Wish (14 page)

The silence that followed nearly swallowed me up. I could feel my heart beat in my chest and Wishbone's warm breath against my cheek. Then Jackie got out of bed and sat beside my sleeping bag.

“Nothing's gonna change, Charlie,” she said. “I used to think it would but now I don't. Scrappy is gonna keep being Scrappy and Mama is gonna keep being Mama and you and I are on our own. No magic wand is gonna fix things.”

I didn't want to believe that, so I pushed those words away so I wouldn't have to think about them. Then I said, “Did you know Mama left us when we were little? Just ran off with a garbage bag full of clothes to start a new life?”

Jackie heaved a big sigh. “Yes, I did know that.”

“How'd you know?”

“When you're seven years old and your mama waltzes out the door without so much as a goodbye, well, that's something you don't forget.”

“How come you never told me?” I said.

She put her hand on my back and rubbed in little circles. “'Cause I didn't want you to hate Mama,” she said.

“Do
you
hate Mama?”

“Naw.” She pushed my hair behind my ear. “I don't like her very much, but I don't hate her.”

“But why can't I live with you?” I asked so quiet it was almost a whisper.

Jackie hugged her knees. “Charlie, I can't live with Carol Lee forever. I'm saving my money and me and Wylene Jarvis are getting an apartment together. I can't take care of you like Gus and Bertha can,” she said. “Shoot, I can barely take care of myself.”

We sat in silence for a minute. Then Jackie said, “You got a good life here, Charlie. You got Gus and Bertha loving you and treating you like a princess. You got all those Odoms thanking the good Lord for you. Then there's Howard, the nicest friend you could ever want. You got these beautiful mountains and a garden and a porch to sit on that's like sitting on the side of heaven.”

Wishbone kicked his legs and let out a little woof like he was having a doggie dream. Jackie rubbed his stomach. “And a dog that loves you like nobody's business.”

I looked at Wishbone and thought about Bertha saying how dogs love you no matter what, and my heart nearly burst.

“Don't hate me, Charlie,” Jackie said.

Hate her?

I loved everything about her. I loved the old Jackie
and
the new Jackie. Why couldn't I tell her that? I guess I hadn't had much practice saying “I love you.” So I just sat there in the darkness with Wishbone twitching in his sleep beside me and said, “I do like those blue streaks in your hair.”

 

Twenty–Four

The week after Jackie left, I started Vacation Bible School at Rocky Creek Baptist Church. I'd told Bertha I didn't want to go but she kept telling me how much I was gonna love it.

“I went to Vacation Bible School every summer when I was a girl,” she said. “I loved everything about it. The games. The crafts. The songs.”

She went on to tell me about making a bird feeder by putting peanut butter on a pine cone and rolling it in bird seed. “And lanyards? I must've made about a hundred lanyards.” She laughed and shook her head. “And macrame keychains. I loved those.
And
,” she said, “Howard and all the kids from Sunday school will be there.”

So I finally said okay, but then the day before I was supposed to go, Bertha came home with a lunch box covered with ponies and rainbows.

“I can't believe I let you take your lunch to school in an ugly ole paper bag,” she said.

“I can't take
that
!” I said.

Bertha's smile faded. “Oh,” she said. “Okay.”

I could tell I'd hurt her feelings, but there was no way I could take that lunch box.

Bertha snatched it off the kitchen counter and stuck it way up on the top shelf of the cupboard. “I don't know what I was thinking,” she said. “That thing is just plum silly.”

So she put my lunch in a brown paper bag and off I went to Vacation Bible School.

We sat in a circle in the shade and listened to Miss Rhonda tell us how much fun we were going to have. Even though we knew each other from Sunday school, she said, “First, I'd like for each of y'all to tell us your name and then three fun facts about yourself.”

Right away, I thought about my first day of school in Colby and that “Getting to Know You” paper. But this time, when it was my turn, instead of saying I liked soccer, ballet, and fighting, I said, “I have a dog named Wishbone. My sister works at the Waffle House. My aunt Bertha has seven cats.”

We spent the morning making papier-mâché bowls and singing a song about Moses in the bulrushes. When it was time for lunch, I got my brown paper bag and sat next to Audrey Mitchell. I'd made up my mind I was going to be more like Jackie from now on. Cool and confident, making friends right and left.

But before I could think up something to say to Audrey, Howard plopped down next to me.

“Burl wrote Jackie a letter,” he said.

“What for?”

He shrugged. “Lenny snatched it right out of his hand and they got in a fight. Burl chased him around the house cussing and broke a lamp.” He lifted the corner of his sandwich and examined the bologna and mustard inside.

“Did Burl get the letter back?” I asked.

Howard flattened his sandwich between the palms of his hands. “Yeah,” he said, “but it got ripped, and now they're both grounded 'cause of the cussing and the lamp.” He pushed at his damp red hair. His arms were sunburned bright pink and dotted with freckles. He went on to tell me about Dwight breaking his pinkie finger at baseball camp.

While Howard talked, I watched Audrey out of the corner of my eye. She sat cross-legged with a paper napkin on her lap. She had butterfly barrettes in her hair, and her sneakers didn't have one speck of dirt on them. Her lunch box was plain. No ponies or rainbows on it. She opened it and peered inside. Then she took out a plastic bag full of grapes, something wrapped in foil, and a folded-up piece of paper.

I scooted a little closer to her and pretended like I was listening to Howard while she opened the paper. It was a note with big swirly handwriting. When she put it down on the grass next to her grapes, I squinted at it, trying to read it.

“And Cotton had two ticks on him,” Howard was saying. “So Mama made him strip down naked right there in the yard.”

A couple of kids giggled and I shot Howard a look. Nobody wanted to hear the word
naked
while they ate their lunch. But Howard went right on talking like he didn't even notice.

Just then some girl I didn't know said, “Sit here, Audrey,” and patted the ground next to her. So Audrey scooped up her grapes and stuff and moved away from me and Howard, leaving that piece of paper behind. Right away, I slapped my foot down on top of it.

While Audrey and that girl chatted away about swimming lessons and soccer camp, I snatched up the paper and stuffed it in my pocket.

“What was that?” Howard asked.

“What was what?”

“That paper.”

“What paper?”

“That paper in your pocket.”

“Nothing.”

Howard wiped at a dab of mustard on his shorts. “Okay,” he said.

All afternoon, while we read Bible stories out loud and watched Miss Rhonda's teenage son do magic tricks, I thought about that note in my pocket. Every once in a while, I reached in and wrapped my fingers around it.

Finally I got my chance. Howard was helping Miss Rhonda take the Bible storybooks back inside the church, and Audrey was busy being friends with everybody but me. So I took that paper out of my pocket and read it.

Have fun at Vacation Bible School. I will be missing you. I love you very much.

Mama

Quickly I folded it and jammed it back into my pocket. I looked over at Audrey linking arms with some girl and whispering. I closed my eyes, and in my mind, I became Audrey. A girl with perfect sneakers and a friend to whisper secrets to and a mama who wrote “I love you very much” on a note for me. But then I opened my eyes and I was me again.

That night we had corn on the cob for supper. I counted the rows of corn on my cob and I couldn't believe it. Exactly fourteen. That was on my list of things you can wish on. I counted one more time to make sure and then I closed my eyes and made my wish.

“Oh, I almost forgot!” Bertha said, jumping up from the table. She took something off the counter and handed it to me.

A lunch box.

A plain lunch box with no ponies or rainbows.

She lifted her eyebrows and said, “What do you think? Better?”

A wave of guilt swept over me and caught me by surprise. I felt bad that Bertha had spent money to buy another lunch box for me. I should've just taken the one with rainbows and ponies and been thankful for it. I bet Jackie would have. But I hadn't, and now here was Bertha being so nice to me.

“Yes, ma'am,” I said. “Thank you.”

Then we went out on the porch and tossed a tennis ball to Wishbone till he got tired and went to sleep at my feet. As I watched the sun sink slowly behind the mountains, I cupped my hand around that note in my pocket. I thought about Audrey's mother putting those grapes in that little bag and writing that note. I wondered what Audrey's family was like. The one she had written on her flower for the Garden of Blessings at church. I knew for sure her daddy wasn't away somewhere getting corrected. And I bet she had a sister who played cards with her on rainy days and whispered secrets under the covers at night. And I was certain her mama had her feet on the ground.

When it got dark and the mosquitoes came out, me and Wishbone went back to my room. I fished around in my backpack until I found a piece of paper and a pen. I tore the paper in half and sat on the floor and wrote:

I love you very much. Mama

Then I folded the paper up and tucked it under my pillow before turning out the light and kissing Wishbone on the top of his head.

 

Twenty–Five

The next day at Bible school, we made bottle-cap magnets with the Ten Commandments on them. Then we played some game where we had to wrap ourselves in strips of crepe paper like Joseph's coat of many colors and race around an obstacle course. I guess Miss Rhonda didn't remember about Howard and his up-down walk when she thought up that game. He came in last and ripped his coat of many colors, but he didn't seem to care.

At lunch, we sat in the shade and took out our lunch boxes. Howard was helping Miss Rhonda gather up all the crepe paper strips, so I plopped myself down next to Audrey.

“Hey,” I said.

“Hey,” Audrey said, and then she scooted closer to a girl named Lainie who had scabs all over her legs. I couldn't believe she'd rather sit closer to a scabby-legged girl than me, but I guess she did. I'd told her I was sorry about that kicking and shoving, hadn't I? I didn't know what else I could do to make friends with her.

I opened my new lunch box and took out the things that Bertha had packed for me. A bagel with peanut butter. Strawberries in a margarine tub. Some cookies she made that were kind of burnt on the bottom. Then I took out the note that I had written the night before. The one that said “I love you very much. Mama.”

I opened it and held it out in front of me. Then I cleared my throat so maybe Audrey would look my way and see that paper, but she was busy stirring her yogurt.

So I tossed the paper on the grass almost in front of her.

“You dropped your trash,” she said.

“What?”

“That's your trash.” She pointed to the paper.

“You mean that note?”

She shrugged. “Whatever.”

“It's from my mama,” I said, rolling my eyes. “She's all the time doing that.” I nudged the paper a little closer to her so maybe she would read it.

“I thought you lived with your aunt and uncle,” she said.

“Well, not
all
the time. I mean, most of the time. But my mama comes to visit a lot and she's always writing these notes.” I knew my face was beet red, so I kept my eyes on the ground.

Audrey made a face. “You're not supposed to lie at Vacation
Bible
School.” She said the word
Bible
real loud and mean-sounding.

Before I knew it, I was standing over her with my fists balled up and my heart beating like crazy. I felt red-hot anger settle over me like a blanket. I wanted to stomp on her perfect sneakers. I wanted to yank those butterfly barrettes out of her hair. But then Howard came up from behind me saying, “Pineapple! Pineapple! Pineapple!”

Audrey grabbed her yogurt and lunch box and stood up. “Y'all are crazy,” she said, and stormed off toward the church.

“What the heck, Charlie?” Howard said. “You gonna smack somebody at
church
?”

I dropped back down to the grass and began throwing my bagel and stuff into my lunch box.

Howard sat beside me. “Why're you so mad?”

“She said I lied.”

“Did you?”

“No.” I snatched that stupid note up and tossed it into the lunch box.

He looked at me over the top of his glasses the way some old grownup would. “Then no reason to get mad.” He peered into my lunch box. “Are you gonna eat that bagel?”

*   *   *

It took me a while to simmer down, but I finally did. Still, I sure wasn't in the mood to memorize Bible verses. When it was almost time to go home, Miss Rhonda told us to go inside and help set up the chairs for Sunday school.

As Howard made his way toward the church, T. J. Rainey followed behind him, walking in an up-down way like Howard. He looked around to make sure everybody was watching, a big ole grin on his face like he was the funniest person in the universe.

Suddenly, Howard turned around, but T.J. didn't even stop. He kept walking toward Howard.