The Small Adventure of Popeye and Elvis (10 page)

“You think she needs groceries?” Velma said.

Crack.

Popeye shrugged.

“Go on up there and ask her if she needs groceries.”

Crack.

Popeye hurried to the back door. “But what if she
does
need groceries?” he said.

“Then I guess I'll have to give her a ride over to
Bi-Lo,” Velma said. “Heaven forbid Dooley get his-self home and do something useful.”

Bingo!

Velma's hard shell had cracked wide open.

Popeye jumped off the porch and trotted toward the road. “Come on, Boo.”

“And Popeye . . .” Velma called from the back door.

Popeye stopped.

“If you see Dooley, tell him to start digging,” she said.

“Yes, ma'am.”

When Popeye got to the Holiday Rambler, Calvin and Willis were up on the roof throwing acorns at Prissy, who darted gleefully from side to side in the road, her springy curls bouncing and her tap shoes clickety-clacking on the gravel.

“Missed me again,” she hollered up at them.

“Hey, Popeye!” Calvin yelled down from the roof. “Catch!”

An acorn smacked Popeye in the arm, leaving a small red circle.

Popeye rubbed his arm. “I need to ask your mom
something,” he said, climbing up on the step of the motor home and knocking on the narrow metal door.

“I told y'all to stay outside and I mean it,” Glory Jewell yelled through the open window.

“It's me. Popeye.”

The door opened. Elvis's hair stuck up every which way like he'd been sleeping. He yawned and scratched his stomach.

Popeye stepped inside. The motor home was hot and dark and smelled like something burnt. Furman Jewell sat in the diner booth, watching television. Walter and Shorty were sprawled on the fold-down bed, playing a card game that involved headlocks and knuckle noogies. Glory sat in her big plaid chair up front, fanning herself with her spiral notebook of country-western songs.

“Velma wants to know if you need groceries,” Popeye said. “If you do, she'll drive you to Bi-Lo.”

“That woman is a saint,” Glory said.

As soon as Velma and Glory turned off the gravel road onto the highway, Popeye and Elvis raced
behind the shed in Popeye's backyard to hide from Prissy and Calvin and the others.

Boo sat beside them, resting his big head in Popeye's lap, leaving a slobbery wet spot on his shorts.

“Okay, now listen,” Elvis whispered. “We've got to get back to Starletta's tomorrow.”

Popeye nodded.

Tomorrow was Wednesday.

Tomorrow would be their only chance to see the place where dead dogs live.

If they didn't go tomorrow, there wouldn't be another Wednesday for a whole week, and surely the Holiday Rambler would be long gone by then.

“We've got to figure out some way to get there without Calvin and them following us,” Elvis said.

Popeye nodded. “Or Velma getting mad,” he said.

connive:
verb
; to plot, scheme, or be in cahoots

He and Elvis were going to have to connive.

BEFORE POPEYE MET ELVIS, he had never been very good at conniving. But now here he was, sitting behind the shed, conniving up a storm.

“I have an idea,” he said. “What if Boo gets lost in the woods?”

Boo's ears perked up.

“And so you and me have to go look for him.”

“Okay!” Elvis said.

“But we can't lie,” Popeye said. “Velma can smell a lie a mile away.”

“Then how can we say Boo is lost in the woods if he ain't?”

Boo lifted his head at the sound of his name and blinked up at Elvis.

Popeye ran his hand over his prickly buzz cut, feeling his conniving skills getting better by the minute.

“We won't use the word
lost
. We'll just say Boo is back in the woods and we need to go find him.”

“Okay!” Elvis said. “But what are we gonna do with Boo?”

Boo sat up and yawned.

“Well, I guess we'll have to put him back in the woods,” Popeye said. “Then we won't be lying.”

Boo cocked his head at Popeye.

Popeye looked away quickly before any qualms could come sneaking up on him and ruin everything.

That night, Velma was livid.

livid:
adjective
; furiously angry

Her livid voice burst right through the metal walls of Dooley's trailer and slithered across the darkness of the backyard and into the kitchen,
where Popeye stood at the counter spreading peanut butter onto graham crackers.

“Dooley better get out there first thing in the morning.

“His no-good criminal friend, Shifty, better be out there, too.

“They better get out there and help so those folks can leave.”

Leave?

That word felt like a punch in the stomach.

Popeye had been so busy conniving about the dead dogs that he hadn't even thought about the motor home leaving.

Elvis leaving.

All those wild kids leaving.

He would walk around the curve in the road, and the Holiday Rambler with the shiny lightning bolts and the howling coyote would be gone. He would walk around the curve in the road, and there would only be weeds and gravel and a drainage ditch full of muddy water.

Popeye knelt down and took Boo's head in both hands. Boo looked at him with his soft, watery eyes and let out a big dog sigh.

Popeye explained to Boo again about what he and Elvis had connived. That they were going to take him into the woods, to a really nice spot by the creek. They were going to tie his leash to a tree (a really nice tree). Then they were going to leave him there, but only for a really, really, really short time.

Then Popeye was going to tell Velma that Boo was back in the woods.

Which would not be a lie.

And he was going to tell Velma that he and Elvis had to go get Boo, who was back in the woods.

Which would not be a lie.

Then, while everybody was busy trying to get the Holiday Rambler out of the mud, Popeye and Elvis would run back into the woods, get Boo (who would only have been sitting there for a really, really, really short time), and go on over to Starletta's.

Then Starletta would show them where the dead dogs live.

“I promise I won't leave you long,” Popeye said.

Boo made a little snorting noise, and Popeye smiled. “You're a good dog, Boo.” He patted Boo's head and scratched him behind the ears. “I sure do appreciate you helping me out.”

Boo blinked.

“I'd do the same for you.”

Blink.

“And I promise I'll do something real good for you.”

Blink. Blink.

“Like cook you up some chicken livers or something.”

The back door burst open, and the warm night air whooshed in. Velma stomped across the kitchen floor and yanked the refrigerator door open. She rummaged around inside it, moving pickle jars and soda cans, muttering about Dooley eating all the leftover spaghetti.

“Velma?” Popeye said.

“What?”

“Do we have any chicken livers?”

BY THE TIME Popeye got to the Holiday Rambler the next morning, everyone was gathered around watching Dooley and Shifty and Furman digging and grunting and wiping sweat off their foreheads. Boards and crowbars and car jacks lay scattered in the weeds by the side of the road.

Prissy, Calvin, Walter, Willis, and Shorty chased each other and jumped over the ditch and fiddled with the car jacks while Glory sat in a lawn chair and hollered at them.

Velma stood beside the motor home with her fists jammed into her waist, just daring Dooley to quit digging.

Elvis trotted over to Popeye. “Listen,” he whispered. “We've got to be real careful that Calvin and them don't see us leave or they'll follow us for sure.”

“Okay.”

“Is Boo back in the woods?”

Popeye nodded.

He couldn't believe he had left Boo back in the woods all by himself like that.

He felt like a bad person.

A real bad person.

There wasn't a word in the dictionary bad enough to describe him.

callous:
adjective
; having an insensitive and cruel disregard for others

No.

Worse than that.

abhorrent:
adjective
; inspiring disgust and loathing

No.

Worse than that.

There just wasn't a word.

“Okay,” Elvis said, rubbing his palms together and peering out from under his shaggy hair in that solemn way of his. Then he slapped Popeye on the back and said, “Good luck.”

Popeye walked over to Velma, his heart pounding, his face already feeling flushed with guilt.

“Um, Velma?” he said, keeping his voice low so Calvin and them couldn't hear.

Velma kept her eyes on Dooley and Shifty, who were struggling to get the jack up under the motor home.

“Boo's back in the woods and me and Elvis are gonna go get him,” Popeye said.