Seeing Red (9 page)

Since it was almost dark, I headed down the path to our place. I crept as softly as I could across the gravel, opened the door of the shop, and grabbed the can of spray paint from when Daddy sprayed the wrought iron railings around the front porch. Inside the shop, I talked softly to Daddy, almost like a little prayer. “I’m sorry to do this, Daddy. I know it’s not what you’d expect from the Boy Wonder, but it’s for a good cause. Remember when you took my slingshot away from me because I hit Bobby Benson? Even though he hit me first – and a lot of times? And I got just one tiny bruise on him? And Reverend Benson never took Bobby’s slingshot away? You said it was for my own good. I was mad at you, but now I understand, sort of. You gave it back to me in the summer, when you said I’d grown up enough. So I’m really messing up the shop for your own good, and I promise I’ll get it back in shape once Mama decides not to sell.”

I ignored the voice in my head that said, “
If
Mama decides not to sell.”

When I came back outside, I noticed the new For Sale sign Mr Harrison had put up. In concrete, so I couldn’t pull it out again. I practised my spray-painting on it until it was black. Then I stared at the shop for a long time. Because I didn’t know what I should spray on it.

Darrell always used that Nazi cross when he spray-painted, but Daddy hated it with a passion, so I wasn’t going to do that. Rosie sometimes drew little vampire symbols on her arms, but I didn’t know how to make them. Besides, other people might not know what they meant, either, and I wanted to make my message loud and clear.

Then it came to me, like genius inspiration. I would use the kind of word that meant filth and would make everyone want to stay away from my shop. That old Poindexter lawyer wouldn’t be able to get anyone interested in our place by the time I was done with it.

I popped the lid off the can and started to spray. I picked the part without the window so nothing would get in the way of my word. It was hard to see how well it was working, but my hand sure felt shaky, more shaky the longer I held the spray nozzle down, because that thing is hard to press. I got all the way through it and held it down extra long at the end to be sure I made my point.

When I lifted my finger off of the nozzle, it didn’t stop. For some dumb reason, I turned the can towards me and sprayed myself in the face. I dropped the can real quick, but it started jerking all around, spraying black, like one of those firecracker snakes. I was trying to dodge it and grab it at the same time, and ended up tripping over it, slamming my knee into the gravel.

“Ow!”

The light went on in Mama’s bedroom.

I lay there frozen for a second. I grabbed the can that had finally quit spraying, jumped up quick, and hightailed it to my window. I scraped past the tree and fell inside, shoved the can under my bed, and, with the light from the hall, saw the paint on my hands. Oh, man! And there was probably paint on my face, too! There was nothing for it but to make a wild leap for the bathroom. I heard Mama in the kitchen, opening the screen door, as I slammed and locked the bathroom door behind me.

I looked in the mirror and it was worse than I thought. So bad, I let out a loud moan. I quickly turned on the taps and started scraping soap onto a towel to scrub down my face.

The bathroom door shook as someone banged on it.

“What?” I screamed.

“Red, is that you?” It was Mama.

“Yes!”

“Are you all right?”

“Yeah, I just have to go to the bathroom, okay?”

“I thought I heard something outside.”

“Well, it wasn’t me. I–I’m in here. See?”

“Are you sure you’re all right?” 

I was scrubbing my face now. “I’m fine.”

“You sound a little funny.”

“Well…that’s because you don’t usually talk to me when I’m trying to use the bathroom.”

“Okay,” she said slowly, like she wasn’t quite convinced. “If you need anything, you just let me know.”

“I won’t.” I could feel her still standing there on the other side of the door. “I mean, I won’t need anything.”

It took me a while to get myself cleaned up, and a while longer to feel safe enough to come out of the bathroom. I finally shut the light off and could see around the cracks of the door that the hallway outside was dark. When I opened the door, I saw that Mama’s light was off, too.

I crept softly across the hall but not quietly enough.

“Good night, Red,” Mama called from her room.

“Yeah, good night,” I said, and made a beeline for my bed so I could scramble under the covers before she saw I was still in my clothes.

CHAPTER TEN

What Would Daddy Say?

The next morning, I woke up to the screen door slapping and the sound of footsteps across the gravel. I was out of bed in a flash and jumped to the window, even though I knew I couldn’t see the front of the shop from my bedroom.

I couldn’t see Mama, either, but I heard her. “What in the world is that?”

I ran to the kitchen, where J looked up from eating his bananas in orange juice. “What?”

I remembered to play it cool and did a fake yawn. “Oh…sounds like Mama found something strange outside,” I said, and shrugged.

J was out of the screen door like a bolt of lightning. I wanted to fly out of there faster than J, but I managed to walk. I stared at the ground to keep from running. When I looked up, I saw Mama and J staring at the front of the shop, Mama with her head cocked and J with his nose all scrunched up like he was trying to smell the word. I was torn between laughing and cheering, but I knew I couldn’t do either one.

I took a deep breath before looking at the shop myself. When I saw it, my mouth fell open and I felt like someone punched the breath right out of my stomach.

J read the letters out loud. “S-h-i-p. Why does it say
ship
? Somebody don’t know how to spell. Shop is s-h-
o
-p.”

I couldn’t believe it. I never was any good at cursive, but how could it have gone so wrong? I stared at the
p
that wasn’t supposed to be, and I realized that I should’ve taken my finger off the trigger before I tried to cross the
t
, because I’d ended up making a loop. Then I figured out my other mistake. I held the trigger too long at the end and all the extra paint had run down to make a long drip that turned into the bottom of the
p
.
Ship
.

Mama picked up the black plastic cap of the spray can that I forgot about.
Shoot
. “Spray paint,” she said, “like we have in the shop.”

J pointed at my jeans. “What’s that black stuff?”

I looked down and saw what that snakish spray-paint can had done to me. Even though I’d stashed the blackened shirt under my bed, my jeans were giving me away. I lost my voice for a second, but then managed to say, “It’s just dirt.”

“You’re gonna get in trouble for making such a mess of yourself,” J said.

I knew J was just mad because I didn’t take him with me yesterday. I was more worried about Mama. I could feel her staring at me even though I was looking at the ground. I knew she was going to have a fit, I just didn’t know exactly what she’d do.

“Well,” she said, her voice calm, “I’m sure it won’t happen again. Will it, Red?”

I looked up, and she was squeezing the cap of the spray can between her fingers.

“No, ma’am,” I mumbled.

She was staring at me, her eyes narrowed down to real tough. “I think I’ll let you paint the shop, Red. And while you’re at it, why don’t you start cleaning it out so you can paint the inside, too? We’ll need to get rid of all that junk before we move.”

I gritted my teeth. “It’s not junk, Mama.”

“Well, there’s nothing in there that’ll be any use to us in Ohio.”

“There’s Old Man Porter’s desk – my desk.”

She raised her eyebrows, either because she didn’t know that Daddy had promised it to me or because she’d always thought “Old Man Porter” was a rude way to talk, even though Daddy said it was a mark of respect. Old Man Porter was the boss of Stony Gap.

“Daddy said I’d inherit Great-Great-Grandaddy Porter’s desk. It’s got my name on it. And there’s no way I’m leaving it behind.”

“Red, it’s just an old desk, and it’s too big—”

“It is not just an old desk! It’s all I’ll have left of Daddy if you’re taking me away from here! Maybe you don’t care about him any more, but I do!”

Mama’s hands went to her hips and her eyes flashed daggers at me. Her foot started tapping the gravel like a jackhammer. “I am not,” she said, pointing at the shop, “lugging that huge thing with us all the way to Ohio!”

“Well, I am!”

“You don’t have the money to move that monstrosity, so it’s staying right there.”

I narrowed my eyes down to hateful.

She turned and marched back inside like she’d won the battle. But she hadn’t won the war.

The whole time I was painting the shop, J rode his bike back and forth, saying, “Are you having fun, Red?” and “Is this better than what you did yesterday?” and “That’s what you get for being mean.” I tried to ignore him, but the hotter it got, the harder it was to pretend he wasn’t bothering me.

When Mr Harrison drove up, I saw my chance. I called J over. “Hey, J, do you want to do something fun?”

He scrunched his face up. “I ain’t painting the shop. I know that trick already. Daddy read us
Tom Sawyer
, remember?”

“Do you want to be a spy, like James Bond, double-o-seven?”

That got him. He skidded his bike to a stop beside me. “What do I do?”

I whispered so he’d get the idea it was something sly. “Go spy on Mama and Mr Harrison and see if you can hear what they’re saying.”

He frowned. “That doesn’t sound very fun.”

“It’s real important, though.”

“If I do, will you buy me a Coke? Mama says we can’t take them from the What-U-Want any more.”

“And where am I going to get the money? Come on, J.”

He twisted his mouth up, trying to think of another deal. “Can we play Rock’Em Sock’Em Robots?”

“No!” I was as surprised as J at how loud I said it. But it belonged to me and Thomas. I guess I still hoped that we’d play it again.

“Then forget it,” J said, getting back on his bike.

“Wait! You can play with my Hot Wheels cars. I’ll even help you set up my track in your room.”

“Will you help me play, too? It ain’t as much fun by myself.”

“It
isn’t
as much fun,” I corrected him, like Daddy used to.

“I know it, so will you play, too?”

“Sure.”

“Promise?”

“Yes, now go spy on them.”

J was stuck to the side of the house like a tick on a dog, listening through the screen door. It didn’t take him long to get tired of being a spy, though, and wander off.

“J!” I called.

“What?”

I looked from side to side like I had a big secret and motioned him over to me.

He came running. “What?”

I bent down and whispered to him. “What did Mr Harrison say?”

“Aw, is that all? Shoot, I thought you had something good.”

“What did he say?”

“Nothing. Just boring stuff.”

“Did he say anything about Mr Reynolds?”

“Who?”

“How about a buyer?”

“A what?”

“Somebody buying the house and shop.”

“Oh, that. He said there’s plenty of rich people wanting summer places.”

“What else?”

He shrugged.

“Go back and listen some more.”

“I don’t wanna. It’s boring.”

“Then I’m not playing Hot Wheels with you.”

“You promised!”

“Not if you don’t hold up your side of the bargain.”

J grabbed a fistful of gravel and threw the wad where I’d just painted. A mess of dirt and grit spread across the wall, sticking itself in the wet paint.

“J, I swear, you’re paying for that!”

“You ca-ain’t get me!” he taunted, running off behind the shop.

“Oh, yeah?” I raced the other way and was almost on him before he noticed and ran hollering towards the house. For some dumb reason I skidded and fell, which gave J time to reach the pine outside my window and begin climbing. The problem is, those branches are so close together and the pine needles are so prickly, it’s about the worst getaway tree you could pick, so I was on him in seconds, pulling him down. He fought back pretty well for a little kid, so I had to hit him and he started screaming.

So did Mama. Even Mr Harrison felt like he should get in on the yelling, shouting, “Stop it now, boys!”

I let go of J, and he ran crying to Mama, as usual, so I’d get in trouble instead of him.