Chasing Lilacs (7 page)

I flinched and crawled into the back as Mr. Johnson hollered at Alice again. She stomped to the house and slammed the door
behind her.

“What’s wrong with Mother?” Tuwana asked, settling into the front passenger seat.

“Too much excitement, I reckon,” her father said. “Maybe she’s never seen an Edsel before. I know the feeling. Knocked my
socks off when I first saw it. The car of the future, you know.” He patted the dash.

“What does this do?” Tara pointed to a lever above the armrest.

“Electric windows. And up here”—he pointed to a circle of buttons in the center of the steering wheel—“Teletouch drive. Don’t
even have to take my hands from the wheel to put her into drive or reverse. Just push a button and we’re off.”

Mr. Johnson cruised along as faces peeked out their screen doors, gawking. He waved and beeped the horn as if it were the
Mandeville Pioneer Day Parade. The breeze caught my hair, and I inhaled the smell of the new, cushy interior.

“Oh, Daddy, this is fabulos-o! All my friends will be sooooo impressed. I bet they don’t even have cars like this in California.
When can we take them for a ride?” Translation:
Cly won’t be able to resist me now.

“Anytime, Princess. Now watch this.” He pointed out the power steering feature by using only his pinky finger on the wheel.
We passed Bailey’s store and the Hilltop Church, where he honked at Brother Henry mowing the parsonage lawn.

The sharp smell of sagebrush rushed in the open windows. Mr. Johnson bellowed “Deep in the Heart of Texas” in a low, throaty
voice. I felt swept away to a time long ago when Mama and Daddy and I had taken a drive in the country.

The wind had whipped through the open windows that day
as I tapped my new white cowboy boots on the red pickup’s cubbyhole and Daddy sang, “Git along ye little dogies, git along,
git along….”

Mama sipped Grapette from a bottle. Her hair, the exact shade of the Indian paintbrush blooming in the bar ditches, whirled
around her head. She offered me a swig of the pop, its warm fizz wetting my dry throat. Oil-pump jacks bobbed their grasshopper-looking
heads, sucking at the ground. Sunlight slashed through the clouds, aiming straight at us. With Daddy’s singing, Mama’s laughing,
and my boots tapping, we skimmed along, just the three of us under a Texas sky.

That’s how today feels
. In my heart, I knew it was a sign Mama would be all right.

W
E HAD A THUNDERSTORM
—a toad strangler according to Daddy—the day before the Fourth, so everyone let out a big sigh of relief when the weather
turned clear for the picnic. The Johnsons’ new Edsel, though, created more excitement than the celebration. Tuwana’s dad took
anyone who wanted for a ride. Kids lined up like they were waiting for the merry-go-round at the carnival. No charge, of course.

Tuwana had called me that morning and told me her mother refused to look at the Edsel and hadn’t spoken to her dad since he
brought the car home. I could tell Mrs. Johnson was hopping mad when I dropped off my brownies at the food table. She and
Harriet Ford had their heads together talking.

“I’m furious, I’m here to tell you.” Mrs. Johnson waved a spoon around in the air and took my brownies. “Thank you, Sammie.
You didn’t have to bring anything, you know, with your mother gone and all.”

“It’s okay, Mrs. Johnson. This is my mother’s recipe, and I know she’s sorry she couldn’t be here for the picnic this year.
She’s coming home on Monday.”

Mrs. Johnson went back to talking to Mrs. Ford. “You’d think he would consult me since I’m the one who has to sacrifice and
get all the bills paid. Now he’s the hero of the hour, taking everyone
and his dog for rides, burning up heaven only knows how many tanks of gas.”

Mrs. Ford stabbed a knife into my brownies, cutting them into squares, and said, “Mercy, Alice. You have to admit, your Studebaker
had seen better days.”

I hurried off and ran straight into Cly.

“Hey, Sam, where you been all day? You missed the basketball shoot-out.”

“Sorry. I had to make brownies.”

“You okay?”

“Of course, why wouldn’t I be?”

“Beats me. You want to go shoot some baskets now?”

Before I could answer, someone rang a cowbell announcing the food was ready. Tuwana and PJ ran up, Tuwana pulling on Cly’s
arm and dragging him into the food line. We all piled our plates with fried chicken, potato salad, and pickled okra. Cly made
a face like he’d sucked a lemon when he tried the okra.

After eating and playing games, like gunnysack races and the egg-on-a-spoon relay, everyone brought out their fireworks and
grown-ups supervised their kids, letting them shoot off Roman candles, Black Cats, and cardboard cones that fizzed into fountains.
When I closed my eyes, the glare of the sparklers danced like shooting stars behind my eyelids.

“Anybody want to ride in the Edsel?” Tuwana tugged on Cly’s arm, but he told her to go ahead. She gave him a frowny face.

When I ran to ask Daddy if I could go, I heard Doobie holler, “Dibs on the window.”

Daddy told me to have fun, that he was heading home, so I ran back to the Edsel.

“Sam, over here.” Cly pulled me into the backseat square on his lap.

“Everybody in?” Mr. Johnson gunned the engine.

Tuwana scowled at me from the front, squashed between Davie Summers and Mitzi Greenwood. “Do you wanna trade places? There’s
more room for your long legs up here.”

“It’s okay,” I said, not wanting to delay the ride.

Tuwana crossed her arms and stared out the windshield.

Mr. Johnson pushed a button, and we eased onto the road.

“See this here bar above the radio?” Mr. Johnson pointed out the spot to watch. “Gives you the strongest signal available.”

Tapping Mr. Johnson on the shoulder, Doobie said, “Let’s see what this baby’ll do.”

Gravel spun from under the tires as the Edsel peeled out. On the open highway, Mr. Johnson floored it and said, “Keep your
eyes on the speedometer.”

Necks craned and bodies shifted trying to see the magical spot. A red glow showed up on the half-moon dial when the needle
reached 70.

“Speed warning light,” Mr. Johnson said. “Safety feature for any of you heavy-footed types.”

“You gonna let us drive it?” Davie asked.

“Yeah, when the moon turns to green cheese, I am.” He threw back his head and laughed. He slowed down, hung his head out the
window looking for cars, then spun the Edsel around on the highway and headed back to the community hall.

“Can you drop me off at my house?” I asked.

“Right-o.”

I thanked Tuwana’s dad for the ride and ducked out the door. Cly hopped out behind me. “I’ll walk home from here, Mr. Johnson.
Bossin’ car, man.”

“You live four streets over,” I said as the car pulled away.

“Yeah… well, I wanted to make sure you get home safely.”

“What could be safer than Graham Camp? Only thing might
get me is a fang-toothed coyote coming out of the canyon looking for a snack.”

“For an ankle-biter, you’re pretty funny.”

“I don’t get it.”

“For a kid, you’re all right. That’s all.” Cly started up the sidewalk after me, hands jammed into his Levi’s pockets.

The air suddenly felt thicker, the sky blacker. The sidewalk stretched out in front of me a mile long, and my breathing had
turned weird, sort of shallow and fluttery. Why was Cly walking with me? Tuwana would have a conniption.

I wiped my sweaty palms on my shorts, then clenched them into fists. Puffing out my cheeks, I let out a slow breath. Cly walked
close enough I could feel his shirt brushing my arm.

“A kid? So that’s what you think?” I opened my mouth, and that’s what came out.

Just a few more steps to the porch. The fixture beside the door made a yellow circle of light that seemed to say
hurry, hurry.

“I’m home. Safe and sound. You can go now.” My voice had a scritchy sound.

“Just one thing… I’ve been wondering…. Everything cool with you here at home?”

“Sure. Why wouldn’t it be?” What was this all about? Earlier today he’d asked almost the very same thing.

“Doobie told me about your mom being gone. I thought maybe… Well, I just hoped things were righteous, ya know.”

“Doobie? What does he know? My mother’s doing fine. As a matter of fact, she’ll be back on Monday. Good as new. Besides, I
don’t think it’s
cool
for Doobie to be talking about something he knows nothing about.” Just because his mom had gone to the same hospital as Mama
didn’t mean he knew beans about our situation.

“I’m all ears if you want to talk about it.”

“I’m fine. My mother’s fine. And besides, I heard you had plenty
of your own problems to deal with. I don’t think you need to be butting into mine.” My mouth had taken on a mind of its own.
I didn’t know exactly what Cly’s problems were, but they weren’t the same as mine. Not even close.

“Where’d you hear that?” His chin lifted a notch, and a dark look crossed his face.

“Never mind. Just forget I said anything.” I climbed to the top step.

“Wait.” Cly grabbed my arm and pulled me around. “What did you hear?”

“Sammie, you by yourself?” Daddy said from the other side of the screen. “Thought I heard voices out here.”

“Yes, Daddy… I mean, no, I’m not by myself. Cly walked me up the sidewalk. He’s going home now.”

I yanked my arm away from Cly’s grip and marched into the house.

Daddy sat in his rocker, watching the weather on the television. I wondered if he’d heard my conversation with Cly. I hoped
not. And another thing. I wished Cly had never walked me home and that Edsels hadn’t been invented. When the weatherman finished,
Daddy went to the kitchen and filled his thermos with coffee and made a sandwich for his lunch box.

“I’ll be on graveyards for two more nights. Guess you’ll be going over to the community hall to clean up tomorrow.”

I nodded. He gave me a peck on the cheek, picked up his battered hard hat, and left for his shift at the plant. After taking
a bath, I tried reading
Gone with the Wind,
but the words blurred together. All I could think about was why Cly asked me so many questions. I concentrated on the words
in the book, but I was too sleepy to make any sense of them. I turned out the light and thought about Mama. Only two more
days and she’d be home. The last thing I
remembered before falling asleep was wondering if a person was allowed to eat fried chicken when receiving shock treatments.

The next morning Tuwana lit into me the minute I showed up for the cleanup. “What? You didn’t bring Cly along so you could
kootchy-koo while we sweep the floors?”

“What?” I stepped away from her.

“Don’t act so dumb, like you don’t know what I’m talking about,” she hissed.

“If you’re talking about when Cly walked home from my house, I didn’t have anything to do with that.”

“Yeah, and sitting on his lap in the Edsel wasn’t your idea either, I suppose.” She crossed her arms and slitted her eyes
at me.

“For Pete’s sake, Tuwana, I don’t know how you come up with these harebrained ideas. You’re the one with the big crush. Not
me.”

“You say that, but I know you ride your bike past his house all the time, show off on the basketball court….”

“Think whatever you want. Trust me. I’m not trying to steal your boyfriend. Now maybe we ought to get busy.” I picked up a
wooden folding chair and stacked it near the wall.

Thankfully Cly didn’t show for the cleanup. Every time the door opened, I looked up, half wanting it to be him, half scared
to death. Sometimes I could still feel his hands around my waist as we’d sped along in the Edsel.
Is this what a crush feels like?
I didn’t feel all swoony or anything, so I guessed not.

I kept my distance from Tuwana and worked outside, picking up stray paper plates and burned-up sparklers from the night before.
When we finished, I walked home alone and spent the afternoon reading the last fifty pages of
Gone with the Wind
while Daddy took a nap before his graveyard shift.

What did Mama love so much about this book? The adventurous
Scarlett? The rascal Rhett? Maybe when Scarlett’s little girl, Bonnie, died, it reminded her of Sylvia. I personally didn’t
think that would be a good thing. Still, I couldn’t wait to see her and tell her I’d read her favorite book, the whole thing.

I’d just finished when Daddy woke up and asked me to come outside with him. He lowered himself onto the porch step and lit
a Camel.

“I had an interesting conversation down at the plant last night.” He sounded odd.

“What was that?”

“Norm MacLemore told me you’d been spending a lot of time with his nephew.”

An up-and-down roller-coaster feeling started in my stomach.

“Not really. He hangs around with all of us, actually.” What was going on?

“What’s he like? The nephew.”

“Well, at first…” I took a deep breath. “When he first came he acted different, talked like they do in California, I guess.
But now he seems like everyone else. Riding Doobie’s motor scooter. Playing basketball. Just regular stuff.”

“Norm thinks I oughta keep a better eye on you. Says his nephew’s been in trouble at his school. He doesn’t want anything
to happen here.”

“Trouble? What trouble?” Tiny prickles danced up my spine.

“Skipping school. Running with a bad crowd, from what I gathered.”

“He seems all right to me.”

“I saw him grab your arm last night on the porch. Now, I ain’t saying he was up to no good, but you’re only twelve. The nephew’s
fourteen. Probably be best for all concerned if you stayed away from him.”

“You mean I can’t even pick my own friends?”

“Not if it’s the MacLemore kid.” He stubbed out the cigarette butt in the Folgers can. “It’s times like this I wish your aunt
Vadine had come to stay while Mama’s gone. You’re too young to be on your own.”

“That’s not fair. I haven’t done anything. Mr. MacLemore got it all wrong.”

“Life’s not always fair. I’ve told you that. It wasn’t fair when your sister, Sylvia, died, and that’s what’s kept your mama
worked up all these years. Thing is, we don’t know anything about this kid, and you adding to Mama’s problems when she gets
back wouldn’t do. Not at all.” He got up and went into the house.