Brud’s head felt funny, as if a piece of surest knowing were getting sucked out of it. “H-H-He’s not—”
“Yes she is,” Delly declared. “She’s my best friend.”
He saw the sureness in her face, and he knew it was true. And just like that, there was a giant hole in Brud’s brain where everything he knew about Ferris Boyd had been.
Delly saw his surprise. That’s all right, she thought, now he knows where he stands. She nodded and turned toward the lot.
Brud stumbled into the store.
After he was gone, RB said, “Delly, how come Brud called Ferris Boyd ‘he’?”
She thought about it. “Stutter,” she replied.
But while they walked home, Delly remembered the shock on Brud’s face when she told him “she.” Maybe he’d made the same mistake about Ferris Boyd that Delly had, but nobody’d corrected him. Till today.
“Chizzle,” she muttered.
“Huh?” RB asked.
“Nothing,” she said, hoping that was true.
Back at the IGA, Brud couldn’t remember what he’d come for. He stood in the aisle thinking, Ferris Boyd, he’s a . . . she.
The thoughts rolled out from there: I’ve been playing with a girl. I’ve been writing notes to a girl. I’ve been wishing more than anything to be like . . . her.
It wasn’t that Brud thought a girl couldn’t play ball. But he thought he had a friend, a best one, a boy. He was wrong about all of it.
“You all right?” Norma asked.
“Huh?” he mumbled, and walked out the door to his bike.
Every other time he’d passed the old Hennepin place Brud had searched for the boy, hoping to see his friend. Now he pedaled hard and stared ahead, like the place wasn’t there.
At home his mother asked, “Where’s the milk?”
He checked his hands, as if they might be holding it.
“There’s nothing,” she told him.
And Brud nodded. He’d gone to the store having a friend; now he had nothing.
Sunday Brud Kinney did not get up early.
When he finally went to town, he didn’t ride his bike down the River Road. He went up the hill near his house, along the highway, and back down to River Bluffs.
“Well, look who’s here,” Novello sneered.
Brud played ball, but he was bad. Every time he shot or dribbled he’d think, Ferris Boyd, my . . . that girl taught me this. It messed him up.
“You all right?” Gwennie asked.
Brud nodded, because nothing was true.
He played at the park all day. He went home the long way again.
That night in bed, Brud couldn’t sleep for missing his friend.
Get over it, his head said. It wasn’t real anyway.
But the rest of him didn’t listen; it just kept missing.
Chapter 53
Sunday was another Delly Day. This time she got Boomer.
“Where do you want to go?” he asked her.
“Hickory Corners,” she answered, because they had ice cream. And there was something she needed to see. “Can we drive out the River Road?”
“Sure,” he said.
As they came to the old Hennepin place, Ferris Boyd was standing in the drive bouncing her ball, thump, thump, thump, like a call. She was looking down the road for something that should be coming.
“No Brud Kinney.” Delly snickered.
But as they passed, she saw the loneliness on her friend’s face. “Huh,” she murmured.
At the ice-cream shop, they both got chocolate with chocolate sauce and chocolate sprinkles. It was so delicious they couldn’t speak.
When they were done, though, Boomer said, “Well, Delly, three months of no trouble. I didn’t think it would happen.”
That hurt, hearing he hadn’t believed she could do it.
But he went on. “I was like you: I was in so much trouble when I was little. It didn’t stop till I was a lot older.”
“You were never this little,” she told him.
“Yes, I was.”
“You were never in this much trouble.”
“More,” he said. “My ma cried all the time.” His head went down.
“How come you didn’t stop?” she asked.
“Didn’t know how. My dad tried to knock it out of me. They sent me away to school. Nothing worked.” The shame still weighed so heavy on him, he hunched over.
Delly knew that heaviness. She tried to lift some of it off him. “You never hit me,” she said.
“I couldn’t hurt you.”
“And you’re not in trouble now,” she told him.
“I met your ma. She thought I was all right, and that helped.”
Delly nodded. She knew what that could do.
“Then we had you kids, and I didn’t want you to be ashamed of me.”
“I’m never ashamed of you,” she whispered.
“I’m glad,” he said. “Del.” He looked at her now. “You’re doing good. You’re doing what I couldn’t do.”
Delly gazed at her dad, who was big and a boy and nothing like her. But in a way they were the same. Because they both knew what it felt like to be bad and to think that’s what you’d be forever. They both knew how good it was to be wrong about that.
“Know what else works for trouble?” she told him. “Counting.”
“Yeah?”
“And questions. You got to ask questions.”
“I’ll try that,” he agreed. “Where else do you want to go?”
“Let’s go home,” she said, because she had something to check on.
Ferris Boyd was still in the drive when they drove by. She wasn’t bouncing the ball anymore. She was just staring out the River Road, toward Brud Kinney’s place. The cat was circling, bumping her with its body.
Delly’d never seen anything so lonely.
As the van passed, the cat sighted Delly. “Maoh,” it cried out, You did this.
“Shikes,” she muttered, scrunching down in her seat.
“What?” Boomer asked.
“Nothing,” she answered; but she knew it wasn’t.
Chapter 54
Monday, Ferris Boyd was different.
There was always a sadness in her. But if it was usually a couple of cups full, now it was gallons, and it poured out of her all the time.
She quit playing ball early, and Delly didn’t cheer because she knew it wasn’t good.
At the hideawaysis, she had her book, but mostly she gazed out toward Kinneys’. Her eyes were missing and hurting, like Delly would feel if her friend weren’t around anymore.
So she told her, “You know, Ferris Boyd, in summer people go away on vacation. They don’t tell their friends; they just go.”
That seemed to help.
And Ferris Boyd got better as the week went on. She was best on Friday, wanting to practice.
She’s hoping he’s coming, Delly thought.
Delly was, too. Because it wasn’t better without Brud Kinney.
Sunday was scorching hot. After church and changing clothes, Delly got her money and went to the kitchen.
“Ma, can I go watch some basketball?” she asked.
Clarice looked at her suspiciously. “You hate that game,” she said.
That stumped Delly.
Then RB was beside her. “She’s taking me,” he announced. “I love basketball.”
“All right,” Clarice agreed.
At the corner Delly tried to shame him. “Is that all you do—watch me and follow me around?”
It didn’t work. “Yep.” He smiled.
“Jiminy fipes,” she muttered, but she knew he’d saved her.
“I got something to check on,” she told him. “Don’t mess me up.”
“I know,” he answered.
When they got to the River Road, they went into the ditch. “Shh,” she warned him.
“I know,” he whispered.
Across from the drive, she peeked over the edge. There was Ferr
is Boyd, sitting on the stoop with the ball in her lap. She was staring up the road, looking lonelier than the week before. The cat was wrapped around her legs like a comfort.
“Bawldoublegrammit,” she rasped. “Come on.”
They sauntered down the drive as if they were out for a Sunday stroll. “Ferris Boyd,” Delly exclaimed, like it was a surprise to see her.
She turned to them, her eyes two pitchers of sadness. Then she went back to watching for him.
The Pattisons sat on either side of her. “Ferris Boyd,” Delly asked, “you want me to play ball with you?” because she would do it to help her friend.
She shook her head.
So the three of them stared up the road, like they were waiting for a parade that was way past due.
By noon, it was so hot they were dripping sweat from just sitting.
The cat went into the woods.
Delly stood up. “I can’t take this heat anymore. Let’s go.”
“Where are we going?” RB wondered.
“To get refreezerated,” she told him, and they walked up the drive.
Ferris Boyd stayed on the stoop.
“Ferris Boyd,” Delly called, “come with us. Please?”
Maybe it was the heat. Or maybe she knew Delly was trying to help. Whatever it was, Ferris Boyd glanced up the River Road one more time, then slumped to them.
They dragged themselves into town. By the time they got to the IGA, they were so wet with sweat they looked like they’d showered.
“Here,” Delly ordered, and led them inside.
The store was air-conditioned. “Ahhh,” RB said. Ferris Boyd closed her eyes.
“This way.” Delly directed them.
They went to the back of the store, to the wall of frozen foods. Behind the glass doors was Antarctica. Delly opened one, and a cloud of cold came out of it. “Shikes,” she sighed.
“Get your own,” she told the other two; so they did.
“Mmmmm,” RB hummed. Ferris Boyd stood so close to hers she almost fell in.
The three of them were standing with their eyes closed, pretending they were in a snowstorm. So they didn’t see Clayton Fitch come down the aisle.
“You got those Pattisons climbing into your coolers,” he told Norma at the checkout.
She barreled to the back of the store. “You looking for something?” she shouted.
They were so surprised they slammed their doors.
“Buy something or get out,” she barked, and stomped away.
“Come on,” Delly told them, and they walked over to the ice cream. There were tubs, cartons, and tiny containers filled with frozen heaven.
“What do you want?” she asked them.
They thought about getting pints, so they could each have their own. “Not big enough,” Delly declared.
“What about this?” RB picked up the family size.
“Hmm.” Delly admired his ambitiousness. “But it’ll melt before we’re done,” she said sadly.
“We’ll share a half gallon.” She settled it. “If we want more, we’ll get another.”
They chose it together: chocolate with chocolate chunks and a fudge ribbon running through it. On their way to the checkout, Delly picked up a box of plastic spoons.
“What about napkins?” RB wondered.
She tugged at the bottom of her shirt, and RB understood: it was for wiping.
At the register, Delly pulled out a wad of money while Ferris Boyd searched her pockets. “We got it,” Delly told her. “Baby-sitting money.” She grinned.
Then she asked, “Hey, Norma, can we eat this on the sidewalk?”
Now, Norma had already planned it out. She was going to wait till those Pattisons sat on her walk to holler, “Move along!” She didn’t know what to do with Delly’s asking permission. “All right,” she grumbled.
“Don’t let it melt,” Delly told them as she opened the ice cream. They ate it fast.
When they were done, Ferris Boyd was blue. RB was shaking from his insides being frozen.
“You want another one?” Delly asked.
“Maybe later,” he replied, because his stomach was cramping up.
They lay down on the walk and let the sun unfreeze them.
Delly stared at the sky. “I got over three months of no trouble,” she rasped. She didn’t say, Because of the counting, and the questions. But she turned her head to RB, then Ferris Boyd, letting them know, Thanks.
And they nodded, as if they’d heard her.
“We’re like the three musketeers,” she said. “We’re the three chumbudions.”
The sound of it made her smile. RB, too. Even Ferris Boyd’s mouth turned up the tiniest bit.
Then RB said, “Delly, I need a drink. Can we buy some water?”
“We’re not paying for water,” she told him. “We’ll go to the park.”
And that’s how they ended up over by the basketball court—for the free water fountain.
Chapter 55
Brud, Novello, and the others had been playing ball for a while, but it was too hot. They turned red, then got dizzy with it. Tater almost passed out.
So they lay down in the shade, trying to cool off. That’s why the three chumbudions didn’t spot them.
Danny Novello had been without Delly all summer, and his heart ached with her absence. He heard the rasp that was his heart’s favorite sound, and it started pounding.
“Get away, you’re giving me heatstroke.” He shoved Tater and sat up.
And he saw, across the park, those copper curls bouncing. He raced, with his basketball and his cruel love, toward her.
The three chumbudions were done drinking. They were headed back to the IGA for another half gallon. Delly didn’t notice Novello till he was in front of her.
“What the glub?” she muttered.
“Hey Smelly,” he greeted her, “long time no stink.”
Delly had no time for Novello’s nastiness; she sidestepped him.
He blocked her.
She tried again, but he was right there, keeping her in the heat and away from ice cream. The mad flamed up inside her. Still, she asked, “Will you please get out of my way?”
“No,” he answered.
“Leave her alone,” RB hollered.
“Back off, Tiny Tim,” he sneered.
That hurt RB. Delly saw it, and the mad went to high heat. “What do you want?” she shouted.
He smirked. “Play me. Basketball. If you win, you can go. If I win, you got to do what I want.” He puckered up, revealing his plan.
“I’d rather eat cow patties,” she croaked.
It was cruel poetry, the way she talked. It made him love her more. “I can stay here forever,” he said.
She looked into his eyes and knew it was true. And she’d run out of questions except, One knuckle sandwich or two?
Delly considered her options. She could play him, but she’d lose. She could run, but they’d call her “chicken” and she couldn’t live with that. Or she could fight him. The mad liked that idea, a lot.
“If I fight, I’ll lose everything,” she breathed. “What am I going to do?”
Novello decided it. He dropped the ball and picked up RB. “Me or the munchkin?” he demanded.
“Put me down!” RB wailed.
Delly’s fists were up. “I’m going to pound you into the pavement,” she snarled.
“Don’t!” RB yelled. “Remember Delly Days.”
The fight didn’t care about Delly Days. Her right fist cocked back behind her head.
“You’re going down,” she growled.
Novello smirked, knowing his true love would be touching him soon.
Instead, two pale, skinny hands slapped each other, SMACK SMACK SMACK between them.
“What the . . . ?” Novello exclaimed. They all turned to the smacker.
Ferris Boyd’s eyes were wild, like she wanted to run. But there was something else in them, too, something strong.
“What do you wan
t?” Novello snapped.
She picked up the basketball. She pointed at him, then at herself.
“No, Ferris Boyd,” Delly rasped.
But Novello remembered the game in gym class. “You want to play for Smelly?” He laughed.
Ferris Boyd nodded. Then she turned to her friend. Delly could almost hear her, If you fight, it’s over. I don’t want to lose you.
“Okay,” Delly whispered.
“Yes!” Novello yelped. “Let’s play.” He smacked his lips, like a lion about to gobble up a dumb little lamb.
Ferris Boyd took out her pad. She held it up to him.
“You want to play H-O-R-S-E?” He was laughing hard. “That’s a baby game.”
She pointed to the paper.
“Fine,” he jeered.
She flipped the page.
“No touch,” he read. “You want me to give you the H-O-R-S, too?”
She shook her head.
RB piped up. “If she wins, you leave all of us alone. Forever.”
“She won’t win.” He scoffed.
“That’s the deal,” RB insisted.
“Whatever,” Novello said. He grabbed the ball. “Let’s go.”
They walked across the park. Ferris Boyd’s eyes were blue steel.
Chapter 56
The others were still lying on the grass when Novello and Ferris Boyd stepped onto the court.
“What are you doing?” Tater asked.
“Stay out of the way,” Novello warned him. “I got a game to win.”
They all sat up.
When Brud spotted Ferris Boyd, he dropped his head so she wouldn’t see him. But the girl only saw the basket.
“What are you playing for?” Tater asked.
Novello pointed at Delly. “Big stink in a small package.”
He held the ball out. As Ferris Boyd reached for it, he yanked it away. “Psych,” he said, and shot it at the basket. It banged against the backboard and went through the net.
“That’s how it’s done, fans,” he told the crowd.
Ferris Boyd had the ball. She stood on the same spot, staring at the hoop.
Now, most of those kids had been in the gym when Ferris Boyd lost the game for Delly. They sat there, waiting for her to do nothing, just like that day.
Instead, they saw what happened when the girl got a ball in her hands. She bounced it like it belonged to her. She brought it to her chest, then sent it to the basket. There was no bang or clang; just the swish of perfection.
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