I jumped in line with Troy.
Turned out, the Scrambler was as fun as the Tilt-a-Whirl. The first time it looked like our seat was going to slam into one of the seats on another arm, I screamed. But it was just an optical delusion—which is something that tricks your eyes into believing something that’s not true. And no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t keep from sliding over and mashing Troy against the edge of the seat.
When we got off that ride, I asked, “What’s next?” Troy seemed pretty good at picking out rides.
“Ferris wheel.”
“I’m gonna take a break. I’m using my tickets pretty fast.”
“Go ask your mom and dad to buy you more.”
“They aren’t here.”
“Oh. Well, you’re gonna want to ride this one. You can see everything from up there.” He grabbed my hand and pulled me along.
As we waited in line, I looked up at those seats, rocking way up at the top. My skin started to itch and my mouth got dry. “I’m gonna go to the bathroom while you ride this one. I’ll meet you after.”
He looked at me and his eyes got squinty. “You’re scared.”
“No, I’m not. I need to go to the bathroom.”
“Scaredy.”
“Am not.”
“Then ride with me.” He lifted his chin like it was a dare. “You can go to the bathroom after.”
“Next up!” the man loading yelled.
Troy used his dare stare on me.
I sucked in a big breath, pushed past him, and sat in the seat waiting to be loaded.
Troy sat next to me, and the man locked the bar in front of us. I held on to the bar and kept my eyes on the teddy bears waiting to be won across from the Ferris wheel.
We went up backwards and real slow, stopping as the seats were loaded. I felt like I was gonna pee my pants. When we got up high, I held real still and told Troy if he rocked it, I was gonna break his nose. He musta known I’d do it, ’cause he sat still.
After I’d made it around once, I started to feel a little better about it. You really could see everything from up there, church steeples, the water tower, the whole carnival . . . and the people looked so little. I didn’t think I could see as far as the Bottoms though.
As we got off, Troy said, “You liked it, right?”
“Sure.” I liked it okay. And I’d got over being scared of being up high, too. Good thing, ’cause the next thing we rode was the Paratrooper.
We rode more rides and walked for a bit, watching the games and whatnot. It was weird, hanging around with him. We wasn’t friends. We didn’t talk much. But we stuck together anyhow.
When we stopped, we were standing right in front of the Bullet. “This one next,” he said.
I looked up at the thing. The car on the end of a long arm swung back and forth, back and forth, getting higher each time until it went upside down and on around. I didn’t like it.
“I’ve only got one ticket left. I want to save it for . . .” I looked around; we’d ridden everything scary. “For the bumper cars.”
He laughed so loud the people around us stopped and looked at us. “You’re kidding, right?”
I looked at the Bullet again. Up high was one thing. Upside down up high was a horse of a different color.
Troy was staring at me.
Well, I’d found out I wasn’t scared of a whole lot of things lately. Maybe this would be like the rest.
We got in line. And Troy looked at me like I’d gone and done the biggest dare ever . . . like he was proud of me or something.
I made it to the second swing before the screams I was holding in busted out. “Let me off!” I stomped my feet because my hands couldn’t let go. “Let me off! Letmeoffletmeoffletmeoff!”
All my screaming didn’t do nothing but get a bunch of people to stop in front of the Bullet and watch.
When it finally stopped after what felt like an hour, a horrible hour, I got off. I couldn’t tell how far the ground was from my feet when I took a step. Lots of people stood there laughing. Troy was one of them.
“You’re not as nice as I thought you were.” I shoved him and walked away as fast as I could considering I was walking like Eula’s broke truck, this way, then that, not able to keep a straight line.
Troy called after me, “Hey, Red, don’t be sore! You did good.”
I ignored him. I’d wasted my last ticket and people were laughing at me.
I was too mad even to win my teddy bear. I walked away from the rides and back toward the parked cars.
“Red!”
I walked faster, right past a man in a deputy’s uniform. I got madder yet; I needed to be more careful. Lucky, he was looking the other way.
After being in all those lights, it seemed extra-dark out in the parking area. After a few seconds, I got so I could to see better. I was deep in the parked cars when I saw it. The red-and-white truck with the big Confederate flag on the hood.
I thought about the meanness of those Jenkins boys, how they’d scared Eula. I thought about that poor black-and-white dog. I thought about all those people laughing at me. I thought about being scared.
I picked up a rock and broke one of the headlights. The sound of it shattering and little pieces of glass hitting the bumper made me feel better. I took aim at the second headlight. Just as I was about to swing the rock, someone grabbed my arm.
19
M
y breath stuck and my heart jumped. I gripped the rock tighter in case I could use it and got ready to kick and scratch my way free of the Jenkins boys.
I spun around.
“Starla!”
My foot stopped just before it hit Miss Cyrena’s shin. My breath
finally came loose.
“What’s gotten into you?” Miss Cyrena’s voice was low and hissy,
not much more than a whisper.
“It’s the Jenkins boys’ truck. They deserve to get some of their own
meanness back.”
“Two wrongs do not make a right.”
Hadn’t I heard that a million times? I jerked my arm free. “Well, it’s
three,” I said real sassy. I wanted to smash the other headlight, one for
Eula and one for that dog. But I didn’t.
“Let’s go,” I said. All my good memories about the carnival were
ruined now. Ruined by Troy. Ruined by those laughing people. Ruined
more by the stupid Jenkins brothers.
I threw down the rock and stomped away. “I ain’t sorry I did it.” “Now, young lady—”
“Red!”
I stopped and looked over my shoulder. That doggone Troy started
to run toward us.
“You okay?” he called. “That nigra botherin’ you?”
“I’m fine. Go away!”
Troy was getting closer.
I took off, not worried ’bout Miss Cyrena keeping up. She made a
sound like Mamie makes when she’s exaserbated with me, but I kept
going. I zigged and zagged between cars, trying to lose Troy. I heard
Miss Cyrena huffing along behind.
All of the sudden, there was a shout. “Hey! You little pissant! You
busted my headlight!”
“No, I didn’t!” It was Troy’s voice.
I started to run and heard Miss Cyrena’s steps get going faster. I hoped them Jenkins boys believed Troy . . . or maybe I hoped they
didn’t. It was his fault I went on that ride. And he’d laughed at me. Then my conscience got on me and I stopped. I couldn’t let them
beat Troy up for something I did.
When I turned around, Miss Cyrena was right there, breathing hard. “I gotta go back,” I said.
“You can’t go alone. And I can’t go with you.” It was the first time I’d
heard Miss Cyrena sound like she didn’t know what to do. “I have to tell ’em Troy didn’t break their stupid headlight. I’ll say I
saw somebody else do
it.” Kinda true. “You wait here.”
“I don’t think—”
“Just stay hid. We don’t want them boys to know we’re together and
maybe find Eula.”
“They might recognize you from town.”
“So what? Far as they know, I’m just some kid worried ’bout a dog.
You said yourself, they didn’t pay no attention to you bein’ there. I’ll be
right back.” I walked off, listening for her following.
She didn’t. (Thank you, baby Jesus.)
When I got back to the truck, one of the Jenkins boys—who wasn’t
a boy at all, but a man with a beard and everything—had Troy by the
neck of his shirt.The man had dark hair and was near as big as Wallace.
Next to him was the brother who’d hit the dog. They didn’t look like
brothers at all ’cause the dog-hitter was skinny had light hair that was
almost girl-long.
“Stop!” I yelled. “He didn’t do it.”
The big brother looked my way. “You know this kid?” Now I saw the
third brother step out from the other side of him.This one wasn’t much
bigger than an eighth grader and looked too young for a beard at all. I shook my head. If they thought I was Troy’s friend—which I
wasn’t—they’d figure I was just trying to get him out of trouble. “Ain’t
from around here. I saw someone else break it. Went that way.” I pointed back toward the carnival.
All three of them Jenkinses looked off that way. I did, too. That’s
when I saw that danged deputy heading toward us.
“What’s the trouble here?” he asked, shining a flashlight on the
brother holding Troy. “Let loose of that boy, Jobie.”
The man let Troy go, but in a rough way that made him stumble
backward. I could tell them boys were every bit as bad as Miss Cyrena
had said. “Someone busted our headlight.”
The deputy put his light on the truck.“So I see.”He moved the light
to Troy’s face. “You do this, son?”
“No, sir. I was just goin’ by.” He looked at me and for a second I was
afraid he was gonna tell them I did it, but I don’t think he’d been close
enough to see.
The light moved on to me. I couldn’t see nothing but its brightness. “And you?” the deputy asked.
The light-haired brother who’d give me the finger pointed at me.
“I bet she done it. I seen her in town yesterday. She—” He stopped
talking, realizin’ probably he’d have to admit he run over the dog if he
kept on.
“No, sir, I didn’t,” I said. “I seen someone run off that way, though.”
Then to make a good lie I added, “A kid . . . with dark hair and a white
T-shirt.”
“How old?” the deputy asked.
I shrugged. “Didn’t see him from the front, or close at all. He was
kinda tall and skinny.” Seen plenty of them at the carnival. He put the light back on Troy. “You see him?”
Troy shook his head, his eyes still big ’cause the scared hadn’t left
him yet. “No, sir.”
The deputy finally pointed the flashlight down so it didn’t shine in
anybody’s eyes. “I’ll keep an eye out,” he said to the Jenkins boys. “You
fellas can get on your way.”
“But who’s gonna pay for this busted light?” It wasn’t the Jenkins
who’d had ahold of Troy, it was the young one. Even little as he was, he
looked the meanest of ’em all.
The deputy’s light shot back up and shined in the young brother’s
face. “Now, Jesse, you and I both know a headlight is cheap, and you
and your brothers have gotten by with a whole lot worse, so count
yourself ahead and go on home. I don’t want to see you back at that
carnival lookin’ for someone to hold accountable. That’s my job.” For a minute everybody just stood there, looking at each other. The deputy put a hand on Troy and turned him around. “You go on
back to your evenin’, son.”
Troy took off so fast, he was gone before I could blink. I knew I
should take off, too, but my eyes were stuck on them Jenkins boys.
Were they bad enough to sass a deputy? Or worse?
“Get on now,” the deputy said.
The brother who’d had ahold of Troy spit on the ground, then
opened the driver’s door and got in. The dog-hitter went around and
opened the passenger side. “C’mon, Jesse.”
Jesse took a step toward the deputy and I held my breath. He got his
chest all puffed out and said, “Only ’cause we was leavin’ anyhow.” He
turned around and spit on the ground, too—I’m pretty sure just ’cause
the older brother did—then got in the truck and slid to the middle. The truck started up before the last brother got in.
The deputy put a hand on my shoulder and made me step back. It
was a good thing, too, ’cause those boys tore out of there so fast I bet
they’d have run over my toes.
The deputy stared after the truck, mumbling something I couldn’t
understand.
I decided it was time for me to make like a banana and split. I start
ed to move, but his hand tightened on my shoulder. “Hold up, there.” “Yes, sir?” I said, sweet as pie, but my heart started thudding and I
could feel sweat start.
“You said you’re not from here?”
“No, sir. I mean, yes, sir, that’s what I said.”
He put that flashlight on my face again. He seemed to be looking
particular hard at my hair. “What’s your name?”
My mind went blank as the chalkboard on Monday morning. I
couldn’t come up with a single name.
“You got a name, don’t you?”
“Yes, sir. Nancy.”
“Nancy what?”
“Nancy Drew, sir.” Ohm’gosh, he’ll never believe that. “But people
call me Red,” I added just in case he’d heard Troy hollerin’ after me. “Hmm.” He got that look like the jig was up but he wasn’t letting
on. “Where you from, Nancy Drew?”
“Out in the country; next county over.” My brain was finally working again. Best keep things as general as I could.
“Where’s your folks?”
“Visitin’. They’re supposed to pick me up out on the street at nine
o’clock, so I better go.”
He looked at his watch. “I’ll walk you.”
“No need, sir.” I tried to back away, but he didn’t let go. “Oh, I think there just might be. I want to meet your folks. You see,
we got a report of a runaway girl . . . redhead ’bout your age. I wouldn’t
be doin’ my duty if I didn’t check you out.”
“They might be late. They ain’t very reliable to be on time.” “I’ll wait.”
“Suit yourself.” I started walking toward the street with his hand on
my shoulder. I glanced around, hoping Miss Cyrena stayed out of sight
until I figured a way out of this. But here she come, from a couple of
rows of cars over.
I had to do something.
We was coming up on a sawhorse barricade. Some people walked
on the other side of it.
“Oh, no!” I yelled, and pointed. “He’s stealing that lady’s purse!” Just as soon as the deputy looked that way, I shoved him as hard as
I could with my shoulder. His feet got tangled in the legs of the barricade. I took off in the other direction, not even looking to see if he
went all the way down.
There wa
s lots of shouting. I cut through parked cars, ducking low
so nobody could see me. Finally I got to the bushes that were at the
edge of the fairgrounds and hid in there. I hoped Miss Cyrena got the
point and went to wait for me at the car.
I was crouched down, fanning away skeeters, when I heard something. “Psssst. Red? Red, you there somewhere?” Troy was whispering.
I could tell he was moving closer.
I held still and tried to see him through the leaves.
He called again. He was on the street side. I peeked out and saw
him just past me. He was on a Sting-Ray bicycle.
“Red,” he whispered. “Where are you?”
I didn’t say anything and he got a little farther away, but he was
moving real slow.
“C’mon out. I owe you one. I’ll ride you outta here.”
I sure could get back to Miss Cyrena’s car faster on his bicycle. I
could hide near there and wait for her to show up.
I stuck my head out. “Here,” I whispered.
He swung his bike back around and stopped right in front of me.
“Get on.”
I took a look up and down the street. Nobody seemed to be looking
our way. I heard plenty of commotion, but it was still back across the
parking area. I had to hurry.
I got out of the bushes and onto the banana seat behind him and
held on to the bar on the back.
“Which way?”
I told him and picked up my feet. “And fast!”
He stood up and pedaled. We was flyin’ away from the fairgrounds. Once we got to a dark place, he slowed down a little. “I never seen a girl do nasty to the Jenkins brothers before. Or knock over a policeman.
Why’d you do it?” He was a little out of breath, but he kept pedaling. “None of your beeswax.”
“Oh, yeah? I’ll just take you back then.”
He started to make a U-turn. “No!”
“Then tell me.” He swerved back around.
I figured we were only a block or so from Miss Cyrena’s car. If he
gave me trouble, I could just push him and his bike over and take off.
But that seemed wrong, considering him saving me and all. “He thinks I’m a runaway girl.”
“Are you?”
“No.”
“Then why’d you shove him? You coulda just had your parents tell
him.”
“I live with my grandma.”
Whistling Past the Graveyard Page 18
