Cliques, Hicks, and Ugly Sticks

by KD McCrite

  “But . . .” Myra’s voice came out all watery. “But that baby might die being born too soon, mightn’t it?”

  Grandma didn’t answer, but I could tell just by looking at her face that the answer was yes.

  “No!” I yelled. “No, no, no! I don’t want our baby born before it’s ready.”

  “I know,” Grandma said softly. “I don’t either, but all we can do is pray for the best and place our trust in the good Lord.”

  I did not have anything to say to that.

  “Go get cleaned up right quick, girls. We’re going to the hospital soon as you’re ready.”

  I don’t know why we couldn’t just go the way we were, but we hurried upstairs, washed our faces, brushed our teeth, and brushed our hair.

  “I need a shower,” Myra Sue whined, and I like to have come undone.

  “You had a shower just this morning,” I told that goofy girl. “No one is gonna look at you anyway. Don’t you care about Mama?”

  She glared at me as she tied her sneakers. I just let my laces flap until I had time to tie them.

  “All right then,” she snarled. “I won’t take a shower, even though we’re going to a hospital that is full of sick people.”

  I looked at that dumb girl. “Myra Sue, you are a dipstick.”

  When we got downstairs, Grandma was on the telephone with someone. I figured out real quick she was talking to Ian because she said, “Mike says to get Forest to help you with the milking tonight and in the morning, since Brett is gone to see someone in Fort Smith.” There was a pause as she listened, then she said, “I surely will, honey. I’ll call just as soon as I know anything. And you two say a prayer, you hear?”

  Although it takes more than an hour to get to Blue Reed, I did not even notice Grandma’s awful and terrifying driving skills on that trip. I was too busy feeling sick about everything else.

  We rode the elevator up to the fourth floor of that hospital and stepped out into the maternity ward. Grandma paused at the nurses’ desk.

  “We’re here for Lily Reilly.”

  The nurse smiled and said, “Room 403. Right over there.” She pointed with the tip of her pen to a room two doors down. She did not even ask my age or gripe about me being there. Boy, ole Nurse Frizzy ought to come to that part of the hospital and take lessons from Nurse Very Nice.

  Grandma gave her a funny look. “I thought she was in the delivery room.”

  “She was. And now she’s in there.”

  “Oh my.”

  We scurried along behind Grandma as she trotted to room 403. The door was about half open, and she rapped on it. A moment later, Daddy opened it. He was wearing some of the hospital scrub things that all the doctors and nurses wore, and he sure looked funny in them. Not funny ha-ha, either. Funny weird.

  “Mike?” she whispered.

  “Daddy!” I said. “How’s Mama? Is she okay?”

  “Hush, child,” Grandma scolded. “This ain’t the circus. Mike, where’s Lily? She ain’t had that baby yet, has she?”

  “Come in,” Daddy said. “Girls, come in. Mama’s here. She’s had the baby, and she’s just fine.”

  We all tippy-toed past him, and I saw my mama. She looked white and tired and her red hair was all matted and tangled, but she smiled weakly at us and held out one hand.

  I ran to her and grabbed her hand. It was cold.

  “Mama. Mama, are you okay? Are you going to be all right after all this mess?”

  “April Grace,” Grandma said softly.

  “It’s okay, Mama Grace,” my mama said. “She’s been worried, and these last months have been a mess. Haven’t they, sweetie?” She smiled at me. “And I’m going to be just fine, and so is your brand-new baby brother.”

  I think my brain jerked a little inside my skull. Surely I did not hear her correctly.

  “My brother?” I echoed.

  A boy. For cryin’ out loud.

  THIRTY-TWO

  Shake Hands with Michael Eli Reilly

  “Where is he?” Myra Sue said, looking around that small room like she was playing in a game of Hide the Thimble and someone hid the baby behind the window curtain or under the bed.

  “He’s down the hall in a special place for babies who are born early. You may go down and see him.”

  “Why, we can’t really go see him, can we?” Grandma asked. “Don’t he have to stay away from everyone and everything?”

  “He weighs three pounds and six ounces. And he’s as healthy as he can be for such an early arrival,” Mama said. “You can see him and even hold him. So, please, go see him.”

  I felt a little swimmy-headed from all that excitement, and to tell the honest truth, I wasn’t sure I ever wanted to leave my mama’s side again.

  But Daddy said, “Come on, girls and Grandma. I’ll take you down to meet Michael Eli Reilly.”

  “We’ll call him Eli,” Mama added.

  “Oh, I like that name,” Grandma said, grinning real big. “I’m glad you decided to name him after you, Mike.”

  “And it’s about time we had another man in the family,” Daddy added. All the adults laughed at that.

  He met Mama’s eyes, and they smiled all dopey and gooey at each other, which I felt was Totally Inappropriate since Mama had been so sick. The Blue Reed hospital was no place for being all lovey-dovey romantic, believe me.

  Daddy led us out the door and down that long hallway with the shiny gray floor and fluorescent ceiling lights. We paused by a big window where a row of babies was laid out like it was a J. C. Penney store display made up of little people in pink and blue blankets.

  “Which one is ours?” I asked, eyeballing all those kids.

  They were kinda cute and kinda funny-looking all at the same time, bundled up tight with squished-up red faces.

  “None of them,” Daddy said, but he cast a brief, admiring gaze across the babies. “Ours is down the hall, just a little farther.”

  “But ain’t they all just as cute as bugs’ ears?” Grandma said, grinning at that row of new kids.

  We followed Daddy to another, smaller baby-keeping room. The lights weren’t so bright in that room, and no babies lay in a row for anyone to see.

  A nurse came to the door.

  “Hi, girls,” she said, smiling real friendly. “I bet you’re all excited to see your new brother, aren’t you?”

  We just looked at her and very meekly said, “Yes, ma’am,”

  because I’m pretty sure you aren’t supposed to yell out, “Let me see our baby!” to a nurse.

  “Because he’s so tiny and new, you need to be all clean and scrubbed before you can be around him.”

  “We washed up before we left the house,” I told that woman.

  The three adults laughed like they thought I was joking.

  “You have to do it a special way here, honey,” Daddy said.

  “Lead on,” Grandma said to the nurse. “I want to meet my new grandson.”

  So the nurse led us to a room with a sink, then told us how to wash our hands all the way up to our elbows with a special soap. When we were finished with that, we had to put on some goofy-looking gown-things that tied in the back and some awful-looking masks that covered our mouths and noses in case we had germs.

  After all that, she took us into the nursery and to a bed she called an incubator—which did not look a thing like the incubators we use for keeping our chickens when they first hatch. Inside that bed lay our new brother.

  I’ll tell you something right now: when I saw that baby, I was so stunned I stopped in my tracks and stared. He did not look real. I mean, I have never in my whole entire life seen a human being that tiny, and I wasn’t sure I was looking at one right then. How could he be that small and still be a person?

  Daddy took that tiny little baby right out of his bed. He was so weensy, he fit perfectly in Daddy’s two big hands.

  “Girls?” Daddy said, smiling at the baby, then looking at us.

  Myra Sue stood where she was,
like she was glued there, but I wanted to get a closer look. I stepped right up, and Daddy held the baby where I could see him real well.

  I don’t know what I expected, exactly, but it wasn’t that teeny-tiny little scrap. I reckon I thought he’d come out half grown and ugly, looking like Myra Sue and pitching a fit to get his own way. But he didn’t. He looked all little and helpless and breakable.

  I reached out, then paused.

  “Will it hurt if I touch him?”

  “Of course not, honey. I know he’s awfully small, but don’t be afraid.”

  I touched a hand so tiny that I didn’t see how it would ever be big enough to hold anything. His skin was warm and smooth. I ran one finger up his arm, and he squirmed a little. That tiny face was perfect, not squished or red or goofy-looking at all. He had the teensiest little nose you ever saw, a tiny, rosy mouth, and the itty-bittiest chin ever. He wore a little blue cap, too.

  “Does he have hair?” I whispered.

  Daddy nodded. “A little bit. Red, like yours.”

  I raised my eyes from the baby and met Daddy’s gaze.

  “Red?”

  “Yep.”

  I looked at that baby again. He was in for some teasing ’cause redheads always get teased. I reckoned he’d need me to make sure he learned how to put up with it.

  “Can I hold him?” I asked. I figured I better get used to him, and he might as well get used to me, ’cause we were gonna be stuck with each other for a long time.

  “Sure, honey.”

  “Be real careful,” Grandma cautioned. “Myra Susie, don’t you want to hold him, too?”

  Ole Myra Sue just stayed right where she was, but she watched real close. I looked at her over my shoulder.

  “C’mon, sis,” I said. “Come and look at him.”

  You could hear her swallow clear across the room, but she crept up in tiny little steps.

  “He won’t bite you,” I told her.

  Like me, she reached out one finger and touched his arm.

  Then she touched his face. She smiled.

  “Can I hold him when April’s through?” she asked.

  “You bet,” Daddy said, grinning at us both. Daddy put that kid in my arms, and when I felt him and looked at his face up close that way, I have to tell you, something happened. I don’t know what it was, but a warm, squooshy feeling from the middle of my chest filled my whole entire body. I could hardly breathe.

  “Oh, Daddy, look at him,” I whispered.

  “I know, honey.”

  Eli moved like he was cuddling, like he knew who was holding him and had forgiven me for being so mean about him being a part of us. I held him closer and felt a tear slip out of my left eye. It fell right on the blue baby blanket.

  THIRTY-THREE

  Homecoming

  Christmas was a little peculiar, but at least Mama had come home from the hospital the day before. Eli was still there, though, in that special little bed.

  On Christmas morning, we opened presents. I got a whole set of the Little House on the Prairie books, a brand-new dictionary, two pairs of jeans, some warm, fluffy, dark green pajamas, a gloves and scarf and hat set, and a cute little ceramic cardinal that looked real enough to fly away on its own. As soon as we finished our biscuits-and-gravy breakfast, we went to see Eli again. That whole day, we looked at him and held him and talked to him and sang to him and wished and wished and wished he could come home with us. But he was still too tiny, and it was better for him if he stayed right where he was until he and all his parts were strong enough to live at home.

  We were quiet going back to the house that evening. Who would’ve thought you could miss someone who hadn’t even been home yet?

  But we didn’t have to wait long. Michael Eli Reilly was such a good boy that he gained weight fast. He was breathing good and growing just fine.

  So, on the morning of New Year’s Eve, he got to come home. Boy, oh boy, you never saw such a homecoming, either. Grandma made a big celebration lunch and invited Ian and Isabel and Forest and Temple.

  He got passed around from person to person like a sack of candy so much, I felt sorry for the kid. But he just slept and made funny faces and grunted sometimes.

  Mama showed us how to hold him so his head was supported and so his new little muscles wouldn’t get sore. She also demonstrated changing his diaper, including how to clean the poopy messes, which would not be fun, let me tell you.

  That day, Ian and Isabel stood in Mama and Daddy’s bedroom by the little blue bassinet and stared at Eli for what seemed like hours. It made me wonder if either of them had ever seen a baby before. They held him forever and stroked his skin and hair and smiled all goofy while they were at it. I figured that kid was gonna get spoiled big-time by the St. Jameses.

  Temple brought some kind of goop she said was good for a baby’s delicate skin and encouraged Mama to feed him only healthy things, as if she thought Mama was gonna take Eli to the nearest McDonald’s and order him some french fries tomorrow.

  But Mama just nodded and smiled all nice and sweet and said, “Thanks for your concern, Temple. I’ll be sure he eats well.”

  After a while, everyone left the bedroom except me and Mama and Eli because it was time for him to nurse. I sat at the foot of the bed and watched as Mama rocked him and sang to him, sometimes looking up and smiling at me, sometimes looking down and smiling at him.

  As soon as she was finished, I said, “Can I hold him now, Mama?”

  “Sure, honey,” she said, and handed him over to me just like she trusted me with the greatest treasure in the whole entire world.

  I looked down at that little face and the fuzzy red hair. Then I gave him a tiny, gentle kiss right on his soft cheek.

  I bet you’re thinking, “April Grace Reilly, what happened to you? All this time you’ve been a rotten girl, thinking rotten ole thoughts about that tiny little baby who can’t help being a tiny little baby, and you kept wishing, in the secret part of yourself, that he didn’t exist. How come you felt that way?”

  I have to tell you: I had been afraid. Afraid Mama would no longer want me, afraid our family would fall apart and I’d lose Mama and Daddy to that baby as well as Grandma. I guess being afraid makes you think things that make no sense. You see, deep down I knew Mama would always be my mama. Daddy, Grandma, and even ole Myra Sue would still be my family. That would never change just because someone new joined us. I mean, if Ian and Isabel hadn’t torn us apart, how in the world could little Michael Eli Reilly do it?

  Sure, our home life would never be the same. Mama would be tired and frazzled, and ole Myra Sue and me would have to do way more chores than we do now, and Grandma would probably spend way more time rocking that baby than was necessary—but I’ll bet she rocked me just as much.

  Eli hadn’t taken away anything. I still had my home, and my friends, and lots of love from lots of people.

  What else could I have possibly needed? Well, there was one thing.

  I needed to be a big sister. I needed to teach Eli some things.

  Number one: Not to put bugs in his mouth (because kids, especially boys, do that). Number two: How to deal with the red-hair-and-freckles-teasing business. Number three: How to be polite to Temple and Forest in spite of how they smell, and number four: How to put up with Isabel St. James when she acts like a knothead. But maybe I wouldn’t need to teach him that because, really, she’s pretty cool once you get to know her.

  I’d probably have to teach him a few things about dealing with Myra Sue, but maybe she’d not be such a pain when it came to Eli.

  There’s something else. I had been worrying for the longest time about becoming all snooty and prissy because I thought maybe being that way just naturally came with big sister territory. But here’s what I realized: I, April Grace Reilly, am not a snooty, prissy person, not even down in the far depths of my own personal heart. I doubted I’d ever be in a clique or anything that even looks like a clique. In fact, I’d rather be a hick than belong t
o a clique, because hicks tend to be a lot nicer to other people.

  So, looking at my little baby brother, who was gonna need me a lot as he grew up, I realized what a big sister is and what a big sister is not. I figured I stood a good chance of being a pretty good one. At least I was sure gonna try.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  Many thanks go to my husband, Brett, and daughter, Holly, for their understanding about meals on their own, a less than neat house, and my taking over the entire dining table with my laptop, notes, stacks of papers, a variety of pens, the dictionary, the thesaurus, the Bible, sandwich plates, and never-empty glasses of cold tea during the writing of this story. (Honey, I really must have my own office someday soon.)

  Much appreciation to Mary Bishop and Jamie Taylor from our community theater for telling me how a nit-picky professional performing arts person like Isabel St. James might try to stage a downhome church play.

  As always, thank you, Jeanie Pantelakis from Sullivan Maxx Literary Agency. You are a terrific hand-holding, back-patting, shoulder-to-cry-on, rah-rah-rahhing cheerleader!

  Thank you, editors MacKenzie Howard and Kristin Ostby, for your tireless work and boundless patience while we labored over this book to find the perfect balance of story, scene, and character.

  Get ready for more adventures with your favorite redheaded spitfire, April Grace Reilly!

  First April discovers there are a few surprises to having Isabel St. James as her new P.E. instructor:

  Isabel is taking her job as teacher seriously. Very seriously. If there’s one thing I’ve never seen in a P.E. class before, it’s a teacher in spiky killer-heels handing out notes. At least we weren’t getting out there on the gym floor doing twirly toes and pirouettes in front of each other and looking like complete goofs. Yet.

  Then there’s the sudden appearance of a long-lost relative:

  Her face was as wrinkled and crispy as wadded-up sandpaper, and her hair was a color I had never seen before on a real human person. Now, I believe if you’re a million years old, you should not wear mini-skirts. So when she announced who she was, I prayed for someone, anyone, to please, please tell me this “Mimi” woman was not my other grandma.