“Oh no,” I said. “That’s my grandmother on my mama’s side. Mr. — uh, Uncle David is related to me on my daddy’s side.”
“Oh, thank God,” she said. “I would not want her to be my mother-in-law.”
“Mother-in-law?” I asked.
“Well …” She blushed. “He hasn’t proposed just yet, but we are living together now, so … I figure it’s just a matter of time.”
My heart sank.
“Oh, but don’t mention it to your family or anything,” she said quickly. “I haven’t gotten to meet a lot of them just yet, and like I said, he hasn’t proposed or anything. That was a stupid thing to say a minute ago — I shouldn’t have even said it. Anyway, I’m Sarah Clarke. It’s nice to meet you —”
I was saved from having to make up a name when Grandma Lucy, back from the bathroom, squeezed back into the booth. I ducked my head. After everything I’d just heard from Sarah on top of what had happened with the drill, I was feeling just plain rotten. “You’re here,” she said to Sarah. “Good. I want the chicken salad. No dressing.”
“Got it,” Sarah said. “And for you?”
“Um … just a hamburger, please.”
“Okay. It’ll be right out.”
Sarah hurried away. I just sat there, staring at the table. Mr. Swift was living with that woman. He might even marry her. I knew these kinds of things happened — I’d seen enough daytime television to know all about it — but I still didn’t understand. Mr. Swift had left without saying good-bye to his wife or kids. Just up and left and never came back. And this whole time, he was living in Bunker, with a waitress named Sarah Clarke who thought they were getting married.
“Fionnula?” Grandma Lucy’s voice was surprisingly soft. “You don’t look so well.”
“I’m okay,” I murmured. But I wasn’t.
There was a long stretch of silence, then Grandma Lucy said, “I’m sorry.”
I looked up, not sure I believed what I’d just heard. “Huh?”
“Don’t make me say it again,” she grunted. “I know I’m cross when I shouldn’t be, and your mama’s always told me how sensitive you are. And, well … I’m sorry. It’s not personal.”
I nodded. It was the first apology — and probably the last — I’d ever get from my grandmother. But it only made me feel worse. I owed her the apology for breaking the drill, but I was too much of a coward to tell her.
Nothing I’d done was as bad as Mr. Swift, though. If anyone deserved an apology right now, it was Mrs. Swift and the boys. I just wondered how long it would take them to get one.
The next day, Sunday, was the Fourth of July. I woke up to the sound of firecrackers down the street, and for the first time in my life, it didn’t make me smile. I’d had nightmares all night, dreaming about getting yelled at by Grandma Lucy and about being chased by someone with a yellow drill and about chasing Mr. Swift’s silver Saturn. I groaned and rolled over, pulling my pillow over my head. That didn’t work for long, though.
“Nola Baby,” Mama called as she knocked on my bedroom door. “Someone’s here to see you.”
“Who?” I yelled.
“Why don’t you be polite by coming out here to find out yourself,” she suggested in that way that meant it wasn’t a suggestion at all.
I kicked off my blanket and stomped into the living room. I didn’t know who to expect, but definitely not Teddy Ryan. There he was, sitting on my couch, looking fidgety and nervous. His head bobbed up when he heard me walk in the room.
My hand flew to my hair — which had to be a mess — and I suddenly felt self-conscious about the shorts and T-shirt I’d fallen asleep in. And I didn’t even have on a training bra. I folded my arms over my chest. Not that I cared what Teddy Ryan thought. It would’ve been embarrassing to greet anyone looking like this.
“Hi, Nola,” he said.
“Hey,” I said. “How are you?”
“I’m fine, thanks.”
“Teddy’s parents are going to the fireworks tonight,” Mama said.
“Oh,” I said. I wasn’t sure why she was bothering to tell me this. Nearly everybody in town went to the fireworks. People would park all up and down Main Street, then walk down to the river. Some people brought tables and chairs. Others sat on blankets. And everybody smelled like mosquito repellent. Going to the fireworks wasn’t special. It was expected.
“Yeah.” Teddy nodded and fiddled with his glasses. “We’re going tonight, and, uh, I was wondering … do you wanna come with us?”
That, however, was not expected.
“Come with you to the fireworks?” I asked.
“Uh-huh,” Teddy said. “Daddy’s gonna pack us a picnic. They said I could bring a friend along, and I thought … Well, I decided to ask you. So do you wanna come?”
I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been to the fireworks with anyone but the Swifts. The boys and me would always sit on the dock, our feet dangling in the dirty river water while we watched the bursts of color dance over our heads. That’s how it was every year.
But things had changed. More than I’d even realized, if Teddy Ryan considered me a friend now.
“I guess so,” I said. “That could be all right.”
“Nola,” Mama whispered to me. “A little more enthusiasm?”
But it was enough for Teddy. He gave me a big grin, like I’d just made his day, and hopped off the couch. “Great. We’re leaving at eight thirty. Do you want us to pick you up?”
“Nah. I can walk to your house,” I said.
But when eight thirty came, Teddy Ryan was waiting on my front porch, wearing that same goofy grin. “I thought we could walk over to my house together,” he said.
“Oh, all right.”
“Have fun, kids,” Mama said. “Richard and I will be around, but we promise not to bother y’all.” She leaned down, kissed my cheek, and whispered, “You look beautiful.”
“Thanks.” I didn’t know why she bothered to say that. It was nice of her, but I was just wearing blue jean cutoffs and a red tank top. My hair was barely fixed — I’d pulled it up into a messy bun. I wasn’t trying to look beautiful — I just didn’t want to sweat to death outside.
Me and Teddy walked down the street together, not saying nothing for a while. Then he said, “Just so you know, I didn’t tell my parents.”
“Tell your parents what?” I asked.
“About the trampoline,” he said. “I didn’t tell them.”
“Oh … So the fence?”
He shook his head. “I didn’t tell them,” he repeated. “And, if you ever wanna sneak into our backyard again, you can…. Or you can just come to the front door. Then we can jump together.”
“Oh … Thank you,” I said.
Teddy’s parents were loading up the car with folding chairs and blankets. “Hello, Nola,” Mrs. Ryan said. She was a real pretty black woman with skin a few shades darker than Teddy’s and the exact same big, goofy smile. “We’re so glad you’re coming with us tonight.”
“Thanks for inviting me,” I said.
Mr. Ryan shut the trunk and walked around to the front of the car. He was tall and thin with light skin and hair that reminded me of Edna’s at Rocky’s — very ghostly. But his eyes were a light hazel, just like Teddy’s, and he wore thick, round glasses like him, too. “All right,” he said. “We’re all set. Pile in.”
Neither Teddy or me said anything on the way to the river. Mr. and Mrs. Ryan did all the talking — and they talked a lot: about the songs on the radio, about the food they’d packed, about last year’s fireworks and their hopes for this year. The car stayed full of chatter, right up until Mrs. Ryan parallel-parked on the side of Main Street.
We helped Mr. Ryan unload the trunk, each of us carrying something down the hill toward the riverbank. I could already smell charcoal and barbecue, hear country music blasting from battery-powered radios, see the sun setting, way off in the distance, behind the trees across the water. It was so pretty. I tried to take a
picture in my head, to memorize it so I could draw it later.
We picked a spot close to the dock and settled in, spreading the blanket and unfolding the chairs. Mr. Ryan started passing out sandwiches right away, which I was grateful for since Mama and I had eaten only a small dinner and I was already hungry again.
“I hope you like PB and J,” Mr. Ryan said, handing me a sandwich in a plastic bag.
“I do,” I said. “Thank you very much.”
“And here’s yours, Teddy.”
Teddy took his sandwich. I couldn’t see what it was, but the frown on his face told me it wasn’t very exciting. That’s when I remembered Felicia’s birthday party and the food allergies he’d told me about. I felt a little bad for him.
Mr. and Mrs. Ryan went off to talk with some of their friends, who were setting up camp a few yards away. Without them, things got real quiet. Teddy and me sat on the blanket, eating our sandwiches and waiting for it to get dark enough for the fireworks to start.
“So,” Teddy said, finally breaking the silence. “How has your summer been so far?”
“Um … Not great, really.”
“Why? What’s wrong?”
“It’s complicated.”
“Oh.” Teddy nibbled at his sandwich — which I could see had a lot of green leafy vegetables poking out from between the slices of bread. Ew.
“What about yours?” I asked.
“All right,” he said. “My aunt got a pool, so I’ve been over at her house a lot.”
“Lucky,” I said. “I’ve always wanted a pool. I’ve begged Mama to get one for years.”
“You could come to my aunt’s with me sometime,” he said. He looked down at his lap. “I wouldn’t mind.”
Before I could answer, there was an explosion over our heads. We looked up and watched as green and blue and pink sparks flew out in every direction. We stopped talking for a while and just watched the fireworks. They were beautiful — stars and flowers in every color.
Usually I loved the fireworks, but this year, watching them just made me feel sad.
Last year, the boys and I sat on the dock while Mama, Richard, and Mrs. Swift sat at a picnic table, playing cards and talking. Mr. Swift was there, too, grilling burgers for everybody and listening while the boys and me told him jokes. He didn’t laugh as much as we wanted him to, but that was all right. We all ate and sang along to the radio and skipped rocks on the river. Then Brian spotted a few of his friends and Kevin got tired, so he went up the hill to sit in his mama’s lap, and it was just me and Canaan on the dock, watching the fireworks.
“You know what?” Canaan had said, standing up. “It’s hot.”
“It’s summer,” I’d replied. “It’s supposed to be hot.”
He’d pulled off his T-shirt then.
“What are you doing?” But I don’t know why I’d bothered asking. I knew.
Canaan backed up, then he took a running jump right off the dock and into the river. The splash was timed perfectly with the next explosion of fireworks, and it left me dripping wet. Canaan sputtered and laughed as he treaded water, his head bobbing on the same level as my knees.
“You coming?” he’d asked.
“No,” I’d said. “Your mama’s gonna kill you for jumping in there.”
“It’s all right. She’ll get over it.” He swam around in a circle before disappearing under the water. I watched the surface, the light from the fireworks dancing across the ripples, expecting him to come up for air at any second.
Then something grabbed hold of my ankle, and I screamed, my brain conjuring up images of snakes and river monsters. Things that would drag me under and eat me alive.
“That’s not funny!” I’d yelled as Canaan’s head burst up from the water, his mouth wide and laughing. “You scared me half to death! I could’ve fallen in! Oh, lord — I thought you were a snake or something worse.”
“Oh, come on, Nola,” he’d said. “You know I’d never let you drown. Or let a snake get a hold of you.”
I’d snorted. “What could you do against a snake, Canaan Swift?”
“Don’t know,” he’d admitted. “But I’d find a way to fight him off. That’s what best-best friends are for, right?”
“For fighting off snakes?”
“Yeah,” he’d said. “And for saving each other from drowning.”
I’d laughed. I’d laughed a lot that night last year. I’d laughed when Canaan made a show of diving underwater each time the fireworks went off. I’d laughed when Mrs. Swift had stormed down to the dock and demanded he get back on dry land. I’d laughed the whole way home, sitting in the backseat of Mama’s car with Canaan, who was soaked and shivering, wrapped inside in a towel.
“Not so hot now, is it?” I’d teased.
But that was twelve long months ago, and tonight, sitting crisscrossed on the blanket next to Teddy Ryan, I suddenly didn’t feel so much like laughing.
I felt Teddy shift beside me. His hand brushed mine and I turned to look at him. He was looking at me already, his hazel eyes wide behind those thick glasses. He had real nice eyes. I looked down; his fingers lightly touched mine. That’s when I realized it wasn’t no accident, and I wasn’t sure how I felt about that.
I looked up again, not sure if I was gonna say something or just smile back — and then I saw them, over Teddy’s shoulder.
Three boys, standing in a huddle, hands in their pockets. Andy, Peter, and Canaan. They were about ten yards away, but they weren’t looking at us. Their heads were together, like they were whispering to each other. Like they were planning.
Teddy turned his head to see what I was looking at. “Oh,” he said, his voice low. “I wonder what they’re up to.”
“So do I,” I mumbled.
“Kids like that are the reason my parents put up a fence,” he said.
I shook my head. “Canaan ain’t like them,” I insisted. “He’s not like Andy and Peter.”
“You sure?” Teddy asked.
I started to say “Yes!” to tell him that I was sure, that Canaan was different, to get mad at him for even suggesting he could be like them.
But I remembered the red letters on Mrs. Santos’s mailbox. Angry letters in an angry word. And truth was, I wasn’t sure. Not anymore. I didn’t know this Canaan.
The boys pulled apart and started walking down the bank, away from us. Canaan hung back a step. He turned his head, and I swear, he looked right at me. At me and Teddy Ryan, sitting together. For a second I thought he’d come over. For a second, I thought he’d say something.
He didn’t.
“You coming?” I heard Peter yell.
“Yeah,” Canaan called. He looked at me a second longer, then he turned away and started walking, moving quick so he could catch up with the other boys.
“Nola?” Teddy said. He was looking at me, not the boys’ retreating backs. “You okay?”
“Huh?” I said. “Yeah … Yeah, I’m all right.”
“Do you want another sandwich?” he asked. “We packed extras in the cooler.”
I shook my head. “Nah. I’m good. Thank you, though.”
“Okay … Hey, Nola?”
“Yeah?”
“Can I tell you something?”
“Sure.”
“Before, when I put gum in your hair and kicked your seat on the bus — I wasn’t trying to be mean or pick on you or nothing,” he said.
“Then why’d you do that stuff?” I asked.
He looked awful embarrassed, tugging on the collar of his striped shirt and fixing his glasses again. “Well, I was just … I wanted to get your attention. So we could be friends.”
I almost laughed. “If you wanna be friends, that sure ain’t the way to do it, Teddy. You should’ve just said hi.”
“I tried,” he insisted. “But every time I did, Canaan would start yelling at me and you’d just walk away or turn your head, so I … kicked your seat. Or stuck gum in your hair. I didn’t know how else to make you pay attention. So
… I’m sorry.”
It might have been funny or even sweet to hear him say that, but it just made me think of all the times Canaan ran him off. Canaan didn’t know no better — he just thought Teddy was trying to be mean and he wanted to protect me. He always tried to protect me.
Not anymore, though.
“Nola?” Teddy asked. “You okay? Did you hear me? I said I was sorry.”
“I heard you,” I said. “And thank you. I accept your apology.”
“So do you think we could maybe be friends?”
I nodded. “Of course.” And, after a second, I realized I meant it. Even though part of me wished I was there with the Swift boys, the way it used to be, Teddy Ryan was pretty good company, too. And now that I knew he wasn’t mean after all, I thought I might like being friends with him.
We watched the rest of the fireworks together, talking in little, random spurts. He asked me about the teachers in the sixth grade, and I told him Mr. Bryant, the science teacher, had a hamster in his room named Pluto. He told me he was learning to play the cello, but he was really bad at it. I asked him what a cello was because I’d never heard of one. And we both laughed a few times, smiled a few more.
Teddy didn’t move his hand the whole time, and I didn’t move mine, neither.
I rode my bike up to Rocky’s by myself on Monday. I was still doing a couple jobs around the subdivision, but I wasn’t hunting so hard for them no more. I had quite a bit of money saved up already. Definitely enough for the circus tickets. Though I wasn’t sure why I was still thinking about that, with the way things were going between me and the boys. I wanted to hold out hope, but I couldn’t help feeling a ball of anger burning in my belly every time I thought of them leaving me hanging like this.
Edna was happy to see me. She smiled when I walked in. “Nola,” she said, smacking the counter. “My favorite customer. I hear your mama got engaged.”
“Yes, ma’am. She did,” I said.
“Tell her congratulations for me.”
“I sure will,” I said. “She’s very happy.”
“Good, good. Well, what can I do for you today, darling?”
The Swift Boys & Me Page 9
