Belle Teal (15 page)

L
ittle Boss doesn't come back to school until Wednesday. On Tuesday, we have our very first dress rehearsal. We hold it after recess, and we get to use the auditorium and the stage. A few students are hanging around in the hallway outside, curious. But Miss Casey will only allow our class in the auditorium. We are as excited and noisy as a flock of geese, and Miss Casey doesn't want us any more riled up.

We have one problem with the pageant, though, which is that we are missing one of our kings.

I think Miss Casey is feeling sorry for HRH Vanessa and her teeny tiny role, because she says to her, “Vanessa, just for today, would you like to be our third king?”

I think what a big spoily Vanessa is with even Miss Casey giving in to her whining sometimes, but HRH surprises me by answering, “No, ma'am.” She pauses. “Thank you.”

Miss Casey looks surprised too. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, ma'am. Thank you, but only boys should play the kings.”

Hmm. I think what Vanessa is saying is, “Only white boys should play the kings.”

“All right,” says Miss Casey crisply. “Well, then, who would like to take Ray's part for today?”

A couple of hands go up, and Miss Casey chooses a different shepherd to be the king. She looks like she wants to choose Clarice, the only girl who raised her hand, but Clarice needs to practice her narration lines.

The rehearsal isn't quite a disaster, but if it had been the real thing, the audience would have been hooting and snickering at us for certain. Tinsley Ashburn's donkey costume looks more like a cat. Vanessa has chosen pink ballet slippers as her shepherd shoes, pointing out that shepherds weren't girls either (which I don't know if that is true or not), so who can say what shoes they would have worn? Stephen Haines's Joseph costume isn't bad, but Stephen won't stand any closer than three feet away from me, I think because I am a girl, so Miss Casey decides there will always have to be something in between us onstage — the donkey or the manger or whatever — so's we won't look strange standing so far apart.

I am annoyed with Stephen. It is ridiculous for his fear of girl cooties to get in the way of our pageant, and on Wednesday morning as me and Clarice step off the bus in front of school, I say, “I am going to have a talk with Stephen today. If he thinks —”

I stop talking when I hear brakes screeching and see Big Boss's pickup parked sloppily in back of our bus, its engine idling. Big Boss slithers out of the driver's side, then hustles around to the passenger door and opens it for Little Boss. Little Boss, he climbs out very, very careful-like, carrying a pair of crutches. He sticks the crutches under his arms and hops along the walk to the front door, Big Boss at his side, holding Little Boss's lunch and notebook, a cigarette dangling from between his lips.

Clarice and me stand back and watch in awe. We have never seen Big Boss treat Little Boss so nice.

Big Boss walks Little Boss all the way to our classroom. He takes a long look in the room before he leaves, and I am afraid he is going to do something, although I don't know what, but he just swaggers off.

As soon as he's out of sight, I run to Little Boss, who is trying to settle himself and the crutches at his desk. His lunch falls on the floor and I pick it up for him. “Here you go,” I say.

“Thanks.” Little Boss stuffs the bag in his desk.

“So what happened?” I ask. “Is your leg broken?”

Little Boss looks at the bandage on his foot. “No,” he mumbles.

“Is the bullet —”

I am still speaking when Clarice, she pulls me away and steers me to my desk. “I don't think he wants to talk about it,” she says.

Darryl appears in the doorway a few minutes later. He has walked to school by himself today. When he sees Little Boss, he draws in his breath. I know he's expecting shouting or mean words, something hurtful, but Little Boss does not look at him. He will not look at anybody.

All day long, Little Boss is tied up inside himself. He hardly talks. At recess, he stays inside with Miss Casey, his foot propped on a chair. Me and Darryl and Clarice try to write a New Year's Eve show for
City Lights,
but I am having trouble concentrating. I cannot stop remembering Big Boss as he walked Little Boss into school this morning. The more I think about it, the more I think Big Boss only looked pretend-kind.

We have another rehearsal in the auditorium that afternoon, and Little Boss, he has to sit down the whole time. Miss Casey allows as how she might have to rethink Little Boss's role in the pageant. But maybe his foot will be okay by Christmas.

Little Boss is still all quiet and drawn in like he was this morning. It is while Miss Casey is walking around talking individually to kids about their costumes that I see Little Boss sitting forward, holding his head in his hands. I break away from Clarice and Darryl and guide Little Boss to the back row of the auditorium.

“Little Boss?” I say. “What's the matter?”

Little Boss is wiping his eyes furiously with his sleeve.

I don't want him to feel too embarrassed, so I say, “Maybe you got something in your eye.”

Little Boss shakes his head. “No.”

“Does your foot hurt?”

He shakes his head again.

“Is —”

“Belle Teal, Darryl never hurt me,” Little Boss says suddenly.

“I know.” And then I have to say what I say next. “It was your father, wasn't it? He did this to you.”

Little Boss jumps. “No! That isn't it. I did it. It was my fault.”

“
What
? You shot yourself?” This cannot be.

“Not on purpose.”

“But
you
did it?”

“Yes. It was an accident.”

“Well, why did you say Darryl did it?”

“I
didn't
.” Little Boss's voice is trembling, and his eyes are about to spill over again. “I told my father what happened. I told him the whole truth. I told him I was fooling around with his gun, which I am not allowed to do. And it went off and shot my foot.”

“So why —”

“And he — he just wouldn't stand for that,” Little Boss goes on, and the tears are running down his cheeks and any minute now someone is going to notice us. “I'm sitting there bleeding, and my father is mad at me for being stupid enough to shoot myself. ‘People are going to think this is my fault,' he's saying. ‘They'll think I don't know how to take care of my own kid. I told you and told you not to play with that thing.' He's calling me stupid and saying what a stupid thing I did to him. To
him
, Belle Teal. I'm bleeding, and he's yelling about how I did a stupid thing to him.

“Next thing I know he has this look in his eye and he makes up that story about Darryl and the squirrel and the hunting rifle.”

I am seeing so much more than what Little Boss is saying. In my mind the whole autumn is falling into place. I am wishing for my journal, which is neglected, lying somewhere under my bed because I have been writing essays for Miss Casey instead of thoughts for my journal. But I know that tonight I will find it and write all this out — how Big Boss's hatred of Darryl just grew and grew; grew bigger the more his words and shouts were ignored; swelled when he saw Little Boss fooled by Darryl at the Halloween party; and probably nearly burst when he found out Miss Casey had made Little Boss and Darryl kings together in the pageant. Then Little Boss goes and shoots himself, and suddenly Big Boss sees a way to get Darryl in trouble.

I shiver. I would not want to be Big Boss's son.

“Little Boss,” I say, “we have to tell Miss Casey the truth.”

Little Boss looks absolutely terrified. “No!” he says. “I mean, not yet.”

“But we
have
to tell her. Darryl's in trouble for something he didn't do. In trouble with the
police
.”

“I know, I know, but —” Little Boss pauses, licks his lips — “just . . . just give me until tomorrow, Belle Teal, okay? I swear I'll tell tomorrow. But first I have to figure a few things out. Don't say anything to anybody until then.”

I glance around to see what Miss Casey's doing, and what do I find but she is watching us. Watching Little Boss and me. She gives us a long look before she turns back to the angel Gabriel's silvery wings.

 

When school ends that day, every single person in our class sees Big Boss's pickup parked out front, and Big Boss leaning against the hood with a cheekful of chewing tobacco, waiting for Little Boss.

I look around our room — at Little Boss, at Darryl, at Clarice, at Miss Casey, all of them troubled.

“Darryl,” Miss Casey says gentle-like as we are putting our coats on, “I believe I'll drive you home today.”

“I'm coming with you,” Clarice announces.

“You'll miss your bus,” Miss Casey replies.

Clarice doesn't care.

Little Boss shuffles toward the door on his crutches, and I think he looks as lost as Gran sometimes does
.

“I'll walk you to your father,” I tell him, since I know Darryl is in good hands.

And so me and Little Boss set out down the hall. I carry Little Boss's notebook for him, like Big Boss did this morning. When we reach the doorway, I draw in a slow breath and step outside. Big Boss catches sight of us right away. A smile creeps across his face when he realizes I am helping Little Boss. We make our way along the front walk, and I can't help but remember the first day of school this fall when the walk was lined with those shouting parents.

The closer me and Little Boss get to Big Boss, the harder my heart beats until I think it might explode right out of my chest. Finally I can't take it any longer. We are twenty yards away from the pickup when I say to Little Boss, “Do you think you can manage this?” and I hand him his notebook.

“Yeah,” replies Little Boss. “Thanks.”

“I'll see you tomorrow,” I say.

“Okay. Bye, Belle Teal.”

“Bye.”

I watch Little Boss continue down the walk, watch Big Boss watch him. And I see Big Boss's mean eyes suddenly narrow as he looks at something behind me.

I turn around.

Now Darryl is starting down the walk. Miss Casey is next to him, her arm across his shoulders. Clarice is on his other side, and she loops her arm through his.

I stand there and look from right to left — from Darryl and Miss Casey and Clarice, to Big Boss and Little Boss. Big Boss, at first he can't take his eyes off Darryl. But then all of a sudden he says something low under his breath, and straightens up and hustles into the truck, slamming the door shut behind him, leaving Little Boss to struggle in on his own.

I am not surprised to hear Big Boss gun the motor as the truck roars away.

I
do not know it then, but that is the last time I will ever see Little Boss.

After school that day I sit with my secret for as long as I can stand it, which is until after dinner. By then I am bursting, and decide it will be okay to talk with Mama or Gran. But Mama is off studying for her secretarial exams, and I do not know how late she'll come home. And Gran, well, she goes into her room to get ready for bed and comes out a few minutes later in another entire outfit.

“Gran, you're not going to sleep in that dress, are you?” I say to her.

And Gran, she looks so confused that I feel something break inside me.

It is not the night to talk to Gran.

So I find my journal under my bed and turn to writing in it again. I scribble down all my thoughts about Little Boss and Big Boss and Darryl and this fall. I am so thankful that tomorrow the truth will be told and everyone will know who did what, and that Darryl was just a kid sitting at home visiting with Reverend Watts.

The funny thing, though, is that I keep waiting to get the glorious feeling about all this truth, but it doesn't happen. I fall asleep with a small, empty ache in my chest.

 

Mama is still asleep when I wake up the next morning. She has left me a note saying she didn't come home until after midnight last night, and that she is going to take today off from the R U Sleep Inn in order to study some more. I am glad about all the studying, but that ache in my chest is growing, and I really want to talk to Mama. Or to some adult. Maybe I can talk to Miss Casey after Little Boss does.

On the school bus that morning, Clarice just chatters and chatters about Christmas. I try to listen, but finally I have to tell her that I have a little headache, and then Clarice quiets down, but she is hurt.

I feel bad, but I have to focus in on Little Boss. He does not come to school, though. Right away I am worried. Oh boy. Big Boss and his temper. He would be some mad if Little Boss said he wanted to tell the truth about Saturday. Then I think, what if Little Boss ended up going straight to the police all by himself and now Big Boss is in jail? After all, Big Boss lied to the police.

My mind is a whirl.