Blossom Promise (16 page)
Authors: Betsy Byars
“Why did you say, ‘Junior, Junior, Junior’?”
“It just came out.”
“I don’t like people to say my name but one time—Junior, like that. It was all right for people to say three Juniors in a row when I was little, but now I just want one at a time.”
“I’ll remember.”
Junior pulled a thread on his shorts. The thread kept coming, getting longer and longer. Junior kept pulling. Then he saw that he had pulled out the hem.
He folded the hem back under and patted it in place.
“Actually, my secret came just at the right time. I was getting worried about myself.”
“Oh? Why is that?”
“See, my other ideas—my wings, my coyote trap, my UFO—my other ideas just popped into my head, Pap, like magic. Only nothing was popping in my head at all. I thought it had something to do with school.”
“Oh.”
“Like, we have to use our minds. We have to! Mrs. Wilson makes us! If we forget to use them, she points to her head like that.” Junior tapped his temple. “Anyway I was using my mind so much in school that when I got home from school, it just wanted to rest.”
“A mind needs to rest every now and then.”
“Yes, rest, but maybe resting was the wrong word. My mind wasn’t so much resting. It was more like it had gone on strike.”
“Right now,” Pap said, “I hope I don’t get an idea. I hope I’ll sit here till the moon comes up without one single idea coming into my head.”
“I was so desperate I was ready to start standing on my head like Ralphie.”
“Ralphie stands on his head?”
“He says it makes the blood run to his brain and nourish it. He says that’s why his brain is so brilliant.”
“Well, it’s too late for me to be standing on my head. My brain’s got to get along with whatever the body chooses to send it. I—Oh, here comes Mud. Mud, you ready for our evening walk?”
Mud was Pap’s dog, a big golden dog with a red bandanna around his neck. Mud had just come back from one walk, but he was ready for another. He waited at the porch steps, wagging his tail, his eyes bright with anticipation. Mud had never turned down a walk in his life.
Pap got slowly to his feet.
“Pap, you didn’t let me finish about my brain.”
“Well, come on. You can tell me about your brain while we walk.”
“Can my dog come too?”
“If he behaves himself.”
“He will! Dumpie!” Junior called.
Dump crawled out from under the porch. “We’re going for a walk,” Junior told him.
Mud was almost to the pine trees, and Dump ran to join him. Then, as if he thought better of it, he stopped.
“I wish Mud and Dump could be friends,” Junior said. “Dump’s willing.”
Mud paused and looked back to see if they were coming.
“We’re not going that way,” Junior called.
“Mud smells something.”
“Well, just because he smells something, that doesn’t mean we have to go in that direction.”
“You heard Junior,” Pap called. “We ain’t going that way, Mud.”
Mud did not move. He was used to taking the lead. He barked once.
“You go your way, Mud. We’ll go ours.”
Mud gave them a moment to change their minds.
Then he bounded away into the trees.
“That’s better. You shouldn’t give in to him all the time,” Junior said. “Mud’s getting spoiled. Ever since we carried him into the hospital to visit you, he’s been like that. I caught him trying to eat off the table yesterday.”
“He’s my pal.”
Junior stopped in sudden alarm. “Oh, let’s don’t go through the pine trees, Pap; please, you’ll see the secret. You’ll see the surprise!”
“That’s the surprise over there—them boards on the ground?”
“Pap, you looked! Now it’s ruined. The secret’s ruined!”
“Now, now, I didn’t see nothing but some boards lying on the ground,” Pap protested.
“That’s it!”
“But I don’t know what you call it,” Pap said.
“You don’t?”
“No.”
“You didn’t recognize it?”
“No.”
Junior put one dirty hand over his heart. “Ah,” he said, “what a relief. My secret is still a secret.”
Pap sneaked one final look at the boards lying on the ground under the pine trees. “Junior, Junior—” he broke off. “Sorry—Junior.”
Pap glanced back at the house. “You think Vern wants to go with us?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because he thinks someone wants to kill him.”
“Now, Junior.”
“I heard him say that on the phone. He was talking to Michael. I memorized his words. ‘I’m afraid she’ll kill us too. She wanted to kill us last time.’”
“He and Michael were just up to some foolishness. Nobody wants to kill Vern.”
“It didn’t sound like foolishness,” Junior said. “It sounded like he was really scared.”
“That’s playacting, but I’ll talk to him about it.”
Junior squinted up at Pap. “You know something, Pap. I never have to playact. You know why?”
“Why is that?”
“Because my real life is so exciting and so full of adventure that I don’t have to playact. I just have to live my life!”
“I’m too old to playact. I just live my life too.”
“And tomorrow is going to be one of the most exciting days I have ever had in my life. Tomorrow is Friday, isn’t it?”
“All day.”
“Then tomorrow is when the excitement begins.” Junior grinned. He had no idea how true his words would turn out to be.
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
copyright © 1987 by Betsy Byars
978-1-4804-0270-6
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