How High the Moon (23 page)

“You okay there, little buddy?” Johnny was saying when me and Brenda reached them.

Charlie looked like a bird that just hit a window, too stunned to make a sound. He didn’t cry, and he didn’t answer. He just lay there. Still. His eyes round and staring.

“I’ll call an ambulance!” Brenda said.

That’s when Charlie got un-stunned. “Nooooooo!” he cried, his eyes suddenly gushing like a dog-chewed garden hose. “I don’t like
ambolances
! No!” Charlie squirmed and wiggled to get up, but Johnny was holding him down at the shoulder.

“You drive him, Johnny,” I said. “His ma went off to heaven in an ambulance. So you’re not going to get him in one unless you clunk him over the head.”

“We shouldn’t be moving him,” Brenda said, which was probably true, because now that Charlie was up all the way, he was bent in half, holding his hip and crying, “Ow, ow.”

Johnny picked Charlie up like he was light as a pillow and looked at the still-running Perkins truck, the door hanging open and junk all over the bench seat. Dumbo Doug was right behind him, “I wasn’t even going fast!”

“My car!” Brenda said.

Her Thunderbird was parked close to the furniture store, so Johnny ran Charlie to it, telling him over and over in a voice gentle as a lullaby, “You’re gonna be okay, Charlie. You’re gonna be fine.”

Brenda handed Johnny the keys (probably because she was
shaking so bad she would have ran over ten kids if she drove), and he put Charlie into the car, scooting him to the middle of the seat and telling him to watch his feet so he didn’t bump the shifter. Brenda’s car only had a front seat, so Brenda took my hand and ran me to the passenger side. She climbed in and patted her lap.

Johnny was backing up when Mrs. Bloom hopped out the furniture store door and yelled, “What’s going on? Brenda, where are you going?” The top was down on Brenda’s convertible, so hearing her wasn’t hard—but then we probably would have heard her if we’d been in an army tank, as loud as she was bellering. Brenda looked back with worry on her face.

“It’s okay,” I said. “Mel’s heading over to her. He’ll explain.”

Johnny wove down the streets, using the horn to keep people from crossing. Not that I saw anybody. I couldn’t see nothing but a Sunday school picture of Jesus on a rock, kids all around, one colored to look like Charlie—shirt and pants made fatter with a navy-blue crayon colored past the lines, brown speckles on his face, red spots on his head—so Mrs. Fry would know which one was him.

Johnny carried Charlie to the first desk he found, and the lady behind it got a wheelchair for Charlie to sit in, probably because she could see how heavy Charlie’d be, even to somebody with big muscles, as the naked top of Johnny attested to. She looked up at Johnny’s bare chest like maybe he should put a shirt on. Or not.

“The names of his parents, please?” she asked, still looking at Johnny. Charlie was crying so hard that he couldn’t have answered even if she’d asked him, so I tried to help. “I think his dad’s name is Roy. Or maybe it’s Ray. But it probably doesn’t matter because he’s in the clink, where he’s going to stay until Charlie’s a man. And his ma’s in heaven, where she’s going to stay for good.” The nurse wrinkled her nose as she tipped her head to one side. Either because she thought that was a sad story or because the whole
place stank like bleach, which was getting to me, too. “Are you his sister?” she asked me.

“No. I’m his… his friend,” I said.

“Well, do you know if Charlie is his given name, or is it Charles? And do you know his birth date?”

That’s when Johnny blew a gasket. “Look, unless you plan to send him a birthday gift and want to know how to fill out his card, who gives a shit? He got bumped by a truck and he obviously needs a doctor. Now get him one and save the questions for later.”

“Sir,” she said, “these are customary questions we need answered before the doctor can treat him.” She looked at Charlie, who had his arms wrapped around his middle and was carrying on like, well… like he got hit by a truck… and she asked him the same questions.

“His birthday is December sixteenth,” I said. “I don’t know what year, but he’s eight.”

She smiled at me, took down what I said, then stopped smiling when she looked back at Johnny. “Insurance?” she asked.

Johnny slammed his fist down on the desk then, and the lady jumped. “Sir, settle down, please.”

“Look lady, this kid was hit by a Perkins Construction truck in the parking lot of the Starlight Theater. So obviously, somebody’s gonna pay this fucking bill. Now call him a doctor, or I will.”

“I’ll call security if you don’t get a grip on your temper, young man,” she said.

“Well if the security guard can do a goddamn X-ray, then call him!”

Just then Brenda reached the desk, her cheeks flushed, either from running from the parking lot or because she heard Johnny cussing bad. And the second the lady behind the desk saw her, everything about her changed. She sat up Big-Sunshine-Sister-straight and a smile popped on her face. “Miss Bloom,” she said.

Johnny slapped his fingers against the edge of her desk, then backed up. “Amazing how money talks. And it doesn’t even have to say a word.”

Charlie didn’t want to go into the examining room without me, but they said I couldn’t go, so it was probably a good thing that Charlie’s hand was so sweaty with scared it slipped right out of mine as the nurse wheeled him away. “If he looks like he’s going to puke, tell him to burp,” I called. “And if that doesn’t do the trick, sing something for him. Music makes him happy.”

I hadn’t cried in front of anyone but Teddy for ages, and I hadn’t cried when Charlie got hit. But I started crying when I heard Charlie blubber my name from down the hall.

Brenda and Johnny reached out to lay a hand on my back at the same time, and I think their hands touched for a second, because I felt them in the same place and it made the hair on my arms stand up. Not like when good music played. But like when lightning hits so close somebody could get struck.

Johnny didn’t sit. He paced by the window and grumbled about Dumbo Doug and the lady at the desk, then he asked me why Charlie was running like a bat out of hell in the first place. I was sitting next to Brenda on a chair with a plastic cushion that was sticking to the back of my legs like some kid pranked it with school paste. My fingers were making the
here comes the church, here comes the steeple
actions even though I wasn’t making them do it.

“Cause Mrs. Bloom yelled at him for playing the new grand piano,” I said. “I don’t know why. He washed his hands first.”

I didn’t think about the fact that I was being a tattletale until Brenda piped up, “She wasn’t upset with Charlie. She was upset with me, Teaspoon.”

“Well, she hollered at Charlie. Me, too. Not that I cared so much. But Charlie did. He gets scared when people yell at him.”

I looked up and Johnny was staring at Brenda. “Look, why don’t you go back to the Starlight and deal with your distraught mommy. I’ll see to it that Charlie and Teaspoon get home safely.”

Brenda sighed and I took her hand and pulled it over to hold it on my lap. “I want Brenda to wait with us, Johnny.”

We didn’t have to wait too long, though.

The doctor came out and shook Brenda’s hand, asked how things were going with the remodeling, then got down to business. “The boy’s fine,” he said. “He’s got a good bruise on his hip and a small laceration on his buttock, but they’re superficial wounds. A little ice and a couple days’ rest, and he’ll be good as new.”

Brenda thanked him while the nurse brought us Charlie, who was walking slow, but walking. He had two suckers in his hand—one for him and one for me—so I unwrapped them both and gave Charlie the green one, because green was Charlie’s favorite flavor.

“I’ll walk back,” Johnny said when we got outside.

“You don’t have to do that,” Brenda said.

“Ride with us, Johnny,” I begged. “Charlie wants you to, don’t you, Charlie?” Charlie nodded like Johnny was Superman and he didn’t want him to fly away just yet in case another truck tried to run him over.

Brenda drove, and I got to sit on Johnny’s lap. I didn’t look at him, though, just in case my face was flushing. I didn’t talk to him, either, because I suddenly felt shy. Not that Johnny minded. He didn’t seem to be in the talking mood. Even when we got to the corner of Washington and Thornton and a carload of guys he knew shouted to him—one saying, “Hey, Jackson, how’d you get
that
ride?” Johnny didn’t say nothing back. He just lifted his arm from the side of the door and flipped them the bird.

Brenda didn’t know where me and Charlie lived, so I had to tell her which street to go down. We were going to drop Charlie home first, since her and Johnny were both heading back to the Starlight to finish working, and I had to go back there to get my scooter.

When Brenda pulled her car up between Charlie’s house and mine, I looked at my dumpy house with the peeling paint and leaning porch like I was seeing it through the eyes of a Big Sister, and it made me feel like a flunky. “Teddy’s going to get that lean
fixed,” I said to Brenda. Johnny glanced up at his house as he pulled Charlie out, and I wondered if he was embarrassed about his crummy house, too, even if it wasn’t as crappy as mine and Charlie’s. Not that Brenda was looking. She was looking straight ahead, her hands tight on the steering wheel.

Mrs. Fry came outside before Johnny and Charlie even got to the steps. She patted Charlie here and there while Johnny explained, like she wanted to make sure he was still in one piece, then pulled her hankie out of her apron and dabbed it over her face and her chest. We heard everything Johnny was saying, not only because the top of Brenda’s car was down, but because Johnny was being loud, because he knew Mrs. Fry was hard of hearing. “The doctor said he’s going to be fine, Mrs. Fry. And don’t you worry about the bill. It will be taken care of.”

Johnny gave Charlie a final pat, then came back to the car and got in. He didn’t say a word, and neither did we.

Mrs. Bloom’s car was gone when we got to the Starlight, and the guys were outside eating their lunch. Dumbo Doug was leaned up against the Perkins truck snapping at his sandwich like a Poochie, and Mel was crouched down, his boots made into a chair for his butt while he drank from a thermos. Dumbo Doug dropped his part-eaten sandwich in his lunch pail and hurried to find out how Charlie was. Dumbo Doug was still carrying on about how it wasn’t his fault, but I didn’t listen to him. Neither did Johnny, who was busy rooting around the Perkins truck for his lunch bucket.

I expected Brenda to run straight inside when we got back to the Starlight, but she didn’t. She just stood there, feeling her fingers, like maybe they’d gone numb.

I started heading over to the ramp, where my scooter was propped.

“Teaspoon? Can you come here?” Brenda said.

“Hold on a sec,” I said. I hurried to get my scooter and rode back to her. “Yeah?”

Brenda glanced over at the guys who were half watching while they ate.

“I don’t want to be your Sunshine Sister anymore, Teaspoon,” she said.

Brenda’s words might as well have been a construction truck, because that’s how hard they smacked me.

“You can stay in the show, of course. But I’m going to assign you a new Big Sister.”

I started blinking hard. “Why, Brenda? What did I do wrong?”

Johnny, who had a pop bottle tipped up to his mouth, froze that bottle in midair, his eyes on us.

“Nothing. You didn’t do anything wrong. I just don’t want you tagging after me anymore, watching my every move. Mimicking me. You understand?” Brenda was talking loud for Brenda, and she was blinking hard, too.

“Why? I’ve gotten rid of most of my afflictions, haven’t I? I’m not nearly as pesky as I used to be. Charlie said I’m not even humming much anymore. And I’ll bet I haven’t even said
ain’t
or
gonna
in three weeks. Why don’t you want me for your Little Sister anymore, Brenda? Why?” My eyes started making water.

She turned away. “Just because,” she said. She dropped her arms to her side, and made like she was going to go into the theater.

I don’t know why, but suddenly it was like my worst affliction had only been sleeping like a mean dog, and Brenda’s raised voice had woken it up. Then there was nothing I could do to keep my mad on a leash.

“Well fine then! I don’t want you to be my Big Sister anymore, anyway. You’re more noodley than Jennifer Jackson, and Teddy, and Charlie all rolled in one. Always doing what you’re told and never talking back, even when you should.

“You didn’t say nothing to your ma when she yelled at Charlie. And you didn’t say nothing to that ugly Leonard Gaylor when he wrecked your papers and got all huffy with you because you had to
work. You just kept smiling and apologizing, even if the mad you were feeling was making you twitchy.”

I could hear Dumbo Doug snicker and say in hushed voice, “Give it to her good, kid.”

“And know what else, Brenda Bloom? Dumbo Doug was right. A three-legged cat
does
have more talent in his missing leg than you’ve got in your whole body. You didn’t even make the hair stand up on my arms when you sang, because you even do
that
noodley! I don’t care how many lessons you’ve had, you can’t sing near as good as me. And you can’t play near as good as Charlie, either! And know why? Because you don’t sing and play with your heart. Just with that noodley part of you.