AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Better than Eddie?” I asked, half teasing.
“Don’t get smart,” said Bunny testily.
“I was just kidding.”
“Well, don’t kid. This is no time to kid, especially about Eddie. He’s done a lot for me. He’s been there when I needed him. Besides, who are you to talk? We wouldn’t be in all this trouble if you weren’t thinking about sex all the time.”
I didn’t respond. One thing about Bunny, when she’s upset, she’ll say anything. I just looked away. But that was the first time I realized how serious it was with Eddie. I suspected he might have moved in with her.
After Bunny left, I picked up the Exponent and brought it outside, spreading it on the lawn to read. There was nothing in the paper about the KTD and not much exciting about anything else. Percy Granville, the state treasurer, was insisting he hadn’t done anything wrong. An accident over near Emerson had claimed the county’s twenty-fourth traffic fatality of the year. A boy, just out of high school, had been driving alone when his car swerved into the path of a truck. Another story said the farmers were having a good year. The corn was much higher than last year at this time, and higher than the five-year average. In a picture, a farmer was standing in a field, his arms outstretched, and the corn up to his neck. “Sea of green,” said the caption.
I flipped through the pages quickly. On the next-to-last page, something in the letters column caught my eye. WITCHES, read the headline over one letter:
Though the vast majority of people in Katydid are good citizens who lead decent lives, there are a few who insist on living like wild things. They think they’re too good to follow the normal accepted rules of society. Instead, they respond only to their own, selfish desires and laugh at the proper lives the rest of us try to lead. When I think of these people, I think of witches, stirring a bubbling caldron and cackling over what they’re getting away with.
People like this never last long. They usually only destroy themselves. I’ve seen them come and go, so, normally, I wouldn’t be too worried. But when I hear that one person in particular is passing on her tricks to her children, then I get nervous. Mayor Krullke and Chief Springer are doing all they can, I’m sure, but the dangerous influences on our children are everywhere these days. You only have to turn on the television, listen to the radio, or read the newspapers. In this kind of environment, the “witches” and their children have a chance to spread and do far greater harm. It’s up to the mothers and fathers in this town to make sure that doesn’t happen. We must demand that all the irresponsible parents are isolated and, if necessary, punished. We have a right to insist on this because it is our town, and because the welfare of our children depends on it.
The letter was signed “A Concerned Mother.”
I studied the message carefully. I tried to imagine who A Concerned Mother was. Mrs. Benedict, maybe. If the letter was about Bunny and me—and I was certain it was—then she had to be a suspect. But the language sounded too formal for Mrs. Benedict, and it didn’t seem like her to write a public letter. Besides, whoever had written it had only heard of the trouble. That wasn’t Mrs. Benedict. It must be some stranger, I decided, maybe someone new in town. “Isolated and, if necessary, punished.” What did that mean? I felt a chill and quickly folded the paper.
Getting up, I saw Grandma Porter, sitting at her window in the neighbor’s house. She’d been waiting for me to notice her, and she waved at me to come over. I couldn’t very well ignore her, so I walked over to the chain fence just below her window. She leaned forward when I got close. Her face was puffy and wrinkled, but her eyes sparkled.
“I seen you in the room,” she said, lifting her arm from the sill and pointing toward the Vernons’ house. Her knuckles were huge, like walnuts. “They got you locked up.”
“No, I can leave when I want,” I said. “I mean, I can come outside, anyway.”
“They locked me up, too,” she said eagerly. “They put me in here. But I’m gonna get away.” She craned to look around me, making sure I wasn’t hiding someone behind my back or down at my feet. “Harry is gonna come and get me and take me away.”
“Oh, really? Who’s Harry?”
She ignored my question. “He can’t take you, though. Two’s too many.”
“That’s okay. I’m not going anywhere anyway.”
She stared at me while her jaw worked silently. I backed away and then waved.
“I’ll tell Harry about you,” she called out. “But you can’t come.”
ELEVEN
As three o’clock approached, I began to worry about Reverend Vaughn. It was important that he like me—Mrs. O’Brien had made that clear. He could be crucial to my case. More than that, though, I wanted him to like me. I wanted to prove that I was more than just a silly, mindless schoolgirl, like the Elvis fan he’d told me about. I wanted to prove that I was different—as Bunny always said I was—different from the other kids in Katydid. Different from the adults, too. He seemed like the kind of person who could understand. But the more I worried about him, the more I lost my confidence. What if I couldn’t think of anything to say? Yesterday, conversation had come easily, one thing following another, but that was because I’d been surprised by his visit. I hadn’t had time to freeze up. Today, my mind was a blank. Nothing would be worse than to sit there, helpless, knowing he thought I was stupid. I hated myself for having led a boring life, for not having interesting thoughts and opinions and experiences. All those years with Bunny, when talk was as simple as breathing in and out, now seemed like such a waste. He wouldn’t care about the things I knew.
To reassure myself, I took a piece of Sissy’s note paper and made a list of possible topics of conversation. My favorite movie. (I’d just seen Trapeze and loved it.) The fair. Monroe and Miller. (Did he think it would last?) Ringling Brothers closing up. But, no, those were all too trivial—Reverend Vaughn is more serious than that. He’d think I was frivolous. I tried to come up with some others. Dutch elm disease. Percy Granville. (For some reason, I’d always noticed him. Maybe because of that name—Percy. Who’d ever give it to a baby?) President Eisenhower’s heart.
Nothing was quite right, but I folded the piece of paper and tucked it in my pocket. Every now and then, as I waited anxiously for him to appear, my hand dropped down, and I fumblingly made sure the list was still there.
He arrived driving a strange little bumper car, something called a Metropolitan. The front seat was far too cramped, and his body unfolded like an easel when he climbed out. From the living-room window, I watched him coming up the walk. He was frowning slightly, distracted by something, his eyes were on the ground. Still, as he got closer, he seemed to tower over the Vernons’ house, too straight and tall to fit through the front door without stooping. Getting up to let him in, I felt light-headed for a moment. My
heart was pounding, and I had to pause briefly until the feeling went away.
We took the same walk we’d taken the day before, down Prosperity Street, out toward Sylvan Elementary. He was quieter this time, more withdrawn, and I worried that it was because of me. Had he heard something since he left yesterday?
“It’s warm,” I said, as we scuffed along an unshaded section of sidewalk.
“Yes, the sun.”
“And so humid.” I let my shoulders slump, pretending to go limp.
