Seeing Red (34 page)

We had a substitute teacher at school. She droned on and on and not one of us said a word. The classroom was quiet as a graveyard. I bet Mrs Pugh loved it.

When I got off the bus that afternoon, our front porch was piled high with boxes.

“No,” I heard myself say, like it was someone else talking, someone real sad.

I went inside slowly, and Mama was in the dining room wrapping china plates in newspaper.

“What’s going on?”

She stopped. “Mr Harrison said the buyer is in town already. He…he wants us out as soon as possible.”

“How soon?”

Mama blinked a few times and swallowed hard. Her voice came out as a whisper. “Tomorrow.”

“But – you shouldn’t even be selling, Mama! Some of this land isn’t even ours! We stole it!”

“I tried, Red, but Mr Harrison said—”

“Mr Harrison is a lowdown piece of—”

“Red,” Mama warned.

“Well, he is!”

“I don’t see any way around it,” she said.

I stormed outside and next thing I knew, Mama and J were standing by the car, J holding a brown paper lunch bag, his head hung down, and his lips wobbly. Mama’s lips were wobbly, too, but she steadied them enough to say, “We’re going up to tell Daddy goodbye. Do you want to come?”

I turned away and looked at the shop. “I’ll go on my own.”

“All right,” she said, “but be back by six o’clock. We’re still having Miss Miller over for supper for her –” Mama hesitated – “last night.”

Our last night, too.

I heard the car door open. “J?” Mama said. “What’s in your bag?”

J’s voice was quiet. “Sump’in for Daddy.”

“Oh. Okay,” she said, and I heard her slide onto the seat and shut the door.

After they left, I got the cedar box with the altar stone from under my bed and went over to the shop. I looked at the hymn and the map on the wall. I took out the altar stone and stared at it for a good long while before putting it in my pocket.

By the time I got to Daddy’s grave, Mama and J had already left. There were fresh white roses in a real vase, but I swallowed hard when I saw what J had brought in that lunch bag. His
Flintstones
bowl.

It was thundering in the distance and a few drops of rain fell, hitting the edges of J’s bowl and slowly dripping down inside. A petal fell off one of the roses and into the bowl. I took the piece of altar out of my pocket and knelt down in front of Daddy’s grave. A couple of sprinkles of rain hit the stone, turning those spots darker. Slowly, gently, I put it in the bowl next to the white rose petal.

“This is all I got for you, Daddy,” I whispered. “I tried. I really did. I’m sorry.”

I knelt there a long while, watching the few raindrops hit the petal and the stone.

CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

Fire!

When I got back home, our place was bone dry. It was like the rain knew that Daddy’s grave was a sad place and it had to shed some tears on it. I went in the shop and started putting the pieces of the chopped-up desk in a trash bag when I heard the door rattling.

“Can I come in, Red?” It was Rosie.

“Rosie! You’re back!” I was so happy to see her I hugged her. I would’ve stopped myself but she seemed to want to keep hugging. I took in a whiff of her. She still smelled like lemons, like lemonade, like summer before…before Daddy died and everything bad started happening. “Are you okay?” I asked her.

She finally let go, nodding. “I came to tell you how sorry I am about Miss Georgia.”

“Yeah. Me, too.”

“Are you doing all right?”

“Rosie…” I didn’t know how to tell her. I couldn’t even say it to myself.

Mr Harrison’s loud voice did it for me. “Hallelujah and Happy Thanksgiving!”

We stepped out of the shop and saw him plastering a sold sticker across the For Sale sign.

Seeing it in big red letters like that made me feel even worse.

“No!” Rosie cried. “You can’t leave! I’ll die! I’ll just die!”

Mama came out of the house, slowly, kind of jerky, wiping her hands on a towel. “Isn’t there any way around this, Gene?”

Rosie took off running.

Mr Harrison acted like nothing had happened. “Well, now, Betty, you signed those papers a while ago. We’re good to go!”

Mama wiped her face with the towel as if she thought that would wipe things away. “Red? You’d better go after Rosie.”

I stared at her. “You go after her. You’re the one who did this!”

I took off, but not after Rosie. I ran into the shop and slammed the door. I needed to think. I took in a deep breath of the oil and dirt but it didn’t work. No shop. No Daddy. No home. No Beau. No Rosie. And what would happen to them when we left them behind? I shook my head, trying to get my brain to work. I had to do something. And I had to think fast. Or it was all over.

I don’t know how long I was in there but at some point I realized that my breaths were taking in more than air. I smelled smoke. Not the smoke of a wood fire. It smelled different, not like someone’s woodstove, more like chemicals or…contact cement.

I opened the shop door. Smoke was coming from the direction of Rosie’s house, and I ran down the line of trees to reach it. I stopped at the creek.

It was the shed. Sparks flew from it and swirled in the air. Flames roared up the wood sides. The fire was hot and fast and angry, like all the nastiness of that shed was finally exploding. Mr Dunlop was there, swearing up a storm and spraying the flames with his hose, but it wasn’t doing any good. I didn’t get too close because the only thing worse than Mr Dunlop was Mr Dunlop really mad. When I heard him cussing about “those Porters” I took off.

I ran back to the What-U-Want to tell Beau what happened, even though he’d already smelled the smoke. “Figures he’d think it was us. Probably something in his own stupid shed started the fire.”

“You think so, Red?”

I shrugged. “It happens. Why? What do you think started it?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Just ain’t a usual everyday thing, so maybe it’s something unusual what started it.”

“What are you saying, Beau? Are you thinking someone set the fire?”

He shrugged. “I sure don’t know. Nope. I don’t.” And he started tugging on his hair.

“You know something, Beau.”

He stepped back from the counter, farther away from me, and shook his head. “No, sir, I don’t know nothin’.” When his eyes landed on the display of Zippo lighters, I realized what he was getting at. And I didn’t like it. “Are you saying Rosie did it? Is that what you’re saying?”

Beau tugged his hair with both hands.

“That’s a terrible thing to say, Beau!”

“I didn’t say—”

“A terrible thing!” I stormed out of the What-U-Want, slamming the door behind me.

CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

Rosie’s Place

My feet knew Beau was right before my head could accept it because they were already running me over to the Dunlops’. The smell of smoke hung heavy in the air and burned my eyes, nose and throat. I hardly noticed it, though, because all I was thinking about was Rosie, and how I’d ignored all the warnings.

I knew those warning signs – the way Mr Dunlop acted and how Mrs Dunlop didn’t act at all. I’d seen the warning, like her daddy hitting her. Heck, I’d even caused some of the problems, like getting Darrell sent away, not taking Beau seriously about the lighter, and not hanging out with her more. I wish I’d been a better friend. The thing is, if you ignore warnings, they jump from being warnings to something that’s already happened, and then it’s too late.

When I got to the Dunlops’, the sheriff’s car was parked outside. I ran up the steps and pounded on the door.

Mr Dunlop flung it open and when he saw me his eyes went all squinty and that nasty smile came on his face. “Well, well, well. Here he is, Sheriff. Just the kid I was talking about.”

Sheriff Scott stood behind him, eyeballing me. “Come on in, Red.”

I slid my back against the inside of the door to stay as far away from Mr Dunlop as I could. But I could still smell his sweat.

I saw Rosie, hovering in the corner by the wood stove, her arms wrapped around herself.

Mr Dunlop slammed the door and pointed at me. “It’s him. He’s always sneaking around my property and—”

“I’ll take care of things, Ray,” the sheriff said. “What do you know about this, Red?”

“Nothing. I just smelled the fire.”

“He’s lying!” Mr Dunlop yelled.

Me and Rosie looked at each other while the sheriff and Mr Dunlop argued about what they didn’t know. But we knew. I wondered if she was going to let me get arrested. And I wondered if I’d go ahead and let myself be arrested.

Mr Dunlop’s voice was louder now. “He’s a juvenile delinquent! He vandalizes buildings and signs, cuts school, and gets my kids in trouble.” He gave me a hard stare. “And all the while he’s acting all sweet and dumb like his buddy Beau.”

I stared back at Mr Dunlop real mean because I didn’t like the way he spat out Beau’s name.

The sheriff said, “We’ll look at everyone, Ray—”

“You don’t need to! Look at him! You can see it in his eyes. I’m telling you, them Porters have always had it in for us!” He jabbed his finger at me, but I stepped back. “And this one’s gone even crazier since his daddy went and died on him.”

I just about hauled off and punched him in that big, fat, stinking mouth of his.

“He got my Darrell sent to juvie. Maybe it’s time for a Porter to join him!”

Mr Dunlop grabbed me by the shirt, the sheriff stepped forward, and Rosie yelled, “Red didn’t do it!”

We all turned and looked at Rosie.

Mr Dunlop snorted. “What do you know, anyway? You don’t know nothing.”

“Yes, I do.”

“Oh, yeah? Like what?”

Rosie’s voice shook. “Like I did it.”

That made Mr Dunlop shut up and let go of me. There was a little cry from the bedroom, so I knew Mrs Dunlop heard. Sheriff Scott gave his Kiss of Death.

The phone on the wall rang. And rang. With each ring, Mr Dunlop’s face turned a darker shade of purple and his breathing got so heavy you could hear it. He leaped over the coffee table to the phone and ripped it clear off of the wall, so that the ring died in the phone’s throat in a final raspy jangle.

Mr Dunlop took a step towards Rosie. “I’m gonna—”

“You gonna do nothing.” The sheriff pulled up his belt, the one with the gun hanging off it. “This is a case for the law.”

“Law don’t have to worry. By the time y’all get your butts in gear, I’ll have taken care of this…this…”

Mr Dunlop had his hand on Rosie’s throat before me or the sheriff could get to him. Her eyes bulged out as if the more he squeezed her throat the less room there was inside for her eyes and something had to give.

It took both Sheriff Scott’s arms to yank Mr Dunlop’s hand away and it seemed to take him for ever. Finally, Rosie’s little rag-doll legs collapsed under her and she slid down the wall to the floor, her eyes still bulging out.

A raging scream came out of me and I shot myself at Mr Dunlop and was on him like a tick on a dog. I started pummelling him all over. Then I was up in the air, looking down on him like I was an angel roaring down on the devil himself.

“Get a hold of yourself, Red.” It was Sheriff Scott, dangling me up in the air like that. He gave me a little shake before letting my feet touch the floor, but he didn’t let go of me. And I didn’t quit struggling or screaming.

“What’s wrong with you, Mr Dunlop?” My voice didn’t even sound like me.

Mr Dunlop was leaning on the sofa, breathing heavy.

Rosie was choking and coughing on the floor.

“Look at her!” I yelled.

He didn’t move.

“I said look at her!”

His head jerked around to look at me, and I was glad I still felt the sheriff gripping my arms. It made me feel even stronger. “Not me, you idiot! Look at her!”

For some reason, he did. And Rosie looked back at him, before she looked away.

“No Porter did that, Mr Dunlop. It’s you! You’re the one who’s destroying your own family! You want to know why she did it?”

A car horn was honking real fast, over and over, somewhere down the road.

“Because you’re a nasty old cuss who beats his own daughter! And his son! And you treat your wife like dirt. No wonder everyone hates you.”

I finally stopped because Mr Dunlop was shrivelling up like a two-day-old balloon that’s all wrinkled and useless. And I heard crying. I didn’t know if it was Mr Dunlop or Rosie.

The car horn kept honking, real loud and close, and I realized it was our own Chevy Biscayne wagon.

“What now?” Sheriff Scott muttered, letting go of me.

I ran to the door and opened it. Beau was getting out of the car.

“Fire!” he said. “Fire…left over from the shed…wind got it…down that row of trees…to the…shop!”