Kathryn Magendie (14 page)

We set out for Whale Back. The way back didn’t seem as long as the way there, funny how that happened when coming and going. I asked Sweetie, “Did you draw a map to your house?”

“Naw.”

“Why not?”

“You can follow me there.”

“But what if you need me and I can’t find you and you go into a coma?”

“What is with you and that coma?”

I huffed out my air.

“What you huffing over?”

“You know how to get to
my
house, but I’m not supposed to know how to get to yours?”

“I just showed you.” She turned to me with her eyebrows pulled up.

“You know I can’t find it by myself.” I crossed my arms over my chest.

“You sure are acting ornery.”

“What if I need you real fast and you aren’t at Whale Back, and there’s no moccasin note, and I’m searching and searching until I get lost in the woods forever and ever?”

She put her hands on her hips. “Well, huhn.”

“I mean,
think
about it.” I sounded prissy, even to my own ears.

“You act like a gnat that won’t get slapped away.”

“I do not.”

“I will draw you up a map later, okay?”

“Hey! It would help if you’d mark the way to some of our places until I learned them better. Like, oh what’s that book? Where they mark their way in the woods?”

“I do not know.”

“Like Hansel and Gretel, or something like that. Except something where the birds won’t eat it.”

She shrugged.

“I know! You could use some of your mother’s yarn and tie a bit on the tree branches. You could do that to your house and let me see if I could follow it. I mean, the maps are good, but it’d just be something different, you know?”

“I guess so.”

“It’ll be adventurous and fun.”

“I reckon it might.”

That night I lay in my frilly girl’s bed with my nice things all around me, the television going in the next room. I lay there with my stomach full from Mother’s steak medallions with mushroom sauce. I lay there and listened to Father’s typewriter clackity clack away. I wanted to be back at Sweetie’s place. I wanted to stay there forever. I wanted her mother, and I wanted to be like Sweetie and never feel any pain. I wanted her life instead of mine. That was my foolish-biological-sciences-that-wished-anyway heart.

FOURTEEN

I was at Dead Owl Trail at first light, even though I went the wrong way and had to double back, which would prove my point to Sweetie about how I sometimes still had trouble finding my way on the mountain, even with her maps. I didn’t want to admit to her how I was being a little lazy and following yarn stuck to branches would be easier than reading maps. To me, the mountain could look the same, until Sweetie showed me the little things that made them different, then I’d understand better.

Mother was going to throw a fit over the chores I’d left undone. For once, I wanted to leave the house and go have fun without worrying about sweeping, mopping, dusting, cleaning the bathroom, scrubbing the bottoms of pots, or washing my clothes. There wasn’t a reason in the world I could see to have to do chores before I left every day.

Dead Owl Trail had an opening in the trees that faced east and Sweetie said to sit with my back against the maple tree and wait for all the colors, reds and oranges and yellows, to cross the mountains and sky. Sometimes the mists would cover the mountains and glow as if they had a light inside.

It was so beautiful and peaceful, I didn’t care if Sweetie showed up on time or not. I liked the feeling that I was the only person in the world. Sometimes I felt the weight of Sweetie’s secret. There were times I had shameful thoughts against Sweetie’s ways and friendship. Thoughts like what if I did the stuff my brother used to do with his friends, the things other kids did with their friends. But then Sweetie would say, “I got something inneresting to show you,” and I’d be trapped in the spell of her mysterious, beautiful mountain world.

After the magic of the sunrise colors drifted away, I didn’t feel so brave when I thought about Mother lecturing me, taking away my allowance, and the punishment to my room. I stood up and ran almost all the way home.

Opening the door without a sound, I crept in. All was as quiet and still as I had left it. I checked my watch; I’d been gone an hour and thirty-five minutes. I peeked into the study, but Father wasn’t there. He must have left for work early. The door to Mother’s room was closed, and when I pressed my cheek to the door, there weren’t any sounds. Sometimes Mother slept late if she was extra tired.

I swept and mopped the kitchen, and for good measure, did the same to the living room floor. I washed Father’s dishes left in the sink, and then toasted a piece of wheat bread, spread peanut butter on it and toasted it again in the oven until the peanut butter was gooey and a bit browned on the top. I ate it with a tall cold glass of milk, and cleaned up my crumbs. I heard Mother stirring around in her bedroom, so I ran to brush my teeth and gargle, and wipe down my bathroom.

I was walking down the hall with my satchel when she stepped out of her bedroom. She had her hair brushed back into a low ponytail. Her eyes were a little red.

“Good Morning, Mother.” I gave her a big smile.

“Good Morning, Melissa. I see you’re headed out. Did you do your chores?”

“Would I leave the house without doing my chores?” I smiled bigger.

She raised an eyebrow. “We sure are happy this morning, aren’t we?”

“Yes Ma’am. It looks like a beautiful day.”

“I suppose it is.”

I shouldered my satchel and walked past her. I was almost at the end of the hall when she called out to me.

“Melissa?”

I stiffened and turned around. Maybe she knew. Maybe she had been up earlier and knew I was lying. I kicked myself in my behind with an imaginary big fat boot.

“I have to go on a trip for a little while. Do you think you and your father can manage to keep from burning the house down?”

It was hard, but I kept myself from jumping up and down and yelling yippee. “Um, we sure will miss you.” And just to be sure, “We’ll miss your cooking, too.”

She pulled her housecoat tight around her throat. “Well, I suppose you both will eat horrid things while I’m gone. Come with me to the kitchen.”

I followed her, and hoped she wouldn’t tell me I had to go with her. I prayed to the mountain spirit as hard as I could pray. I asked it to forgive me for saying I believed in science and only what could be proved right in front of me.

In the kitchen, Mother looked around. “How nice everything looks.”

“I swept and mopped the living room, too.”

“This is unexpected.” She put her hand on my head. “You’re growing up . . . so fast.” As she took away her hand, her fingers brushed my cheek. “Melissa . . . I . . . I have something to tell you.”

“Yes Ma’am?” My spine kinked up. I didn’t like how she looked.

She didn’t say anything at first, then her face changed. “You be good, okay?”

“Oh. Okay.”

“Well, I was worried about leaving you here to run wild, but now I’m feeling much better about it.”

“Where’re you going?”

“I . . . ” She had that funny look again, then, “Some things aren’t a child’s worry. Now run along where ever it is you were going before I interrupted you.”

“Yes Ma’am.” I opened the door.

“Wait!”

I kept the sigh inside. There was The Sigh Rule:
never sigh (or roll eyes) near mothers because sighs (and especially rolled eyes) make mothers go crazy
. I turned back to her. “Yes Ma’am?”

“Mrs. Tanner next door will keep an eye on things. In fact, I have eyes all over town, so don’t think you can get by with any foolishness.” She plugged in the percolator, then muttered, “That goes for your father, too.”

When I finally escaped, it was past the time I said I’d meet Sweetie. I ran on a cloud of happiness. I skipped on the parts of the trails that were even, feeling as if I could laugh aloud every step of the way.

Back at Dead Owl Trail, I’d been there twelve minutes when I heard a crashing through the woods. At first I worried it was a bear and hid behind the rhododendron bushes. Around the corner trotted Miss Annie, with Sweetie sitting on her back. I stepped out from behind the bushes and waved to her. She waved back, and when they were next to me, she jumped off the mule, her face split with the biggest grin I’d ever seen on her. She had a slim rifle or shotgun slung over her shoulder, which she took off and stuck in a holster fashioned across Miss Annie.

“What’s with the gun?” I’d never seen a gun in real life, only on television. I sure hoped she wasn’t going to shoot herself in the hand just to prove a point.

“That there was my Grandpaw’s twenty-two from when he was a boy. I take good care of it. I brung it in case I see a rabbit or maybe a big ole frog I can give to Zemry to make a stew. When I was little I tried to shoot him a tiny frog for his supper, but it blowed to bits and sent frog guts ever-where.” She laughed and laughed.

I started to say
oh, that’s gross,
or
poor little animals
, but then I thought of how Sweetie lived, how things were different for her than for me. How I’d never in my life been hungry, but the opposite—I ate too much food. But I secretly hoped she’d not find anything to shoot while I was with her.

Sweetie was twirling around with her arms in the air, sing-songing, “Guess what? Guess what?”

“What? What?” I had my own news I could dance about.

“Zemry and me caught a mess a trout.” She did a funny little dance. “And Mama is hungry for them fish. She got up!” She pushed her face in Miss Annie’s neck, as if to stop herself from showing so much happiness.

“I got good news, too.”

She turned to me, her face still open and happy. “What you got that’s good?”

“Mother’s going on a trip and I don’t even know how long!” We both danced around, holding onto each other hands and hopping about, turning in a circle. Sweetie did three cartwheels, and I did a half-way, not so good cartwheel that sent me sprawling.

She said, “Get on Miss Annie. We got to help Zemry clean them fish.”

“Get on? Clean fish?”

“That’s what I said. Let’s go.”

I’d never been on a mule before, but I’d ridden a horse at Grandmother Rosetta’s. Sweetie hopped up and held down her hand for me to grab and climb up behind her. I struggled just a little, but it wasn’t bad. I had on my brother’s jeans I’d rolled up, and a t-shirt with a hole in the bottom. I liked my good mule—Miss Annie, that is—riding clothes.

Sweetie grabbed Miss Annie’s rope and turned her back down the trail. We rode along and I thought about how nice it would be to go home to a house without Mother waiting to lecture me on being a lady or where did I go and what did I do or was that what I was wearing or don’t slam the door or
ding dong flamalama ping pong
.

When Miss Annie trotted up to Sweetie’s house, Zemry was sitting on a log with a basket beside him. He had a fish on a plank of wood and three knives beside it. “Y’uns ready to help me clean fish?”

We jumped off Miss Annie.

Sweetie went right to it. She hunkered down, picked up a fish from the basket, slapped it on the wood, and grabbed one of the knives. She cut off the fish’s head and held it up in front of my face.

“
Eeeww
.” I stepped back.

She laughed, pointed with the knife. “Three a them fish’s not gutted yet. The others we done right after we caught them, right Zemry?”

“Yep.”

“You . . . you cleaned them alive?”

“Nuh uh,” Sweetie said. “We took care of that before we cleaned them.”

I felt a little sick.

“Yep. If we don’t poke them fish right away, they suffer something fierce,” Zemry said. “Can’t breathe. Be like you being underwater and drowning. Well, them fish drown out of the water, slow and long. We poke them and it’s quick. We do it where they don’t know a thing, I promise.”

“Okay.” I tried to smile, and hunkered down like Sweetie.

Sweetie said, “Watch me, this here’s how you clean a fish.” She slit it from the tail to the head, and then drew out its innards. “See?”

“Oh. Okay, I guess.”

Zemry took out his tobacco pouch and made a cigarette, letting Sweetie show me what to do.

Sweetie poked out an eyeball and shoved it at me. “I seeeee you.” She and Zemry laughed and slapped their knees.

“Stop it, that’s
gross
.” But I laughed, too.

“Now, watch.” She sliced right below the gills and around until the head was off. “Now you follow along with yours.” She took two more fish and handed me one. “Follow me. See, now, slit up it.”

 
“Like this?” I slit the fish as she did.

“Yeah, that’s it.” Sweetie nodded. “Now, reach your finger up in there, and pull out the guts.” She pulled out guts and slapped them on the ground. “I think I will ground up these guts and make a fish-gut pie.”

I stared at her, until she laughed and I knew she was making it up. It took me a few tries to get them all, but I slapped the guts on the ground like it was something I did every day.

She took the knife and sliced behind a fin, working her way up and around as she had before. “Now you do it like I just done.”

I cut off my fish’s head, almost as clean as she had.

“You done a good job, Lissa. Huh, Zemry?”

“She’s earned her plate, that’s for sure.” He blew out smoke as he talked, pinched off the lit end of his cigarette, and put the butt in his pocket. “A fine job.”

I almost puffed out my chest.

When the fish were ready, Zemry washed them. “Sometimes I keep the head on and do it whole, but Sweetie’s mama likes the head off. She says she don’t like them staring at her while she’s eating.” Zemry wiped the knife on his goo-splattered dungarees. “These are going over the fire.”