Now we were astonished when Dodie reached down the front of my old bathing suit that she was wearing and pulled some coins out of a tiny bag. It was pinned into the neckline and never even showed because of all the ruffles.
“Where’d you get so many nickels and dimes?” Geraldine exclaimed. “You’ve got enough there to eat hamburgers for a week!”
“Mr. Clement gave them to me for doing his shirts,” Dodie said. “My mama never liked him, so I waited until she was asleep, then hung a white handkerchief on the oleander bush by the side of the house to signal that he could come over and pay me. He was real nice to me, but then Mama went and chased him off.”
“She sure was mad,” I said.
Dodie shrugged and didn’t say anything for a minute. “She just doesn’t like him,” she finally said. “Mama has strong opinions about people.”
We were all quiet for a minute until Geraldine blurted out, “Oleander bushes are poisonous. Didn’t you know that?”
Dodie shrugged. “I wasn’t planning on eating one.” She turned and walked toward a bench. “You go on and get your money. I’ll wait for you.”
We walked back along the pier, Reba Lu and Geraldine in front and Charles and me in back. Charles took hold of my arm and stopped me. “Oleanders aren’t the only things that are poisonous. You’d best keep your distance from Mr. Clement,” he said.
“Don’t worry. I intend to,” I told him.
We hurried across the sand to get our money. When we got back to the pier, Dodie was waiting by the merry-go-round, tapping one foot to the music. I put my moonstone in the bag of coins for safekeeping and took out a nickel for a ticket. The music began to slow and the merry-go-round stopped. Before I knew it, Dodie had climbed on the platform, put one foot on the mounting piece and swung the other leg over until she was sitting in the saddle of a white stallion on the inner circle. It had a black mane studded with stars.
I climbed onto a pink horse with large green eyes next to hers, and Charles chose a black one on the outside where he could lean out and reach for a golden ring.
“You can hang on to the pole with one hand and wave to people with the other,” I told Dodie. “It’s fun, riding to the music. There’s nothing in the world like it!”
Charles asked if either of us needed help fastening our seat belts. Dodie made a kind of smirking face and said, “I can figure it out.” She gave the belt a pull, then clasped her pole with both hands and waited.
The music started, and the merry-go-round began to turn. The horses quivered, then slowly began to move. Faster and faster. Up and down. Around and around. Dodie held tight to the pole. “Whoa!” she cried. “This is just like riding a real horse!” She watched, open-mouthed, as Charles loosened his seat belt, held tight to the pole, and leaned way out, stretching his right arm toward a metal contraption attached to the wall. It stuck out like a long arm with a shiny loop about as big as a silver dollar at the end.
“He’s trying to catch the golden ring,” I said, raising my voice over the music. “It’s really brass, but it looks golden and shiny. It’s a winner. If you catch one, you get a free ride.”
“You don’t say.” Dodie loosened her belt and practiced leaning to one side. Then she wrapped both arms around the pole and watched Charles put all his weight on one of the stirrups, lean way out, and snatch at the ring holder as his horse sped by. He held up a silver ring and groaned.
“Better luck next time,” I called.
“I bet I can do better than that,” Dodie said.
The horses went around lots more times. Dodie began hanging on with one hand and waving to the people in line just like she knew them. Her cheeks were flushed with excitement. The carousel played “Oh My Darling, Clementine,” and we all began to sing along. We knew most of the words. We had learned them in school last year. Dodie sang louder than any of us.
Charles caught several more rings, but they were always silver. I noticed how closely Dodie watched him. Once, she even leaned sideways on her horse, clutching the pole tightly with one hand and stretching as far as she could with her free arm.
As the horses slowed, the attendant came around to collect the rings. “Too bad you didn’t catch a gold one,” he said to Charles. “Want to ride again?”
We each paid him a nickel, except for Dodie, who handed him a quarter. He was about to push the lever to count out change when Dodie said, “Never mind. I’m going to ride five more times.”
Geraldine grinned. “Easy come, easy go,” she said. We each handed the attendant our money. If Dodie could ride five more times, so could we.
None of us was ready for what happened next. Dodie undid her seat belt and climbed off her horse. She walked over to a purple charger in the outer circle. It had flaring nostrils and a silver mane. “Purple is my favorite color,” she said.
She put her left foot in the stirrup, swung her right leg over the charger’s back and settled herself in the saddle. “What are we waiting for?” she yelled. I turned to look at Reba Lu and Geraldine. Both of them had their mouths open. We didn’t know Dodie Crumper as well as we had thought.
I was sure of it when she tightened her seat belt as the platform began to move, and her horse started rising. “Yippee!” she shouted. If she had been wearing a cowboy hat, I think she would have waved it the way Roy Rogers did in Days of Jesse James.
The first time her horse went past the ring holder, her seat belt kept her from leaning out far enough, and she came away with a handful of air.
“Loosen your belt a little,” Charles told her. “When you’re ready, hold tight to your pole, put your weight on your right foot and lean as far out as you can. Don’t worry, you won’t fall. Watch me.”
He reached for the ring and caught it. “Silver again,” he yelled, waving his ring in the air.
When that ride was over, Reba Lu and Geraldine and I climbed down and chose outside horses, too. I could see our reflections in the long mirrors in the center of the carousel as we stretched out our arms. Reba Lu’s cheeks were flushed. My hair was flying in the breeze. Geraldine looked sweaty, but determined. Charles was laughing out loud.
Dodie didn’t look like herself. She sat up straight like somebody who knew where she was going. When we passed the post that held the rings, she leaned so far out that I held my breath. She caught a ring, but it was silver. Even so, she looked at me and grinned so hard her mouth seemed to split almost to her ears.
We were on our last ride when she screamed. Looped around one finger, held high above her head, was a gold ring. Of course, I knew it was only brass, but at that moment, it seemed like pure gold.
Dodie held onto that ring like her life depended on it. “I did it! I did it! I did it!” she yelled.
Charles clapped. “Good for you, Dodie!” he shouted. And then we were all clapping and shouting, smacking our hands together so hard it hurt.
Dodie was red in the face when we climbed down from our horses.
“Don’t you want to get your free ride?” Geraldine asked her.
Dodie shook her head. “I’m saving it.”
“What for?”
Dodie tucked the ring into her money bag. “I want something to look forward to,” she said.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
We walked around a while, stopping to lean against the railing and look down at the whitecaps on the sea below. Reba Lu slung an arm around Dodie’s shoulders, and Geraldine started talking to her like she was some kind of celebrity. The two of them were making me sick. But Dodie turned and gave me a huge wink, letting me know she was on to their tricks.
Suddenly, Charles put his hand on my arm and said, “Look there.”
Mr. Clement was crouched down talking to a small child—a little girl. “I can’t find my mother,” she told him.
She sounded close to crying, but his voice was soft, almost crooning, as he answered, “Don’t worry, honey. I’ll help you.” He reached down and took her hand. “I’ll bet she stepped inside Madame Zola’s to get
her fortune told. Let’s go and look.”
The two of them walked toward a booth draped with a brightly painted sign.
MADAME ZOLA’S FORTUNES TEN CENTS
Tacked on it was a hand-printed note that said,
BACK IN 30 MINUTES.
I got a bad feeling because he was pulling her toward the booth, and she was trying to pull away from him. He glanced around quickly, but he didn’t see us.
Charles took a step forward, but Miss Martin, the Clements’ boarder, got there before him. She held a paper cup of steaming coffee in one hand. She reached for the little girl’s free hand.
Mr. Clement looked up, surprised. The little girl tried to pull away from him. She looked anxiously at the crowd on the pier. Still Mr. Clement held on to her hand.
Miss Martin lifted her arm to take a sip of her coffee, then bumped against Mr. Clement’s free arm, spilling it all over his shirt.
“Oh, how clumsy of me!” Miss Martin exclaimed. But I didn’t think she looked sorry at all. “Come on,” she said to the little girl, “let’s go to the lifeguard station. They’ll know how to find your mama.”
For a second, Mr. Clement just stood there. Then he saw Charles and me watching him. He pulled out his handkerchief, dabbed at his coffee-drenched shirt, then put it wet back in his pocket. As he walked past us, he stopped for a second, staring first at Charles, then at me. Then he said four words, hardly moving his lips.
“You–didn’t–see–anything.”
We stood there until he had disappeared into the crowd. I kept thinking of the way he had watched us sunning ourselves in Reba Lu’s backyard. And the angry look on Gisele Martin’s face when she spilled her coffee on him. Could she know something about him that made her step up and take charge of that little girl?
Even though he tried to dress nice—dapper, Dodie had described him—his niceness was all on the outside. I thought if I could look inside Jefferson Clement’s head, it would be all dark and creepy, like the open can of sardines Mama accidentally put in the pantry instead of the refrigerator. When we found it several days later, it looked rotten and smelled worse. Once again, I was glad Jefferson Clement was off our list of people to love. I just wished he was out of our town.
I put my hand on Charles’s arm. “I think Mr. Clement did something bad to Miss Emma a long time ago,” I said. And I told Charles how happy she had been when we visited her—until she looked out the window and saw Jefferson Clement standing on the corner.
He frowned. “That man is nothing but trouble,” he muttered. “I wish he had never come back to Messina.”
We stood together a moment, neither of us speaking. Then Charles said, “Let’s walk,” so we did. We passed game booths and food booths and watched Reverend Adams put each of the twins in bumper cars. They sped around the track, steering frantically, trying to bump each other. Charles tossed two pennies at fishbowls with live fish, but didn’t win anything. We had just decided to go down to the beach for lunch when we saw a shark that one of the fishermen had hauled in and thrown onto the board planking of the pier.
It was about as long as my father’s arm. Still alive, it struggled for breath, thrashing wildly, opening its mouth wide to show its killer teeth. Then it lay quiet.
Charles pulled me back a few steps. “You’d best stay a distance away,” he said. “Those are shifty creatures. When they get quiet, they’re just biding their time. Don’t let them fool you. They can stay alive a long time out of water.”
I took several steps back. Suddenly, my mouth felt dry. That shark seemed to be watching me. It reminded me of Jefferson Clement. Not the way it looked, but the way it waited.
CHAPTER TWENTY
After church on the day after the beach trip, I decided to pay a visit to Miss Emma. Geraldine’s mama was making Geraldine clean her room, which, her mama said, was about to get up and walk away. And Reba Lu had to help Mrs. Adams polish the living room floor where the twins had scuffed it up. Charles had gone somewhere with his father, which was just as well because I wanted this visit to be just between Miss Emma and me.
I found the rock she had given me at the beach—the smooth brown one with white flecks—and put it in my pocket. Then I sliced up a red apple, took out the core and seeds, and wrapped the pieces in waxed paper. I figured parrots ate apples, and maybe monkeys did, too. I wasn’t about to feed that snake, though, or that ugly little Lily-Poo. Miss Emma would have to tend to them.
I brushed my hair and put on my favorite navy blue shorts and my blouse with the turtle buttons and walked up the street to Dr. Thomas’s house. Mrs. Dawson answered the door. “Why hello, Angie,” she said. “Did you need to see the doctor?”
“No, ma’am. I thought Miss Emma might like a visit.” She started to shake her head, and I knew she was thinking of the last time Miss Emma had visitors.
I put in my two cents before she could say Miss Emma was resting, or feeling poorly. “I’m real sorry she got upset last time we were here,” I said. “But she did seem to like the company. I thought maybe one visitor at a time might be better.”
She hesitated, and I thought she was going to say no.
“I wouldn’t stay long,” I promised. “Just a few minutes. You know, to pass the time of day and see her animals. And I want to show her that I still have something she gave me at the beach.” I pulled out the brown stone and showed it to her. “Miss Emma was the one who found it,” I said. “I never really thanked her the way I should have.”
Mrs. Dawson looked at me a long minute. “Well, don’t stay long, and try to keep the conversation nice and light.”
I thanked her and slipped right by her and up the stairs before she could change her mind. The smell was still there, and I thought no matter how much Mrs. Dawson cleaned that room, she would never get rid of it. It had seeped into the walls and rugs, and even if Dr. Thomas and Miss Emma moved away, it would be there as long as the house stood.
I knocked on Miss Emma’s door, and when she said, “Come in,” I did. I was surprised to see how glad she seemed to see me. I guessed I was a welcome change from things with four legs, scales, and wings. She was sitting in a chair with Joseph on her lap. As soon as he saw me, he commenced chattering, but I went right up to him and patted him on the head. “Can I give him some apple?” I asked.
Miss Emma beamed at me. When she smiled like that, she looked like she had good sense. “Joseph loves apples,” she said. “And so does Henry.”
She took a piece and held it up to Henry, who was on a perch near the window. Henry took it in his claw and tasted it. Then he began squawking.
“See how happy you made him,” she said. I didn’t see how she could tell the difference between happy or unhappy parrot talk, but I just smiled and nodded.
Joseph decided he liked me, and when I sat down on the edge of the bed, he hopped over and got on my lap. He brought his piece of apple with him, looked at me and went, chicka-chicka, which seemed to be his total vocabulary.
So far, so good, I thought. Now how was I supposed to bring up the subject of Jefferson Clement without upsetting Miss Emma? I decided not to mention him at all—just talk about the old days in Messina and then maybe about camping out and roasting weenies and other things kids like to do.
“Did you have Miss Harper for a teacher?” I asked.
“Indeed I did,” Miss Emma said. “And I didn’t like her one bit. She loved it when one of us made a mistake, and she liked to tell the whole class about it. She couldn’t pick on my penmanship, though. I could write better than she could!”
I laughed out loud, happy to hear about Miss Harper’s failings. “Tell me some more about the people you knew,” I urged Miss Emma. She smiled and gave my arm a little pat.
“Well, we were all together in the old two-story schoolhouse in those days. First grade through eighth. After that, we had to take the bus to San Andreas for high school.”
She didn’t say anything for a minute, and I thought her mind might be wandering. But whe
n she spoke, I could tell she had just been thinking about what to tell me next.
“Sometimes we had school picnics at the American Legion Park. And we had spelling contests and sports competitions. Oh yes, Messina was a good place to live when I was young. Until …”
“Until what? Did something happen to change things?” A shiver went down my spine. I was scared she might start carrying on and Dr. Thomas would come. Then I would be sent home. And I wasn’t ready to go home yet.
Joseph nibbled at his apple. Henry looked out the window. Finally, Miss Emma began to speak.
“Once,” she said. “A long time ago. When I wasn’t any older than you …” She looked up at the ceiling for a minute, then she grinned and looked almost like a little girl.
“Some friends came over after school to play. At first we hopscotched, and jumped rope, and played those kinds of games. Then somebody got the idea we should be shipwrecked on an island. We got a white towel and tied it to a pole. That was to help somebody find us if they were flying over in an airplane.”
I had never heard Miss Emma say so much at one time. She came over to the bed and sat by me. “Then the others went home, and Mama called me to come inside because it was bedtime. But I begged her. Then I begged Papa. ‘Just a little longer,’ I said. ‘Just till the moon comes out and the crickets start singing. It’s always safe in Messina, Papa. You told me that yourself.’”
She wasn’t smiling now. She got a worried look on her face, and I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t want her to start wailing again so that Dr. Thomas would come and send me home. So I took the brown stone out of my pocket. “See here,” I said. “This is the pretty stone you found at the beach.”
She reached for it. Rubbed it between her palms. “It’s nice and smooth,” she said. “That’s why I chose it. Nice and smooth. The way life ought to be.”
When the Crickets Stopped Singing Page 13
