The Mighty Miss Malone (20 page)

“You’re leaving too?”

“Child, as soon as I can. The friendlier Marvelous Marvin gets the meaner that woman does.”

I asked, “What will you do if you can’t find anyone to take you?”

“If nothing else comes up in a day or two me and Eppie won’t have no choice but to ride the rails. We did it before. I’d rather get drove, but you gotta do what you gotta do.”

Jimmie said, “Ride the rails! You really hopped a train before?”

“It’s not like we jumped on no moving train. This is Chicago, son, there’s a million boxcars sitting at the yard and someone always knows where they’re going.”

Jimmie’s eyes met mine.

What choice did we have but to try to get Mother to go along?

After Miss Carter and Eppie went back to their basement, Jimmie and me sat on the swings and talked about how we could get Mother to hop a train with us.

Jimmie said, “What do you always tell me, Deza? The truth
is the best way. We just gotta ask her what other choice we have if we’re gonna get to Flint and Pa.”

“You’re right.” But it wouldn’t be that easy.

When we went back into the room Mother hugged Jimmie and apologized.

Jimmie said, “It’s OK, Ma, I know you’re just worried. But, Ma, we gotta get outta here.”

“Yes, son, we do.”

I explained about Miss Carter and the train. We were both stunned when Mother said, “Let’s talk to her and see what we have to do.”

Miss Carter stood in our room and looked at our boxes. “The main thing is, you have to travel light.”

Mother said, “We only have these seven boxes.”

Miss Carter said, “You each can carry one blanket full of only the most important things.”

Mother sighed. “Well, let’s see what we can leave.”

Uh-oh. Even though a dictionary and thesaurus were the most important things to me, they wouldn’t be for most people. And how many essays could I take?

We set our boxes on the bed and Mother took three blankets and spread them out. We emptied the boxes and started putting things in a blanket or back in a box to stay in Chicago.

A few pots and pans went in Jimmie’s blanket along with the kitchen clock and some knives, spoons and forks wrapped in towels.

Miss Carter said that anything made out of glass, like the plates, the drinking glasses and the bowls, would have to stay, they’d just end up breaking. We took three tin cups.

Miss Carter said, “Most camps have cans you can use for plates, but it’s best if you find some tin plates and hold on to them.”

Mother said, “We don’t really intend to spend any time in a camp.”

Miss Carter smiled. “Believe me, no one ever does. But, sweetheart, better safe than sorry.”

The last box on the bed was opened and Jimmie pulled Father’s old work boots and some of his trousers and shirts and winter coat out.

Miss Carter said, “Whose are these?”

Jimmie picked up one of Father’s boots. “They’re Pa’s.”

“Is he waiting for you in Flint?”

Mother said, “We’re not exactly sure where he is, but …” Miss Carter said, “You gotta leave ’em, only take what y’all need.”

Jimmie wouldn’t let go of the boot. Mother took it from him and said, “I’m sure your father has plenty of things in Flint, Jimmie. We’ll have to leave these.”

She set Father’s boots on the floor.

She said, “Well, that’s it.”

“Wait! There’s one more box. My essays and dresses and shoes.”

We looked around. There was nothing.

I slapped both of my hands over my mouth and felt like the ceiling was crashing down on me.

“Oh, Mother! I left my box under the bed in Gary! We’ve got to go back and get it.”

Even before Mother could tell me what we all knew, I heard, “Well, kiddo, the best-laid schemes of mice and men …” The pain that ripped through my heart and soul shut the bad brain right up.

If you could forget about the way the boxcar smelled like a toilet and ignore the heat and the darkness and the hard floor and the flies you could say it was pretty comfortable. You could say that, but you’d be telling one of the biggest lies ever.

We sat with our backs against the front of the boxcar on old pieces of cardboard. There were two other families sitting at the other end. Jimmie and Eppie left me alone with Mother and Miss Carter. They wanted to sit closer to the huge, half-open door to watch Illinois, then Indiana, then Michigan zoom by.

Miss Carter said, “Breathe out your mouth till the train moves and air starts circulating.”

Mr. Steel Lung’s truck was bouncy and bumpy, but compared to this train it was like riding in a brand-new Buke.

It would take eight hours to get to Detroit. Miss Carter said then it would be easy to find a freight to Flint. If we felt up to it we could even walk there in a day and a half.

As the train got moving air swirled through. The flies stopped buzzing, and once we were in the country, breathing got a lot easier. We rolled through green fields, past farm after farm, and every time we went by a road we could see cars waiting for us to pass. Bells warned people that our train was barreling east.

I was glad Epiphany wasn’t sitting with us. Not only did she have a very fresh mouth, she was also very verbose. And not in the good way.

She was leaning a little too far out of the door when my second brain said, “Ooh, kiddo, one quick kick and ‘Bye-bye, Eppie!’ ” That was the first time the bad brain ever made me smile.

Mother said to Mrs. Carter, “Julia, isn’t this terribly unsafe?”

“Shoot, girl! Yeah, it’s
all
unsafe. You gonna have to be
extra
careful when you get to camp, that’s unsafe too, if you don’t know what you’re doing.”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s just like anything else, there’s just enough bad folks in camp to make it so you got to keep your guard up at all times. It’s especially hard on women, and even worst for little girls.”

She looked at me and a shiver went through my heart. “You just gotta keep your wits about you and don’t let no one in on your business. Keep it to yourself why you’re on the road alone.”

Mother’s 1-1-1 lines jumped out.

“Always let folks think your husband or your brother is with you, always tell ’em that he’s gonna be back later tonight. There’s strength in numbers so let folks think there’s a lot of y’all. You’re a good-looking woman, you gonna have to be careful not to draw a lot of attention you don’t want.”

Mother’s jaws tightened.

“And don’t let no one get too familiar either, man or woman. Don’t let ’em know where y’all are really from. They’ll start prying and before you know it they’re looking to help you out in some way that ain’t no kind of help at all. Just keep your head low. Don’t look weak or scared.”

The train stopped in a city called Battle Creek and two white women climbed in with us. The next time it stopped, what felt like four days later, someone walked by and said into the boxcar, “Detroit. All clear. Detroit. All clear.”

Miss Carter said, “Come on, Peg, we need to find a hobo and see what’s going to Flint.”

Jimmie whispered in my ear, “A hobo’s someone who rides the rails all over the country.”

I already knew that but I said, “Thanks, Jimmie.”

Once we got our bundles and stepped off the train we walked up to a rough-and-tumble-looking old white man. He told us which cars were going toward Flint.

Epiphany said, “Ick, he smells bad.”

The old man heard her. “If I was you I’d quit worryin’ ’bout how folks smell. You got bigger fish to fry. You need to start worrying ’bout that man with three eyes and a hunting knife that was asking round ’bout where you gonna be sleeping tonight, girly!” The hobo walked away. “Sweet dreams!”

Mother frowned, looked at the boxcar we were supposed to get in and said, “Julia, why don’t you come to Flint? You said there’s strength in numbers.”

Miss Carter hugged Mother. “Peg, you’ll be fine. Flint’s too small and country for my tastes. You’re welcome to come with
me
if you want.”

Mother said, “Thank you, but we have to find Roscoe.”

“Get right into the shantytown. You’ll need somewhere to rest at least one night.”

“Thank you, Julia.”

“You’re good people, I wish y’all the best, travel safe and look after each other.”

Time has a way of misbehaving when you’re anxious or nervous. When Father was lost on the lake, time lollygagged and every second took a hour to pass. When we were on the train to Flint, time hitched a ride on Jimmie’s rocket ship and the trip took two seconds. I spent half my time wondering what we’d do if we found Father. I spent the other half wondering what we’d do if we didn’t.

The train stopped and someone banged on the side of the boxcar. “Flint. All clear. Flint. All clear.” He was a raggedy man with a beautiful curly black-and-white beard.

Mother said, “Excuse me, sir, do you know how we get to Flint?”

“Flint’s down that way and the camp’s up there.”

Mother said, “How far is Flint, sir?”

“Downtown’s about half a hour’s walk. Y’all look fresh, shouldn’t have no troubles there.”

Jimmie said, “How far’s the camp, sir?”

He pointed at some woods. “See that glow? Supper’s just ’bout ready.”

Mother said, “Thank you. Do you know who we see to get somewhere to sleep?”

“A train just left going west, should be plenty of huts opened up. Ask for Stew.”

“Is there a charge?”

He laughed. “If there was, ma’am, this place would be empty. You just give what you can, food, work, anything. Folks find a way.”

“Thank you very much.”

“Don’t suppose none of y’all smoke or chaw tobaccy?”

“No, sir, we don’t.”

“Well then, may peace like a river come to you.” He tipped his rough hat and walked on.

Mother said, “It won’t be bad, we’ll only be here for a night. I’ll go to your grandmother’s tomorrow and we’ll be able to leave.”

Jimmie said, “Don’t worry, Ma, whatever happens don’t forget what Pa said about us being a family taking a trip to somewhere named Wonderful. We’re gonna get there sooner or later. Right, Deza?”

“You know it, Jimmie.”