“Now, I want to read this list of soldiers, and I want everyone to say a short prayer for each one—Sergeant Spencer Mason.” That was my brave Uncle Spencer, and he was wounded by the sorry Japs.
“Lord, we’re thankful that Spencer will be coming home soon,” said Momma.
“Captain J. R. Mason.” That was Daddy’s older brother who’d flying a P-38 out of Guam, bombing the heck out of them dang Japs.
“Lord, we’re thankful that J. R. is well this Thanksgiving day. Continue to watch over him.” Then Momma read out all the Norphlet boys that had been fighting in the War, and much, much later she finished. It's about time—a new record, crossed my mind.
“Now, I want everyone to tell something that they’re thankful for this Thanksgiving.”
Daddy replied, “To have a good job.”
And naturally, Momma said, “Our family.”
“Okay,” I said as I picked up my fork, “it’s time to eat!” Boy was I hungry, but before I could even grab a hot roll, Momma shook her head and gave me one of them looks like hold on boy, we ain't through yet.
“Just a minute, Richard,” Momma said, “you haven’t said what you’re thankful for.”
Heck, I thought that being thankful was just for grownups, but I thought for a minute and then as I rubbed the back of my head where a long knife cut was healing, and as I smiled at Momma and Daddy, I said, “Shoot, I’m just glad I made it through the summer and fall, and I’m still alive. I thought I was a goner.” Daddy laughed and picked up the roast hen, and Thanksgiving dinner was under way.
As Daddy passed me the roast hen, I was still thinking about what I’d just said. Boy, there wasn’t no doubt in my mind that I really was glad just to sit down and have Thanksgiving dinner with my family. Heck, the last six months were unbelievable. It was like a crazy out-of-control roller coaster that kept on going for months and there were times that I thought I was gonna be killed, dead as a possum in the road, and the next thing I’d be seeing was the undertaker.
For a moment I just sat there as I thought back on the summer and fall. Rosalie…Connie….John Clayton…Homer Ray, and…oh my gosh! A shiver went straight up my back…The prisoners and the swamp! When I thought of them danged escaped prisoners I just about stopped breathing. Things would have been bad enough, but those three criminals just sent things out of sight, and it was almost the end of me.
You see, it all started right after school let out for the summer, and shoot, it seemed only yesterday that I was sitting in my seventh-grade class on the last day of school waiting for the final bell to ring.
CHAPTER TWO
Running Like the Wind
May 15th, 1945
“Richard, pay attention! Just because it’s the last day of school you can’t sit there and daydream—practice your cursive writing,” said Miss Turner. She whacked her ruler on my desk, and I kinda jumped. Dang, I’m glad that ruler hit the desk and not my head, like it sometimes does.
Yeah, that’s Miss Turner, our seventh-grade teacher, and she’s always yapping at me cause I never pay attention, but you know, even though she always getting on me, I think she’s the best teacher in the whole danged school. She’s kinda tall with long black hair that she keeps pinned up in a bun. She always wears a skirt that looks a little long, and her blouse is usually right up almost to her chin. I don’t think she wears much makeup, but she’s still kinda pretty.
Well, we didn’t have many kids in our class last year, just 11 boys and 10 girls. I took a good look at them one last time before the bell rang, and we scattered for the summer. Yuck, there in the middle of the room was the class bully, that worthless Homer Ray Parks, who’s always giving me trouble. Listen, and I’m not kidding, that moron Homer Ray is one sorry kid. Heck, he’s not just sorry; he’s mean as a sack of snakes, and not only is he mean, he’s ugly as a fence post with them buck teeth and that mixing bowl haircut his momma gives him. Boy, I was just a-thinking as I looked at him, One of these days he’s gonna get his. I caught his eye, and he shook his fist at me and stuck out his tongue. Dang, I really hate that sorry kid.
Sitting at the desk beside me was my best friend, John Clayton Reed. John Clayton is a little shorter than me, but he weighs about 10 pounds more. He’s got black hair just like mine, but it’s a little curly so he keeps it cut short so he won’t look like a girl. Shoot, I don’t know what I’d do if John Clayton ever moved, ’cause we go and do everything together, especially when we’re roaming around down in spooky Flat Creek Swamp.
In the back of the room I can see two other good friends, Tiny and Ears. Tiny, the tub, I call him, because he’s shor ain’t tiny. He’s a lot shorter than me, but he weighs at least three times as much. Dang, he’s one fat kid. Sitting right beside Tiny is the town champion funny book collector, Ears. His real name is Leroy Thompson, but everybody except the teachers at school call him Ears. He has the biggest ears any of us have ever seen, and not only does Ears have big ears, but they stick out from his head. He looks just like a skinny kid with saucers stuck on the sides of his head. That stupid G. I. haircut don’t help none neither.
Sitting up front, right by the teacher’s desk, is Rosalie Davis, the teacher’s pet. Rosalie is, without a doubt in the world, the prettiest girl in our class, or, heck, any class. Her dark red hair is always curled and combed perfectly, and she has the bluest eyes I’ve ever seen. Wow, there’s something about them blue eyes that just melts me. You know, ever since school started last fall, I’ve had the biggest crush on her, but ain’t made one little bit of progress. Heck, I thought since I worked like a sorry yard dog to buy her a red scarf for Christmas last year, she’d at least like me a little bit. But no, or maybe, heck, I can't figure out girls. Just when I think she's forgot about me, she gives me a big smile and one of them melt-me looks, which really does kinda melt me.
I’ve done everything in the world I can think of to get her to pay more attention to me, but it ain't working. Well, everything in the world ain’t quite everything, it’s just a few little things. I’ve carried her books home from school a couple of times, and when we’re in class I sneak glances her way. Shoot, I don’t just sneak glance at her, I’m always looking at her and thinking about her. Okay, I’ll admit it. I think about her all the time, and not just at school, but what boy wouldn’t? She’s really something. No kidding, Rosalie is every boy’s dream girl. I don’t mean to go on and on about Rosalie; it’s just hard not to. But, you know, I guess I should be a little upset because Rosalie don’t pay me much attention, but I’m not really surprised, ‘cause I’m so shy around girls that I can barely say hello without blushing.
Well, I think there’re other reasons why my half-hearted flirting ain’t going nowheres, and I think it’s because her folks really don’t want her to have anything to do with me. Heck, they’re way and by far the richest family in town, and my family is one of the poorest. Shoot, during the summer I’m always barefooted and brown as an Indian, shirtless and always getting into trouble. I’m not exactly the type for rich folks to take in.
Shoot, I should quit chasing after her, but I can’t. I don’t know, maybe today she’ll be impressed, because I’m gonna show-out. Heck, I can just see her coming up to me, smiling and maybe giving me a little hug. And you know why?—I’m gonna win the Start of the Summer Race, and then I’ll strut around and let everybody pat me on the back while Rosalie tells me how fast I am. Yeah, this is the start of summer vacation. Heck, I don’t care what the dang calendar says, my summer starts when I get out of school, and in Norphlet, school’s out no later than mid May. Today’s the day summer starts, at least for me.
Gosh, this old schoolhouse has been about to drive me crazy the last few weeks. Our school, with its two-story, buff brick buildings and hardwood floors is located right on the edge of town. The first floor of the elementary school building is raised above the sidewalk level about five feet, and the big double entrance doors open out to seven wide steps.
I’ve found out the hard w
ay you better not act up at school. Your teacher gets after you once, and if you act up again you’re sent to the principal’s office where the principal threatens you by saying things like, “You will be severely disciplined if your teacher sends you to the office again.” Uh, that means a thrashing with a big wooden paddle with holes in it. Heck, I've come home a bunch of times with little round whelps where that paddle hit my bottom. Well, when my teacher says to head for the principal’s office the third time, I start shaking because three strikes is all you get. Number three is bend over and get your bottom whacked with that danged wooden paddle. Talking in class, passing notes, and kicking under the desk all count as strikes. course, I hate to admit it, but I’m a regular visitor to the principal’s office, at least once a week. But the paddling will be over in a few minutes. I can hardly wait. Ring bell, ring, I kept thinking.
When the bell rings, the Start of the Summer Race will begin, and I’ve looked forward to that race for a long time, because running is one of the few things I’m good at. I’m taller than most boys in our class because of my long legs, and I’m also a lot thinner than any of the other kids. Heck, I’m not just thin, I’m downright skinny. But running my newspaper route has developed me into a good runner, at least for someone in the seventh grade.
Heck, there’s not much to the Start of the Summer Race. The first kid from each class who makes it off the school ground on the last day of school is the winner. It’s about 100 yards from the front door of our school building to the sidewalk leading out the gate, and by golly I’m gonna be the seventh-grade winner—-the fastest person in the entire seventh grade. Rosalie will be so impressed.
However, it ain’t gonna be easy. First, that stupid, bully Homer Ray will try to slow me down when I run out the door. ’Course, he can’t outrun me so he wants to be sure I don’t win. I think I can dodge him, and I dang sure can beat any of the boys in the class, but this girl, Connie Hays, a tall, skinny tomboy, can run like the wind. Some of the boys think Connie is kinda cute, and maybe they’re right, but she’s a little skinny for me. Well, she does have a nice smile and I kinda like her wavy, short blonde hair, and lately she’s been kidding around with me. I don’t know if she’s flirting or just picking at me.
A couple of days ago she tickled me in the ribs and said, “Gonna get you Friday.” Well, it’s Friday, and I guess she meant the race. Yeah, she’ll give me fits, but me and John Clayton has a plan for Connie. Before school started this morning, John Clayton, who just can’t stand Connie, told me he’d help me with her.
“Richard, I know you can beat me running every time, so let me help you with that little idiot, Connie. I’m ahead of her in class, and when I get to the door, I’ll just step in front of her and slow her down. Heck, if you get a little head start, you’ll be okay.”
Well, when John Clayton said that I stood there and thought about it for a few moments, like I was trying to say no ’’cause, heck, nobody likes to cheat, but maybe since I wasn’t gonna do nothing I could blame John Clayton. Yeah, I won’t be doing a durn thing to Connie, and there ain’t no rules in the race.
“I don’t know John Clayton, that seems like cheatin’. Maybe I can beat her today. I feel really fast.”
“Ha! Don’t you remember that last race you had with her? I know you didn’t step on no rock. She just whipped you!”
“Yes, I did! I sure did step on a rock, and she dang sure didn’t beat me!” (Naw, I didn’t step on no rock, but heck, what boy is gonna admit a girl beat him?)
“No, you didn’t and you know it.”
“Well,…” ’Course, I knew I was gonna let him slow her down, but I wanted to act like I didn’t want to cheat, so I said, “Okay, but don’t hold her back much. I don’t want it to look like we’re cheating, and, heck, if you just happened to be standing there where she was gonna run, that ain’t cheating.” John Clayton snickered because he knew I was just trying to come up with an excuse for cheating. Suddenly the bell started ringing, and I jumped to my feet. Oh, my gosh! Go! Go, Richard, go!
Miss Turner rapped her ruler on her desk and said, “Class, stand and march out the door—no running in the hall—have a wonderful summer vacation.”
Boy, I started walking as fast as humanly possible heading down the hall toward the big double doors, planning my run with every step I took and trying to keep anybody from getting ahead of me in the hall. Uh, oh, there’s that dang Homer Ray. Stupid Homer Ray stopped just outside the door right in front of the steps leading down to the sidewalk. I’d practiced jumping from the top step all the way to the sidewalk without ever stopping so I was crouched down getting ready to jump as I headed out the door.
“Get out of the way!” I yelled, sprinting for the steps.
But just as I started to jump I saw Homer Ray stick out his foot to trip me. Yeah, he was planning to trip me all right, where I'd fall down the stairs and maybe kill myself. But I fooled that sorry kid.
“Ha!” I yelled. I planted my foot down right on top of his bare foot and jumped, really crunching his toes.
“Ahaaa, dang you, Richard!” he yelled and grabbed at me, but I got by him.
“Go, Richard!” hollered John Clayton. I cleared the steps with one leap and sprinted across the school ground. Man, I was really flying—running like the wind and passing kids like they was standing still.
Just as I jumped I heard Connie yell, “John Clayton, you idiot! Get outta my way or I’m gonna run over you!” I looked back just as she grabbed my friend and shoved him, almost knocking him off the steps.
“You stupid, girl!” John Clayton screamed. But she pushed him out of the way and just shot past him.
Heck, I was really going now, and I passed three other kids before I was halfway to the sidewalk. And now I was out in front, throwing my head back like a winner. I thought it was clear sailing’cause I was in front of everybody by at least 10 yards. But I then I heard somebody coming up behind me when I still had at least 30 yards to go. I glanced back, and almost choked: It was Connie, and she was almost beside me, starting around me on my right side.
“Oh no you don’t!” I stepped over and stuck my arm out in front of her.
“Richard, you’re cheating! Cheater! Cheater!” She tried to knock my arm out of the way, but I kept swinging my arm and running in front of her until the sidewalk was only a few feet in front of me.
Yeah! I can beat her with just this little bit to go. I dropped my hand, and I'll be danged if Connie wasn't even with me. We got to the sidewalk at the same time with Connie screaming: “Cheater! Cheater! Cheater!”
“I didn’t cheat. I just beat you!” Heck, even I knew I hadn’t won that race, and, yeah, that girl really let me have it.
“You scrawny, skinny, little cheater! I ought to knock you across this school ground along with that little sniveling rat, John Clayton!”
Shoot, right that very minute, I thought I was about to be whipped up on by a girl, but Connie just wheeled around stuck out her tongue, and started walking up the sidewalk toward town.
“Cheater!” she yelled, as she shook her short blonde hair and left the school grounds. John Clayton walked up about that time.
“Well, did you win?”
“It was a tie. You didn’t slow her down any.”
“You’re crazy. Look at my arm!”
I looked down at John Clayton’s arm. “Wow, look at those scratches! She really did dig into you, didn’t she?”
“You’re dang right she did! That girl is mean as a pack of mad dogs! Don’t you ever ask me to try to slow her down again! When I didn’t get out of the way, she sunk her claws into my arm and almost knocked me down the steps.”
Well, the Start of the Summer Race was just terrible. Connie had probably whipped up on me in the race, and she’d called me a sorry, rotten cheater and a whole bunch of other stuff, in front of my friends. John Clayton was kinda mad at me because he had a scratched-up arm, and now as me and John Clayton stood there talking, Rosalie walked by acting lik
e we were invisible. I tried to go over and talk to her, but, heck, she just kept walking. What a sorry way to start the summer.
We slowly walked out of the schoolyard through the gate to the sidewalk, and there, as usual, was my dog, Sniffer. He’s kinda rusty brown except for a patch of black hair between his ears, and he’s always with me and John Clayton except when we’re in school.
“Come here, Sniffer.” Sniffer gave out with one of them hound-dog howls and kinda moseyed up where I could pat him, and then after a little more petting, we left the school grounds. After petting Sniffer I felt a little better. Heck, Sniffer is just a great dog, and, outside of John Clayton, he’s my best friend.
John Clayton crossed the street and headed for his house, and me and Sniffer went on up the sidewalk.
CHAPTER THREE
Getting Even
Boy was I ever glad to say goodbye to that stinking school. Heck, I thought we were never gonna get out. After I left the schoolyard, I decided to go downtown before I walked home, so I headed up the hill, jumping over slabs of broken sidewalk, then on past the road to the refinery where my daddy works. Wow, I guess it was about 80 degrees outside and the wind was blowing just a little bit, and I thought this was just the kinda day that I wanted to have all summer. Well, of course, except for the Start of Summer Race.
Another 100 yards and I was standing in front of Donnie Echols’s house. Donnie’s two years older than me and I guess we’re friends, but, shoot, with all the fighting we do, it’s hard to tell.
Heck, as I stood there looking at his house, I was thinking about what happened yesterday. I’m gonna get that so-and-so, because I owe him one. Yesterday, I was leaving school heading for home, just minding my own business, when out of the blue a dirt clod hit me right in the middle of my back. Oh, my gosh, it hurt! I turned around yelling ’cause I knew it was that sorry Donnie.
Lyin' Like a Dog, The Yankee Doctor, The Danged Swamp! 3-Volume set Page 37
