by Rosa Jordan
“So nobody will ever go through them and ask why words have been cut out.” Kate sat down on the floor and leaned her head against the sofa. “Besides, I’m getting too old for that junk. It’s all make-believe.”
Justin grinned. “Thought you’d never notice.”
Kate looked over at Chip, who was sprawled out on his stomach cutting a large piece of paper into tiny bits.
“Quit that,” she said. “You’re making a mess.”
Justin reached over and snapped the elastic on the back of Chip’s shorts. “You better wash up, buddy. Dad’ll be here to get you soon.”
“Dad doesn’t care if I’m washed.”
“No, but Mom does.”
Chip closed his eyes and put his head on the floor.
Kate went out and came back with a washcloth. She knelt down on the floor next to Chip. “Sit up,” she said. “I’ll wash your face.”
“You will not!” Chip jerked away from her. “I can wash my own face!” He got to his feet and stomped off to the bathroom.
“Hands, too,” Kate called after him.
“Dummy!” Chip shouted. “How can I wash my face without washing my hands?”
Kate used the washcloth to wash her own hands. “Chip’s right, you know. Dad hardly notices him.”
“Yeah, but they don’t have all that much in common.” As Justin spoke, it occurred to him that Dad and Kate didn’t have much in common either.
“Do you like the movies Dad picks?” Kate asked.
“Sometimes. Do you?”
Kate shrugged. “It’s something to talk about.”
Justin had a lot more than movies to talk about with his dad, and he wished he’d said some of the things on his mind when they were out together the night before. Instead, he’d let Charlie do most of the talking. He’d said he was leaving for Arizona in just ten days, and he’d gone on and on about the famous drivers who’d be competing. Justin hadn’t said much. He’d just nodded to show Charlie he was interested because, well, because he was interested. But he hadn’t said what he knew Charlie wanted to hear, which was, Can I go with you, Dad? How could he when he hadn’t made up his mind?
A car horn sounded. “He’s here!” Chip yelled.
Justin pried himself off the couch and walked out with his brother.
“Hi, son,” Charlie said enthusiastically.
Justin winced. Dad should have said “sons,” but it seemed as if he hadn’t even noticed there were two of them.
Chip climbed into the seat and said, “Hi, Dad.”
Charlie reached over and ruffled Chip’s hair, but his eyes were still on Justin. “How you doing?”
“Guess what?” Chip leaned in front of Charlie to get his attention. “Justin and Mom are going to Atlanta.”
“Atlanta?” Charlie looked startled. “When?”
“This coming-up weekend,” Justin said. “I won’t be here Friday, so I was wondering if Chip and I could trade nights—he’ll go with you next Friday, and I’ll see you Sunday evening. I’ll be back by then.”
“Whose idea was this Atlanta trip?” Charlie demanded.
“Uh, I don’t know. Mom’s, I guess.”
Charlie’s fingers drummed on the steering wheel. “Don’t suppose it has anything to do with Booker Wilson?”
“Well, yeah. He’s the one who invited us.”
As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Justin wished he had thought of something else to say. Or not said anything. Because there it was again, that irritation Charlie had shown before when he’d seen Mom talking to Booker.
“You know next weekend’s the last one before I head for Arizona,” Charlie said in a huffy voice.
Justin had seen his dad serious before, like when he was working on the engine of that race car. But he had never seen him look and sound like this. The way Charlie’s jaw was working, it was obvious that he was angry. Even though Justin hadn’t done anything, he felt as if it was his fault.
“That’s why I wanted us to get together on Sunday,” he mumbled, not looking up. “Because it’s your last night.”
“I’m not sure I can make it on Sunday,” Charlie snapped, in a tone that said he wouldn’t make it.
Justin felt trapped, and a little angry himself. Why should it matter to his dad which night, as long as they had some time together? Jamming his fists into his pockets, he said stubbornly, “I really want to go to Atlanta.”
Then Justin thought about Charlie leaving and not seeing him again for who-knows-how-long, and the anger melted into a kind of aching. “You wouldn’t go without saying goodbye, would you, Dad?”
Chip practically climbed into Charlie’s lap. “I can go on Friday night,” he said. “Will you take me to the movies?”
Charlie finally took notice of him. “Sure, Chipper.” He revved the engine, louder than necessary, Justin thought.
“See you Sunday?” Justin asked over the roar of the motor.
“Probably.” Charlie turned his head away as he backed out of the drive. Justin couldn’t see his face, so he couldn’t tell whether “probably” meant yes or no.
With no school and no baseball practice that week, Justin had plenty of time to study before the trip to Atlanta. As soon as Chip and Kate went off to do whatever they felt like doing—which was usually something down at the Wilsons’—he sat down at his desk and pulled his books out of his backpack. He had gotten a C on his most recent math test, which wasn’t great, but at least it wasn’t a disaster.
Unfortunately his performance on the baseball diamond was still a problem. Coach Donovan had accused him several times of not giving it his best. Justin was trying, but he knew Coach was right. If tryouts were today, there were a dozen guys who would probably be picked over him.
If I get kicked off the team, Justin thought, school is the last place I want to be. Maybe life would be easier if I went to live with Dad.
The phone rang. Justin hurried into the kitchen and picked up. It was Brad, speaking in the hoarse whisper he always used when his mom was somewhere nearby. His words came so fast they were a blur.
“Slow down!” Justin told him. “Or speak up! I can’t make out—”
Then Justin caught the relief and excitement in Brad’s voice and the words “… back on Monday!”
“The suspension’s over? They’re going to let you come back?”
“Yeah! Old Bowels was against it, but Mr. White said okay.”
“Hey, that’s great!” Justin exclaimed, but his friend wasn’t listening.
Running his voice over Justin’s, Brad said, “See you next Monday!” and slammed down the phone.
Justin knew that Brad’s mother was still punishing him, suspension or no suspension, by cutting him off from any contact with his friends. In Justin’s opinion that was pretty stupid, because Brad was a shy kid who had very few friends anyway.
Justin went back to his desk and closed his book, giving up on math for the moment. Outside of Brad, who were his friends? Although Justin kidded around with the older guys on the team, he couldn’t really call them friends yet. They were holding back, waiting to see if he was going to make it. If he did, they’d accept him, but if he bombed, they would make his life miserable.
Justin didn’t exactly count his sister as a friend, although Kate could act like one when she felt like it. Chip, being his brother, wasn’t a friend either, but Justin could see that he might become one when he got older. Maybe the same was true of Luther and Lily.
Funny, Justin mused, how being in trouble together and cooperating to solve problems had made the age difference seem less important. Before, if he thought of the younger kids at all, he considered them brats, copycats, and tagalongs. But when he was trying to deal with the Little Billy problem, the younger ones had come up with good ideas, and they had done okay when the pressure was on.
Friends or not, he had trusted them and vice versa, the way, well—the way friends do.
30
TRAVELING WITH MOM
&
nbsp; Mom and Ruby and Mrs. Wilson spent a lot of time on the phone that week, and by Wednesday night they had things pretty well planned. While Mom was in Atlanta, Ruby would work in her place at the nursery and stay with Kate and Chip at night. Kate promised to keep an eye on Chip and Luther during the day so the full responsibility for minding the younger boys wouldn’t fall on the Wilsons.
As they were getting ready to leave Thursday morning, Mom again reminded Chip that he was not supposed to play at the nursery unless Lily was there.
“I’d better not hear from Kate or Ruby or the Wilsons that you disobeyed them or got into any kind of mischief,” Mom told him. “And don’t forget to feed and water the ducks and goats,” she added.
Justin was already in the truck, waiting for Mom to stop telling everybody what she had already told them a dozen times. When she mentioned the animals, he thought of the rabbit and wondered if Chip would remember to go out to the Old Place to feed him.
“You do have the phone number?” Mom asked Ruby.
Ruby put her hands on her hips. “For heaven’s sake, Betty. Don’t you think I know my own brother’s phone number? By heart. Will you stop dithering and hit the road?”
Mom laughed, and to Justin’s great relief they did just that. It was a sunny morning, perfect for driving. For the first couple of hours Mom still seemed to be worrying about things back home, but gradually she relaxed. Justin hadn’t felt so good in weeks. This is how Charlie must feel, he thought, every time he hits the road to a new place.
They made good time on the interstate, stopping only once for a brief lunch. They weren’t far from the Georgia border when Justin noticed Mom taking one hand off the steering wheel to rub the back of her neck. “Tired?” he asked.
“A little,” she admitted.
Justin looked at the map. “We’re more than halfway there.” He glanced out at the tall green grass, and beyond it, to a forest of skinny pine trees. A sign said, REST STOP ONE MILE. “Want to take a break?” he asked.
“I’d like to, but we’d better not if we want to get there before dark.”
“How about if I drive for awhile?” Justin tried to sound casual, but Mom’s head swiveled toward him as if he had yelled at her.
“Oh, I don’t think—”
“Come on, Mom. I’ve done quite a bit of driving with Dad. He says I do okay. You’ve said so, too, when you let me drive on back roads.”
She turned her eyes back to the highway.
Justin thought fast, trying to come up with more reasons why she should let him get behind the wheel. “It’s a long way to the next town. There’s hardly any traffic.”
Mom stared straight ahead. Justin had no idea what she was thinking. Then he felt the pickup slowing down. His mom hit the turn signal and pulled into the rest area parking lot. “All right,” she said. “From here to the next rest area. How’s that?”
“Great!” Justin exclaimed. They traded places, and he eased the pickup back onto the highway with no trouble at all.
If he had felt good before, that was nothing to how he felt now. Sitting behind the steering wheel of a pickup, which was so much higher than his dad’s car, he felt like the King of the Road. The highway was arrow straight and lined with tall pines and low-lying palmettos as far as the eye could see. He kept his eyes on the road, only glancing down occasionally to check the speedometer. He was careful to stay between 55 and 60 mph, even though the speed limit was 65.
Suddenly there was a sound like a gunshot, and the truck jerked violently to one side. Justin had to put some muscle into the steering wheel to hold the pickup on the pavement. A flap-flap-flap noise told him instantly what had happened. Justin braked, maybe a little too hard, because Mom was thrown slightly forward in her seat, but he managed to bring the truck to a standstill on the shoulder without making a total fool of himself.
“A tire,” he said unnecessarily. He looked sideways at Mom to see if she was going to blame him for it. But no. She was blaming herself.
“I knew I should have replaced it before this trip,” she muttered. Then she turned to him and said, “Blowouts can be dangerous. You handled that one really well.”
“Thanks,” Justin said, then admitted, “Scared me, though.”
“Me, too. Lucky we’ve got a spare.”
Mom got the toolbox from behind the seat. While she unbolted the spare, Justin jacked up the truck and removed the flat tire. Mom started to lift the spare into place, but he took it from her. “I’ll do it.”
Justin could feel her behind him, watching him work. She was probably surprised that he knew how to change a tire. He’d never told her about the time the convertible had had a flat while he and his dad were on their way home from a movie. Charlie hadn’t just jumped out and started fixing it. He’d given Justin a crash course in tire-changing right there on the spot.
“First,” Charlie had said, “since this is a manual transmission, you put the car in low gear and set the emergency brake so when you jack up the car it can’t roll forward and squash you while you’re changing the tire.”
Then his dad had told him everything you’d ever want to know about jacks: how different kinds of jacks worked, how you figured out where to place them under a car, and so on. Charlie was a good teacher. He not only explained things in detail, but he also did it in a way that made the job seem easy.
“You do that like a pro,” Mom said as he spun the lug wrench to tighten the bolts. “Just the way your dad would’ve done it.”
Justin gave each bolt an extra twist to make sure it was tight, the way Charlie had showed him. “You know, Mom, that’s something I like about you and Dad.”
“What?”
“You never bad-mouth each other. Brad’s mom and dad drive him crazy running each other down.” Mom watched him but didn’t say anything as Justin stowed the jack behind the seat of the pickup, then put the flat tire back where the spare had been. “We got anything to drink?”
“Fresh-squeezed OJ.” Mom reached into the ice chest and pulled out a quart bottle of orange juice.
Justin took a long swig and handed the bottle back. “Did you want to go with Dad? I mean when he first took off?”
Mom stopped screwing on the bottle lid and stood there staring up the highway, like in her mind’s eye she was watching Charlie leave.
“Well … I didn’t want to be left behind. That upset me pretty bad. But the truth is, I’m the kind of person who needs to stay in one place, where I can watch things grow—a garden, our animals, my kids.” She smiled sadly. “Charlie liked being on the move. Staying in one place got on his nerves.”
“Still does,” Justin agreed. “Auto mechanics, you know, he could do that anywhere. But specializing in race cars he has to, well, you know, travel all the time.”
Mom’s face got even sadder. “Too bad we didn’t know that before we got married.”
Justin guessed she was starting to blame herself, either for their marriage breaking up or for having married Charlie in the first place. He didn’t want her to feel bad, so he faked a laugh and said, “Couldn’t know till you tried it.”
Mom shrugged. “Maybe. But talking might’ve helped. Or thinking seriously about what we wanted—and what each of us couldn’t bear to give up.”
“You really didn’t know?” It had been Justin’s impression that adults always knew what they wanted. It seemed to him that most of them thought they knew what everybody else ought to want, too.
“No, and neither did Charlie.” She turned to Justin and looked straight into his eyes. “Getting clear what’s most important to you, well, a lot of people don’t figure that out till it’s too late.”
Justin was surprised when she opened the passenger door and got in. He thought that after the blowout she’d want to drive.
“Go ahead,” she said, smiling. “You drive till we stop for gas. Then I’ll take it the rest of the way.”
31
BOOKER’S WORLD
When they passed the mile marke
r announcing that Atlanta was only twenty miles away, Justin realized how nervous and excited he was. They stopped at a service station and picked up an Atlanta street map just in case the one Booker had drawn for them wasn’t clear enough. He felt a thrill when they passed the Braves baseball stadium that he’d seen so often on TV and drove toward the tall downtown buildings with the setting sun glinting off the gold-domed capitol.
Every lane of the interstate was packed. Justin was glad his mom had taken over the wheel before they approached the city. Once they found the exit, though, it was fairly easy to find Booker’s address. The apartment was a modern one, directly across the street from the college where Booker worked.
Mom rang the bell. They waited. Suddenly the door swung wide open, and there was Booker, with a grin just as wide. “Betty! Justin! Welcome!”
“Looks like we’re in the right place,” Mom said timidly.
Justin’s eyes took in the room. Actually, it wasn’t so much the room his eyes took in as the woman in the white tennis outfit lying on the sofa. Her long legs were propped on the arm of the sofa, and spread out all around her were lots of big, serious-looking books.
“You bet it’s the right place!” Booker said. “Come in, come in!”
He motioned toward the couch. “Melody, meet Betty Martin and my buddy Justin. Betty, this is Melody French.”
Melody swung her long legs to the floor and stood up with a smile. “Nice to meet you, Betty. And Justin.”
“You, too, Melody.” Mom sniffed the air. “Umm,” she said. “Something sure smells good. Booker said you’re a fantastic cook.”
Booker rolled his eyes at Justin. “Your mom can tell her that, but I can’t. These days it’s not politically correct for a man to appreciate a woman’s cooking.”
“What do you know about ‘politically correct’?” Melody teased, giving Booker a fake ear-twist. To Mom she said, “I am a good cook. But Booker’s the chef tonight. I’ve got too much studying to do.”
Booker motioned to the books. “Law school entrance exams are coming up.”
“Piece of cake,” Melody said loftily. “If you survive the Purina bachelor chow he feeds you this evening,” she added, “I’ll rescue you with something edible tomorrow night.”
