Daisy Fay and the Miracle Man: A Novel (29 page)

I think Kay Bob Benson ought to pay for a dentist, but she said she isn’t going to because it’s my fault my other front tooth got chipped. I should have gotten out of the way.

We were marching in the Mardi Gras parade in New Orleans, and Kay Bob Benson was showing off. Every time we stopped, she did all her stupid baton tricks, throwing that stupid thing way up in the air and catching it behind her back. Once, when Miss Philpot gave the whistle to march, her baton came down and hit my saxophone and chipped my other front tooth. Now I have two chipped teeth. I could kill her. Not only that, it bent my keys and my saxophone won’t play at all. I had to march all day pretending to be playing.

We had a terrible time in New Orleans. The bass drummer was hit in the head with a Coca-Cola bottle, and right after we got off the bus, some man called Edwina Weeks over to his car and exposed himself to her. That parade is dangerous if you ask me. They throw all kinds of stuff at you, and we had melted candy all over our uniforms. It will cost a fortune to have them cleaned. The only good thing that happened is that some drunk spit on Kay Bob Benson!

P.S. “Glow Little Glowworm” doesn’t fit into any march.

Last night, before we went to the drive-in, Marion Eugene stopped by the pool hall to get some money from his brother. When he came out, he said, “Guess who is in there shooting pool?”

I said, “Who?”

“Your daddy and Jimmy Snow.”

I said, “I don’t believe you. They are at the Alcoholics Anonymous meeting.”

He told me to go see for myself. I went in and sure enough, there they were, drinking beer. I am disgusted with both of them. It turns out they only went to Alcoholics Anonymous one time. Daddy made Jimmy leave, saying he wasn’t going to stand up in front of a bunch of reformed drunks and give his name and say, “I am an alcoholic.” Besides that, all they did was pray. They have been out every Friday night shooting pool. I give up. If I had some money, I would get my own apartment or go live in the Magnolia Springs Hotel.

They should be ashamed to be setting such a bad example for me. And Daddy should wait up for me when I have a date. Jimmy is the only one that won’t go to sleep until he sees if I’m all right.

Pickle told me the worst story about these two people parked in Lover’s Lane in the town where she came from. They were sitting there smooching when on the radio it said that a sex maniac with a hook on the end of his arm had escaped and was running around loose. Well, the girl got real scared and wanted to go, but the boy wanted to stay. They had a big fight over it. Finally, the boy got mad and drove off. When they got home, he opened the door and there was a hook hanging from the handle.

Daddy and Jimmy don’t ever talk to me about boys and sex. I think somebody should tell me about it. I worry, because if kissing can get you pregnant, Pickle is in trouble. I know she won’t take a bath after her father or her brother have been in
the tub because she’s heard of a girl that did that and got pregnant. I told her to take showers.

Pickle is in love with Tab Hunter. I had to sit through
Battle Cry
eight times. She wrote him a letter and told him he should star in a movie with Piper Laurie and asked him for a picture.

We are going to be in the senior play. I get to play a waitress. I go over to wait on a table and Billy Hamp says to me, “How old are these eggs?” I say, “I don’t know, mister. I just laid the table.” I don’t think that’s funny, do you?

Pickle gets to do four daffy definitions. They ask her, “What is a neighbor?”

She says, “A person who’s here today and gone to borrow.”

“What is a dentist?”

“A bridge builder.”

“What’s an Eskimo?”

“A person who has to undress with an ice pick.”

“What is a zebra?”

“A horse behind bars.”

She has all the funny lines.

Mustard Smoot is doing an imitation of Tennessee Ernie Ford. And there’ll be a takeoff on
Your Hit Parade
. Miss Philpot is directing.

We were in the school paper. I was named the Wittiest Girl in the sophomore class. Pickle was named the Girl with the Most School Spirit. Kay Bob Benson got the Best Dressed, naturally. Michael was named the Cutest Boy and Vernon Mooseburger
was named Most Likely to Succeed. Patsy Ruth Coggins was the Sweetest. Oh, brother, they should have heard what she said to Pickle and me when we threw the sand crabs at the Rainbow Girls. She is not mad anymore, but her mother won’t let her take Pickle and me in her car. We have had to walk everywhere. What a drag!

The Senior Prom is coming up and Pickle and I are going to get appointments at Nita’s Beauty Box and a full makeup at the Merle Norman Studio the afternoon of the prom. I couldn’t buy anew dress, so Pickle is loaning me her old aqua one and she is wearing one of her cousin’s. We are going to stay up all night and see the sunrise, and then we will all have breakfast at the Magnolia Springs Hotel dining room. It will be the first time Pickle and I have ever stayed up all night on a date. All the seniors do it. I can’t wait. Kay Bob Benson is not going to the Senior Prom because Flicka Hicks is not a senior. Too baddddd! But, as Miss Doris Day says, “Que Sera Sera.”

The theme of the prom this year was “Red Sails in the Sunset” and the crepe paper decorations were red and orange. Everybody said Pickle and I looked beautiful. I wish you could have seen Becky Bolden’s face. She was dancing and the pin to her corsage got stuck in her inflatable bra. One side totally collapsed. She screamed like she had been shot, and all her friends rushed over and escorted her to the ladies’ room, pushing everybody out of the way. It was a riot. She never did come back. Patsy Ruth
Coggins got sick and couldn’t come to the dance. Pickle made the band play “Rocking Pneumonia and the Boogie Woogie Flu” in her honor. After the prom a whole group of us drove down to the beach. The boys brought blankets so we could sit and watch the sun come up. Marion Eugene gave me his senior ring to wear and Mustard gave Pickle his. Pickle must have known because she had adhesive tape in her purse and wrapped it around Mustard’s ring so it would fit. I did mine the same way. That ring must weigh five pounds.

We were eating breakfast over at the hotel when all of a sudden in walked Pickle’s daddy, who picked her up by the arm and said, “OK, young lady, let’s go,” and practically dragged her out the door. We didn’t know what to do. I am sure Pickle was embarrassed to death. Poor Mustard just sat there. He was so furious he was about to cry.

Today Pickle wouldn’t dress out for physical education so I know her daddy had beat the hell out of her. I asked her how he found out where she was and she said she had told him she was spending the night with Patsy Ruth Coggins. He had called there late and Mrs. Coggins told him Patsy Ruth had the flu and nobody was spending the night there. He went to all the motels and hotels looking for her. She said he had sex on his mind.

Today was Kid’s Day, when all the seniors dress as little kids. Lemuel was acting like a real nut and stood up in his seat. His foot went right through it and he couldn’t get out. He was stuck there for about two hours until the janitor came and took the whole desk apart.

We got our school annuals today. Pickle’s photographs were terrible. You can’t tell who is who. Everybody signed my book. Listen to this:

I just wrote my name, upside down.…

Do you know that I failed algebra? On top of that, I failed civics and driver’s education. I didn’t even know I was failing civics. I worked so hard passing Spanish it slipped up on me. They don’t have summer school here. I’m going to have to go to Jackson and stay with my Grandmother Pettibone so I can be a junior with Pickle next year. I could just kill myself. Pickle and I were planning to have so much fun this summer. We were going to get a deep tan and peroxide our hair and everything.

Since I can’t be here this summer, Pickle is going to get a summer job at Elwood’s Variety Store to make some extra money for clothes.

I leave for Jackson next week, and Pickle will accompany me to the bus station. She promised to write every day and tell me what’s happening. We will have a great time next year, I just know it. Juniors have all kinds of privileges and Lem is getting a car. If he lets Pickle borrow it, we can play hookey all the time. I can’t wait.

I had been in summer school two months when Pickle stopped writing me. I sent her letter after letter asking what was wrong, but never heard a word. About a month later Patsy Ruth Coggins wrote and told me that Pickle was pregnant.

How Pickle let that happen I will never understand. We were supposed to go to New York together. No matter what, I am getting out of Mississippi as soon as I can. I failed algebra again in summer school.

Daddy and Jimmy Snow and I are living in Hattiesburg, Mississippi now. The man who owned the motel Daddy was running fired him because he rented a room to some colored people and the White Citizens’ Council found out about it and came down and shot out all the windows. Daddy is working in a beer joint here called Jonnie’s, and Jimmy is still crop-dusting whenever he can.

Our apartment house is called Milner Court. My room is a screened-in porch. I hope we move soon.

The school I am going to is Blessed Sacrament Academy, and the catechism teacher, Father Stephens, is driving me crazy trying to get me to become a Catholic. A lot of rich girls go to the school. They are all in sororities and are debutantes. Sally Gamble, whose daddy runs the biggest department store in Jackson, is in my class. I haven’t made any friends, but I don’t want any, I just want to graduate and get out of here.

Grandma Pettibone hit the jackpot at bingo and sent me $15.

There is a theater called the Azalea Street Playhouse where they put on live plays a block from where we live, so I went over to buy myself a ticket to see a show. While I was in the lobby, I overheard this man saying that the spotlight worker had gotten mad and quit and they had to have someone for the show that night. I told him I could run a spotlight because my father and grandfather were spotlight workers and had taught me, which was a lie. They never taught me, but it always looked pretty easy to me. The man said great, and for me to be at the theater that night. I got on a bus and went downtown to the Melba Theater where a friend of Daddy’s was working as a projectionist. He got out this old spotlight and taught me how to work it. I was right, it is easy. All you have to do is point it and turn a knob to make the light bigger or smaller.

After the show that night, the director of the theater, Professor Teasley, came up to the light booth and said I had done a wonderful job. The other person they had couldn’t even find the stage half the time, so I am now the official spotlight worker. They don’t pay anything, but I can see all the shows for free. Everybody says this is the best community theater in Mississippi. I am invited to the cast party next week and my name is going in the program. I am using Fay Harper because it will look better in print. Even if I had the money, I won’t have any time for sororities and stuff. In fact, if I hadn’t promised Momma to finish high school, I would just drop out and become a full-time professional spotlight worker.