Now, I felt bad about my verbal licking. James certainly knew how to wring the previously unknown nurturing side out of me.
I sat next to him. “James? I’m sorry I lost my temper. It’s just… You know, I’m used to a certain way of life, my life. And ‘cause of that, I reckon from time to time, I’m not the easiest person in Peculiar County to get along with. Just ask that nasty ol’ Suzette.”
He looked at me. A bit of a smile curled up. “What’s the deal between you two anyway? I mean, you and Suzette?”
“Well…there may well be strange creatures roaming the hills of Hangwell, but Suzette’s about the most monstrous of them all. Don’t get dragged in by her false face. Her expensive braces hide fangs of the sharpest sort.”
James laughed. So did I. Already the air felt lighter and a whole lot fresher.
“I won’t let Suzette kill me,” he said.
“Really, James… Why do you talk the way you do? Carrying on like you don’t give a whit about anything but being ‘hip’? Right now you seem normal. And I like who I’m chatting with.”
James’ gaze traveled out across the Saunders’ cornfield, his eyes at a late-afternoon squint. His Adam’s Apple bobbed. Dimples formed, pulled taut in a painful looking manner. He swallowed, took a deep breath. And richocheted back into put-on airs. “It’s just who I am, baby.”
Overlooking his disappointing answer, I had to admit whenever he called me “baby,” it made all the hep talk just a little more tolerable.
“I don’t believe that, James. I mean, maybe how you act’s a small part of you, but it’s not who you are.”
“I dunno…it’s just how kids talked back in L.A. You’d never guess it, but I had a hard time fitting in back there. And more than anything, I really wanted to belong, y’ know? So I started talking like everybody else. I dunno…” He shrugged. But beneath that nonchalant façade, I understood his hurt and confusion. Something I knew a little bit about.
“I’ve felt the same way, more than I care to think about.”
We sat for a spell, together in nice, companionable silence.
Finally, he said, “Now I get to ask you a question.” When he placed his hand on my knee, I nearly jumped out of my skin. “Why’d you dress up for school this morning?”
I’d fairly hoped he’d forgotten about that. But he wasn’t about to. He just kept grinning, waiting. And I reckoned since he’d bared a bit of his soul to me, it seemed only fair I give back a bit. Something I wasn’t used to doing. Ever.
Of course, I couldn’t tell him the entire truth. About how I wanted to capture his attention. If he didn’t feel the same attraction I did, he’d laugh me into the deepest ostrich hole this side of Africa.
After giving my answer the consideration of a golden-tongued lawyer, I said, “I ‘spose I have a hard time fitting in with the rest of the girls. They don’t give me the time of day or even particularly like me. I guess I just wanted to see what life was like in their pencil skirts and fancy dresses and silly make-up.”
“Yeah? And how’d you like it?”
The question riled me up and I couldn’t rightly say why. Possibly because I was mad at myself, mad for dressing up for stupid reasons. I took a deep breath, the way Dad taught me to do.
James diffused my anger by launching into a high-pitched giggle. So spirited and heart-felt and contagious, I had no recourse but to join him.
I rocked and laughed, a right good feeling. Tears squirted from my eyes, the welcome kind. In hindsight, my morning situation seemed ridiculous. In fact, the entire day had been funny and strange and, here on my porch, I’d found a decent way to alleviate some of that tension.
Laughter, like all good things, fizzles. For the second time, James dropped his hand on my knee. And again, I darn near took off like a bottle rocket. “Hey, Dibs… I like you just how you are. The way you dress and everything. Really. Don’t change to be like one of those other stupid girls.”
His eyes met mine. They flit back and forth, certain, than not so certain. Even dreamier up close than I’d remembered. The air took on life, darn near electric. Fine down on my arms stood, tickled my skin. It felt like a moment in the movies when lovers just mutually know the time’s right. But I couldn’t be sure, surely didn’t want to make an embarrassing mistake that would define the rest of my high school life.
His gaze dropped to my lips, then moved back to meet my eyes. He leaned in closer. Absolutely no misreading his intentions now.
Scared like the dickens and two times as excited, I closed my eyes.
The front door cracked open behind us. My eyelids whipped up.
This time, Dad didn’t look nearly as keen on seeing James.
“James, I believe it’s beyond high time you got on home for supper,” he said.
* * *
Of course, Dad and I’d already fidgeted through “The Talk,” so I didn’t think I’d get a reprisal, but I could tell he was itching to have a chat of some major discomfort. Prickly in his body, his clothes, he wouldn’t stay still, scratching everywhere like he’d fallen into a particularly aggressive sort of poison ivy.
Most of our talks were conducted at the kitchen table, but tonight Dad decided to bypass that and adjourn to the sofa where all of our monumental decisions were made. For an irritating length of time, Dad cleared his throat, revved up his motor, then patted the well-worn cushion next to him.
“Have a seat, Dibby.”
“Yes, sir.” Tail between my legs, I scampered toward him. I didn’t fear my due punishment for allowing James downstairs. No sir, that’d be a cake-walk compared to the notion of discussing my first near kiss. I thought the world would be better off if we pretended it hadn’t happened.
“Dad, I know I’m not supposed to go down to your workshop uninvited, especially with a friend. I’m—”
“You know the rules, Dibby. I have to say I’m a little disappointed you disobeyed them.”
“I’m sorry.” And, boy howdy, did I hate disappointing Dad. The few times I’d managed to do so, he carried that sad look in his eyes for days, a badge of shame that tugged mightily at him. Like he’d let me down, too.
“I just want to make sure you understand the rules I make aren’t…arbitrary. You know what that means, right, Dibby? Arbitrary?”
“Yes, sir. It means there ain’t no form or sense to it.”
He patted my head, usually kind of patronizing, but here I took it as a sign things weren’t nearly as bad as I suspected. “Good girl. And don’t say ‘ain’t.’”
“Yes, sir.” Best to keep my lips sealed and sail through it. Loose lips sink ships after all, the first time that nonsensical adage ever helped me in life.
“Anyway, I don’t make up the rules just to be mean. You know I trust you, right?”
“I do.”
“But I don’t want you—or any of your little friends—getting hurt in my workshop. There’re sharp and dangerous instruments down there, not to mention the fireplace.”
“I told James not to touch anything, Dad. It’s—”
“I know, I know, James has a scientist’s curiosity.” Dad smiled, catching that far away look in his eye again. “I certainly understand an inquisitive nature. I do. Still…we can’t risk anyone getting hurt, especially down there. By my instruments or the fireplace or…” His words drifted off. Confusion wrinkled his face like he’d hopped off the train of thought. He looked at me, brow brought low and serious. “Being around corpses is not a place for children.”
Besides the fact he still insisted on referring to me as a child, I rightly suspected he had something else on his mind, something dark. Thoughts ran scattershot, a particularly scary place given my penchant for horror films and books, not to mention that given any ol’ day, a dead person was like to be found lounging in our basement.
“Dad, I’m almost sixteen. I’m not really a kid anymore.”
Unexpectedly, he hugged me. Tight. “I know that, sweetheart. Now more than ever.”
&nbs
p; I deemed that a sorta unspoken nod toward James, and hoped it wouldn’t become more specific.
“Um…Dad?” While he’d wedged himself into a downright sentimental mood, now seemed as good a time as any to spill the rest of the beans. “I oughta’ tell you something, so you don’t hear about it elsewhere. But today, I wasn’t feeling right, so I left school.”
“Were you sick?”
“No. Well, sorta. You know…women problems. I didn’t have my product with me and felt embarrassed, so I high-tailed it home.”
He continued to cradle me in his arms, the way he hadn’t done in a coon’s age. Like he wanted to stall my growth, forever crush me into fifteen. “Oh…well…do we need to go into town, pick up some items at Simonson’s?”
“No, I’ve got everything here.”
“Right, right. Ah…will you need a note tomorrow then?”
“Probably be for the best.” My surefire get out of jail free card always worked with Dad. The menstrual cycle. As a scientist used to cutting up bodies, a woman’s natural body functions somehow mortified Dad like no tomorrow.
Out of nowhere, Dad blurted, “Is James your boyfriend?”
“Dad!” I heaped on a whopping dollop of outrage. “James is new at school, didn’t know anybody, so I felt sorry for him. We’re friends, I guess.”
That appeased Dad enough to release his bear hug. We both sat back, took deep father and daughter breaths.
“So,” he said, “I guess we don’t have to talk again about…you know.”
“No, Dad, we don’t have to talk about it again.” Turnabout’s fair play. My turn to make Dad squirm. “Lessen you want to, of course.”
“No, no, if you’re okay with everything, I’m okay. Still…if James or any other boy should, ah, try anything…fresh with you, you’ll let me know, right, Dibby?”
“Course I will.” Not in a kazillion years.
“That’s fine, that’s just fine.” While we considered the stuff neither one of us wanted to talk about, Dad managed to circle his way around to another uncomfortable topic. One we never discussed and for good reason. “You know, sometimes I worry about you, Dibby. Ever since your mom…”
As usual, Dad choked up. I reckon it’s one of the reasons we never talked about her.
I ended the conversation before we got carried away on a flood of tears. My arms tossed around his neck, I said, “I love you, Dad.”
In a weak, somewhat garbled voice, he managed, “Love you, too, Dibby.”
* * *
Another fairly restless night followed. I lay awake half-way expecting another ghostly visitation. But the ghosts played nice and decided to take the night off from a’haunting and that suited me just fine.
I had other things on my mind: how I’d face Suzette and her little hellions in the morning, and, more importantly, how I’d react toward James. I didn’t know whether to be a mite bit embarrassed or sky-high over our near kiss.
My life had suddenly grown very complicated.
Sometimes I longed for the ignorance of childhood.
In the morning, my overalls and flannel shellacked me with a nice coating of normal. As I tooled down Main Street, folks hardly gave me more than a fleeting notice. Business as usual, the way I liked to conduct my life.
Back in his swinging saddle, Odie Smith high-kicked his boxy, hard-heeled shoes (torturous footwear for a postal route, I imagined) up to heaven and back. He flew so high on the swing I fairly expected to see him wrap around the top pole. But Odie knew his limits, knew the safety confines of the swing-set. Years of practice had honed his peculiar talents.
“Morning, Odie!”
“Morning, Dibby!” A muffin gripped in one paw, the other freed in a wave, only the forces of gravity kept Odie pinned to the swing’s seat. Upon downswing, he latched back onto the chain.
With extra minutes to kill, I rode up the driveway, then walked my bike through the grade school’s rough and tumble yard.
“Why don’t you pull up a swing and join me on this beautiful morn?” Odie jerked his chin toward the swing next to him. A gentle breeze bobbed the swing to and fro as if occupied by a ghost. Something I had on my mind.
“Reckon I will.” I lay my bike down and hitched up next to Odie.
“I must say, Miss Dibby, you sure looked mighty purty yesterday, yesiree.” He squirreled a good chunk of muffin into the side of his mouth and spoke through the other side. Crumbs flecked his lips.
“Well, it was picture day. Ol’ Mrs. Hopkins told us to wear our finery.”
“That a fact? Huh. I hadn’t heard hide nor hair of such an event.”
For all the nice things small town living had to offer, privacy didn’t qualify as one of them. Everyone knew everyone’s business. Just a matter of time before news of my would-be romance with James got out, I supposed. Then again, teen matters rarely ranked high in adult gossip. Thankfully.
I shrugged, let that work as answer enough to Odie’s roundabout query. I didn’t want to dig a graveyard of lies. “Odie, everyone around says you know just about everything regarding Hangwell and Peculiar County.”
“That’s right.” He nodded, pride in his grin. “Some rightly refer to me as the town historian.”
“I reckon not much gets by you, past or present,” I said, slathering on the butter.
“Reckon you’re right.”
“If you don’t mind, I’d like to jaw a little bit with you.”
Immediately, Odie slipped into a suspicious look. Word around town had it Odie owned the worst poker face this side of Clemmett County. With eyes narrowed to slits and a lower lip enveloping his upper, I could plainly see why everyone wanted to play cards with him. “Say…is this about that history project of yours I heard about, Dibby?”
Proof that Odie was the man in the know. “Yes. Well, sorta.”
“The Sooter sisters done filled me in. I have to tell you, Dibby, they was a might bit leery seeing as how they hadn’t heard about such a project from Mrs. Hopkins.”
As Odie had already grown suspicious, I just tossed my question right out there. “Odie, what do you know about the Saunders family?”
Reet…reet…reee…
Odie’s legs quit kicking. He tucked them beneath and dragged the tips of his shoes in the dirt until he stopped. White knuckles gripped the chains. The swing seat finally quit squeaking and the chains stopped rattling. He just plum stared at me.
“Now, Dibby…I haven’t said boo to anyone about your history project being a fabrication. I figure it ain’t my business and seemed like a harmless enough lil’ white lie. But why in the world would you want to know about the poor Saunders’ family?”
“Well…I don’t have a real reason, but I was a tad bit curious as they’re my neighbors and all.”
Odie shook his head, inhaled deeply. “Dibby, you don’t wanna’ go sticking your nose into the Saunders’ business. It’s not your concern. Nothing for a young girl to worry her head about. Why, you oughta’ be thinking about going to the Spring formal, kicking up your heels, dancing with cute boys and—”
“What happened to Mrs. Saunders’ son, Thomas?” Dad would tan my hide for interrupting an adult, but frankly, my patience bucket had just about run over. Everyone wanted to paint me as a pretty lil’ flower, and in so doing, tell me nothing.
For a moment, Odie’s lower lip trembled. His appetite folded, unheard of. He tossed the rest of his uneaten muffin into the grass. Birds migrated toward it. “Dibby, that ain’t your concern,” he said, quiet as a whisper. “Not one iota.”
It seemed to me that everyone in town—every adult, at least—had taken it upon themselves to dictate my concerns. “I’m not just being nosy, Odie. They’re my neighbors. I thought I’d get to know them a little—”
“Some things just shouldn’t be known.” Without so much as a parting nod, Odie left his swing. Stiff-legged as a man on stilts, he hurried toward his mail truck.
“Why won’t you talk to me about them?” I called out.
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He stopped, stiffened, my words striking his spine like a bullet. He swiveled around, looking very un-Odie-like.
Panic messed up his face. Fear pushed him close to an unpredictable edge. He came at me fast, scary fast. I nearly took off a’running the other direction. Right in front of me, he stopped and bent over. In a hushed voice, he said, “Thomas Saunders ran away. No one ever heard a word again from him, nary a peep. It’s all very sad, frankly, and I don’t think it’d be right of you to go stirring up memories again.” Through clenched teeth, he growled. Hardly the face of the friendliest man in town. “And I don’t reckon it’s a very wise or safe decision either.”
I felt chastised, ashamed. Frightened. And dying of curiosity. Of course I didn’t want to end up like the cat who’d squandered all his lives, but by my count, I still had several to spare.
“Too many kids done gone missing already,” Odie hissed as he briskly walked toward his truck.
None of my questions had been answered, but more had certainly been raised. Just like the hair on the back of my neck.
* * *
In the school office, Mrs. Hemsworth grabbed Dad’s note. Over the top of her cat eye glasses—which I always thought looked kinda funny as an accessory to her floral, form-fitting dresses—she glanced at it and nodded briskly. She handed back the note and excused me with a royal flourish of her wattle-heavy hand.
Just like Dad, the “time of the month” excuse worked wonders on Mrs. Hemsworth. Her eyes always grew frightful and worried whenever a student evoked menstruation. Like the gypsy woman in The Wolfman movie, she referred to it as “the curse,” acting as if she might catch it. I suspected her window for the “curse” had long since closed, rendering her heebie-jeebies all the more puzzling.
Outside my classroom, I took in a deep breath and prepared to face my daily tormentors. And James.
Peculiar Country Page 8
