Show. They'd hauled it to the library yard, and everything would have been fine if it hadn't been for another downpour. Now Daddy was worried about the chicken coop not being stable enough and wanted to get to the library early to help.

“Glen only worries out of love, Evelyn,” Nanna said after he left.

“Too much worrying can feel like suffocation whether it's done in the name of love or not,” Mother said right back.

Nanna gave a big sigh. She began stacking the dishes and said, “I've been thinking and I just don't know if I should go tonight. I don't think these old bones of mine can sit on the hard ground another time. Besides, it's bound to be damp and I visit Louise in just a week and a half. It'd disappoint her so if I caught a cold and couldn't go.”

“You don't have to go to the show, Nanna,” I said as I helped her clear the table. “Daddy said not many folks would be there tonight because of the rain.”

Nanna let out another sigh. “Glen said they'd have benches by now. I realize the rain slowed the work down, but—”

“It isn't just the rain, you know,” Mother said. “The other merchants want the shows, but they don't want to do any of the labor. It's all up to Sam and Glen, and there's only so much two men can do.”

“I know,” Nanna said. “Still, you'd think they'd give those benches priority.”

I threw back my head and stared at the light fixture. I wondered what would happen if I bumped Nanna the way I bumped my record player when it got stuck. Would she start talking about something else?

Mother rolled her eyes and said, “Nanna, I have an idea. Why don't you stay here tonight? Glen promised there would be benches set up, but the rain ruined that plan. I don't think you should sit on the hard ground, especially since it's bound to be damp.”

“I think you're right, Evelyn. I think I'll stay home.”

I pretended to have a coughing fit in order to stifle a laugh.

“We should get started,” Mother said.

So Mother and I would be alone. I couldn't remember the last time we had done anything together, just us two. I felt kind of fluttery and happy inside.

When we were in the hall, she whispered to me, “Grab a couple of folding chairs, but don't let Nanna see you. If she realizes she has the option of not sitting on the ground, she'll come up with a new set of worries we'll be forced to endure.”

“Yes'm,” I said, smiling. I knew it was mean-spirited of me to get such a kick out of Mother saying unkind things about Nanna, but some of Nanna's ways sure got tiresome.

Mother stuck a pencil behind her ear and a pad of paper in her pocket in case there was some breaking news she could write a story about. She never went anywhere without them. Other than that, I felt as if we were just any mother and daughter.

I studied her out of the corner of my eye. She looked straight ahead but didn't have that faraway look she had most of the time. I cleared my throat and took a chance that she might be in a talkative mood.

“That was pretty good the way you got around Nanna. She'd still be there yammering about not wanting to come if you hadn't said something.”

“I've had a lifetime of practice,” she said drily.

“Sometimes I forget that Nanna raised you, too. I mean—that she's helping to raise me,” I stammered.

“Yes, I never dreamed that Nanna would still be giving orders and running the household when I reached the ripe old age that I have.”

“You're not old, Mother.”

“Don't kid yourself, Lydia. Most of your friends have grandmothers my age.”

It was kind of true, with her being almost fifty, but it was also something I didn't like thinking about.

“Well, Daddy's younger. He's more the age of the other dads.”

“Thank you for reminding me,” she said in that way she had that made me feel I couldn't say one blessed thing right.

“I mean—”

“I know what you mean, Lydia. And here we are! Hello, Beverly!” Mother set down her chair and was off talking to Mrs. Green.

Just one time I wanted to talk to Mother without messing up. I wanted to say something interesting enough to make her come toward me instead of skittering away. I put my chair next to hers and flopped down in it. I knew she wouldn't sit in that chair until it was too dark to do anything else.

I decided to take a walk up Main Street to see if I could find someone I knew. There was a little crowd lined up in front of the Oasis Café. Elliot was there, wearing a chef's apron and holding a box with a few bags of popcorn in it. Pure happiness washed over me when I saw him. He was all cleaned up, his hair parted on the side and combed. He looked real nice.

“Hey, Elliot.”

“Hey, Lydia.”

His smile gave me the courage to walk around the crowd and stand beside him. “Do they know you're taking away their business at the Oasis?” I asked.

“Taking it away? They gave me the job. See?” He tilted his box so I could read the lettering on the front. It had a Coca-Cola advertisement on it and
THE OASIS
printed underneath.

“Is this job for all summer or just tonight?”

“I'll be working at the café all summer as a busboy. I'll sell popcorn at the Free Shows for as long as it works, I guess. The plan is, people will get thirsty from the popcorn and come to the restaurant for a drink.”

“That sounds like a good plan. You come up with it?”

He looked shy and said, “Yeah, how'd you know?”

I put both my hands on the window of the restaurant and made a show of looking in. “Well, let's see. Big Joe's cooking tonight. I can see his cigarette ashes falling onto the grill. Makes the burgers tasty, don't you know.”

Elliot laughed, so I went on. “And Hazel's waiting tables. She must not have had to work the lunch shift, too, or she'd have switched from her clunky white shoes to her house slippers. You know, the ones that flap her feet every time she takes a step.”

I came back to Elliot's side. “It had to be your idea. There's nobody else there smart enough to think of it.”

Elliot grinned. “Well, we all come out ahead. I get a nickel for each bag of popcorn I sell. They get the rest of the money plus customers coming in for a Coke.”

I said, “You're getting low on popcorn. Tell me what to do and I'll help.”

He looked uncomfortable. “I'll take care of it.”

“No, really, I've got nothing to do. At least till the show starts. I'll run in and bag up popcorn, or I'll sell the bags while you do it.”

Elliot looked at me in that straight-in-the-eye way he had and said, “I appreciate the offer, but I can't pay you.”

“The chain keeps slipping on my bike. I was hoping you could fix it.” Even if that had been true, Daddy would have fixed it for me. Still, it was worth a little lie when Elliot gave me his big smile and said, “Charge them fifteen cents a bag. I'll go make a new batch.”

I took the box of popcorn from him and felt that happiness all over again. Funny how just holding a box that Elliot had held could make me feel special.

I was down to the last two bags when Junior Plunkett was next in line. I had been in such a good mood these past two days, and I knew that Junior's news about Willis had a lot to do with it. For a minute I forgot that I didn't even like Junior all that much.

“One bag, please,” he said and held out a dime and nickel.

I handed Junior a bag of popcorn. “This one's on me,” I said, reaching into my pocket for the money.

“Thanks!” Then he squinted his eyes. “Is this a trick?”

“No trick. Anyone who gives me good news like you did deserves a treat, that's all.”

“Good news? You mean about that new kid?”

“Yeah. Now that they put Willis in Special Ed, he won't even be in the same school as me next year. What better news could I get?”

Junior still looked wary. “If it isn't a trick, what's that kid looking at us so funny for?”

I glanced over my shoulder and there stood Elliot, holding a box full of popcorn bags, looking as if he'd been sucker punched.

8

Elliot had only one thing to say to me. He walked over, took the popcorn box out of my hands, and said, “I don't need your help anymore.”

He didn't even look at me when he said it. And I knew he meant more than help with the popcorn. He meant he didn't need me at all.

I wanted to talk to him afterward, to explain myself, but no words I came up with were good enough. I'd never once let on to Elliot how much I hated Willis.

On Sunday morning, Nanna, Daddy, and I headed out for church. Nanna spotted Mrs. Merrill on her front porch and invited her to come with us. Mrs. Merrill said no. Maybe she and God had “parted ways,” too. Otherwise I hadn't laid eyes on a Merrill all weekend.

I spent that afternoon shut up in my room with Robert's picture. I told him that I hadn't meant to hurt Elliot, that it wasn't my fault Willis was so darned mean. No matter how much I talked, though, I didn't feel any better.

*   *   *