True (. . . Sort Of) (13 page)

M
onday, Ferris Boyd was different.

There was always a sadness in her. But if it was usually a couple of cups full, now it was gallons, and it poured out of her all the time.

She quit playing ball early, and Delly didn't cheer because she knew it wasn't good.

At the hideawaysis, she had her book, but mostly she gazed out toward Kinneys'. Her eyes were missing and hurting, like Delly would feel if her friend weren't around anymore.

So she told her, “You know, Ferris Boyd, in summer people go away on vacation. They don't tell their friends; they just go.”

That seemed to help.

And Ferris Boyd got better as the week went on. She was best on Friday, wanting to practice.

She's hoping he's coming, Delly thought.

Delly was, too. Because it wasn't better without Brud Kinney.

Sunday was scorching hot. After church and changing clothes, Delly got her money and went to the kitchen.

“Ma, can I go watch some basketball?” she asked.

Clarice looked at her suspiciously. “You hate that game,” she said.

That stumped Delly.

Then RB was beside her. “She's taking me,” he announced. “I love basketball.”

“All right,” Clarice agreed.

At the corner Delly tried to shame him. “Is that all you do—watch me and follow me around?”

It didn't work. “Yep.” He smiled.

“Jiminy fipes,” she muttered, but she knew he'd saved her.

“I got something to check on,” she told him. “Don't mess me up.”

“I know,” he answered.

When they got to the River Road, they went into the ditch. “Shh,” she warned him.

“I know,” he whispered.

Across from the drive, she peeked over the edge. There was Ferris Boyd, sitting on the stoop with the ball in her lap. She was staring up the road, looking lonelier than the week before. The cat was wrapped around her legs like a comfort.

“Bawldoublegrammit,” she rasped. “Come on.”

They sauntered down the drive as if they were out for a Sunday stroll. “Ferris Boyd,” Delly exclaimed, like it was a surprise to see her.

She turned to them, her eyes two pitchers of sadness. Then she went back to watching for him.

The Pattisons sat on either side of her. “Ferris Boyd,” Delly asked, “you want me to play ball with you?” because she would do it to help her friend.

She shook her head.

So the three of them stared up the road, like they were waiting for a parade that was way past due.

By noon, it was so hot they were dripping sweat from just sitting.

The cat went into the woods.

Delly stood up. “I can't take this heat anymore. Let's go.”

“Where are we going?” RB wondered.

“To get refreezerated,” she told him, and they walked up the drive.

Ferris Boyd stayed on the stoop.

“Ferris Boyd,” Delly called, “come with us. Please?”

Maybe it was the heat. Or maybe she knew Delly was trying to help. Whatever it was, Ferris Boyd glanced up the River Road one more time, then slumped to them.

They dragged themselves into town. By the time they got to the IGA, they were so wet with sweat they looked like they'd showered.

“Here,” Delly ordered, and led them inside.

The store was air-conditioned. “Ahhh,” RB said. Ferris Boyd closed her eyes.

“This way.” Delly directed them.

They went to the back of the store, to the wall of frozen foods. Behind the glass doors was Antarctica. Delly opened one, and a cloud of cold came out of it. “Shikes,” she sighed.

“Get your own,” she told the other two; so they did.

“Mmmmm,” RB hummed. Ferris Boyd stood so close to hers she almost fell in.

The three of them were standing with their eyes closed, pretending they were in a snowstorm. So they didn't see Clayton Fitch come down the aisle.

“You got those Pattisons climbing into your coolers,” he told Norma at the checkout.

She barreled to the back of the store. “You looking for something?” she shouted.

They were so surprised they slammed their doors.

“Buy something or get out,” she barked, and stomped away.

“Come on,” Delly told them, and they walked over to the ice cream. There were tubs, cartons, and tiny containers filled with frozen heaven.

“What do you want?” she asked them.

They thought about getting pints, so they could each have their own. “Not big enough,” Delly declared.

“What about this?” RB picked up the family size.

“Hmm.” Delly admired his ambitiousness. “But it'll melt before we're done,” she said sadly.

“We'll share a half gallon.” She settled it. “If we want more, we'll get another.”

They chose it together: chocolate with chocolate chunks and a fudge ribbon running through it. On their way to the checkout, Delly picked up a box of plastic spoons.

“What about napkins?” RB wondered.

She tugged at the bottom of her shirt, and RB understood: it was for wiping.

At the register, Delly pulled out a wad of money while Ferris Boyd searched her pockets. “We got it,” Delly told her. “Baby-sitting money.” She grinned.

Then she asked, “Hey, Norma, can we eat this on the sidewalk?”

Now, Norma had already planned it out. She was going to wait till those Pattisons sat on her walk to holler, “Move along!” She didn't know what to do with Delly's asking permission. “All right,” she grumbled.

“Don't let it melt,” Delly told them as she opened the ice cream. They ate it fast.

When they were done, Ferris Boyd was blue. RB was shaking from his insides being frozen.

“You want another one?” Delly asked.

“Maybe later,” he replied, because his stomach was cramping up.

They lay down on the walk and let the sun unfreeze them.

Delly stared at the sky. “I got over three months of no trouble,” she rasped. She didn't say, Because of the counting, and the questions. But she turned her head to RB, then Ferris Boyd, letting them know, Thanks.

And they nodded, as if they'd heard her.

“We're like the three musketeers,” she said. “We're the three chumbudions.”

The sound of it made her smile. RB, too. Even Ferris Boyd's mouth turned up the tiniest bit.

Then RB said, “Delly, I need a drink. Can we buy some water?”

“We're not paying for water,” she told him. “We'll go to the park.”

And that's how they ended up over by the basketball court—for the free water fountain.

B
rud, Novello, and the others had been playing ball for a while, but it was too hot. They turned red, then got dizzy with it. Tater almost passed out.

So they lay down in the shade, trying to cool off. That's why the three chumbudions didn't spot them.

Danny Novello had been without Delly all summer, and his heart ached with her absence. He heard the rasp that was his heart's favorite sound, and it started pounding.

“Get away, you're giving me heatstroke.” He shoved Tater and sat up.

And he saw, across the park, those copper curls bouncing. He raced, with his basketball and his cruel love, toward her.

The three chumbudions were done drinking. They were headed back to the IGA for another half gallon. Delly didn't notice Novello till he was in front of her.

“What the glub?” she muttered.

“Hey Smelly,” he greeted her, “long time no stink.”

Delly had no time for Novello's nastiness; she sidestepped him.

He blocked her.

She tried again, but he was right there, keeping her in the heat and away from ice cream. The mad flamed up inside her. Still, she asked, “Will you please get out of my way?”

“No,” he answered.

“Leave her alone,” RB hollered.

“Back off, Tiny Tim,” he sneered.

That hurt RB. Delly saw it, and the mad went to high heat. “What do you want?” she shouted.

He smirked. “Play me. Basketball. If you win, you can go. If I win, you got to do what I want.” He puckered up, revealing his plan.

“I'd rather eat cow patties,” she croaked.

It was cruel poetry, the way she talked. It made him love her more. “I can stay here forever,” he said.

She looked into his eyes and knew it was true. And she'd run out of questions except, One knuckle sandwich or two?

Delly considered her options. She could play him, but she'd lose. She could run, but they'd call her “chicken” and she couldn't live with that. Or she could fight him. The mad liked that idea, a lot.

“If I fight, I'll lose everything,” she breathed. “What am I going to do?”

Novello decided it. He dropped the ball and picked up RB. “Me or the munchkin?” he demanded.

“Put me down!” RB wailed.

Delly's fists were up. “I'm going to pound you into the pavement,” she snarled.

“Don't!” RB yelled. “Remember Delly Days.”

The fight didn't care about Delly Days. Her right fist cocked back behind her head.

“You're going down,” she growled.

Novello smirked, knowing his true love would be touching him soon.

Instead, two pale, skinny hands slapped each other,
SMACK SMACK SMACK
between them.

“What the . . . ?” Novello exclaimed. They all turned to the smacker.

Ferris Boyd's eyes were wild, like she wanted to run. But there was something else in them, too, something strong.

“What do you want?” Novello snapped.

She picked up the basketball. She pointed at him, then at herself.

“No, Ferris Boyd,” Delly rasped.

But Novello remembered the game in gym class. “You want to play for Smelly?” He laughed.

Ferris Boyd nodded. Then she turned to her friend. Delly could almost hear her, If you fight, it's over. I don't want to lose you.

“Okay,” Delly whispered.

“Yes!” Novello yelped. “Let's play.” He smacked his lips, like a lion about to gobble up a dumb little lamb.

Ferris Boyd took out her pad. She held it up to him.

“You want to play H-O-R-S-E?” He was laughing hard. “That's a baby game.”

She pointed to the paper.

“Fine,” he jeered.

She flipped the page.

“No touch,” he read. “You want me to give you the H-O-R-S, too?”

She shook her head.

RB piped up. “If she wins, you leave all of us alone. Forever.”

“She won't win.” He scoffed.

“That's the deal,” RB insisted.

“Whatever,” Novello said. He grabbed the ball. “Let's go.”

They walked across the park. Ferris Boyd's eyes were blue steel.

T
he others were still lying on the grass when Novello and Ferris Boyd stepped onto the court.

“What are you doing?” Tater asked.

“Stay out of the way,” Novello warned him. “I got a game to win.”

They all sat up.

When Brud spotted Ferris Boyd, he dropped his head so she wouldn't see him. But the girl only saw the basket.

“What are you playing for?” Tater asked.

Novello pointed at Delly. “Big stink in a small package.”

He held the ball out. As Ferris Boyd reached for it, he yanked it away. “Psych,” he said, and shot it at the basket. It banged against the backboard and went through the net.

“That's how it's done, fans,” he told the crowd.

Ferris Boyd had the ball. She stood on the same spot, staring at the hoop.

Now, most of those kids had been in the gym when Ferris Boyd lost the game for Delly. They sat there, waiting for her to do nothing, just like that day.

Instead, they saw what happened when the girl got a ball in her hands. She bounced it like it belonged to her. She brought it to her chest, then sent it to the basket. There was no bang or clang; just the swish of perfection.

“Wow,” was all Tater could say.

“Lucky,” Novello sneered, but they saw the fear in his eyes.

He took the ball way out, farther than any pale, skinny girl could shoot from, and he flung it. It smacked the backboard and ricocheted far away from the basket. “What?” he shouted, and let it go, as if it weren't his.

Ferris Boyd got the ball. She took it to where he'd stood.

Every eye watched her. Even Brud's.

She bounced it twice. She crouched down and cocked her arms over her head. Then she sprang into the air and set the ball soaring. It flew with invisible wings to the basket. It dropped down through the net like it was home.

“Ahh,” the crowd sighed, because it was beautiful.

“Whatever,” Novello snorted.

He brought the ball back to the spot he'd thought would defeat her. Now he was the one who had to make the shot.

He pounded the ball against the pavement. “Humfff,” he grunted as he hurled it at the hoop.

“Oooh,” the others murmured when he missed.

Then Ferris Boyd got it, and they held their breaths. She kept shooting from that same spot. “Ohhh,” they breathed as she swished it. They didn't know a kid could play like that.

It wasn't long till Novello had H-O-R-S. If he missed the next shot, he'd be riding his H-O-R-S-E to Loser Land. He set the ball over his head and aimed it for the basket, as if he were truly trying.

Then he turned and whipped it, straight at Delly. “This doesn't count!” he screamed.

“Bawlgrammit!” Delly shouted as she ducked. “You made a deal. They saw it.” She pointed at the others.

Ferris Boyd's head jerked around. She'd been so focused on the game, she hadn't paid attention to the crowd. Now she scanned their faces. Till she came to Brud's.

Then the weeks of wondering were in her eyes. Brud could almost hear her, Where have you been? What happened? I missed you.

Even in his head, Brud couldn't talk right. I thought . . . You're not . . . his brain stammered.

But Novello wasn't finished. “It doesn't count, because she can't play.” He pointed at Ferris Boyd. “You have to be a boy or a girl to play this game, and SHE IS AN IT!” he shrieked.

Ferris Boyd's body buckled like he'd punched her. But her eyes stayed with Brud, asking, Is it true?

Brud Kinney didn't have to speak. He turned away, telling her, Yes.

Ferris Boyd's head dropped to her chest. Then she ran—across the court, out of the park, and disappeared.

“I win after all.” Novello snickered.

Delly walked toward him, fists at her sides.

She wasn't yelling; she wasn't mad. She was a bomb of fury, tick ticking to detonation. In a few seconds, she would explode on him.

“Delly, don't fight,” RB pleaded.

Novello started stepping backward. “What do you want, Smelly—I mean, Delly?”

She kept walking. She brought her index finger up to eye level and sighted him. Soon he would be Dellydebris.

RB flung himself on her. “We have to find Ferris Boyd,” he hollered.

He slowed her, but he couldn't stop her. Nothing could prevent the annihilation of Novello.

Except Brud Kinney. He planted himself in front of her.

“What the glub,” she growled.

Brud bent down so his eyes were even with hers. His mouth was moving, but she couldn't hear him over the tick ticking.

So he shouted it, with no stutter: “Go help Ferris Boyd!”

Through the fury, it came to her. Her friend needed her. Now. Novello's extermination would have to wait.

She glanced down and saw RB hanging on her. “We got to find Ferris Boyd,” she said.

“I know,” he said back.

“Then get off me.”

So he did.

But the fury was not finished. She turned to Novello. “You!” she roared, and the air shook with it. It sent him stumbling.

Then Delly and RB were running, across the park, over the bridge, and out the River Road.

It took a minute before Novello could speak. “Freaks,” he jeered. He glanced at the crowd, expecting agreement. No one would look at him.

Except Brud Kinney. “Take it back,” he ordered.

“What did you say?” Novello barked.

Brud could feel everybody's eyes on him. “T-T-Take it b-b-back.”

Novello laughed. “Or what? Wh-Wh-What are you g-going to d-d-do?”

And Brud knew. “I'm d-d-done.”

“Then you're done,” Novello told him.

Brud picked up his ball and went to his bike.

“Bye-bye, b-b-baby.” Novello waved as Brud rode out of the park. He turned to the rest of them. “What a loser.” He waited for them to laugh.

Without a word, Gwennie got up and walked away. The others followed.

“Where do you think you're going?” Novello sniped at them.

No one answered.

“Losers,” he muttered, to only himself.