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Wanted . . . Mud Blossom

Page 10

by Betsy Byars


  Junior saw the truck turn off the highway. He got quickly to his feet and ran down the steps, forgetting Scooty in his excitement. Then he ran back, got Scooty, and ran across the yard.

  By this time the truck had come to a stop. Junior was jiggling with excitement. He was going to see his best friend in the world and he had so much to tell her—about Scooty, about the trial, about … oh, everything. He wouldn’t be able to shut up for a hundred years—that’s how much he had to tell her.

  Mary got out of the truck and Junior’s words died. His excitement did too.

  This wasn’t Mary. This wasn’t his friend. This woman was clean. He would never have recognized her in a million years. This could have been just any woman in the grocery store or in the drugstore.

  And Pap had said, “I’m going to try to get Mary to stay the night.”

  And Junior had said, when he still thought she was the woman he knew and loved, “She can sleep in my room with me and Scooty!”

  Pap had tried to warn him. “She’s bound to look different from what we’re used to, Junior. A stay in the hospital don’t help a person.”

  “I know! I went in the hospital one time and came out with two broken legs!”

  “Well, if you’re sure.”

  “Oh, I’m sure. Like, I spent the night with her in her cave and now she’ll spend the night with me in my room, and then I’ll spend the night in her cave and she’ll …”

  Spending the night with his friend Mary was one thing, but spending the night with a grocery-store stranger was another.

  Behind Junior, Mud pushed open the screen door. He stood for a moment while the door banged shut behind him.

  Junior turned. “No barking, Mud, I mean it. I was supposed to put you in the basement. Now, watch Dump and see how nicely he behaves. You could learn a lot from Dump.”

  Mud came down the steps and Junior twisted his fingers in Mud’s bandanna. Mud twisted free and ran the rest of the way to the truck.

  Mary threw up her thin arms for protection, but Mud was just hurrying to greet Pap. Even Mud didn’t recognize a clean Mad Mary.

  Junior pulled himself toward the truck. His feet felt heavier than usual, so his walking was slow. His shoes left long reluctant marks in the dirt.

  Junior had never expected to see anything like Mad Mary in his life. It was as if she had been disguised by experts.

  Her clothes were new. Her hair had been washed. They’d even combed it!

  “Well, Junior!” she said. Junior was grateful that her voice was the same.

  “Your cane.”

  Junior presented it in a formal way, with a little bow, and then he stepped back out of the way.

  She took the cane and held it against her as if it were something that had been lost for years, not just days. “Oh, Junior, maybe my life’s going to get back together after all.”

  “Mine did.”

  She took a few steps with her cane as if to make sure it was really hers.

  “Your bag’s in the kitchen.”

  “You and I seem to go through the same things, don’t we, Junior?” she said as they started toward the house. “Because you know what I thought of in the hospital?”

  “What?”

  “I thought of you waking up in the same hospital and not knowing where you were. That’s just what happened to me.”

  “And it was scary, wasn’t it?”

  “Yes, it was.”

  “See, I told you.” Junior glanced over at Pap. “Pap, I told her that waking up and not knowing where you were was the scariest thing that can happen to a person, but she didn’t believe me.”

  “Well, I believe you now.”

  “You’re going to sleep in my room,” Junior said firmly. “You can have the bed and Scooty and I will sleep on the floor.”

  “I wouldn’t want to put you and Scooty out.”

  Junior was warming to Mary. She didn’t look the same. She didn’t smell the same. But the important thing—she was the same.

  “You won’t put us out. We’re very, very glad to have you.”

  CHAPTER 24

  The Changing of Ralphie’s Eyes

  Ever since Ralphie had told Mrs. Blossom that he—what he had told her—Ralphie had been dreading the moment when he would see her again.

  In his worst nightmares, Mrs. Blossom had smiled in an amused way and said something like, “Well, if it isn’t my admirer.”

  In his one good nightmare, she had given him an amused, knowing smile—but not so Maggie could see it—and kept her thoughts to herself.

  Ralphie and Maggie were in the barn when the dreaded meeting took place. Maggie was unsaddling Sandy Boy, and Ralphie was standing back, concentrating on not being brilliant, when Mrs. Blossom walked into the barn.

  Ralphie stepped back with alarm. His face began to burn.

  “Don’t bother unsaddling him,” Vicki Blossom said. “I’m going for a ride myself.”

  Ralphie pressed back into the bales of hay. He looked down at the floor, faking interest in the dirt, the manure, the straw-strewn boards. He figured if he didn’t actually see the amused smile, he could pretend it hadn’t been there.

  “I thought you were waiting for Rooney’s call,” Maggie said.

  “I got the call. He can’t come till next weekend.”

  Vicki Blossom got into a saddle as easily as ordinary people get into dining room chairs.

  “Which might as well be next year for all the good it does me.”

  “He’ll come, Mom.”

  “Sure, he’ll come. IF there are no more horse trials. I always did detest people who were cruel to horses, and now I have an extra reason to detest them.”

  Sandy Boy neighed with pleasure and tossed his head as she took the reins. He never did that for anybody but Vicki Blossom. He allowed Maggie to ride him—he wouldn’t even buck when Vern or Junior got on—but Sandy Boy was Vicki’s horse in the way Mud was Pap’s dog.

  “Plus, if he doesn’t come soon, my pants suit is going to look funny. It’s got short sleeves. I’ll have to wear a coat over it! And where am I going to get the money for a good-looking coat?”

  She touched her heels to Sandy Boy’s sides, and they were off.

  As the sound of Sandy Boy’s hooves faded into the distance, the breath went out of Ralphie in one long sigh of relief.

  What a nice family this was, he thought. What a nice world. What a nice woman Vicki Blossom had turned out to be.

  Ralphie stopped in surprise. Two days ago he had told Vicki Blossom he loved her by mistake. Today, he could have told her the same thing and almost meant it.

  Junior was in the kitchen, seated across the table from Mad Mary. Scooty was in his cage on the table between them.

  Junior was leaning forward with his chin resting on his hands. He and Mary had been in the kitchen together for an hour. And gradually Mary was beginning to turn into her old self. Junior had already stopped missing her old smell of smoke, grease, and sweat, and gotten used to soap.

  Junior said, “I really thought you were dead, I really and honestly thought that.”

  “Why, Junior, I’m sorry I caused you to worry,” Mad Mary said.

  “Not you, Mary. I was talking to Scooty.”

  “Oh.” A smile cracked Mary’s old face.

  “I knew you weren’t dead.”

  “Well, I sure didn’t,” Mary said. “How did you know that?”

  “It’s simple.” Junior shrugged. “You’re my best friend in the world. If something had happened to you, I would have known it.”

  “Ah,” said Mary.

  “Ralphie,” Maggie said, “you’re going to think this is just my imagination.”

  “Probably,” Ralphie admitted, “but go ahead and try me.”

  “Well, it’s just that, you know, I can always tell when you want to kiss me.”

  Since Ralphie pretty much wanted to kiss her all the time, this didn’t seem too surprising. He decided not to comment.

  “Don�
�t you want to know how I can tell?” Maggie asked, glancing at him sideways.

  “I guess.”

  “Your eyes change color.”

  Ralphie straightened his shoulders in a quick defensive movement.

  “They do not.”

  “Yes, they do.”

  “They do not. I would know if my eyes changed color.”

  “It’s true,” she went on firmly. “Normally your eyes are light brown, but when you want to kiss me, Ralphie, they turn dark and murky.”

  “They do not. You’re making that up. My eyes have never been dark and murky in their lives. I resent that description.”

  “Dark and murky,” Maggie repeated. “I’m not making it up. I’m only describing it.”

  “Well, I don’t believe it.”

  “Next time you come over, I’m going to pull out a pocket mirror and prove it.”

  “So what color are my eyes now?”

  Maggie checked.

  “Hmmm, dark and murky.”

  “See, that proves you’re lying because the last thing in this world I want to do right now is kiss you. I’m going to take my eyes and go home.”

  “So, go.”

  “I mean it,” he said, though he made no attempt to leave. “Why would I want to kiss a girl who goes around insulting my eyes?” He came closer. “So what color are they now?”

  Maggie looked. “Actually, a little bit murkier.”

  “Huh.” Ralphie didn’t care what color his eyes were as long as Maggie kept looking in them. They could be purple with orange dots for all he cared.

  Anyway, he hadn’t known a person’s eyes could change color. He wished he’d had this bit of information sooner. He could have been watching to see if her eyes changed.

  He looked into Maggie’s eyes.

  He would have given anything to see red and white pinwheels spinning around. But Maggie’s eyes were the same clear green they always were.

  Here he was with eyes so murky he could hardly see out of them and here she was with eyes as clear as jewels.

  Maggie grinned. “Thanks for helping me find the cane.”

  “I was glad to.”

  “And Ralphie?”

  “What?”

  “You know, sometimes you do seem almost human.”

  “Sometimes I am.”

  Ralphie’s thoughts were racing. Maybe green eyes didn’t change. Why should they? Green was the international color for GO, wasn’t it? And GO was exactly what Ralphie wanted to do.

  Ralphie lowered his head. He felt encouraged by the fact that Maggie’s head was still tilted up.

  He kissed her.

  Once.

  Her face was still turned up and he felt he could kiss her again.

  Twice, maybe three times.

  But Ralphie decided to play it cool.

  He said, “Now, don’t expect me to do that every time my eyes get murky, Maggie. Half the time my eyes get murky just because they feel like getting murky.”

  Maggie’s grin broadened so that he could see her pointed tooth. “I’ll try not to.”

  Ralphie grinned back at her. “I just didn’t want you to get your hopes up and be disappointed.”

  In the silence that followed, there was muffled laughter from the bushes, and then a chorus of, “Maggie and Ralphie up in a tree, k-i-s-s-i-n-g …”

  Ralphie swirled around, his hands on his slim hips. “Come on, you guys, cut it out. This is a tree? Use your heads. Look, you want us to kiss in a tree? Come on, Maggie, let’s find a tree and climb up it and kiss so your little brother and his infantile friend can hop around yelling—”

  But Maggie was laughing too hard to answer.

  CHAPTER 25

  The New Invention

  Junior had not been as sorry to see Monday come as he had thought. Pap had been right about Scooty. The whole thing was to teach responsibility, and Junior did not want any more lessons in that.

  He would be glad to—well, he would be willing to—take lessons in reading and writing and spelling, even arithmetic. But he did not want any more lessons in responsibility. As far as Junior was concerned, he had earned an A in responsibility.

  The school bus pulled up, the door opened, and Vern and Junior and Scooty got on. The first seat was vacant, and Junior took it. Vern went to the back of the bus to sit by Michael.

  Junior sat with the cage on his lap as he had on Friday, but—unlike Friday—Junior was not talking to Scooty in low, excited whispers. Nor was he jiggling his legs.

  The bus made another stop. The Rankin girls got on and moved to the back of the bus.

  Junior thought with sympathy of the person who would be selected to take Scooty home next weekend, a person who would be full of excitement and the desire to provide pleasure for his houseguest, only to find out about the most terrible thing in the entire world—responsibility.

  It was funny, Junior thought. He had looked forward to the weekend and looked forward to the weekend, and it had been terrible. It had turned out all right—as things usually did with the Blossoms—but while it was going on, it had just been terrible.

  Rebecca, from Junior’s room at school, got on the bus. “Hi, Junior.”

  “Hi.”

  She stuck her finger through the cage and wiggled it. “How’re you doing, Scooty?”

  “Say ‘Fine.’” Junior had always admired the way mothers answered for their babies like this.

  “Did you have fun at Junior’s, Scooty?”

  “Say ‘Part of the time.’”

  “Mind if I sit with you?”

  “Me?”

  She nodded.

  Junior was relieved to be answering for himself.

  “No, I wouldn’t mind.”

  She sat down.

  This was the first time a girl—no, anybody!—this was the first time anybody had wanted to sit by Junior on the school bus, so he felt complimented. Perhaps she only wanted to sit by Scooty, but he hoped not.

  Rebecca stuck her finger back through the wires to wiggle hello again to Scooty. “I hope I get to take him home this weekend.”

  “Oh, no,” Junior said in alarm. Just a moment ago he had been feeling sympathy for someone, and what if it turned out to be Rebecca—the only person in the entire school who had ever wanted to sit by him on the bus?

  “Why do you say that? Oh, no?”

  “Rebecca, a hamster is a lot of responsibility.”

  “I think it would be fun.”

  Junior paused. He didn’t want to spoil anybody’s fun, especially not Rebecca’s, but he was wise beyond his years in responsibility and hamsters.

  “Will you let me give you one bit of advice?”

  “What’s that?”

  “Whatever you do, don’t make him a tunnel.”

  In the back of the bus Michael and Vern were going over the events of the past two days. Michael started the conversation.

  “I can’t believe everything turned out all right.”

  “I can’t either.”

  “I can’t believe we got our backpacks.”

  “Me either.”

  “Did Mad Mary say anything to you?”

  “About what?”

  “Us trespassing in her cave.”

  “No.”

  “Do you think she recognized you?”

  “Yes.”

  “I can’t believe everything turned out all right.”

  “Remember Scooty?”

  “And the trial?”

  “And k-i-s-s-i-n-g.”

  And their laughter was loud enough to make the Rankin girls turn around.

  “What’s funny?” they asked.

  Junior hurried up the stairs to the school, down the hall, and into his classroom.

  “Junior, why you’re early,” the teacher said. “You’re the first one here. You almost beat me.”

  “I wanted to return Scooty.”

  “Did you enjoy him?”

  “A little bit of the time,” Junior said truthfully.

&n
bsp; Junior put the cage on the hamster table and took his seat. He was glad to have a little time to himself. Because on the bus that morning Junior had had an idea.

  He didn’t dare to hope that it would turn into an invention, and besides Rebecca kept talking to him. Rebecca was a good talker—her specialty was TV shows she’d seen—and listening to her tell about shows was better than watching them. Junior didn’t have time to think.

  Now he did have a few private moments, and a thrill of creativity came over Junior. He closed his eyes.

  He was going to make something. And unlike the wings, the coyote trap, the UFO, and the tunnel of doom, this invention was going to work.

  What a good weekend this one was going to be. The horse detective was going to come, and the horse detective could see what Junior was going to make! The more people there were to admire his inventions, the better Junior liked it.

  Junior opened his eyes. Junior smiled.

  Chatting It Up

  A Holiday House Reader’s Guide

  All about the Blossoms in …

  Wanted …

  Mud Blossom

  and more!

  Discussion Questions

  An Interview with Betsy Byars

  Writing Tips from the Author

  Discussion Questions

  1. Maggie is the oldest Blossom. How does being the oldest give her special responsibilities? Discuss whether there are moments when she would like to switch places with Junior and Vern.

  2. Junior is a very creative thinker, but his “bright ideas” often go awry. Why does he blame school for his inability to think of new projects?

  3. Junior’s life is so full of adventure that he doesn’t feel that he has to “playact.” Which of his adventures has been the most dangerous? Why doesn’t Junior learn from his mistakes?

  4. Describe Mud and Dump’s relationship. Why does Junior think that Mud is a spoiled dog? How does Junior know that Dump is willing to be friends with Mud?

  5. Mud can smell an adventure. How does this ability almost get him in “real” trouble with the Blossom family?

 

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