School of Charm (5 page)

chapter six

I
T FELT LIKE A COLD, HEAVY ROCK WAS SITTING IN MY
chest as I walked up Grandma's driveway all alone. The U-Haul trailer was gone, so I guess there was no chance Mama would change her mind and take us back home. I stepped inside and let the screen door slam behind me. No one noticed. Everyone was watching Charlene look at herself in a full-length mirror pulled out into the living room, right in the middle of all those fancy, lit-up dolls, like they were watching too. Charlene frowned at the pale yellow material she held up to her chin. She grabbed a handful of it and gritted her teeth. “Mama, this color is not bright enough. It washes me out!”

Mama had a few pins tucked into the corner of her mouth. “Darlin', this is what you picked out. You loved it at the store. And you better watch it. You keep making that nasty face and it will freeze just like that for good. Happened to my friend Dolores Groves. You should have seen her senior class picture. 'Course no one asked her to prom. I don't think she ever got married, either.”

Charlene stomped her foot. “It won't matter if it freezes like that. This is so ugly no one will be looking at my face! There must have been different lighting at the store. I never would have picked out something so horrid.”

I dashed up the stairs and ran to my room. I threw open the closet door and let out my breath. The bowl was still there and so was Earl. I picked him up and set him in my hand. He looked at me and closed his eyes. Then I put him back, slid the bowl in the closet, and went downstairs. He needed food.

Grandma was in the kitchen and Charlene was still whining. “I can't wear this. I just can't.” Her blue eyes popped open wide, ready to leap out of her head.

Mama stepped back from Charlene and tapped her finger on her chin. “If you got yourself a nice tan, this dress would just glow on you. Yes, I'm sure it would.”

Charlene ran her fingers over her hair and across her collarbone. Her heaving chest started slowing down. “You think?”

“Yes, I do. You're a southern girl now. You have to have a tan. It's practically a law. Now, here's how to do it fast. Put a few drops of iodine in some baby oil. Slather that on real good, then cover one of your record albums in tinfoil and hold it in front of you. You'll bounce those sun rays right onto yourself and be tan in no time.”

Mama was so smart about that kind of stuff. “Hi there, Chip,” Mama said, glancing at me.

I opened my mouth, but Mama turned back to the pins she was poking through the silky gold material.

“Mama?” I sat down on the couch. The plastic cover let out a loud squeak like it couldn't believe I had the nerve to sit on it. “I have a question. A problem really.” I hoped she'd know what to do about my turtle. Mama didn't have a lot of experience with animals like Daddy did.

“Ouch!” Mama shook her hand and sucked on the finger she'd stuck with a pin. “Oh, Chip. Can it wait?”

Grandma walked into the room. “Off my couch with those dirty clothes, Brenda.” She swept one hand through the air like she was shooing me away. “Now, what's this problem? Perhaps I can help.”

Hopping off the couch, I looked into the hall at the eat-you-alive bear at the bottom of the stairs. Grandma didn't know anything about keeping animals alive. She only knew about killing them. “Um, nothing,” I said, backing away from her. “Nothing important. I'll be out back. Call me when supper's ready.”

I felt smaller inside Grandma's house than I did out on the hot road walking back from Miss Vernie's. Out there I felt like a big beautiful feather that could float anywhere. Inside with Grandma, I felt like dirty old gum stuck to the road.

“Make sure you change before dinner. You'll find a few new dresses hanging in your closet.” Grandma shook her head, her eyes sweeping across me from toes to nose. “Lordy, where have you been?”

The tips of my ears felt hot and I stepped back. “Exploring.”

This made Mama smile. “Would you take Ruthie outside with you? She's been clinging to my legs all day.”

I rolled my eyes.

Ruthie twirled in place, her ruffled dress flying. She held out her hand, and I grabbed it a little tighter than I meant to as I tugged her along to the kitchen. I rooted around the refrigerator and found spinach and a carrot for Earl.

“Oh, no. You'll spoil your supper.” Grandma held out her hand. “No snacks before dinner.” Her painted-on eyebrows were almost touching, like two mean caterpillars ready to fight.

Grandma was crazy if she thought I'd pick carrots and spinach for a snack. I handed back the food and stalked to my room. I sat in front of Earl's bowl.

Ruthie plopped down next to me. “Can I hold him?”

I took a few deep breaths to slow my heart. “No. Earl's very fragile. And he's a secret. Don't tell Grandma he's here.” Earl was asleep on the rock in the middle of the bowl. My eyes stung just looking at him. He seemed sad. He wasn't eating and I had to keep him hidden. It was going to be a whole lot harder taking care of this little guy than I'd figured. I wasn't so sure now I could do it without Daddy's help.

“You know, Chip, you should . . . ,” he'd say. But I couldn't figure out what words he would have used next. “I'll have to set this one on the burner until the solution finds me,” I remembered him saying.

That made me feel better. Maybe some great turtle-raising solution would just drop into my head.

“You're s'posed to play with me outside. Mama said.” Ruthie stuck out her lower lip.

I groaned. “Bring a book to look at.”

She grabbed a book of fairy tales, and we went to Grandma's big backyard. Ruthie settled under a tree and fluffed out her dress, folding her legs so the tips of her black shoes poked out. She started talking to herself like she was reading, but she knew most of the stories by heart because Mama had read them to her so many times.

I found a patch of grass dotted with shade from the trees. They looked like they'd been stretching up to the sky for a long time. I closed my eyes and played the Listen Game Daddy and I had loved so much. I tried to identify all the sounds I heard without looking: two birds twittering back and forth; Charlene whining inside; a car whizzing down the road.

“Did you hear that, Daddy?” I whispered. “I wonder where they're going.”

Then Ruthie started sniffling and whimpering. That girl cried all the time over nothing. Usually I just tried to make her laugh and forget about whatever was making her sad. That hadn't been working so well lately.

“What's wrong, Ruthie?” I asked.

“You're talking about Daddy. Don't do that. We're not supposed to.” Ruthie rubbed her hand under her nose.

“Ruthie, you can talk to him. I do.”

She put her hands over her ears and started crying harder. Maybe Charlene was right and talking about Daddy was a bad idea. I shut my mouth and did a few somersaults toward Ruthie, and thank goodness she started giggling. “Me too, me too!” she said, clapping.

I shook my head. “You'll get that dress dirty for sure.”

But it was too late. She stood up and put her head on the ground and tumbled to the side. Her white dress was stained with a big streak of green. Good thing Mama had practice getting out my stains.

Ruthie lined herself up and tumbled to the side again. “Help me!”

“Here,” I said, squaring her shoulders. “Put your head between your feet and look up behind you at the sky. Shake your bottom to get it lined up just right, and then fall forward.”

Ruthie stuck her ruffled behind in the air, waggled it a few times, and toppled over in a perfect somersault. She stood up and clapped, and tried it again and again.

“Supper, girls!” Grandma hollered out the window.

Her voice stopped me with a start. Ruthie was filthy. She must have known we were in for it too, because she brushed at the stains on her dress. We washed up in the bathroom and walked slowly into the dining room.

Grandma's lips tightened and turned white. “Brenda! I told you not to get any dirtier. And I told you to get changed into a new dress. And, lordy, look at Ruthie.” She shook her head and clucked her tongue.

I looked at Mama, waiting for her to step between us and tell me that she once had a white dress that was covered from top to bottom in grass and that she scrubbed for two days to get it out. But she got it out.

Instead Mama frowned and yanked the dress over Ruthie's head. She started inspecting the stains and closed her eyes, shaking her head. “I'm used to you being a tomboy, Brenda, but don't pull Ruthie into your shenanigans. Go put on some new clothes, Ruthie. And you heard your grandmother, Brenda. Get changed.”

Ruthie scampered up the stairs. I stared at Mama in disbelief. She'd never cared what I wore before. But I followed Ruthie up and threw open my closet. I hadn't noticed the three stupid, ugly dresses hanging in there before. One of them was dotted with red cherries, like I was supposed to be some kind of sundae. The next one was purple with a tiny rainbow across the chest. The one I picked to put on was the ugliest of all, just to show Grandma how dumb this dress-up-for-dinner idea was. The dress was brown, like dirt, with yellow ducks holding umbrellas. Was this Grandma's way of telling me she didn't like me? Guess Mama hadn't made Grandma promise to get along with me.

I came back down and Grandma nodded for me to sit.

“You look very nice, Chip,” Mama said. “Aren't you going to thank your grandmother?”

“Thank you, Grandma.” For making me look like the biggest dummy in all the United States of America.

“Yes, that's real, real nice, Chip. Just perfect for you,” Charlene said, the corner of her mouth twitching. “And what a nice bracelet. Where'd you get that? Your boyfriend back home?”

I gripped my wrist. “He's not my boyfriend. I found it,” I said quickly. “Out in the woods when I was exploring.”

Charlene pushed her salad around with her fork. “Exploring.” She rolled her eyes. “Listen, I know you're different from us, Chip, but don't try to make Ruthie be like you. She's one of us. She doesn't get dirty. She likes pretty things.”

Her words hit me in the stomach. Charlene had never said anything like that to me before.

Mama's fingers rubbed her temples and she let out a deep breath.

Grandma started humming again. “Charlene's right. The tomboy thing isn't going to work down here, Brenda.”

“Chip's not like regular girls, Grandma. She can't help it. Her best friend was a boy. She plays in the mud.” Charlene pointed her fork at me and let the silence hang for a moment. “Now, Ruthie's pageant material. Chip doesn't even have a talent. I've been singing and dancing since I was Ruthie's age. And we should get her started on lessons too.”

I opened my mouth to tell them about Miss Vernie's school, but clamped it shut. I wasn't going back there to join a stupid pageant; I was going because Miss Vernie's woods were nice and she was, too, and because I couldn't stand to be in this house longer than I had to, especially if I was supposed to be getting along with Grandma while she was busy buying me ugly dresses.

“You know, girls, the Miss Dogwood Festival actually has three divisions: the Miss division, the Junior Miss division, and the Little Miss.” Grandma slapped her hands on the table. “We should enter Ruthie! I don't know why I didn't think of it sooner. There's still time; the deadline to enter is in two days.”

“Ruthie, you want to join a pageant like Char-Char?” Charlene leaned across the table and tickled Ruthie's cheek.

Ruthie giggled and nodded her big head of curls like it was on a spring. Even though she was five, she usually acted like she was two. Smart girl. Ruthie had no problems fitting in as long as she acted like a baby. Everyone loves babies.

“Excellent.” Grandma clapped then rested a hand on Mama's shoulder. “Don't worry. I'll pay for Ruthie's dress.” She squeezed her hands together. “Oh, you two are beauty queens for sure. Just like your mama and me.”

I sat slumped at the table and stabbed the potato on my plate again and again and again. If Daddy were here, I wouldn't have cared at all what they were saying. But there was nothing else to listen to but their stupid blabber. Was this Daddy's way of telling me,
Forget that wish, kid, you'll never belong here
?
Grandma had come right out and said it—I wouldn't fit in down here if I was a tomboy, and that's who I was.

I slipped a handful of collard greens into my pocket and quietly slid from the table. I went to my room and crouched in the closet next to Earl. “You hate it here, don't you?” I asked him, sprinkling in the green bits of leaf. He didn't open his eyes. “It's because you don't belong here, you know. It's not your fault you ended up here like this. And it's not your fault that Grandma doesn't like you.”

“Maybe he hates it here because he's living in a plastic bowl,” Charlene said, leaning on the doorway.