Cold War on Maplewood Street (10 page)

Facing the Music

THE WALK BACK TO SCHOOL SEEMED TO TAKE FOREVER,
especially without her jacket. Now that Joanna wasn't running, she noticed how cold it was. The only thing that warmed her was the thought that if she hadn't run home, she wouldn't have been there to help Harvey, and she wouldn't have finally gotten to know Mrs. Strenge. But imagining what the other kids and her teachers would say when they saw her made her feel as if she were heading into a firing squad.

What a baby they must think she was! Billy would probably make siren noises and yell, “Run for cover!” every time he saw her now. Theo would never talk to her again. She'd be in trouble with Mr. Egan and Mrs. Stubbins
and maybe even Principal Owens—and it was all Mrs. Stubbins's fault!

Why hadn't she warned them about the drill? That note the messenger had brought her at the beginning of class must have been about it. But Mrs. Stubbins hadn't said a word. She didn't care if a dozen girls got scared half to death. All she cared about was her stupid egg on a raft!

The playground was empty. Joanna crunched across the gravel and slipped through the door. Then she ran up the stairs two at a time. Kindergarteners were singing “The Eensy Weensy Spider” on the first floor, and a door closed far off on the second, but she didn't see a soul. She just smelled coffee wafting down the hall from the teachers' lounge. It was a homey, comforting smell, and suddenly more than anything she wished she could have a cup and add milk and sugar like Mom let her do sometimes on weekend mornings in the winter.

Her feet got heavier as she neared the third floor. Joanna had never been in any trouble at school before. Her mouth was dry. Her throat was tight.

The door to her classroom was open. Mr. Egan was talking about prepositions. Joanna took a deep, shaky breath. She let it out and started into the classroom just as a bell rang. Recess. She back-stepped quickly into the hallway to avoid being trampled.

Her classmates were so eager to put distance between them and the parts of speech, most of them charged past
Joanna with barely a glance. A few of the girls shot her questioning glances, but Frannie was the only one who stopped.

“Where'd you go? Are you okay? I was worried about you,” she said.

Joanna's cheeks burned. “I thought it was a real air raid. I ran home.” She rolled her eyes. “Stupid, huh?” She hung her head.

“Not stupid. Brave!”

“Wha—?” Joanna's head snapped up. Was Frannie making fun of her? But no, there was real admiration on her face.

“Before Mrs. Stubbins got around to telling us it was a drill, Sherry and a bunch of other girls started crying. All I wanted was to go home, too,” Frannie confessed. “But I was way too scared to actually do it. I was afraid I'd get hit by a bomb or something.”

Suddenly, at the same instant, they both burst into laughter. Joanna wasn't even sure why. It wasn't as if bombs and air raids were funny. But, oh, did laughing feel good!

“Miss Maxwell? Do you have something you'd like to say to me?” Mr. Egan stood in the doorway.

The girls' laughter died abruptly. Frannie shot Joanna a look full of sympathy and hurried after the rest of the class. Joanna gulped and said, “Yes, sir,” in a small voice.

Mr. Egan gestured for her to come into the classroom
and sit in a front desk while he leaned back against his own. “I was on my way downstairs to the office to call your mother, Joanna. I was worried about you. Mrs. Stubbins says you left the classroom without permission and then left school grounds completely during the air-raid drill.” Mr. Egan shook his head. “Those are very serious offenses, Joanna. What do you have to say for yourself?”

Joanna bit her lip. “I did leave . . . but only because I didn't realize it was a drill. I thought it was a real air raid, and I wanted to be with my dog and—”

Mr. Egan raised a hand to stop her. He was frowning. “Mrs. Stubbins didn't tell your class there would be a drill?”

Joanna shook her head. “No, sir. So when the bell rang, we all got really scared. But I got the most scared of all, I guess, and all I could think was that I wanted to be home.”

“I see,” Mr. Egan said quietly. He looked at her for a long moment, but with an expression more thoughtful than angry. “Why do you suppose you were more frightened than the other girls?” he asked finally.

Joanna's voice came very softly. “I don't know.” She traced a heart carved into the wooden desktop with her finger, unable to meet her teacher's gaze.

Mr. Egan was silent for what seemed like a long time. Finally he said, “Your brother is the young sailor, right?”

Joanna pressed harder on the carving, but she looked up to say, “Yes.”

Mr. Egan tugged on his purple striped tie, making it crooked as well as ugly. “I imagine you're worried about him.”

“Yes.” Joanna wrote S-A-M inside the heart with her fingertip.

“Have you talked to your mother about your fears, Joanna?”

“A little,” she said. “But she's so brave herself, she doesn't understand. She tells me everything will be fine and not to worry.”

Mr. Egan walked around to the back of his desk and sat down. “I think we can overlook this incident in light of the extenuating circumstances and your fine behavior in the past, Joanna. But I want you to make me a promise.”

She forgot the heart and looked up at him. Anything!

“I want you to promise me that you'll tell your mother what you did and that you'll talk to her about your fears—and really try to make her listen. Will you do that?”

That was all? Joanna couldn't believe it! She nodded hard. For the second time in less than an hour she said, “I promise.”

• • •

“And that was it?” Pamela said. “No punishment at all?”

“That was it.” Joanna shuffled her feet through the leaves that were ankle deep under the maple tree in the middle of their block. “I couldn't believe it.”

“Wow, he's way nicer than he looks,” Pamela said.

“Mmmhmmm,” Joanna agreed. “Just like Mrs. Strenge.”

“I can't believe you actually went into her apartment!” Pamela marveled. “I would've been way too scared.”

“It turns out Mom was right. I was letting my imagination run away with me.” Joanna laughed. “But it was sort of fun, wasn't it?”

Pamela grinned. “Yeah. I'm gonna miss all the creepy stories we imagined about her.” She frowned. “Hey, there's our car. Dad's home early. I hope he didn't catch the flu. He was just saying the other day that it's been going around the high school like wildfire.” She made a face and started up the front stairs. “Guess I'd better go up and see.”

“I was thinking we could take Dixie for a long walk today,” Joanna called after her. “Want to?”

Pamela turned around. “Can I hold the leash?”

Joanna grinned. “Yes, you can hold the leash.”

“Great! I'll see you in a little while.” Pamela waved and trotted up the stairs.

Joanna walked Dixie to the empty lot as usual, but then she took her straight back home. “We're going to go for a nice long walk,” she said. “We just have to wait for Pamela, okay?” Dixie wagged her tail. Whatever Joanna said was fine with her.

They were playing ball when the phone rang. It was Pamela. “I can't come down today after all,” she said. “I have to stay home.”

“Oh.” Joanna was disappointed, but curious, too. “Is your father okay? You sound funny.”

“I have to go now, Joanna. I'll talk to you tomorrow.” And before Joanna could even say good-bye, Pamela had hung up the phone.

Golly, that was weird! Maybe Mr. Waterman didn't have the flu after all. Maybe something really awful had happened—like he lost his job or he hit someone with his car or was in trouble with the police.

Joanna stopped herself and laughed out loud. Mr. Waterman in trouble with the
police
? She was doing it again—letting her imagination run wild. Probably he did have the flu and Mrs. Waterman wanted Pamela to sit with him while she went to the drugstore for some medicine. And Pamela was pouting about having to stay home. That was all.

“Looks like it's just you and me, Dix,” Joanna said.

But Dixie had found an old bone to gnaw on and didn't even twitch an ear at the sound of her voice. It looked like Joanna was on her own.

She could get an early start on her homework, she supposed. But homework reminded her of Mr. Egan and her stomach did a slow somersault. It had seemed like an easy enough promise when she made it. But now she was starting to worry. How could she explain things to Mom so she'd understand? Mom would be angry that Joanna had broken school rules.

Joanna would have to find just the right moment to tell her.

She wandered into the kitchen and the sight of the empty table gave her an idea. She'd have supper all ready for Mom when she came home. That would be sure to put her in a good mood. And toward the end of the meal, Joanna would make her confession.

Pleased with her plan, she darted around the kitchen, looking over the contents of the pantry and the refrigerator. Tomorrow was grocery-shopping day, so there wasn't a lot to choose from. But eventually she put together a better than average meal—a not-too-wilted salad, canned peaches, and tuna sandwiches—even though it meant taking back two of the cans she had stored in her closet.

Next, Joanna set the table. She made sure to use glasses that matched and she folded the paper napkins into triangles with perfectly even edges. At the last moment, she took Mom's little violet plant from the windowsill and set it in the center of the table. There!

She had put bread in the toaster and was just heading into the living room to turn on the news when Mom arrived. “Oh my goodness,” she said when she saw the table.

Joanna grinned and dashed over to push down the button on the toaster. She'd listen to the news on her radio later. “You just sit down and relax,” she told Mom.

Mom sat. She grinned. “You know my birthday isn't until April, right? And Mother's Day isn't until May.”

“Does it have to be a special day for me to do something nice for my mother?” Joanna said, feeling more guilty than ever.

“Of course not. I was just teasing. You're a darling to surprise me this way.”

Joanna squirmed. It didn't seem right to be praised for something she'd done for selfish reasons. Now she wished she didn't have to tell her mother about the air-raid drill. She wished this could just be a be-nice-to-Mom dinner without any ulterior motives. But she had promised Mr. Egan.

Mom loved the dinner. She ate every last bite of everything. The timing was never going to be better. Joanna cleared her throat. “Uh, Mom? There's something I have to tell you.”

Mom cocked her head expectantly. “You sound awfully serious.”

Joanna bit her lip. “I, um, did something you're probably not going to like.”

Mom's eyebrows puckered together in a tiny frown, but she looked more curious than anything. “I'm sure it can't be anything all that awful.” She patted Joanna's hand. “Tell me.”

So Joanna told her mother about the air-raid drill that didn't seem like a drill, about running home to be with Dixie, and about finding Harvey and taking him to Mrs. Strenge.

“And after I helped her with Harvey, I realized that her radio was playing music, so there
couldn't
be an attack and it must have been just another drill.” Joanna had talked so fast she had barely stopped for breath, but she took a deep one now, before she said, “That's when I knew I was in trouble.”

Mom's “My goodness, Joanna!” made Joanna hurry to add, “So I rushed back to school and told Mr. Egan what I'd done, and he said I wasn't in any trouble but that I had to promise to talk to you about how scared I've been feeling lately—since even before the trouble with the Russians.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” Mom said, reaching over to touch Joanna's cheek. “I'm sorry. I know you've been frightened, but I hoped if I made light of things, you'd feel better. Obviously I was wrong.” She sat back in her chair. “Can you tell me now? I promise to listen.”

Joanna fidgeted with her fork. Now that Mom was listening, what more was there to say? “It's just what I've been saying all along, I guess.” She looked at Mom sideways, too embarrassed to face her all the way. “Lately lots of things scare me. And that was even before all the war stuff started. Now I have horrible nightmares about Sam every night, too.”

“Do you think maybe you've been frightened because Sam is gone?” Mom asked gently. “You've never been on your own so much before.”

Joanna frowned. She knew she'd been scared more and more since Sam left, but she'd never thought of it being
because
he had left. “I don't know . . . maybe . . .”

“I know I was scared to death when your father left,” Mom confided.