Chasing Jupiter

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Chasing Jupiter Page 7

by Rachel Coker


  I looked down the dirt road. We were stationed at the end of the driveway, where it met the neighborhood road. Usually this road was pretty busy with folks going to church, the grocery store—anywhere, really. But today? Nothing. No cars, no bikes … Zip.

  My eyes wandered back to the soft grass. Yes, soft. And warm and green and …

  Okay, stop it. You never know when someone will show up. I wrapped a strand of hair around my finger. Although … if a car came I would be able to hear it, wouldn’t I? And then I could jump up and be in my seat before they even got out.

  “Knock, knock,” Cliff said.

  I sighed. Really? “Who’s there?”

  “Anita.”

  “Anita who?”

  “Anita eat one of those pies. They smell real good, Scarlett.”

  I raised an eyebrow, pleased. “Well, I’m glad you like them, but we can’t have any until we sell at least a few of them, okay?”

  He frowned but didn’t push the subject any further. We sat in silence for what felt like forever.

  Finally, I inched out of the seat and onto the grass to sprawl out next to Cliff. I watched the bloated white clouds drift by. Isn’t it wild to think that this whole world is spinning—me along with it? It’s sort of like flying. The thought sent shivers of exhilaration all through me.

  The sound of wheels on gravel jolted me out of my daydream. I sat up and saw Frank bicycling toward us with purpose. He skidded to a stop in front of the stand. “No customers?”

  “Nope.” I squinted up at him. His hair looked dazzlingly golden in the sunlight, although just yesterday I had thought it looked plain brown. Funny.

  “Well, my mother sent me over with a request for three peach pies. We’re having company tomorrow night.”

  I smiled but rolled my eyes. “Will they really need three whole pies?”

  Frank shrugged. “Who knows? Hey, kid.” He nudged Cliff with his foot, chuckling.

  Cliff peeked at Frank with one eye. “Hey, I’m enjoying my siesta.”

  We were interrupted by the arrival of a car in the driveway. I jumped, feeling goose bumps pop up all over my arms. “A customer,” I hissed, nudging Cliff with my own foot.

  He sat up abruptly, and his entire body appeared to be on alert. “Who is it?”

  “I don’t know.” I strained my eyes, trying to see into the window.

  The baby blue car pulled to a stop, and the door popped open. Pastor Greene stuck his head out. “Good morning!”

  His wife climbed out of the passenger side, her hair piled high upon her head. She waved. “How’s business?”

  I licked my lips nervously. “Well … you know.” Slow.

  Frank straightened and shook Pastor Greene’s hand. “Good morning, sir.”

  Pastor Greene squinted and looked over the pies. “Some nice confections you’ve got here. My wife tells me you’re a great cook. Did you have any trouble building the stand?”

  Pastor Greene was wearing slacks and a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up. A straw hat was in his hand, politely held by his side. It felt so strange to see him without a suit and tie. I blinked, realizing I hadn’t answered his question.

  “Um, no, sir. None at all,” Frank jumped in. “Cliff and I did most of the construction together.”

  Pastor Greene nodded, pressing his lips together. He looked impressed. “You’ve obviously got a gift for carpentry.”

  I glanced at the stand. I hadn’t realized it, but it really was nice, like something a handyman dad would build.

  “Can we have two pies, please?” Mrs. Greene pulled a five-dollar bill out of her pocketbook. “I’m going to bring one to Mrs. Nice. She can’t get out of the house herself, you know.”

  My eyes flickered to the ground. “Right.” I accepted the money and stuffed it in our savings jar, then handed Mrs. Greene a dollar from the change stash I’d created. Nine dollars.

  Pastor Greene picked up the pies, balancing them in his two hands. “I think this is the most delicious load I’ve ever had the pleasure of carrying for you, dear.” He winked at his wife.

  She turned back to me. “Scarlett, I’ve really got to run, but I’ll be back for more pies next week. I promise.” She squeezed my hand, leaning close enough for me to smell her lemony-fresh perfume. Then she dropped my hand and scurried back to their car.

  They pulled out of the driveway just as another car pulled in. Cliff glanced at me, raising his eyebrows. I smiled. We’ll have that rocket in no time.

  The sun was just beginning to set, turning the sky into a warm palette of roses and peaches. Frank sighed and stretched out on the grass, closing his eyes. “Ugh. I don’t want to leave.”

  Cliff nudged him. “You’ve got to go. We’ll see you tomorrow.”

  Frank opened one eye and glanced at me. “Did I ever tell you that you have an ornery little brother?”

  “What does ornery mean?” Cliff sat up. “Scarlett, what does that word mean?”

  I smiled. My fingers flipped through the money quickly, smoothing out the bills. “At times I find him rather cantankerous.”

  Cliff’s mouth dropped into a small O. “I don’t know any of these words!”

  “Sometimes he does act in a juvenile manner.”

  Cliff frowned. “How do you even know all these words without looking in a dictionary?”

  I reached out and closed his mouth, pinching his chin. “But I find him absolutely congenial.”

  He made a face and squirmed away. Right. I forgot about the no-touching thing. But he still managed a small smile. “I’m going inside.”

  We watched him leave in silence. Then Frank climbed to his feet. “Hey, how much did we make?”

  I patted the money. “Eleven dollars. Plus the money from the three pies your mom ordered. So that makes seventeen.”

  His eyebrows rose. “Why, if we keep doing that well, we’ll have that rocket by the end of summer! We only need about fifty or sixty bucks for all the wood and metal supplies.”

  “Well, that’s the plan.” I shut down the stand and grabbed the last two pies, while Frank grabbed the three for his mom. The sweet, tangy smell still tickled my nose. “And we have two extras. One for you”—I balanced a pie on top of Frank’s already large load—”and one for us. Good night!”

  He took a big whiff of the pie, his lips curling up in childish delight. “Yum. Four pies in one night. Someone’s going to have a stomachache tomorrow.”

  I rolled my eyes as he placed his collection of baked goods in a box he’d lashed to his handlebars, then headed home.

  “Hey, Mama! I still have one pie left!” The door slammed behind me. I brushed into the kitchen and placed the pie on the counter. “We can eat it after supper!” The supper Mama had promised to make, since I’d be busy with the pie stand all day.

  Silence. Mama wasn’t in the kitchen. The counters were caked in grease and flour, the oven was still on, and cracked eggshells lay on empty plates. “Mama?” Why would she just stop in the middle?

  Voices drifted in from the living room. Mama and Dad.

  I tiptoed through the hallway, a sick feeling in my stomach. My conscience was itching. I don’t have to sneak. This is my house. I can just walk in and—

  “No, Bill, you really don’t understand.” Mama’s voice sounded tense. Stressed.

  “It’s just twenty bucks. I don’t get how that’s a problem.”

  “Of course you don’t!” Mama sighed. “We just can’t keep giving money to these different political groups. Our family has to have something to live off of too, you know. How do you expect me to buy groceries when our bread money is in some politician’s bank account?”

  I peeked through the crack of the living room door. Mama was sitting in the love seat, running a floured hand through her hair. She was still wearing an apron tied over her plantation outfit. Dad stood by the fireplace smoking a cigarette. He turned to her and stuck a hand in his pocket.

  “Vida, we’re making enough money. You’ve got yo
ur job at the bed and breakfast, and Mr. Leggett mentioned hiring me to do some extra work around the farm in August. You know we’ll have enough to—”

  “I don’t know about my job,” Mama hissed.

  Dad halted, looking confused. “What do you mean?”

  Mama’s face darkened. She rubbed her cheekbones, brushing what remained of the flour onto her face. “The plantation house hasn’t been doing very well. We’ve been getting very little business. The Cummins already had to let go of two workers in the last month.” She lowered her voice and leaned against the mantle. “I’m just not sure how much longer they’ll need me.”

  The room grew silent. I shivered in the ninety-degree heat and wrapped my arms around myself. I knew this was bad. What this could mean for our family. My stomach churned and, for a split second, I felt angry at both of them. Why couldn’t they just work it out and kiss and make up like normal couples? Why did everything have to be so hard and complicated and secretive? It made me hate living there and having to act like I hadn’t seen anything.

  My cheeks flushed. I shouldn’t have thought that. I didn’t hate my life or anything about it. At least not that much.

  Dad stepped forward and laid a hand on Mama’s shoulder. She turned abruptly and bolted away from him, heading for the door. I jumped, feeling like a snoop. Great.

  Without thinking, I began climbing the staircase. The living room door opened, and Mama stepped out. She glanced up. “Scarlett!” Her voice hesitated. “When did you get in?”

  “Oh, hi!” I said brightly. Just act natural. Just act natural. Maybe they didn’t hear you earlier. My lips pressed together, heat warming my cheeks. “I just came in. I’m going to go up and change out of these sticky clothes. I brought an extra pie if you want one.” I am the worst liar on earth. It was probably written all over my face. “Um, I’ll come down in a few minutes and finish up supper, okay?” I turned on my heel and practically ran up the rest of the stairs.

  Supper was quiet, as usual, and without my sister. Cliff and Grandpop Barley decided to go to bed early, so there were also no Spanish Civil War narratives that night.

  By the time I trudged upstairs and headed to my room, the sky was continuing to fade, the peachy pinks fading into a dusky purple. I switched on the lamp in my room and began to undress, pulling on my pajamas. I was just fastening the last button when the door opened suddenly and Juli walked in. She threw a bag onto the ground and nodded to me. “Hey.”

  I blinked. I knew I was supposed to say something friendly and encouraging, but the only thing that came to mind was, “Oh. You’re home.”

  “Yeah, well …” Without stopping to take off her shoes, Juli collapsed onto her bed. “I’m pretty beat.” Her words were muffled in the pillow.

  I sat on the edge of my bed and looked her over. Her sandaled feet were dirty. Stains and smears covered her long skirt, and there were small cuts on her arms. Everything about her seemed skinny and dirty and weak.

  My nose pinched at the smell of her clothes. Grass and sweat and something else I couldn’t quite make out. “Did Mama and Dad see you, Juli?”

  She groaned and rolled around until she lay on her back. “Nah. I came in the back door and hid in the kitchen until I heard Mama leave the living room. Dad stayed in there, and she went to her bedroom. They had another fight, I guess.” Her cheeks puffed out. “Gosh, sometimes I really just hate being here.”

  The bitterness in her voice churned my stomach. I clutched a pillow, feeling guilty because I had been so close to thinking that only a few minutes earlier. “They didn’t have a fight. They just had … a disagreement about some money.” My voice didn’t sound very confident. I gnawed on my bottom lip.

  Juli rolled her eyes. “They wouldn’t worry about money if Dad was less of a bum and actually went out to get a real job or something.”

  What? My skin turned hot. I sat up, tensing. “Don’t you dare say that, Juli! Dad works just as hard as anyone. We all work together. All except for you. But I guess you wouldn’t be home enough to know that anyway, would you?” The words that spilled out of my tongue were venomous and beyond repetition. I felt like spitting at Juli. Stupid, selfish sister!

  Juli glared back, daring me with her flashing eyes. “I don’t see why they don’t just get rid of Grandpop Barley right now. The longer they put it off, the more the bills are going to stack up.”

  I stood, only inches away from her. It felt like she was trying to egg me on, waiting to see what I would do. I clenched my fists at my side. “Grandpop Barley is family! He’s not going anywhere!”

  “He’s just an expensive freak. Like Cliff.”

  That straw broke the camel’s back, and my hand flew of its own accord, slapping Juli clean across the cheek. Juli whipped right back, hitting me harder. It knocked the breath out of me and I stood there panting, staring at her. At my older sister. The one who played dolls with me and braided my hair and taught me how to whistle through my missing front teeth. My hand was throbbing. Did I really just hit her?

  Juli’s face grew very white. Then her mouth opened with a spew of curse words I’d never heard before. She grabbed her bag. “Ziggy’s more family to me than you are.” The door slammed behind her and then I was alone again.

  I didn’t hear her footsteps on the stairs or her car pull out of the driveway. It was just silent. Mama called upstairs, wanting to know what was wrong, but I just shouted, “Nothing!” and turned off the light.

  Then I curled up on my bed and stared into the darkness, wondering when I had turned into the kind of girl who thought bad things about her parents and slapped her sister in the face.

  The house was perfectly quiet when I awoke close to midnight. Silently, I pushed back the covers and climbed out of bed. My throat burned from thirst.

  I crept down the stairs and into the kitchen. Pulling a glass down from the cupboard, I filled it with water and gulped it down.

  Pit. Pat.

  I blinked. What was that?

  Pat. Pit. Pit. There it was again: a strange tapping noise, coming from outside.

  My heart began to race. Maybe someone was trying to break in. Maybe it was a notorious axe murderer who’d come to prey upon our family. Maybe …

  I hugged my chest. Well, there was only one way to find out. And someone would be screaming for help if it was a murderer, right?

  It was probably only Juli, now that I thought about it. Mama probably locked the front door, and she needed me to come open it for her. Perhaps it was nothing.

  I inched toward the side door. With trembling fingers, I pushed aside the curtain and peered through the little window. Utter darkness. No, wait … I looked a little closer.

  Someone was standing outside by the side of the house. A man, by the looks of it. His arm was raised, and he tossed something at the house. Pit. Pat. Rocks. He was throwing rocks at a window.

  What on earth …

  I squinted my eyes as hard as I could. He looked an awful lot like …

  I unlocked the door and pulled it open slowly. “Frank?”

  The man’s head whipped toward me. Then he stepped forward into the moonlight. It was indeed Frank, standing in my front yard with a lightweight jacket thrown over his pajamas. “Oh, hey, Scarlett.”

  I pushed the door open all the way and stepped out into the yard, still holding my arms tightly across my chest. I shook my head. “What are you doing here? In the middle of the night?”

  “Oh, actually, I was trying to throw rocks at Cliff’s window. I found the most amazing thing, and I really wanted him to see it.”

  A smile twitched in the corner of my lips. I pointed at the window he was standing in front of. “And so you threw rocks at that window?”

  Frank glanced at the window and rubbed his forehead. “Well, yeah. I figured Cliff would wake up and then he could come out for just a while.”

  I cleared my throat, trying not to laugh. “Frank, you were throwing rocks at my parents’ window. That’s their bedroom. Cliff�
�s is over to the left.”

  Frank’s eyes grew large. “Oh.” He paused. “I guess that would have been somewhat problematic.”

  I laughed, leaning against the door. “So what is it you wanted to show Cliff?”

  He smiled. “It’s a secret. For both of you.”

  Both of us? My stomach jumped, but I cleared my throat and tried to look serious. “You know you really are annoying? I mean, it’s twelve o’clock at night.”

  “Twelve o’clock in the morning,” Frank corrected, sticking his hands behind his back. “If it’s a.m., then you say it’s in the morning.”

  “I know that. Obviously.” I looked him over. The whole thing was just really ridiculous. Frank, flinging rocks at my parents’ window? Me and Cliff, sneaking out at midnight to go for a walk in the woods? Running around outside in our pajamas? I pressed my lips together, holding back a smile. “You stay right here. I’ll go wake up Cliff.”

  Chapter 8

  Are your eyes still closed?”

  I sighed. “Yes.”

  “Okay. No peeking now.”

  Frank’s hand was pressed firmly over mine, leading me through the woods. “Tree ahead,” he warned, pulling me out of the way.

  Cliff clutched my other arm. “You know, it’s kind of scary to be in the woods in the dark. I’ve never been outside in the middle of the night.”

  Me either.

  Frank halted to a stop, nearly causing me to run into him. “Okay. Now open your eyes.”

  My eyes flew open. Instantly, the beauty overwhelmed me. We stood in the middle of a moonlight-bathed clearing in the woods. The starry heavens reflected off a small, shallow pond. Rocks lay scattered on the forest floor.

  I perched on a rock and hugged my knees to my chest. My thin sweater still let in a nip of the nighttime breeze, which tickled my neck and lifted the hairs on my forehead. “Wow. It’s magical.”

  “Yeah, but this is what I really wanted to show you. Look.” Frank knelt by the pond and turned on his flashlight. Swimming around in the shallow water were dozens of inky little tadpoles. Their tales swished around, and they darted under the cover of the pond’s pebbles, startled by the sudden light.

 

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