Authors: Me,My Little Brain
John Fitzgerald (9 page)
I remembered Papa
had often said that faith in the Lord, time, and keeping busy were the best
medicine for grief. "You bet you can," I said.
CHAPTER FIVE
Frankie Takes Over
I THOUGHT MY
TROUBLES with Frankie were over now that he was over his mental block. I was as
mistaken as a farmer trying to milk a bull. Now that Frankie was normal, he
turned out to be a real takeover kid. I started teaching him how to play
checkers after supper. At eight o'clock Mamma announced it was time for us to
take our baths and go to bed. It has always been a tradition in our house that
the youngest has to take his Saturday night bath first.
"Time for
your bath, Frankie," Mamma said.
He was sitting on the Oriental rug next to
the fireplace with me. He folded his arms on his chest with a stubborn look on
his face. "Make John go first," he said. "You are the
youngest," I said. "That means you go first."
"I
ain't
going to take a bath until you do," he said.
"Please humor him," Mamma said.
"Maybe he just wants to make sure you have to take a bath, too. Little
boys are funny that way."
"There isn't anything funny about
making a nine year-old take a bath before a four-year-old," I said.
Papa got into the argument. "Do as
your mother says, J.D.," he said.
"Just for
tonight."
What could I do? It was an order. I was in
the tub taking my bath when I heard a knock on the door.
"What
now?" I hollered.
"Frankie wants to see you taking your
bath," Mamma called through the door.
"Send him in," I shouted.
"But tell him not to get too near the tub or I'll drown him." I
didn't mean it, of course, but I was still smarting because I had to take my
bath before a four-year-old.
Mamma opened the
door. "Now stop making such a big fuss over this," she reprimanded
me.
Frankie walked over and looked at me in the
tub. He nodded his head and smiled.
"Are you
satisfied I'm taking a bath and not just sailing a boat in here?" I asked.
"If I have to take a bath," he
said, "I'm going to make sure you have to take a bath too."
Boy, oh, boy, here was a kid who hated to
take a bath even more than I did. He left the bathroom with Mamma. I finished
bathing and washed out the tub. I put on a clean nightgown and robe. Then I
went into the parlor to say good night. I started to leave the room as Mamma
took Frankie by the hand and led him out of the parlor.
"Just a minute, J.D.," Papa said.
"Frankie has been through a terrible experience. I want you to humor him
and give in to him for as long as he is in this house. Is that
understood?"
"Yes,
Papa," I said.
I usually fell asleep right away after
taking a bath. But I didn't that night. I heard somebody coming up the stairs.
Then Mamma came into the bedroom holding Frankie in her arms. She pulled the
beaded chain that turned on the ceiling light.
"Frankie wants to sleep with you
instead of me," she said. "He has already said his prayers."
I got out of bed so Mamma could put Frankie
on the inside next to the wall after she had kissed him good night. She waited
until I got back in bed and then turned off the light.
"Good night, Frankie," I said
after Mamma had left the room.
"This is my bed," Frankie said,
instead of saying good night.
I sat up. "This was my bed before you
were born," I said. "Now stop trying to be funny and go to
sleep."
He sat up in bed and folded his arms on his
chest. "You get out of my bed," he said.
I lay back down. "Stop being silly and
go to sleep," I told him.
Then I felt his hands on my back. And I'm
darned if he didn't try to roll me out of the bed. I was about to really tell
him off when I remembered what Papa had told me. I got out of bed and turned on
the light. There was another bed m the room, where Tom had slept before he went
away to school. But there weren't any sheets, blankets, and pillowcase on it. I
put on my robe and went down to the parlor.
"Why did you leave Frankie
alone?" Mamma demanded. "And why aren't you in bed?"
"Because he said it was his bed and
told me to get out of it," I said. "Give me a couple of sheets and a
blanket and pillowcase and I'll sleep in Tom's bed. Papa said I had to humor
Frankie."
Papa had evidently told Mamma what he had
told me. She got up and went to the linen closet. She came back with the
bedclothes in her arms.
"Want me to
make up the bed for you?" she asked.
"No, thanks," I said as I took
the armful of bedclothes. "I can do it."
I went back up to my room. Frankie lay in
my bed, smiling, as he watched me make up Tom's bed. He looked so darn smug
about it that I decided to teach him a lesson. I turned out the light and stood
by the window. He didn't say anything until I'd stood there for a couple of
minutes.
"
Whatcha
doing, John?" he asked.
"There is a full moon tonight," I
said, making my voice quiver a little.
"You sound scared," he said.
"Why are you afraid of the full moon?"
"I'm not afraid for myself," I
said, "because I'm too old for the ghost."
He sat up in bed. "What ghost?"
he asked, and I knew from the sound of his voice that he was frightened.
"The ghost of
Silverlode
comes up from his grave every night there is a full moon," I said.
"He goes from house to house in
Adenville
until
he finds a little boy sleeping all alone. He takes the little boy back to his
grave with him."
I paused dramatically. "And the little
boy is never seen or heard from again."
Then I got into Tom's bed. I knew I'd
thrown a good scare into Frankie because he was still sitting up in bed. I
couldn't help laughing, smothering the sound in my pillow. It served him right
for making me take a bath first and taking my bed.
"John,"
he said softly.
"Shut up and go to sleep," I
said. "You got your bed all by yourself just like you wanted."
"You can
sleep in my bed with me if you want," he said.
"I don't ever want to sleep in your
bed," I said. "Go to sleep. Maybe the ghost won't come to our house
tonight."
"But maybe
he will," Frankie cried softly.
"I'll know in the morning," I
said. "If you are missing, I'll know the ghost got you and took you back
to his grave with him. I'm going to sleep now. Good night."
I pretended to fall asleep by snoring. I
heard Frankie begin to whimper. I opened one eye. I could see him still sitting
up in bed. There was enough moonlight streaming through the window for me to
see tears toppling down both his cheeks. It wasn't funny any more. The little
fellow was scared to death. I watched him get out of bed. He came over and
stood by my bed. Then he climbed into bed with me and put his arms around me and
snuggled up close.
"Please
don't let the ghost get me, John," he cried.
I couldn't take it any longer. I put my arm
around him and hugged him. Then I thought of the consequences of what I had
done. If Frankie told Papa and Mamma they would take away my allowance for
months.
"I won't let the ghost get you if you
promise me something," I said.
"I promise," he said eagerly.
"The ghost can't get you unless you
are sleeping alone," I said. "If you promise not to tell Papa and
Mamma about the ghost, I'll let you sleep with me every time there is a full
moon."
He hugged me
tight. "I promise," he said.
Frankie went right to sleep but I didn't.
My conscience was bothering me more than it had during my entire life. What I
had done out of sheer spite was ten times worse than anything Frankie had ever
done to me. Scaring a little kid was just about as low-down a trick as a fellow
could pull. I asked God to please not let my little brain get any more crazy
ideas like that.
The next day was Sunday and Mamma always
let everybody sleep a little later. I didn't wake up until she came into the
bedroom. She had an old suit of mine and some other clothing she had washed and
pressed for Frankie.
"I see you changed your mind about
sleeping alone," she said to Frankie as he sat up in bed.
He started to open his mouth and then
looked at me. My future allowance for an entire year was in his hands. And the
strange part about it was that I knew I deserved to lose it for telling him the
ghost story.
"John and I will sleep in our bed from
now on," he said to my great relief.
Mamma smiled. "That is good," she
said. "It means less washing and ironing of sheets and pillowcases. Do you
want me to help you wash and get dressed?"
"Frankie is big enough to wash and
dress himself," I said. "Aren't you, Frankie?"
He looked as pleased as if I'd just given
him a new rocking horse. "You bet, John," he said proudly.
It was raining when we got up and still
raining when we all returned from the Community Church that morning. I knew it
was raining too hard to go outside to play. I took Frankie up to my room. I
thought I could keep him amused by showing him my box of treasures. What a big
mistake that was. He watched me pull the box from under the bed and open it. I
showed him my slingshot first. He took it in his hands and carefully examined
it. Then he put it on the floor by his side.
"My
slingshot," he said.
I picked up the slingshot. "I didn't
give it to you," I said. "I'm just showing it to you."
He grabbed it out of my hands. "My
slingshot," he said stubbornly.
I knew he couldn't use the slingshot
because the rubber bands on it were too strong for a kid his age to pull back.
"I'll make a
little slingshot for you," I said.
"I want this
one," he said. "My slingshot or I'll tell."
I wasn't about to give up my slingshot,
which was made from a perfect Y branch of a cherry tree, even though Papa had
told me to humor Frankie and give in to him.
"You'll tell
what?" I asked.
"About the
ghost," he said.
"But you
promised not to tell," I protested.
"I didn't promise not to tell Aunt
Bertha," he said smugly.
Boy, oh, boy, this kid was really
something. I knew if he told Aunt Bertha that she would tell Papa and Mamma.
"Your
slingshot," I said. What else could I do?
He laid it to one side. Then he reached
into my box and took out my cap pistol. "My cap pistol," he said,
putting it by the slingshot.
"Your cap pistol," I said. Boy,
oh, boy, this little conniver made my brother Tom
look
like The Good Samaritan.
Frankie kept helping himself to my
treasures until there was nothing left in the box but my bank.
"My
bank," he said as he picked it up.
"Oh, no you don't," I said as I
took it away from him. "You can tell Aunt Bertha. You can tell Mamma. You
can tell Papa. You can tell the whole world but I'm not going to let you
blackmail me out of my life savings. And after you tell them, I'm going to take
back all those things."
He thought for a moment. "All right,
John, you can keep your bank," he said as if he was doing me a big favor.
Then my little brain got a brilliant idea.
"You've had your fun," I said. "Now give me everything back or
you'll sleep alone the next full moon."
"No, I
won't," he said. "I'll go sleep with your Mamma."
This kid had the answer for everything. He
pointed at my box. "My box now," he said. "You don't need it any
more."
