Blossoms and the Green Phantom (12 page)

Pap was the one who heard it. “Oh, I forgot about Mud.” He threw back his covers and got out of bed. He went down the hall, through the dark living room, and threw open the porch door. He turned on the light.

“Mud, are you under the porch?”

Mud stopped howling. There was a silence.

“Mud, are you under the porch?”

Silence.

Mud heard Pap’s feet on the porch, crossing to the steps. Pap went down one step and stopped.

“Come on out, boy. Come on, Mud.”

Mud did not move. Pap said, “Now don’t make me come all the way down the steps and get down on my knees and pull you out. You know what my knees are like.”

Pap waited. Then he sighed. He went down the stairs slowly and bent to peer under the house. Mud was there where Pap knew he would be—in his misery hole.

“Come on out, Mud, good dog. Come on.”

Mud did not move.

“Mud, don’t make me come in there after you.”

Still Mud did not move.

Pap sighed. Then he lay down on his stomach and worked his way under the house. He reached out one trembling hand and laid it on the top of Mud’s head. He began to smooth out the wrinkles in Mud’s brow with his thumb.

“Now, you know I don’t stay mad with you, don’t you? I’m already over it. You know that. You’re the best dog I ever had, Mud, and lately maybe I haven’t been acting like I appreciate you, but I do. I surely do.”

He kept smoothing Mud’s brow. “There’s never been a better dog than you. This new dog—he’s a nice little dog, but he ain’t mine. I’m like my daddy when it comes to dogs. My daddy used to keep the fine dogs for himself and give ordinary dogs to us kids. Like he kept Old Stoker for himself and gave me Little Blackie, and Little Blackie chased chickens. My mama was always after me about that. I’d say, ‘Mama, he don’t catch them,’ but every time she’d see him, he’d be grinning and there’d be a chicken feather stuck on his tongue. You’re my dog like Old Stoker was my daddy’s. I don’t need another dog. I wouldn’t take one if somebody gave it to me. I’m a one-dog man, and you’re a one-man dog. We belong together. Now, come on out. You can sleep under my bed if you want to. Come on, Mud. Please let’s get up off this hard ground.”

He twisted his fingers in the bandanna that Mud wore around his neck. He pulled, and Mud slid out of his misery hole.

“Now you know you don’t want to spend the night under the porch, come on. You and me have been through too much to let one little disagreement ruin things. Come on.”

Mud’s tail thumped once against the porch steps. “That’s my dog, come on. Let’s go, Mud.”

Mud crawled out from under the porch. He sat and waited patiently for Pap to crawl out too.

Pap didn’t get up right away. He lay on his back for a moment, catching his breath. And then he did something he had never done before. He put his arms around Mud and hugged him against his chest.

“There’s too few living beings in this world that I care about for me to go around treating one of them the way I treated you. You forgive Pap this time, and I won’t make the same mistake again.”

Pap released Mud and began the long struggle to his feet. Mud shook himself while he waited. Then Pap said, “Come on, Mud, let’s go to bed.” And Mud followed Pap into the house.

It was one week later, and every one of the Blossoms had something to be pleased about. Maggie had caught on to standing up in shortened stirrups and could now go around the field on Sandy Boy almost as fast as her mom.

“Watch, Ralphie,” she called, even though she was aware Ralphie had not taken his eyes off her since he got there.

Ralphie was lying on the grass. He was smiling slightly. Ralphie had something to be pleased about too. His mother had found out about the helium, and she had not clobbered him. Of course, this was, Ralphie told himself, because he had been sharp enough to say, “Mom, even hardened criminals get to atone for their crimes.”

“And just how are you planning to atone?”

“I’ll help deliver balloons, Mom. This gorilla woman can’t last. People want balloons delivered by clowns. You need a clown suit. Mom, the whole family could be clowns. I could be a pirate clown with a peg leg.”

Ralphie hoped he would not actually have to be a peg-leg clown, but it had diverted his mom, and she had gone this afternoon to look at patterns for clown suits.

Vicki Blossom was pleased because in the spring, she would be back on the rodeo circuit, this time with Maggie. She could almost hear the announcer saying, “And joining the Wrangler Riders is a three-generation cowgirl. Her granddad is Pap Blossom. Her dad was Cotton Blossom, a National Champion, and that’s her proud mom, Vicki Blossom. Let’s put our hands together and give all the Blossoms, past and present, a round of applause.”

Pap was pleased because he was getting ready to show Vern how to wash a dog. He felt he had a special knack for washing dogs. “You don’t wash them like people” was the way he described his technique. “Come on, Dump, you need a bath.”

Mud heard the word
bath
, and he slipped under the porch. He kept his body low so he would not call attention to himself. He hid behind the steps in his misery hole. He waited.

The usual procedure was that Pap would say the word
bath
, then call Mud and remove his bandanna. Mud hated to have his bandanna removed. It gave him an unprotected feeling. But this time Pap headed down to the creek with Dump under one arm. Mud crawled out to see what was happening.

Vern had the bucket with the soap and towels in it. “Junior,” Vern called, “are you coming?”

Junior had insisted on washing his half of the dog himself. “Five minutes,” he pleaded from the kitchen.

“Well, hurry. I’ve got to go to Michael’s.”

“I’m hurrying as fast as I can.”

Junior was sitting at the kitchen table, smiling at the refrigerator. Five minutes before, he had been smiling at the sink, then at the stove. Junior shook himself. He looked down at the sheet of paper in front of him and forced his face to be serious.

He smiled again. He couldn’t help it. Every time he thought about the Phantom, he smiled.

As long as Junior lived, he would never forget that night last week, when the Phantom had very quietly, very naturally, taken its place in the sky and begun its circle around the world. When he thought of it, he had even begun to hear background music—violins mostly, but also there were some flutes in it too.

All week he had followed in his mind the global orbit of the Phantom. He had imagined it over the burning Sahara, over the white icy Arctic, over the Atlantic, the Pacific, Russia, China.

Junior stopped smiling at the sheet of paper. He made himself look serious. He had to finish this. He had to.

He read the words to himself. “I want to win a trip around the world for my entire family because—”

That was the same place where his mind always stopped working. It was as if his mind had heard a bell ringing and rushed out to recess. He knocked on his forehead to activate his brain.

“I want to win a trip around the world for my entire family because—”

The reason he did want to win was hard to put into words. Last week, at the peak of his Phantom success, he had realized how much he loved his family. He loved them so much that he wanted to do something for them as nice as they had done for him.

And what could be better than winning a trip for them, the same trip that the Phantom was now making? Junior was going to win a trip around the world for his family. He would write the winning sentence today, and then he would save it until a contest came along, and then he would copy the sentence onto the blank.

He bent over his paper. He was absolutely determined. His mouth was a straight line in his round face.

“I want to win a trip around the world for my entire family because—”

He lifted his head in sudden thought.

Maggie had said something that made sense one time. It was when Junior and Ralphie had been in the hospital, and Ralphie had asked Maggie why they broke into the city jail, why they didn’t just walk in like anybody else.

And Maggie had looked at Ralphie like he didn’t have good sense. “We Blossoms,” she said, “have never been just anybody.”

“Junior, you coming?” Vern called.

“Yes, don’t let my half get wet!”

“Well, hurry!”

“I am hurrying!”

He bent over his paper. He clicked his ballpoint pen open. He began to write.

He smiled. Maggie and their mom might be on the rodeo circuit next summer, but the rest of them—Vern and Pap and he and Mud and Dump—would very definitely be going around the world.

“I want to win a trip around the world for my entire family because we Blossoms have never been just anybody.” He paused for a moment because, as usual, he wanted to add his own personal touch. Again he smiled. He changed his period to a comma and added, “and we never will be either.”

Junior put an exclamation point and laid down his pen. He was finished at last. He folded the sheet of paper, put it in his shirt pocket, and patted it. Then he got up and ran for the door.

“I’m coming!” he cried.

All about the Blossoms in …

The Blossoms and the Green Phantom

and more!

Discussion Questions

An Interview with Betsy Byars

1. Junior has failed at two inventions, and this time he intends to succeed with a new invention called the Green Phantom. Why does he get a patriotic feeling every time he looks at it?

2. It’s quite clear that Junior wants people to be interested in his secret invention. Discuss the efforts he makes to get them interested. Why is he upset when he is ignored?

3. Pap and Junior seem to share a tendency toward getting into unusual predicaments. Compare and contrast Pap’s night in the Dumpster to Junior’s night with Mad Mary in
The Blossoms Meet the Vulture Lady
.

4. Describe Vern’s friendship with Michael. Why doesn’t Vern want Michael to meet his family?

5. Michael and Ralphie love to come to the Blossom house. Why are they so intrigued with the Blossoms?

6. Explain Junior’s reaction when his mother says to Maggie, “Oh, love, your dad would be so proud of you” (p. 27). Why is Junior so convinced that his father would be ashamed of him?

7. Junior feels that every single Blossom is a success but him. Discuss the successes of each Blossom. How might Junior’s creativity be viewed a success?

8. Explain the power of the “Blossom promise.” Why is Junior so excited to be on the receiving end of a Blossom promise?

9. Vicki Blossom is furious when Maggie, Vern, and Ralphie leave Junior on the roof of old man Benson’s chicken house. Why does her fury surprise the children? Suggest ways the children could have helped Junior get down from the roof. Explain why staying behind to help would show courage and loyalty.

10. Pap is finally rescued by the police. Why is Pap so worried that he will look foolish to people? He says that not wanting to look foolish is a Blossom trait. Debate whether this trait has been inherited by Maggie, Vern, and Junior.

Prepared by Pat Scales, retired school librarian and independent consultant, Greenville, South Carolina.

Junior was born to be an inventor. And since you are a writer, you are too! What else did you get the inventing gene for?

When I was growing up, I liked to make my own clothes. Some of them really were inventions. I sewed fast, without patterns and with great hope and determination; and that’s approximately the same way I write.

Pap and Junior get into lots of unusual predicaments. What was the most remarkable predicament you were ever in?

My most remarkable predicament was finding myself an author. It had been easy to be a writer. I wrote whenever I could, wherever I was, and on whatever I could find. Nobody wanted to meet me—certainly not editors. I didn’t have to become an AUTHOR until I won the Newbery Medal. Having to act like an author was a remarkable predicament.

Was Junior getting stuck on the roof based on anything you’d experienced?

I get stuck all the time when I’m writing. I get to the point where I don’t know what’s going to happen next. I’ve tried hitting myself on the forehead and saying, “Think, Betsy, think!” It doesn’t work. Here’s what works. I say, “Oh, well, I’ll just play some computer games.” I start playing and I get really involved and I’m about to win—and wouldn’t you know it—I think what’s going to happen next and have to go back to my writing.

Betsy Byars (b. 1928) is an award-winning author of more than sixty books for children and young adults, including
The Summer of the Swans
(1970), which earned the prestigious Newbery Medal. Byars also received the National Book Award for
The Night Swimmers
(1980) and an Edgar Award for
Wanted . . . Mud Blossom
(1991), among many other accolades. Her books have been translated into nineteen languages and she has fans all over the world.

Byars was born Betsy Cromer in Charlotte, North Carolina. Her father, George, was a manager at a cotton mill and her mother, Nan, was a homemaker. As a child, Betsy showed no strong interest in writing but had a deep love of animals and sense of adventure. She and her friends ran a backyard zoo that starred “trained cicadas,” box turtles, leeches, and other animals they found in nearby woods. She also claims to have ridden the world’s first skateboard, after neighborhood kids took the wheels off a roller skate and nailed them to a plank of wood.

After high school, Byars began studying mathematics at Furman University, but she soon switched to English and transferred to Queens College in Charlotte, where she began writing. She also met Edward Ford Byars, an engineering graduate student from Clemson University, whom she would marry after she graduated in 1950.

Between 1951 and 1956 Byars had three daughters—Laurie, Betsy, and Nan. While raising her family, Byars began submitting stories to magazines, including the
Saturday Evening Post
and
Look
. Her success in publishing warm, funny stories in national magazines led her to consider writing a book. Her son, Guy, was born in 1959, the same year she finished her first manuscript. After several rejections,
Clementine
(1962), a children’s story about a dragon made out of a sock, was published.