Stepping on the Cracks

by Mary Downing Hahn

  Commando style, she crept toward a tall oak with a reassuringly thick trunk, and I crawled after her. The closer we got, the louder my heart thumped.

  "Okay, stop," Elizabeth whispered.

  I lay flat and tried to breathe normally. The dusty smell of tree bark tickled my nose, and I shifted away from it, afraid I might sneeze.

  Gordy was wearing his army helmet and a pair of baggy shorts. The cigarette dangling from his lower lip made him seem older and even meaner than usual. Just looking at him made me feel weak.

  "There's no Nazi plane that can come close to a B-24," Doug was saying. "My cousin Harry flies one, and he ought to know."

  "How about a panzer, though?" Gordy asked. "Our tanks aren't as good as them."

  "What are you, some kind of Hitler lover?" Toad asked. "Everything we have is better than German junk. That's why we'll win. We're the best."

  For at least ten minutes, Elizabeth and I eavesdropped on the most boring conversation I'd ever heard in my life. All the boys did was argue about which planes, tanks, submarines, guns, bombs, and hand grenades were best.

  I nudged Elizabeth a couple of times, trying to signal her to leave, but she seemed to be hanging on every word the boys said. Wearily, I waited for something to happen. Anything would be better than lying in the weeds with ants crawling up and down my bare legs.

  Finally Doug said, "Okay, which pinup do you like best?"

  "Betty Grable," Toad said. "That picture of her looking over her shoulder. You know, in the bathing suit and high heels."

  "Nah," Gordy said. "Rita Hayworth gets my vote. She's really sexy."

  "How about Jane Russell?" Doug said. "She's got the biggest chest." He stood up and cupped his hands to demonstrate. "Hubba, hubba," he said and wiggled his hips.

  I don't know how long they would have laughed if I hadn't finally sneezed. That dusty smell had tickled and tugged at my nose, making it itch till I couldn't stand it.

  Gordy jumped to his feet and yelled, and Elizabeth and I ran off through the woods, ducking and dodging trees and low limbs. A branch whipped my face hard enough to bring tears to my eyes, brambles slashed my legs, I stumbled over something and almost fell. But I kept on going, and so did Elizabeth.

  Behind us, I heard the boys crashing through the bushes, shouting and calling us names. They'd kill us if they caught us, I was sure of it.

  Just as we reached the fence, Doug grabbed my jersey and yanked me backward. "Let me go," I cried, wiggling and twisting, trying to break free. "Let me go!"

  "What the hell are you girls doing down here?" Gordy yelled at Elizabeth. He caught her wrists. The jugular vein in his neck pulsed, and the jagged scar over his eyebrow was purple against his pale skin.

  "You took our boards," Elizabeth shouted. Her face was red with anger, and her hair blazed like white fire in the hot sunlight. "We want them back!"

  Gordy held her wrists tighter and sneered at her. "You just can't stay away from me, can you, Lizard?"

  "Don't call me that!" Elizabeth yelled. Drawing back one leg, she kicked Gordy in the shins hard enough to make him wince.

  "I wouldn't try that again, Lizard," Gordy said. He paused a moment and glanced at me. Then, pitching his voice lower, he said, "You little dopes don't know it, but I just saved your miserable lives. Not that I expect either one of you to thank me for it."

  "What are you talking about?" Elizabeth asked. "Are you nuts or something?"

  "Haven't you heard about the crazy man who lives in these woods? Hasn't anybody warned you?" Gordy looked at Elizabeth scornfully.

  "Liar," Elizabeth said. "There's no crazy man around here."

  "He was standing right behind you with a knife in his hand," Gordy said. "But you were so busy spying on us you didn't even notice."

  "Where is he now?" Elizabeth was doing her best to sound as sassy as she had before, but I could hear a little uncertainty creeping into her voice.

  As for me, I was so scared my saliva dried up. My mouth felt like sand, and I didn't think I could say a word, let alone scream for help.

  "He ran when he saw us coming," Gordy went on, "just because he was outnumbered."

  "I don't believe you," Elizabeth said. She looked at Toad and Doug, but they were nodding their heads, backing up Gordy.

  "You girls better stay out of the woods," Gordy said. "I might not be here to save you next time."

  "I've never heard anyone say there was a crazy man down here," Elizabeth persisted. The boys had let go of us by now, but we stayed where we were, waiting to hear what Gordy would say next.

  "That's because it's top secret, Lizard," Gordy said. "You know the experimental farm over there?" He pointed across the field at a cluster of brick buildings owned by the state university, and Elizabeth nodded. She kept her eyes, slightly narrowed, on Gordy's face, but I had the feeling she was beginning to believe in the crazy man.

  "Well, those scientists don't just do stuff for the university," he went on. "They get army contracts sometimes. They were working with chemicals to see if they could make men braver and stronger, better soldiers or something, but the guy they were experimenting on went crazy. They couldn't control him. They kept him locked up for a while in one of the stables, but a couple of weeks ago he broke out. He's loose in the woods, and he'll kill anyone he gets his hands on. He's got a knife this long." Gordy held his hands about two feet apart.

  "That's what he was coming after you with!" he shouted, and I was so startled, I jumped at least six inches straight up in the air.

  "So you better stay away from here, see?" Gordy shoved his face so close to Elizabeth's she stumbled backward.

  "Why don't they catch him?" she asked.

  "Don't you think they've tried?" Gordy looked over his shoulder at the silent woods. "It's a jungle back there," he whispered, "and the crazy man is real smart. He can just disappear into the underbrush. You don't know where he is until—" Gordy gave a bloodcurdling scream and grabbed Elizabeth around the neck "—he's got you!"

  As scary as Gordy's scream was, something else terrified me even more. Without waiting for Elizabeth or anyone else, I leapt the fence and took off across the field as fast as I could, yelling at the top of my lungs. Hurtling down the railroad bank, I ran across the tracks without even looking for a train, scrambled up the other side, and raced down the alley toward home.

  Elizabeth caught up with me before I'd gotten to the back gate. Grabbing my arm, she stopped me from running straight into the house and telling Mother everything.

  "Don't believe Gordy," she said. "He's just making it up to scare us away from his stupid hut."

  "What are you talking about?" I yelled. "Didn't you see him?"

  Elizabeth stared at me. "See who?"

  "The crazy man. Just before Gordy screamed. He was hiding, watching us. His hair was all shaggy, and he was dressed in rags. I saw him, I saw him!"

  And I had, I wasn't making it up, I'd seen the crazy man in the woods. Just a glimpse and then he was gone, like Gordy said, melting away into the leaves and shadows.

  Elizabeth shook her head impatiently. "Nobody was there," she insisted. "Gordy was lying."

  "No!" I was crying now. "I saw him."

  "Well, you must be nuts, then," Elizabeth said. "Seeing things that don't exist. That's a sign of going cuckoo." She pointed a finger at the side of her head and twirled it.

  I bit my lip hard to stop myself from crying. I didn't want Elizabeth to think I was crazy. "Just because you didn't see him doesn't mean I didn't," I said.

  Elizabeth sighed. She'd lost both barrettes in the woods, and her hair spilled over her eyes like wisps of cotton. "Believe what you want," she said. "I know a lie when I hear one."

  Before I could say anything more, Mrs. Crawford opened the kitchen door and spotted us. "Elizabeth," she called. "Time for chores."

  With her back to her mother, Elizabeth twisted her face into a hideous grimace. "I have to go," she said. "I'll see you tomorrow."

  As Elizabet
h ran up her back steps and into her house, I took a quick look behind me. The alley was empty except for the Parkers' tabby cat prowling around our garbage can. He looked at me and meowed as I latched the gate behind me and dashed inside.

  Mother was pushing the vacuum cleaner around the living room. Its roar made it impossible to talk, so I took the dust rag she handed me and flicked it over the radio, the bookcases flanking the mantel, the coffee table, and the matching end tables at either side of the couch.

  As much as I hated housework, I was glad to follow Mother from room to room, dusting chair rungs and mirror frames and whatever else needed it. This close to Mother, I was safe from the crazy man.

  5

  That evening while Mother and I washed the dishes, I stared out the open kitchen window. The summer dusk was deepening into night, and lightning bugs flickered in the holly trees, but all I could think of was the crazy man. Somewhere in the woods, just across the railroad tracks, he prowled the darkness, knife in hand, looking for a victim.

  Bending my head over the glass I was drying, I asked Mother if she'd ever heard any strange rumors about the experimental farm.

  She shook her head. "The university tests fertilizers and works on cures for animal diseases," she said. "Things like that. Why?"

  "Gordy Smith says a crazy man escaped from there," I told her. "He was an experiment that went wrong or something, and he's hiding in the woods. He has a knife this big." To show her, I held my hands apart the way Gordy had.

  Mother laughed. "Why, Margaret, I hope you don't believe that. Those woods aren't big enough for someone to hide in."

  "But—" I started to say I'd seen him when I remembered I wasn't allowed to cross the train tracks. If I told Mother any more, she'd know I'd disobeyed a major rule, one she'd insisted on since I learned to walk.

  "No buts," Mother said. "Gordy was pulling your leg. Nobody's down in those woods, except maybe an old tramp. Now dry the silverware so we can finish in time to hear The Lone Ranger.'"

  In the living room, safe beside Mother on the couch, I tried to convince myself I hadn't seen anything in the woods but a trick of shadow and sunlight. Gordy had made me think something was there, that was all. But after the Lone Ranger and his faithful Indian companion rounded up a gang of outlaws and galloped off into the sunset, I stalled for time, begging to stay up longer. When I'd listened to two more shows, Daddy finally lost his patience and ordered me to bed.

  Reluctantly, I left the living room and climbed the steps to my room. Pausing in the hall, I glanced at Jimmy's closed door. "If you were home, I wouldn't be scared," I whispered. "You wouldn't let anybody hurt me. You'd take care of me."

  But Jimmy wasn't here to keep me safe. It was dark in his room and dark outside, and I was all alone upstairs. With tears pricking at the backs of my eyes, I went into my room and shut the door. Then, as an extra precaution, I shoved a chair against it.

  No matter what Elizabeth or Mother said, I'd seen the crazy man. It hadn't been my imagination. He'd been there, just for a second, staring at me. Then he'd disappeared.

  ***

  For the next couple of days, I was very cautious when I left the house. The crazy man might be just ahead, hiding behind a tree or lurking around a corner. He might be sneaking up behind me, he might be lying in wait anywhere in College Hill. To be on the safe side, I stayed away from the train tracks and spent a lot of time looking over my shoulder.

  Elizabeth knew what was bothering me, and she teased me for being such a sissy baby. As far as she was concerned, I'd fallen for one of Gordy's stories, a lie he'd made up to keep us away from his hut. It hurt my feelings when she laughed at me and made chicken sounds, but all her teasing couldn't make me disbelieve what I'd seen in the woods.

  By the end of the week, I hadn't caught even a glimpse of the crazy man. Not in the daytime. Not in the nighttime, either. I began to think Elizabeth must be right after all. Maybe I'd only seen a harmless old tramp. Maybe nobody was going to get me. Maybe I was safe.

  ***

  One hot afternoon, Elizabeth and I were slouched on the glider on her front porch, drinking ginger ale and looking at Life. The big news was the liberation of Paris, and we were poring over pictures of the parade on the Champs-Elysées, searching for Jimmy's face among the hundreds of GIs. I didn't know if he was anywhere near Paris, but I was thinking it would be nice for him to march down the street and get a kiss from a pretty French girl.

  While I was imagining the good time Jimmy might be having in Paris, Elizabeth nudged me. "Look, there's Barbara and Brent."

  Hearing Elizabeth shout hello, Barbara stopped and waved at us. The sunlight touched her dark hair with red fire as she bent down to smile at the baby in the carriage she was pushing.

  Abandoning the magazine, Elizabeth leapt off the top step and ran down the sidewalk, with me at her heels.

  As I leaned into the carriage to tickle Brent, I heard our screen door shut. Looking over my shoulder, I saw Mother coming toward us. "I just had to see Brent," she told Barbara.

  Pleased to have an audience, Brent cooed and bounced up and down. He was the sort of baby who loved everybody and expected everybody to love him.

  "What a darling," Mother said. "How old is he now?"

  "Five months today," Barbara said. "He's big for his age, just like his daddy was. Maybe he'll grow up to be a football player, too."

  "He reminds me so much of Butch," Mother said. "Especially when he smiles."

  Barbara smoothed Brent's hair. "I wish Butch could have seen him. He'd be proud to know he had such a handsome son."

  Mother put an arm around Barbara's shoulder and hugged her. "He'd be proud of you, too," she said softly. "You've been a brave girl."

  Releasing Barbara, Mother reached into the carriage and scooped up Brent. "Jiggety jiggety jig, to market, to market to buy a fat pig," she sang as she bounced him on her hip.

  Brent squealed happily. His rosy face creased into a big smile, and he grabbed Mother's nose.

  "You little rascal." Mother laughed and turned to Barbara. "It seems like yesterday Jimmy was this size. I don't know where the time goes. When they're babies, you think they'll never walk or talk or do anything but eat and cry. Then in a minute they're grown up and gone."

  "How is Jimmy?" Barbara asked. "Have you heard from him lately?"

  "He's all right, I guess," Mother said. "In his last letter he sounded a little blue. I keep hoping he'll be home soon, but the war just drags on and on."

  Barbara bit her lip and looked across the street. Mrs. Bedford was hanging sheets out to dry in the backyard, and she waved when she saw us.

  Nobody said anything for a few seconds, so I poked my face close to Brent, hoping he'd grab my nose and make us all laugh again. I didn't want to think about Butch going off to war and getting killed in Italy three months after he married Barbara. He'd been my hero, the best quarterback on the high school team. If Butch could die, no one was safe.

  Reluctantly, Mother lowered Brent into his carriage. Giving Barbara another big hug, she said, "He's a wonderful baby. You're doing a great job."

  Then she looked at me. "Don't you wander off," Mother said. "I'll need some help with dinner in about an hour."

  "We're going to walk Barbara home," Elizabeth said. "Is that okay?"

  Mother nodded. "Just come straight back. No dillydallying, Margaret." Smiling at Barbara, she said, "Say hi to your folks for me."

  Barbara pushed the carriage slowly up Garfield Road, and Elizabeth and I walked along beside her. At the corner, Barbara stopped for a moment to wait for a car to pass. Turning to Elizabeth, she asked, "How's Joe doing?"

  "Fine," Elizabeth said. "He can't tell us exactly where he is, but he said his ship hasn't seen much action. Mother says there are worse things than boredom. At least he's not being shot at."

  A squeal from Brent interrupted Elizabeth. As she leaned over the carriage to make a silly face, I saw Gordy and Toad trudging toward us, hauling a wagon heaped high wi
th tin cans, hubcaps, and old newspapers and magazines. Doug walked by its side, trying to keep everything from sliding off into the road.

  "Wow, look at all the scrap they've collected," Barbara said.

  Ignoring Elizabeth and me, Gordy grinned at Barbara. He was wearing his old army helmet, and he was even dirtier than usual. His legs and arms were crisscrossed with briar scratches and scabbed with mosquito bites, and his skin was grimy.

  "I bet you never saw anybody get more stuff than this," he said. "Toad and Doug and me know all the best houses."

  Elizabeth nudged me. "They probably stole it," she whispered.

  "You're really doing your part," Barbara said, and Gordy grinned even more widely.

  "Donald's doing his part, too," Gordy boasted. "He's a gunner now, shooting down Nazis." He demonstrated by pointing an imaginary machine gun at the sky and making his usual sound effects.

  "How about Stuart?" Barbara asked. "Is he still in basic training, or is he overseas already?"

  Gordy hesitated a moment. "Stuart's fine." Turning to Toad, he said, "Let's get this stuff to my house before we lose it all."

  "Well, send your brothers my love," Barbara said, "and tell Stu I miss him."

  Gordy didn't answer. Without looking at any of us, he yanked at the wagon, and Doug moved quickly to steady its load.

  Barbara watched the boys disappear around a corner. "That poor kid looks so neglected," she said. "When Stu was around, Gordy had somebody to look after him, but now he's got nobody."

  "He has his parents, doesn't he?" Elizabeth scowled at Gordy's back. "I sure wouldn't waste my breath worrying about him. Believe you me, Gordy Smith can take care of himself."

  "I hope so." Barbara smiled down at Brent. "Let's go home, little fellow," she whispered. "It's almost time for supper."

  ***

  Elizabeth and I walked back from Barbara's house along the trolley tracks. The afternoon sun was still hot, and the steel rails shone like silver. I tried balancing on one, but the metal scorched the soles of my bare feet, and I hopped off. Not Elizabeth. Like a tightrope walker, she strode ahead of me. If she had a mind to, I thought, she could probably walk on hot coals.