Anna All Year Round (6 page)

At the bottom, Anna and Charlie roll along, slowing, slowing, slowing, until they come to a stop in front of the candy store. Sometimes Anna treats Charlie to a string of licorice. Sometimes Charlie treats Anna to a jawbreaker. They eat their candy while they climb up the hill. At the top, they skate down again, their arms spread like wings.

There is a much steeper hill a few blocks away on Bentalou Street. Sometimes Anna and Charlie sit on the curb and watch the older boys speed down the hill, but so far neither one has dared to try it.

One afternoon, Charlie and Anna are standing at the top of Bentalou Street. It's like being on a mountain peak. The houses march down the hill, row after row, one set of marble steps after another, each smaller than the one before. Anna can see the roofs of the houses at the bottom.

A big boy whizzes past, followed by two more. They shout as they go by. Soon they are at the bottom, no bigger now than the little china dolls in Anna's dollhouse.

Charlie watches the boys climb back up the hill, laughing, ready to skate down again. He takes a deep breath and squares his shoulders. "I feel brave today," he says. "How about you, Anna?"

Anna twirls the skate key she wears on a string around her neck. How can she tell Charlie she doesn't feel a bit brave? He might think she's a scaredy-cat like the other girls. He might skate away with the big boys and never play with her again. She swallows hard and says nothing—not yes, not no.

"What's wrong?" Charlie asks. "Are you scared?"

"Of course not." Anna bends down and pretends to tighten her skates. If Charlie sees her face, he'll know she's lying.

Charlie rolls this way and that, circling Anna. His skates click and clack again on the paving stones. "I dare and double dare you," he says.

Anna has never refused a dare. Slowly she straightens up and looks down the hill. While she watches, a toy-sized trolley sways past on North Avenue. Its bell chimes twice. From way up here, the sound is no louder than a bird's call.

"Are you coming or not?" Charlie asks.

Anna hears the scorn in his question, but she doesn't answer. She's so scared her mouth has dried up.

The three big boys flash past Charlie. "Hey, twerp," one shouts. "Get out of the way!"

Charlie and Anna watch them zoom down the hill again. This time, they vanish around a corner, still shouting.

Charlie frowns. "Maybe you should go home and play dolls with Rosa and Beatrice," he says.

That does it. Anna takes a deep breath and skates past Charlie. Her wheels begin to turn, slowly at first and then faster and faster. In a second, it's too late to change her mind. She's on her way down Bentalou Street with Charlie just behind her.

As she rolls over the stones, Anna feels the jolts in every bone in her body. Bumpety-bumpety-bump. She has never gone so fast in her whole life. The street rushes past in a blur. She wants to stop but she can't.

Somehow Anna keeps her balance for three long blocks.Then, right in front of Brewster's meat market, she falls flat on her face. For a moment she lies in the street, too stunned to move. Nothing hurts, everything hurts.

Then Charlie is there, kneeling on the ground beside her. "Anna," he shouts, grabbing her shoulder. "Get up! Say something!"

Now it's Charlie's turn to be scared. Anna can't think of anything to say that will make him feel better. If she opens her mouth, she'll cry. The last thing she wants to be is a crybaby.

People gather around. Anna sees men's boots, ladies' long skirts, Charlie's skates. "Stand back," someone says. "Give the poor child air."

Strong hands lift her to her feet. Anna tries to keep her skates under her but they roll this way and that. The butcher from Brewster's Market holds on to her to keep her from falling.

"Oh, no," a lady says. "Look what she's done to herself."

Anna feels something warm on her face. She touches it and sees blood. Lots of blood. She's covered with blood. The sight of it makes Anna cry in spite of herself.

"You've split your chin wide open," the butcher says. "And skinned your hands and knees raw." He pulls a handkerchief from his pocket and ties it around Anna's chin as if she has a toothache. "There, that will stop the worst of the bleeding," he says.

Turning to Charlie, the butcher adds, "Take her skates off, my boy, and help me get her home."

Charlie carries Anna's skates and the butcher carries Anna. It's a long uphill walk. People stop and stare. They ask what happened to Anna.

Since Anna's jaw is tied shut with the butcher's handkerchief, Charlie answers for her. "We were skating down Bentalou Street," he says, "and Anna fell and split her chin wide open." Charlie speaks proudly, as if he wants everyone to know how brave Anna has been.

Anna's mother is outside scrubbing the white marble steps. When the butcher comes around the corner carrying Anna, she takes one look at the blood and presses her hands to her mouth. Over goes the bucket. Soapy water sloshes across the sidewalk and into the gutter.

"Anna!" Mother cries. "Anna!"

"Don't you worry," the butcher calls. "Other than a split chin, your girl is fine. She's just had a slight mishap on her roller skates."

Charlie holds up the skates but Mother pays no attention to him. It is Anna she cares about. Only Anna. Snatching her child from the butcher, she rushes inside to call the doctor.

From over Mother's shoulder, Anna steals a peek at Charlie. He's still holding her skates. She hopes he can see she's stopped crying. If she could, she'd smile at him, but the handkerchief tied under her chin makes it impossible. She waves in what she hopes is a brave way and Charlie waves back. Anna is pleased to notice he looks worried.

Dr. Thompson comes as quickly as his brand-new car can bring him. He unties the handkerchief. The cloth sticks to the blood and Anna winces. Dr. Thompson carefully washes the cut—which also hurts—and examines it.

"Well, well," he says. "I guess I'll have to put you under the sewing machine."

Anna begins to cry again. She thinks Dr. Thompson is going to use Mother's sewing machine to stitch her up. The needle is sharp and it goes very fast when Mother sews. She doesn't know how Dr. Thompson plans to get her chin under that needle, but she's sure it will hurt.

"Oh, my heavens," Mother cries. She looks as if she's going to faint, so Dr. Thompson tells her to lie down. Then he goes to the door and tells Charlie to fetch Aunt May from next door.

Luckily Aunt May isn't a bit squeamish. She holds Anna's head still while Dr. Thompson stitches her wound by hand. Each time the needle pricks her skin, Anna flinches but it doesn't hurt as much as she'd thought it would.

When Dr. Thompson is finished, he steps back and smiles at Anna. "You're a brave girl," he says, then glances at Mother.

Mother is still lying on the couch with her eyes closed. "I cannot bear the sight of blood," she says in a small voice.

While he's bandaging the cut, Dr. Thompson says, "You didn't think I was actually going to put you under a sewing machine, did you?"

Anna is afraid to open her mouth for fear the cut will begin to bleed, so she shakes her head. She hopes Dr. Thompson believes her.

"Surely you didn't tell the poor child soch a terrible thing!" Aunt May says. "You really are a rascal, Dr. Thompson!"

At that moment Charlie knocks on the door. He still has Anna's skates. Mother takes them and puts them in the closet. Anna hopes this is not the end of roller-skating.

Charlie comes closer and stares at Anna. "How many stitches did you get?"

Dr. Thompson answers for Anna who hadn't counted. "Nine," he says, "and she didn't cry once."

Charlie whistles in admiration. "Anna's as tough as a boy," he says.

That is the greatest compliment Charlie has ever given Anna, but he tops it by adding, "And she's a whole lot prettier."

Anna decides every stitch was worth it.

AUNT MAY'S HUSBAND, UNCLE HENRY, IS A CHAUFFEUR.
He drives a limousine for a rich man who lives in Federal Square. When Uncle Henry goes to work, he wears a dark-green uniform with gold-braid trim, tall polished boots, and a fancy cap with a shiny visor. He looks very handsome.

Sometimes Uncle Henry takes Aunt May for a ride in the limousine. She sits in the back seat and pretends to be a great lady. Mother says Aunt May loves to put on airs, but Anna wishes she could ride in that big car, too. Like Aunt May, she'd wave to people. They'd wave back. Maybe they'd think Anna was rich. Maybe they'd think she lived in a mansion. They might even mistake her for a princess.

But the truth is, Anna has never ridden in a car. Not once. Every chance she gets, she begs Uncle Henry to take her out in the limousine, but he's always too busy. "Maybe some other time, sweetheart," he says, and pats her on the head.

One warm Saturday morning in April, Anna walks to the trolley stop with Father. Every day there are more cars on North Avenue. Shiny black Model T's and Oldsmobiles zip in and out of the traffic, blowing their horns and scaring horses.

"Why don't you buy a car, Father?" Anna asks. "Then you won't have to ride the trolley to work."

"I like riding the trolley," Father says. "It takes me exactly where I want to go."

"But a car would be faster," Anna says. "And we could go for drives in the country on Sundays."

Father shakes his head. "We can't afford a car, and even if we could Mother would say no. She doesn't trust cars."

Father kisses Anna good-bye. She watches him ride away on the pokey old trolley. On the way home, she counts cars. Yesterday she counted four. Today she counts six. Soon the Sherwoods will be the only family in Baltimore without a shiny, brand-new car.

Mother comes outside with a bucket of sudsy water and a small stepladder. Today is window-washing day. Aunt May is already setting up her ladder. Mother doesn't want her sister to finish before she does.

Anna helps Mother with the ladder. "Wouldn't you like to have a motorcar, Mother? Rosa told me her father is buying one. A brand-new Model T."

Mother dips a rag into the sudsy water and begins to scrub the parlor window. "The Schumans must be even more foolish than I thought," she says.

That's that. No car for the Sherwoods.

While her mother and aunt chat, Anna sits on the front steps and plays with her paper dolls. Yesterday she cut a limousine out of a magazine advertisement, carefully making little slits in the seats for her paper dolls. Now she puts Father in his place behind the wheel. Mother sits beside him. A girl and boy sit in the back seat. They are going on a long motor trip.

"Ooga, ooga," Anna honks. "Vroom, vroom."

On their ladders, Aunt May and Mother scrub and polish. It's a contest, Anna thinks. Which sister's windows are the cleanest? Which sister's marble steps are the whitest?

When Anna grows up, she'll never wash windows or scrub steps. No, Anna will have better things to do. She'll buy a big touring car and drive all the way across America. She'll see the Rocky Mountains. She'll see the giant redwood trees. She'll see the Pacific Ocean.

Aunt May's big white bulldog Fritzi presses his nose against the window and barks. Aunt May blows him a kiss. "
Ach, mein kleiner Hund,
" she says. "You must stay inside, my naughty
Zuckerwürfel.
"

Mother mutters something under her breath. "May spoils that ugly hound," she whispers to Anna. "Next she'll be taking him to the park in a baby carriage."

As much as Anna loves Fritzi, she can't help gigling at the thought of him in a carriage, a lacy cap on his head and a dainty coverlet to keep him warm. What a sight he'd be—that huge head of his, those runny red-rimmed eyes, that pushed-in nose, that big jaw, those enormous yellow teeth. Why, Fritzi would be the ugliest baby in all of Baltimore.

While Anna is imagining Aunt May strolling in the park with her sugar lump, she sees Duke, the collie who lives up the street. Unlike Aunt May, Mrs. Anderson allows Duke to go outside by himself.

"Now there's a handsome dog," Mother says. Although she doesn't really like dogs, she can't help admiring Duke's thick fur and his pretty plume of a tail.

Anna eyes Duke with dislike. He minces toward her, his head and tail high, his long narrow nose sniffing the morning air. He reminds Anna of Rosa—too conceited for his own good.

But that's not the only reason Anna hates Duke. The collie is Fritzi's worst enemy. If Fritzi happens to be at the window when Duke passes by, the snob stops and does his business right in front of Aunt May's house. Fritzi goes crazy at the sight of the collie watering his sidewalk. He barks and growls and hurls himself at the window, but he cannot get out.

Duke knows he's safe. Sometimes he ignores Fritzi. Other times he opens his mouth and grins. It's just as if he's taunting Fritzi. "Nyah, nyah, nyah," Duke says. "You can't get me, you ugly beast!"

This morning, Aunt May is too busy with her chores to notice Duke. Just as the collie saunters past, she makes the mistake of opening the big parlor window. Like a shot, Fritzi jumps out and runs after Duke.

Aunt May screams, "Fritzi, come back!"