“Whoooeeee,” she said when she was finally done laughing. “That sure is some dangerous criminal.”
“He’s a lonely man,” I told her. “He just wants to play his music for somebody.”
Gloria wiped her eyes with the hem of her dress. “I know it, sugar,” she said. “But sometimes things are so sad they get to be funny.”
“You know what else?” I said, still thinking about sad things. “That girl I told you about, the pinch-faced one? Amanda? Well, her brother drowned last year. He was only five years old, the same age as Sweetie Pie Thomas.”
Gloria stopped smiling. She nodded her head. “I remember hearing about that,” she said. “I remember hearing about a little drowned boy.”
“That’s why Amanda is so pinch-faced,” I said. “She misses her brother.”
“Most likely,” Gloria agreed.
“Do you think everybody misses somebody? Like I miss my mama?”
“Mmmm-hmmm,” said Gloria. She closed her eyes. “I believe, sometimes, that the whole world has an aching heart.”
I couldn’t stand to think about sad things that couldn’t be helped anymore, so I said, “Do you want to hear some more Gone with the Wind?”
“Yes indeed,” Gloria said. “I been looking forward to it all day. Let’s see what Miss Scarlett is up to now.”
I opened up Gone with the Wind and started to read, but the whole time, I was thinking about Otis, worrying about him not being allowed to play his guitar for people. In the book, Scarlett was looking forward to going to a big barbecue where there was going to be music and food. That’s how I got the idea.
“That’s what we need to do,” I said. I slammed the book shut. Winn-Dixie’s head shot up from underneath Gloria’s chair. He looked around all nervouslike.
“Huh?” said Gloria Dump.
“Have a party,” I told her. “We need to have a party and invite Miss Franny Block and the preacher and Otis, and Otis can play his guitar for everybody. Sweetie Pie can come, too. She listens to his music good.”
“‘We’ who?” Gloria asked.
“‘We’ me and you. We can make some food and have the party right here in your yard.”
“Hmmmm,” said Gloria Dump.
“We could make peanut-butter sandwiches and cut them up in triangles to make them look fancy.”
“Lord,” said Gloria Dump, “I don’t know if the whole world likes peanut butter as much as you and me and this dog.”
“Okay then,” I said, “we could make egg-salad sandwiches. Adults like those.”
“You know how to make egg salad?”
“No ma’am,” I said. “I don’t have a mama around to teach me things like that. But I bet you know. I bet you could teach me. Please.”
“Maybe,” said Gloria Dump. She put her hand on Winn-Dixie’s head. She smiled at me. I knew she was telling me yes.
“Thank you,” I said. I went over and hugged her. I squeezed her hard. Winn-Dixie wagged his tail and tried to get in between the two of us. He couldn’t stand being left out of anything.
“It’s going to be the best party ever,” I told Gloria.
“You got to make me one promise though,” Gloria said.
“All right,” I told her.
“You got to invite them Dewberry boys.”
“Dunlap and Stevie?”
“Hmmmm-mmm, ain’t gonna be no party unless you invite them.”
“I have to?”
“Yes,” said Gloria Dump. “You promise me.”
“I promise,” I said. I didn’t like the idea. But I promised.
I started inviting people right away. I asked the preacher first.
“Daddy,” I said.
“Opal?” the preacher said back.
“Daddy, me and Winn-Dixie and Gloria Dump are having a party.”
“Well,” said the preacher, “that’s nice. You have a good time.”
“Daddy,” I said, “I’m telling you because you’re invited.”
“Oh,” said the preacher. He rubbed his nose. “I see.”
“Can you come?” I asked him.
He sighed. “I don’t see why not,” he said.
Miss Franny Block took to the idea right away. “A party!” she said, and clapped her hands together.
“Yes ma’am,” I told her. “It will be kind of like the barbecue at Twelve Oaks in Gone with the Wind. Only it’s not going to be as many people, and we’re going to serve egg-salad sandwiches instead of barbecue.”
“That sounds lovely,” Miss Franny said. And then she pointed at the back of the library and whispered, “Maybe you should ask Amanda, too.”
“She probably won’t want to come,” I said. “She doesn’t like me very much.”
“Ask her and see what she says,” Miss Franny whispered.
So I walked to the back of the library and I asked Amanda Wilkinson in my best-manners voice to please come to my party. She looked around all nervous and stuff.
“A party?” she said.
“Yes,” I said. “I sure would like it if you could come.”
She stared at me with her mouth open. “Okay,” she said after a minute. “I mean, yes. Thank you. I would love to.”
And just like I promised Gloria, I asked the Dewberry boys.
“I ain’t going to no party at a witch’s house,” Stevie said.
Dunlap knocked Stevie with his elbow. “We’ll come,” he said.
“We will not,” said Stevie. “That witch might cook us up in her big old witch’s pot.”
“I don’t care if you come or not,” I told them. “I’m just asking because I promised I would.”
“We’ll be there,” said Dunlap. And he nodded at me and smiled.
Sweetie Pie was very excited when I invited her.
“What’s the theme?” she asked.
“Well, there isn’t one,” I said.
“You got to think of a theme,” she told me. She stuck her knuckle in her mouth and then pulled it back out. “It ain’t a party without a theme. Is this dog coming?” she asked. She wrapped her arms around Winn-Dixie and squeezed him so hard that his eyes almost popped out of his head.
“Yes,” I told her.
“Good,” she said. “You could make that the theme. It could be a dog party.”
“I’ll think about it,” I told her.
The last person I asked was Otis. I told him all about the party and that he was invited and he said, “No, thank you.”
“Why not?” I asked.
“I don’t like parties,” said Otis.
“Please,” I begged. “It won’t be a party unless you come. I’ll give you a whole free week of sweeping and arranging and dusting. If you come to the party, that’s what I’ll do.”
“A whole week for free?” Otis said, looking up at me.
“Yes sir,” I told him.
“But I don’t have to talk to people, right?”
“No sir,” I said. “You don’t. But bring your guitar. Maybe you could play us some music.”
“Maybe,” said Otis. He looked down at his boots again real quick, trying to hide his smile.
“Thank you,” I told him. “Thank you for deciding to come.”
After I got Otis convinced to come, the rest of getting ready for the party was easy and fun. Me and Gloria decided to have the party at night, when it would be cooler. And the afternoon before, we worked in Gloria’s kitchen and made egg-salad sandwiches. We cut them up in triangles and cut off the crusts and put little toothpicks with frilly tops in them. Winn-Dixie sat in the kitchen and looked at us the whole time. He kept on wagging his tail.
“That dog thinks we making these sandwiches for him,” said Gloria Dump.
Winn-Dixie showed Gloria all his teeth.
“These ain’t for you,” she told him.
But when she thought I wasn’t looking, she gave Winn-Dixie an egg-salad sandwich, without the toothpick.
We also made punch. We mixed together orange juice and g
rapefruit juice and soda in a big bowl. Gloria called it Dump Punch. She said she was world famous for it. But I had never heard of it before.
The last thing we did was decorate the yard all up. I strung pink and orange and yellow crepe paper in the trees to make it look fancy. We also filled up paper bags with sand and put candles in them, and right before it was time for the party to start, I went around and lit all the candles. It turned Gloria Dump’s yard into a fairyland.
“Mmmmm-hmmm,” said Gloria Dump, looking around. “Even somebody with bad eyes can tell it looks good.”
It did look pretty. It looked so pretty that it made my heart feel funny, all swollen and full, and I wished desperately that I knew where my mama was so she could come to the party, too.
Miss Franny Block was the first person to arrive. She was wearing a pretty green dress that was all shiny and shimmery. And she had on high-heeled shoes that made her wobble back and forth when she walked. Even when she was standing still, she still kind of swayed, like she was standing on a boat. She was carrying a big glass bowl full of Littmus Lozenges. “I brought a little after-dinner treat,” she said, handing the bowl to me.
“Thank you,” I said. I put the bowl on the table next to the egg-salad sandwiches and the punch. Then I introduced Miss Franny to Gloria, and they shook hands and said polite things to each other.
And then Sweetie Pie’s mother came by with Sweetie Pie. Sweetie Pie had a whole handful of pictures of dogs that she had cut out of magazines. “It’s to help you with your theme,” she said. “You can use them to decorate. I brung tape, too.” And she started going around taping the pictures of the dogs to the trees and the chairs and the table.
“She ain’t talked about nothing but this party all day long,” said her mother. “Can you walk her home when it’s over?”
I promised that I would, and then I introduced Sweetie Pie to Miss Franny and to Gloria, and right after that, the preacher showed up. He was wearing a coat and tie and looked real serious. He shook Gloria Dump’s hand and Miss Franny Block’s hand and said how pleased he was to meet them both and how he had heard nothing but good things about both of them. He patted Sweetie Pie on the head and said it was good to see her outside of church. And the whole time, Winn-Dixie was standing right in the middle of everybody, wagging his tail so hard that I thought for sure he would knock Miss Franny right off her high heels.
Amanda Wilkinson came and she had her blond hair all curled up and she looked shy and not as mean as usual, and I stood real close to her and introduced her to Gloria Dump. I was surprised at how glad I was to see Amanda. And I wanted to tell her I knew about Carson. I wanted to tell her I understood about losing people, but I didn’t say anything. I was just extra nice.
We were all standing around smiling at one another and acting kind of nervous, when a real screechy voice said, “Gertrude is a pretty bird.”
Winn-Dixie’s ears went straight up on his head, and he barked once and looked around. I looked, too, but I didn’t see Gertrude. Or Otis.
“I’ll be right back,” I said to everybody. Me and Winn-Dixie went running around to the front of the house. And sure enough, standing there on the sidewalk was Otis. He had his guitar on his back and Gertrude on his shoulder, and in his hands, he was holding the biggest jar of pickles I had ever seen in my life.
“Otis,” I said to him, “come on around back, that’s where the party is.”
“Oh,” he said. But he didn’t move. He just stood there, holding on to his jar of pickles.
“Dog,” screeched Gertrude. She flew off of Otis’s shoulder and landed on Winn-Dixie’s head.
“It’s all right, Otis,” I told him. “It’s just a few people, hardly any people at all.”
“Oh,” said Otis again. He looked around like he was lost. Then he held up the jar of pickles. “I brought pickles,” he said.
“I saw them,” I said. “It’s just exactly what we needed. They will go perfect with the egg-salad sandwiches.” I talked to him real soft and gentle and low, like he was a wild animal that I was trying to get to take food out of my hand.
He took one tiny step forward.
“Come on,” I whispered. I started walking and Winn-Dixie followed me. And when I turned around, I saw Otis was following me, too.
Otis followed me all the way into the backyard, where the party was. Before he could run away, I introduced him to the preacher.
“Daddy,” I said, “this is Otis. He’s the one who runs Gertrude’s Pets. He’s the one who plays the guitar so good.”
“How do you do?” said the preacher. He stuck his hand out to Otis. And Otis stood there and shuffled his big jar of pickles back and forth, trying to free up a hand to offer back to the preacher. Finally, he ended up bending over and setting the jar down on the ground. But when he did that, his guitar slid forward and hit him in the head with a little boing sound; Sweetie Pie laughed and pointed at him like he was doing the whole thing on purpose just to amuse her.
“Ouch,” said Otis. He stood back up and took the guitar off his shoulder and put it down on the ground next to the jar of pickles, and then he wiped his hand on his pants and stuck it out to the preacher, who took it and said, “It sure is a pleasure to shake your hand.”
“Thank you,” said Otis. “I brought pickles.”
“I noticed,” said the preacher.
After the preacher and Otis were done shaking hands, I introduced Otis to Miss Franny Block and to Amanda.
And then I introduced him to Gloria Dump. Gloria took his hand and smiled at him. And Otis looked right in her eyes and smiled back. He smiled big.
“I brought pickles for your party,” Otis told her.
“And I am so glad,” she said. “It just ain’t a party without pickles.”
Otis looked down at his big jar of pickles. His face was all red.
“Opal,” said Gloria, “when are them boys getting here?”
“I don’t know,” I said. I shrugged. “I told them what time we were starting.” What I didn’t tell her was that they probably weren’t coming, because they were afraid to go to a party at a witch’s house.
“Well,” said Gloria. “We got egg-salad sandwiches. We got Dump Punch. We got pickles. We got dog pictures. We got Littmus Lozenges. And we got a preacher, who can bless this party for us.”
Gloria Dump looked over at the preacher.
He nodded his head at Gloria and cleared his throat and said, “Dear God, thank you for warm summer nights and candlelight and good food. But thank you most of all for friends. We appreciate the complicated and wonderful gifts you give us in each other. And we appreciate the task you put down before us, of loving each other the best we can, even as you love us. We pray in Christ’s name. Amen.”
“Amen,” said Gloria Dump.
“Amen,” I whispered.
“Gertrude,” croaked Gertrude.
“Are we fixing to eat now?” Sweetie Pie asked.
“Shhhh,” said Amanda.
Winn-Dixie sneezed.
There was a far-off rumble of thunder. I thought at first that it was Winn-Dixie’s stomach growling.
“It ain’t supposed to rain,” said Gloria Dump. “They didn’t predict no rain.”
“This dress is silk,” said Miss Franny Block. “I cannot get it wet.”
“Maybe we should go inside,” said Amanda.
The preacher looked up at the sky.
And just then, the rain came pouring down.
Save the sandwiches,” Gloria Dump yelled to me. “Save the punch.”
“I got my dog pictures,” screamed Sweetie Pie. She went running around, tearing them off the trees and the chairs. “Don’t worry,” she kept shouting. “I got ’em.”
I grabbed the platter of egg-salad sandwiches and the preacher grabbed the punch, and we ran into the kitchen with them; and when I ran back outside, I saw that Amanda had hold of Miss Franny Block and was helping her into the house. Miss Franny was so teetery in her high heels that
the rain would have knocked her right over if Amanda hadn’t held on to her.
I grabbed Gloria Dump’s arm.
“I’m all right,” she said. But she put her hand on my arm and held on to me tight.
I looked around the garden before we left. All the crepe paper was melted and the candles were out, and then I saw Otis. He was standing there by his jar of pickles, looking down at his feet.
“Otis,” I hollered at him over the rain, “come on, we’re going inside.”
When we got in the kitchen, Amanda and Miss Franny were laughing and shaking themselves like dogs.
“What a downpour,” said Miss Franny. “Wasn’t that something?”
“That came right out of nowhere,” said the preacher.
“Whooooeee,” said Gloria.
“Dog,” squawked Gertrude. I looked at her. She was sitting on the kitchen table. The thunder was really booming and cracking.
“Oh no,” I said. I looked around the kitchen.
“Don’t worry,” said Sweetie Pie. “I saved them dog pictures. I got ’em right here.” She waved around her wad of magazine pages.
“Where’s Winn-Dixie?” I shouted. “I forgot about him. I was just thinking about the party and I forgot about Winn-Dixie. I forgot about protecting him from the thunder.”
“Now, Opal,” the preacher said, “he’s probably right out in the yard, hiding underneath a chair. Come on, you and I will go look.”
“Hold on,” said Gloria Dump, “let me get you a flashlight and some umbrellas.”
But I didn’t want to wait. I went running out into the yard. I looked under all the chairs and around all the bushes and trees. I called his name real loud. I felt like crying. It was my fault. I was supposed to hold on to him. And I forgot.
“Opal,” I heard the preacher call.
I looked up. He was standing on the porch with Gloria. And Dunlap and Stevie Dewberry were standing there, too.
“Your guests are here,” the preacher said.
“I don’t care,” I hollered.
“Come on up here,” Gloria Dump said, her voice all hard and serious. She shone her flashlight out at me.
Because of Winn-Dixie Page 6
