Love,
Lydia
P.S. Could you send us your recipe for buttermilk cookies? Or if you have any extras made up, you could mail them just like they do to soldiers on the front. Ha ha.
I reached for the envelope I’d brought with me. It must have fallen to the floor. I lowered my arm over the side of the bed, feeling around, when my hand landed on a book. I pulled it out. It was the library book I’d checked out about raccoons! I’d clean forgot it. My heart pounded as I looked at the stamped date. It was fifteen days overdue.
I pedaled to the library so hard I practically flew. Grabbing the book out of the basket on my bike, I ran up the steps and opened the heavy door. I paused inside and tried to catch my breath. Looking down at the floor inside the cool vestibule, I made myself count the tiny floor tiles. After I got to thirty, I was calm enough to walk in slowly.
“Good morning, Lydia!”
I jumped. Would I ever get used to loud Mrs. Green?
“Hello, Miz Green. I’ve got something just awful to tell you.”
“Just awful? Oh, do tell.” She put her elbows on her desk and rested her chin on her hands. I could see the corners of her mouth twitching.
“Well, ma’am, I forgot to bring this book back. I’m so sorry! I promise it will never happen again!” My words got faster, spilling one on top of the other. “I’ll pay the late fee but, please, Miz Green—Nanna would have my hide if she knew!”
“Oh, honey. I surely do miss your Nanna, but how am I going to tell her about it with her up in Michigan? And you know what I always say? I always say, how can a book get read if it’s sitting here on our shelves? Why, it doesn’t bother me a bit when a book’s late.”
She leaned down and said in a whisper, “You might want to renew it next time, though. That way you won’t have to pay late fees.”
“Yes, ma’am,” I said, wondering how much money this was going to cost me. A dollar a day, probably.
“That’ll be thirty cents. Two cents a day. It’s fifteen days overdue. I’m sorry to have to charge you, honey, but it’s the rules.”
“Oh, yes ma’am! That’s just fine!” I was so relieved I almost slid to the floor as I counted out the change.
Mrs. Green picked up the book and said, “I remember this book. It was to impress that special fella of yours.” She winked at me. “Did it work?”
“Miz Green, he’s not my special anything.” I thought of how my experiment with Zorro had ended, with Willis throwing Beth’s doll into the burn barrel. “And, no, I guess you could say it was a complete disaster.”
“Really? Well, maybe you just didn’t use it right. Did you impress him with all you learned about raccoons?”
I let out a huff of air. “I can’t say he was all that impressed.”
“Maybe you should renew the book and try a new tack.”
I started to say I didn’t care one whit if Willis Merrill was impressed or not, but I caught myself. She had said, “Try a new tack.” It made me think of what Elliot had said, that Willis needed “special handling.”
“You know what, Miz Green? I think I might just renew that book, after all. That is, if it’s all right with you.”
“Why sure, honey! Never let it be said that Beverly Green stood in the way of true love!”
Good gosh.
* * *
Monday morning, I waited in the tree house for Willis. I wanted to catch him before he got to Zorro’s cage. I knew Zorro would run to me and I’d lose any chance of having Willis listen.
As soon as he walked out the back door, I said, “He likes peanut butter.”
Willis jumped at the sound of my voice. Normally it would have made me laugh, but I was trying a new tack today.
“You talkin’ to me?”
“I said that Zorro likes peanut butter. Not as much as he likes nuts and fruit, but that’s why he comes up here with me. I lured him with peanut butter.”
“You think you know more about my coon than me?” He snickered and shook his head.
“It’s all in here.” I held up the library book. “It tells about raccoons and their likes and dislikes. For instance”—I thumbed quickly through the book—“it says right here, ‘A raccoon is a nocturnal mammal.’ That means they would rather sleep during the day and play at night.”
Willis cocked his head and said, “Zorro sleeps at night.”
“He’s probably bored. That cage is none too big for him. If he were in the wild, he’d be running at night.”
Willis seemed to be thinking about it for a minute. Then he waved one hand in the air as if to say I was as annoying as a fly. “You’re crazy,” he said. “You’re making that up.”
“No, I’m not. I know you don’t like to read.” He shot an angry look at me, so I hurried on. “I don’t, either. Heck, this is the only book I’ve ever checked out of the library that I didn’t have to. I wanted to trick you, so I read up on raccoons. That’s the plain truth.”
“Why are you telling me now?”
“I just didn’t want you to think that Zorro liked me more than you, that’s all.”
“I know he doesn’t like you more than me!”
Oh, he could make my blood boil! Well, I promised myself that I’d just make an attempt today. That’s all I had to do and I’d done it.
I climbed out of the tree and made myself walk at a normal pace instead of storming into the house the way I wanted to. I had just reached the back door when Willis asked, “That book got any pictures in it?”
* * *
I read to him in the tree house for at least half an hour. Willis hung on to every word.
“I never knew there was so much to know about coons,” he said.
“There’s a lot in here about them,” I said. “Where did you get Zorro anyway?”
“Found him in a ditch alongside a road. His mama had been hit by a car. He was a tiny thing, and look how big he is now.” He pointed to Zorro’s cage. “I did a good job raising him, even without that book!”
“Uh-huh,” I said, hiding my irritation. I’d had enough of this. My voice was hoarse. I was thirsty. And I had to go to the bathroom, plain and simple. I finished reading the chapter, then said in my nicest voice, “Well, I guess that’s about it for today. Maybe I could read more to you tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow! You goin’ somewhere or somethin’?”
“No, but we’ve read an awful lot. Aren’t you getting thirsty?”
“No.”
He picked up the book and shoved it at me. My hands caught it out of reflex, but I just sat there surprised. Then he pushed the book at me again and grunted for me to read more.
We must’ve looked like Tarzan and Jane, stuck in a tree house with him shoving and grunting. I laughed at the thought.
When Willis heard me laugh, he hauled off and slapped me right in the face.
I let out a yelp and grabbed my cheek. No one had ever slapped me before. And it hurt! My eyes were stinging something awful and I couldn’t talk because I knew I’d sob if I did.
Willis did what he always did and scurried out of the tree house. I watched his lanky body trudge toward Zorro’s cage. I hated him so much. If I had told anyone what had happened, that person would have said, “You did all you could, Lydia. That boy just can’t be helped.”
In the past, I would have yelled at him, but I knew Elliot wasn’t going to like me again until I was nice to Willis. What if I changed how I acted? What if I didn’t yell and get mad? Would Willis change, too? I took in great big gulps of air, trying to still the tears that threatened as I sat quietly watching him.
He got Zorro out of his cage, let the raccoon climb onto his back, and shot me a look. I was trying to keep my expression normal and made sure I looked right into his eyes. I’d read enough of this raccoon book to know that making eye contact was the best thing to do when dealing with a wild animal. How much wilder could you get than Willis Merrill?
He looked at me for a second, looked away, then looked back. H
e said, “You laughed at me.”
I took another deep breath and said, “I was looking at you when I laughed. But I was laughing at what I was thinking about, not at you.”
“Well, how’s a body supposed to know the difference?” he said, heading back to the tree house.
“Wait! I’m coming down.” I tried to keep my voice light. I didn’t want to be cornered in the tree if he got violent again. I was willing to take this special handling thing only so far.
“Whew!” I said when I reached the ground. “It’s sure getting hot. I’m really thirsty. Let’s go inside and get something to drink.”
Willis looked at my house and said, “I’ll wait here.”
“Suit yourself.”
I turned to go and realized that’s just the kind of thing I would have said before.
“How about this?” I asked. “How about I get us something to drink and we move to our front porch? It’ll be cooler there, and I’ll read some more.”
He looked at the porch warily.
“I can make us Kool-Aid.”
He brightened at that.
“Wait here. I’ll be right back.” I started inside, then turned to Willis. “Hold the book for me, okay?”
You’d have thought I asked him to watch a pot of gold from the look on his face.
* * *
“You got any more?” Willis asked as he handed me his empty glass. It was his second one.
“I’m only allowed two glasses of Kool-Aid a day. Besides, if we drink it all up today, we won’t have any for tomorrow, right?”
He thought that over. “Okay.”
This “special handling” of Willis was harder work than I’d guessed. I had to watch how I said everything. And I was trying real hard not to laugh. It made me tired. Plus I’d read more in one day than I normally read all summer.
I closed the book and asked, “Would you like to read more of the book tomorrow?”
“Yeah!”
“Okay. Can we make a deal?”
He jumped up and crossed his arms. “What’s the hitch? I ain’t got money if that’s what you’re after.”
“Money! I don’t want money. But you remember when you slapped me? It’s not a nice thing to do to anybody.”
“Neither’s laughing.”
“We talked about that, remember? I was laughing, but I wasn’t making fun of you. There’s a difference. How about we make some rules. Rule number one is no making fun of each other.”
“What’s rule number two?”
“Rule number two is that if we get mad, we say why we’re mad. We never hit.”
“Can we have Kool-Aid every day?”
I almost laughed but, thank goodness, caught myself. I very seriously said, “Rule number three, we have Kool-Aid every day.”
“Three glasses of it.”
“Don’t push it, Willis.”
13
I was feeling pretty good when I went in to dinner that night. Mother had a ham in the oven. How bad can you mess up a ham? Last night Mother had cooked a roast so dry you could hardly cut it. I’d filled up on mashed potatoes, eating around the lumps, and on the tops of dinner rolls—leaving the burnt bottoms.
I flopped into my chair. When Daddy asked, “How’d your day go, Ladybug?” I had something good to tell him for a change.
“Well, you know that boy from next door? Willis? I spent the afternoon reading to him.”
“He can’t read?”
Daddy looked confused, and I realized I hadn’t told him about Willis Merrill. Something kept me from telling him how mean and ornery Willis could be. “No, not too good.”
“So you’re teaching him how?”
“Well, no, I guess I’ll leave that to his teachers. But he loves to have a book read to him, so that’s what I did.”
Mother said, “Well, if he can get you to read, he’s got my thanks.”
What’s it to you? I wanted to say to her. She had never before paid any attention to whether or not I read.
Then she set a plate of food in front of me. It was the same food as last night. I don’t mean leftovers, I mean the very plate I had left unfinished the night before. The roast was drier now and the lumps of potatoes I’d picked out were still there, but cold, along with the burnt bottoms of the rolls.
“What’s this?”
“It’s your dinner. Eat up!” she said in a cheery voice.
“That’s not funny. What is this, Daddy?”
He looked uncomfortable. “Um, I think I’ll stay out of this one, ladies.”
“Stay out of what?”
Mother sat down and flipped her napkin open before she laid it in her lap. “Well, Lydia, we all had jobs we agreed to do when Nanna left, isn’t that correct? And yours was to wash the dirty clothes. Since you’ve chosen not to wash my clothes, and expect me to wear them dirty, I decided I’d return the favor. Why should I cook a new meal for you every day? I’ll just let you eat what you left the night before.” She smiled as she picked up her fork. “I guess your little plan saves us both some work, doesn’t it?”
My face was hot with embarrassment. But more than that, I was angry.
“You know what? I’ll save you even more work.” I got up and threw my plate into the sink. “Don’t bother cooking for me at all. The reason I had food left over is because I can’t eat what you cook.”
“Lydia!” Daddy said, but I wouldn’t look at him.
“Fair enough,” Mother said. “I’ve never claimed to be a gourmet.”
“Gourmet? You can’t boil water!” I shouted at her.
She went on as if I hadn’t said a word. “But who gave you the right to decide which of my clothes should get washed, Lydia?”
“There’s just so much laundry! You don’t know how much work it is to wring all those clothes out and then rinse them and wring them out again.”
Too late I remembered that Mother wanted to get rid of Nanna’s washer.
“That’s a problem you created for yourself, young lady. You can have a new washer any time you ask.”
“You want to make it so Nanna never comes back. You might not care about her, but I miss her! If you think you can step in now and become my mother, you can forget it. I don’t know why you didn’t just ship me off with Nanna since you didn’t want me to begin with.”
Daddy stood up. In a stern voice I hardly recognized, he said, “Go to your room.”
I looked at Daddy, who treated me so special until I was up against Mother. He took her side no matter what. And Mother—well, I didn’t know what to make of her at all.
“That’s a fine idea,” I said. “There’s nobody here I want to spend time with, anyway.”
I flounced out of the kitchen, went to my bedroom, and gave my door the hardest slam I could muster. There’s something satisfying about slamming a door when you’re mad. It was something Nanna never understood. She’d have followed me upstairs, then made me come out into the hall and close the door quietly. Well, Nanna wasn’t here.
The evening dragged on. I kept thinking that Daddy or Mother would eventually knock on my door with a plate of cookies or maybe a sandwich. Nanna would have. But I didn’t hear a word from either of them. I was so hungry the front of my stomach felt as if it were touching my backbone. When I heard their footsteps coming to bed, I knew one of them would open the door to make sure I was all right. I was wrong again. After I heard their bedroom door close for the night, I finally gave in to the tears that had been threatening.
I was on the same bed, in the same house that I’d lived in my entire life, but nothing was familiar anymore. I didn’t even have my picture of Robert since Mother had found it. I’d been losing people all summer, it seemed.
* * *
The next morning I waited until Mother and Daddy had left for work before getting up. I made a piece of toast and took it downstairs with me while I sorted the laundry—all the laundry. Then I washed the first load and carried it upstairs to hang outside.
Willis w
as sitting on the ground, leaning against the base of our oak tree. “You ready to read?”
“How long have you been there?” I asked in a not very friendly tone.
“You said we’d read every day.”
I felt tired already and the day had just begun.
“Yeah, we will. It’s just that I have to do my chores first. You know chores? Jobs? Don’t you have any?”
“Nah.”
“Well, I do. I have to hang up this laundry. Then I’ll have to wash a second load. It’s gonna take me a while.”
“Get some help,” he said, as if I were an idiot for not thinking of it.
“It’s just me here.”
“If I helped, you’d get done faster and we could read.”
“Well … yeah … that would work.” I wasn’t sure I wanted to spend all day with Willis, but it would be nice to have help. “You sure you want to?”
He smiled and said, “Heck no, I don’t want to. But I will.”
I laughed at that, then quickly looked to see if he’d taken it wrong. He was smiling.
True to his word, Willis hung up the clothes while I wrung out the second load. The work went faster, and in no time we were ready to read. Then I went to the Frigidaire to get our Kool-Aid and saw a note stuck to the front:
Lydia,
Please come by the newspaper shop when you get your work done.
Mother
She had never asked me to come there before. She always acted as if I were intruding if I so much as walked in. I wadded up the note, threw it into the trash, and carried the Kool-Aid out to Willis.
I wasn’t going. She could come to me. Still, the whole time I was reading about the gestation period of raccoons, I wondered what Mother wanted. I was glad when our time was up and Willis left.
I ran into the bathroom and combed my hair. I looked in the mirror and said to my reflection, “You’re pitiful.” I hated myself for going.
I walked into the newspaper shop to a loud ooga! ooga! The horn sounded over the noise of the machinery to let Mother know when customers came in. I stood there, breathing in the sharp smell while I waited for her to look up from her Linotype machine.
When Ratboy Lived Next Door Page 11
