by Wanda Cunningham
Sometimes, there's more than one way to tell a story. This one is about Drew Kelley, who's a lot like Kelly Drew but different. I'll let him tell his own story.
by Wanda Cunningham
Chapter 1
Motel Morning
Mom and I moved out in the middle of the night--the idea being that when Dad got home in a few days, no one would be able to tell him where we had gone. I didn't like this but being only eleven, I had to go along with it. Mom had the right of it, we had to move but I didn't think sneaking around was the best way to do it. "I can't take another fight with your father, Drew," Mom had said simply.
Two nights later we were staying in a motel in a small town in New Mexico. Mom had come down with a killer cold, from stress, she claimed, so we slept in. Because we were both worried and upset, we shared the same big bed, even though the room had two of them.
I woke up several times before Mom did, but I didn't get out of bed. The motel room sat off the main highway far enough that the traffic was like the sound of water somewhere far away. I guess the walls -- thick walls, they were made of cinder block -- helped with the noise and the small windows didn't let much in either. One of the windows had a big, brown air conditioner in it running on fan only, another noise that seemed to make things far away and very small.
It had been hot outside when we got there the previous night, even at eleven at night, but the motel room had been cool enough. The little town had looked hot and dusty in the moonlight, like some desert town in an old black and white movie where you know that somebody is going to get beat up or shot in the first half hour. I tried not to think about things like people getting shot or beat up.
Mostly, I just lay there thinking about how much Dad would have disliked Mom and I sleeping in the same bed. He worried about things like that, I don't know why. I tried to keep quiet so as not to wake Mom up, so I kept falling back asleep and waking up again. I had one weird dream where I reached under the bed to get my shoe and my hand came out with a big, black, dead insect that looked like a praying mantis. I almost screamed but I woke up in time to put my hand over my own mouth so I didn't make enough noise to wake Mom.
She had her back to me, anyway. I reached out and played with her hair a bit. It's the same brown as mine, with gold streaks and red highlights. We've got the same color eyes, too, a kind of bright blue. I look a lot more like Mom than like Dad, anyway. We're both small and skinny and colored the same with skin that turns pink when we blush.
Dad's not exactly a big guy, more average. His hair and eyes are both very dark brown, not like you might expect from someone with the last name Kelley. His skin is darker, too, almost what they call olive; when he gets mad or embarrassed, he just gets darker. Black Irish, he told me once, which is from Spanish immigrants to Ireland. So I guess that makes me Hispanic if that sort of thing counts, but I don't look it.
Besides hair and eye color, I've got Mom's dimpled chin and button nose. Mom says I look like Dad around the mouth and the shape of my eyes. "Rosebud mouth and almond eyes, those were the things I noticed about your father when I first met him. And his wavy hair." Dad's hair is thick and curly, Mom's is nearly straight and very fine. I'm sort of in between on that with wavy hair that's thicker than it looks.
I must have just lay there, awake and thinking, for an hour or two. I thought about why Mom and Dad didn't seem to do anything but fight anymore. Something about what Dad did for a living, traveling around the country for his father and uncles, sort of a troubleshooter for the family business. They never fought about money like I guess some people do. I think we had plenty.
No, it was always about why they had to be apart and what the other one was doing when they weren't together. I think Mom believed Dad had a girlfriend and maybe a family in every town he visited. And Dad thought Mom must be out seeing other guys while he was gone. I don't know which one stopped trusting the other first. And now Mom and I were running away.
I didn't like running away but the last time they had fought, Dad had hit Mom in the face and made her cry. He sure seemed sorry after he did it and pounded his fist into a wall until it was more hurt than Mom was. Mom had to bandage his hand for him, it was all bloody. They didn't know I had seen the whole thing because I had hidden in the little hallway off the kitchen that goes to the laundry.
I used to do that, another hallway from the laundry went to the guest bathroom and then along to my room, I would sneak out of my room and hide in the kitchen where I could see and hear Mom and Dad. I kind of wished I hadn't done it that time. If we never go back to that house, I guess I won't do it again.
Mom still had like a bruise around her left eye but she could cover it with makeup so it didn't show. I guess it was the right time to run away, still the middle of summer, so I wasn't in school. But I'd sure miss my friends and I hated to drop out of my Little League team.
I lay there in the motel room on the bed that must have been twice as hard as my bed at home and watched Mom sleep. I hated when Mom or Dad got sick, and especially Mom cause she takes care of us. Or did. Now she just has me, so I guess I have to try to take care of her some when she's sick.
When she did wake up, Mom just groaned; she didn't even roll over. I made a noise so she knew I was awake, like, "Hi," or "Morning," or something.
She cleared her throat before trying to say anything. It sounded like someone tearing thick pieces of paper. "We'll have to stay here a couple of days, hon. I've got to feel well enough to drive," she said, still without looking at me, then she coughed up something, sneezed, blew her nose and tossed the tissues into a waste paper basket.
"Okay, Mom," I agreed. I got out of bed and came around to her side so I could see her face. I didn't give her a kiss though.
With her clean hand she pushed my mop of brown hair back from my face and grinned weakly at me. "Afraid of your old Mom's germs?"
"Yeah," I admitted. "If I get sick, you'll be twice as miserable." She always worries about me; I was born six weeks premature, she can't have any more kids (one of the reasons she and Dad had fights), and I guess she hasn't gotten over being worried about me.
"S'okay, kiddo. Go on over to the Denny's and get yourself some breakfast, bring me back some orange juice." She got her purse off the end table and dug around in it then gave me a slightly damp ten dollar bill.
"You going to be okay?" I asked. I guess I worry about her too.
"Sure, go on. I'll take a nap. I get over this kind of thing faster if I sleep a lot."
I watched her get comfortable on the bed, her face turned away from me, then I slipped quietly out of the door with my ten-dollar-bill in my pocket.
* * *
Chapter 2
A Late Breakfast
Outside, I walked across the wide parking lot to the restaurant on the corner. Across the street--back away from the highway though--a dozen or so kids were getting up a game of baseball. A row of shaggy looking trees along a sort of narrow hill hid the field from the highway and probably helped stop long hit balls from getting into traffic. Another row of trees behind the field separated it from some sad looking houses.
The kids were all different ages and sizes, mostly boys and a few girls, most of them with black hair and brown faces that weren't just tan. I watched for a bit before going into the Denny's and taking a seat at the empty counter.
A smiling waitress put a glass of water in front of me. She had a lot of black hair with some gray in it, all done up in a bun. Her eyes were so dark they looked black, too, and her nose had a bit of a hook in it. "All alone this morning, sweetie?" she asked.
"Yes, ma'am," I agreed. I've kinda gotten used to people thinking I'm younger than I am. I guess because of being a preemmie, I'm still sort of small for my age.
"Well, aren't you being all grown up? Want some milk, or are you ready for coffee?" She had an accent I didn't think I'd ever heard before.
"Uh, I want eggs and pancakes to eat here, and an orange juice for my mom to take back to the motel room, please. She's got a cold. Will there be enough left for milk?" I showed her the ten dollars.
"Sure," she agreed. "Just hang on to it for now. How do you want your eggs?"
"Scrambled. Not runny. Thank you."
She grinned with very white teeth. "Okidoke." Her name tag said, 'Rosie'.
It was almost ten; we'd slept late; well, Mom had, after driving till nearly midnight. I'd been awake for hours though and my stomach almost hurt from being hungry. Rosie brought my milk and I drank almost all of it right away. From where I sat, if I turned a little bit I could see the kids playing ball.
There were boys and girls, big kids and little kids. They were playing some version they probably made up because they didn't have enough kids for two full teams. It looked like a lot of fun.
Rosie brought my food and asked me, "You like to play baseball, sweetie?"
"Yes, ma'am," I said. "I was on a Little League team back in--back home." Mom had said we shouldn't tell anyone more than we had to, not our names, or where we were from and especially, not where we were going. I probably shouldn't have mentioned the Little League.
"The tall kid out there is my nephew, Jimmy," Rosie said. "I bet they would let you play?"
I shook my head. "I've got to take the orange juice back to Mom."
"If she's sick, you're going to be staying for awhile?"
I nodded.
"Well, after you take her the juice," Rosie said, "ask her if you can go play."
"Maybe," I said. Her attention embarrassed me a bit.
She chuckled. "You don't have to, just if you want to, honey," she said. "More milk?"
"Please? Do I have enough money?"
"This one is on the house," she said bringing a new full glass and smiling at me.
"Thank you," I said, after I had chewed through a mouthful of egg and pancake.
"So polite," she grinned at me.
I grinned back. The food tasted good, not as good as Mom's cooking 'cause the eggs were kind of greasy and the pancakes kind of chewy, but good enough. I kept glancing at the baseball game and Rosie kept watching me. The place was nearly empty, only an old guy who looked even more like an Indian than Rosie did, sitting in a corner, reading a paper and eating a cinnamon roll that he kept dunking in his coffee.
Rosie brought me a tall styrofoam cup full of orange juice and a straw. "Here you go, hon."
"Thank you," I said. I finished off the pancakes except for one bite. I just couldn't eat that last forkful.
"Still watching the game?"
I nodded and handed her my ten dollars. I was kind of glad to get rid of it, I imagined it had Mom-cooties on it but I didn't tell Rosie that. She showed me the bill and went to the cash register to get me some change.
"What position did you play? In Little League?"
"Uh, second base?" I said. I'd finally worked up on the team to being the regular second baseman this year, though sometimes we all played other positions.
"Wow," she said. "That's a tough spot."
I grinned. Second base is pretty tough. I was kind of upset that we were leaving town after I made the team as a regular player.
She gave me the change and said, "I played third base on my high school team. The first girl on the team."
"Wow!" I said. Third base is just as hard as second; sometimes the ball is travelling really fast there and you have to be able to throw all the way across the diamond and do it quick. "Cool!" I said because I really was impressed. Guys don't like to let girls play their games and to play third base with the boys, she must have been good.
I put a dollar from the change down for her. Mom had worked as a waitress and had told me never to forget to tip. But Rosie handed the dollar back to me and winked. "Keep it, honey. Us tomboys have to stick together."
I stammered a thank you and got out of there quickly. I took the orange juice right to our room and Mom woke up when I used the key to get in. "Drew, honey," she said. "Did you have a good breakfast?"
"Yes, Mom," I said. "Here's your juice."
She got up on one elbow but didn't reach for it right away. "You drink some of it first, save me about half."
"Uh, okay, Mom, thank you." I drank down about a third of it and then set the rest on the table, next to the bed. "You can have the rest."
"Thank you, hon." She sat up and sipped at the juice. "I called the deskman and told him you would bring some money for another night. It's on the desk by the television.
I went over and looked at it. "I've got some money left from breakfast too."
"Keep it, in case you need pocket money. I feel terrible, Drew. I really need to sleep. I hate to ask you, but could you find something to do until I get to sleep? Then you can come in and watch TV if you want, just keep it down."
"Okay," I said. I looked at my reflection in the mirror and pushed at my hair. "I think I need a haircut, Mom. Maybe I can find a place?"
She frowned. "I don't want you wandering off too far. Aren't there video games at the restaurant?"
"Uh, no. But there's a baseball game across the little side street there?"
"Well, you can go watch that for awhile. I'm sorry, hon. I should have thought to have you pay the room rental while you were out at breakfast, then I could have concentrated on going to sleep already."
"You needed your juice," I told her.
She smiled. "You're such a good kid, Drew. Have I told you that lately?"
"Mom, don't get embarrassing, okay?" Besides, her nose was all red and her eyes were kind of gummy looking -- I still didn't want to kiss her.
She laughed. "Well, take the money to the office and go watch the ball game, hon. I'll be fine, if you get hungry, there should be enough left there to get a pop and a bag of chips from the machines."
"Okay, Mom."
"Wake me up about three and we'll get some real lunch," she said then she sneezed again and rolled over with her back to the window. "Be good, honey."
"I will," I said then I let myself out, making sure that I had the money and the room key to get back in.
Some adventures are best told by the people who lived through them. Here's Drew Kelley again, exploring...
by Wanda Cunningham
Chapter 3
Six, Nothing and Nothing
I paid the bill in the little office and the man there gave me a receipt and some change; with the money left from breakfast I had almost five dollars. He called me sweetie and honey, too, and I didn't like it as much from him as from Mom and Rosie. It made me feel a bit weird.
I went down the little driveway toward the ballgame, they were still playing. I crossed the street and watched for a bit. A few of the kids looked at me but no one said anything. I sat on an old green bench with the paint all chipped and falling off. A funny thing like a little concrete building with no windows or doors made a bit of shade 'cause it had begun to get hot. It wasn't much bigger than a kid's playhouse. I wondered a bit how anyone could get into the little building but it didn't seem that important.
When I sat on the bench, the two little boys who had been sitting at the other end looking at baseball cards got up and moved away. I didn't like to think they had left because of me. Everyone else had black or at least dark brown hair and I think I had the only blue eyes, too. One girl who had her hair in long braids came and sat down on the bench and smiled at me. That made me feel a little better.
When I looked back at the game, something had happened; even though they didn't seem to be really playing teams, the kids that had been at bat were heading to the outfield and the kids in the outfield were coming in to play the infield. It looked complicated, maybe they had three teams, somehow?
"Hey!" The tall boy moving to the pitcher's mound called. "You wanna play?"
I looked around to see if he might be talking to someone else but there was no one near me. Most of the kids not playing were little, like under five.
"You," he said, pointing at me. "Little girl in a yellow shirt. You wanna play?"
That made me mad. "I'm not a little girl!" I said.
He laughed. "Okay. How old are you?"
"I'm eleven..."
"What's your name?"
"Drew...." Oops. I wasn't supposed to tell anyone my name.
"Mine's Jimmy." Rosie's nephew, I remembered. "If you want to play second base, you can use my glove?" He held it out. He had that same way of talking his aunt had, different than back home.
I trotted on out and took the glove. It was a black infielder's glove, pretty old and the laces were rotten but it fit good, way too small for him. "Okay," I said. The glove made me smile, the leather felt as soft as Mom's cheek and the padding inside still seemed in good shape.
He grinned at me and ruffled up my hair before I could move away. "Now there's five on each team. We get three of these guys out," he waved toward the plate where the ones who had been playing the infield were setting up to bat, "then we get our at bats."
I pushed his hand away from my head and stopped smiling. "Three teams? Is this really baseball?" I shook my head and ran my own hand through my hair to unmess it a bit.
He showed me the ball. "Naw, it's softball but this version is called 'In, Out and Home'. We're 'In' right now."
I nodded, though I'd never heard of such a game. Lots of goofy versions of baseball played in places, I guess. I started to trot out to second but he ran his hands through my hair, again, messing it up. "Hey!"
He laughed. "Go play second, chiquita." He didn't sound Hispanic except when he used a Spanish word. Other times, he seemed to have the same accent his Aunt Rosie had and most of the other kids, too. A Western accent, I guess, but not like Texas.
I went out to play second, still a bit steamed because he thought I was a little girl. I really needed to get that haircut, I decided.
It was a weird way to play baseball--the shortstop was on the "Out" team along with four outfielders, one of whom had been playing second but now moved to the short fielder position--it seemed to work, though. "What's the score?" I asked the shortstop after we had warmed up our gloves and arms with some infield pepper.
He said something in Spanish then added, "Six, nothing and nothing, we're the only one's had our bats yet." He grinned at me. "I'm Julio." He wasn't much bigger than me but looked about the same age.
"Drew," I said. Too late to think of another name, I'd already told Jimmy.
"Like Drew Barrymore," he said, still grinning. Even though he had a Spanish name, he had that same accent Jimmy and Rosie had. I made a face at him but the game was starting and I didn't say anything.
The batter hit Jimmy's second pitch and I fielded a high bouncing chopper by running backward but my throw to first was too low and too late. The first baseman, one of our team, kept the ball in front of him and the big guy who had been the pitcher earlier was safe.
The short fielder, Tony, playing behind and to my right, had backed me up and looked surprised that I had even tried to catch the bouncer. "Good hustle," he said. "Not so good throw."
"She's just setting up the double play for us," said the first baseman, grinning. Everybody laughed except me. I pushed the hair out of my eyes and took the throw from first for another round of pepper, scowling as fiercely as I could.
The next batter lined out to third, Julio covered second and I backed him up but the runner tagged back to first without a play. We whooped it up this time as we played pepper, that had gone very well.
The runner at first called to me, "Chiquita, you play ball before?"
I grinned at him. "Second base on the Hilltop Giants back home, we played in the consolation game in the city championship." Fourth best team in the city, not that I had been playing second last year, I'd been lucky to get any field time at all.
"Ay!" he said, waving his hand as if he had burned it.
The short fielder, Tony, who had backed the play at first this time, grinned at me. "She can play a little," he said. I scowled but felt glad that someone had noticed that I knew where to be when Julio covered second.
Jimmy took the count on the third batter to 2 and 2 then a hot goundball sizzled right into Julio's glove at deep short--he spun and threw to me. I made sure to stomp on the bag then leaped high into the air to avoid the runner and threw as hard as I could to first. It bounced once but the first baseman gloved it easily; double play, the runner was out by a yard or more.
Tony whooped in my ear, "That's three, way to pivot!" He'd backed me again, so he was practically right on top of me. The runner even grinned up at me.
Jimmy ran from the mound, grabbed me around the waist and lifted me into the air, laughing, and Julio and maybe a couple of other guys patted me on the butt. I hadn't expected any such reaction, it startled me. "You can play second on my team any time, muchacha!" Jimmy said. "That was beautiful, I could kiss you!"
* * *
Sometimes you know what game you're playing, and sometimes you don't.
by Wanda Cunningham
Chapter 4
Ground Rules
Jimmy made as if he was going to kiss me and I turned my head away. I wasn't sure if he was serious or not but I didn't think I wanted to be kissed, at least not by him.
"Hold still, chiquita," he said. "I'm going to plant a juicy one on you."
"You damn well better not!" I shrieked, squirming to get away from him. He dropped me, still laughing and I ran to the backstop and picked up one of the chewed up old aluminum bats there. Someone had probably been playing rockball with it but it would make a good weapon if any of these idiots tried to kiss me again.
They laughed at me but no one came close, saying, "Cuidado," and "Easy, easy." They all had big grins and their eyes were smiling too, so they weren't being mean, just silly. People not on our team laughed, too. I had a good enough reason to get really mad but I wanted to play so I just gave Jimmy a mean look.
And that really cracked him up so I didn't look at him at all.
Everybody changed position, the Home team becoming Out, and our In's became Home. Tony was now the catcher and Julio would pitch to us. "Put la chiquita up first," he called out. Meaning me, I figured. I gave him a raspberry and he laughed.
"Go ahead, Drew," said Jimmy, grinning at me.
I frowned, they were making fun of me but I stepped up to the plate and waved the bat, ready to try to hit it. "Fast ball," said Tony but Julio lobbed one over, down the middle of the plate, and I popped out to the third baseman. I had to swing, it was a strike.
Jimmy shook his head but smiled at me and I glumly sat on the bench. One third of our inning gone, but there for a moment, I'd thought I might have a hit.
Jimmy batted next and beat the relay from center on a close play at second. The players on both sides, all three sides, made a lot of noise as Greg, our first baseman went to the plate. He hit behind the runner, like you're supposed to, sending a sizzler down the right field line. It rattled past the first baseman then bounced into foul territory where the right fielder dug it out of the yellow needles under the shaggy trees. Jimmy made it home and Greg was safe at first; we had a run.
I jumped around and hollered and screamed like everyone else until Jimmy crossed the plate and came running straight at me, then I grabbed up my rock-battered bat and glared at him. He just laughed but he didn't try to grab me.
Pete, who'd played third for us, hit a long high fly ball and the left fielder dropped it. Greg scored from first and Pete was safe at second.
Mathers, or Mattress, or something, I never got his name right, our catcher, came up to bat grinning like some sort of cartoon character. Julio scowled at him, Matty said something and Julio threw the ball and plunked him in the chest. Tony and Julio argued in Spanish while Matty took his base.
I realized I was up again, already, and walked to the box, feeling a little panicky. "Don't let them get a double play ball," said Jimmy and I nodded to him. It had gotten hotter and the bare dirt in the outfield looked all wavy. I wished I had a hat and I wished I had my hair cut shorter. The sweat ran down the back of my neck and under my shirt.
I wiped my face with my arm and then settled into the batter's box which was a sort of hole in the ground about six inches deep. People must have been playing baseball there before I started kindergarten.
I just stood crouched over, trying to make my strike zone small, while Julio tossed balls past me. The hole I stood in made my zone even smaller. No umpire; balls and strikes were called by agreement of the catcher, batter and the three or four spectators old enough to care who weren't playing. Another weird system, the catcher announced the call and if the batter objected, the spectators ruled on it. Anything reasonably near the plate and about waist high was usually a strike.
I took three balls, two of them over my head, before Julio managed to throw me a strike "She's so little," he complained.
"Just throw the ball," said Jimmy.
Tony agreed, "Throw the ball." He tossed it back to Julio.
I got back in the box and grinned at the pitcher. "Groove me one," I challenged him. Meaning, give me one like he did earlier and I would hit it and they could try to get two outs.
Julio wagged his head but tossed a soft one that bounced on the plate; he had walked me, loading the bases. No one said anything while I took my base; Julio was mad about that pitch.
Jimmy knocked the next throw almost to the highway for a grand slam, tying us with Julio's team, Six, Oh, and Six, weird score. We ran the bases laughing and trying not to look at Julio so we wouldn't make him madder. Jimmy caught up to me between second and third, his long legs covering almost twice as much ground as I could for each stride.
"Way to psych the pitcher," he said and I laughed. "You got a cute giggle, too," he said.
"Hey! I got to touch third before you do!" I reminded him, then between third and home, he sort of grabbed me and tossed me at the plate without letting go of me, then stomped on it himself.
"Lemme go!" I said after we had scored the runs but he spun me around, kissed me square on the lips and sat me on the bench, plopping down beside me. I stared at him.
I wondered if I dared wipe my face. I was afraid he'd cream me if I made a scene about it or anything. "Don't do that again," I said, not really knowing what else to say. I didn't say it very loud.
He laughed.
I hadn't tried to tell anyone I wasn't a girl which they obviously thought I was because I just wanted to play and I'd had enough of teasing about being too pretty to be a boy back home. Now I thought it might be dangerous to insist on it; he'd already kissed me. What would he do if he knew I was really a boy?
I thought I should probably head back to the motel before he or I did something really stupid. But Mom probably wasn't asleep yet, and I still wanted to play. And the game was tied.
I decided to stick around, I liked playing and if I left it would mess up the teams. But I decided to keep a close eye on Jimmy. I didn't want to get kissed again.
"No more kissing," I told him but he just laughed.
I went all the way over to the other side of the group of kids behind home plate. Jimmy just grinned at me and winked. I pretended not to see that and watched the game.
Twice at school back home, bigger boys had grabbed me in the boys' bathroom, carried me to the girls' bathroom and threw me in. The girls didn't like it much better than I did and I got teased about it a lot. Now with the long hair I hadn't had cut in six months, well, maybe I did look a little too much like a kid version of my mom.
I wiped my face a couple of times because of the head and I pinched my lower lip between my thumb and forefinger. That hurt and made me mad enough I didn't worry so much.
I still wanted to play so I just sat there and ignored Jimmy making goo-goo eyes at me. For crissakes, he was fifteen; he ought to leave me alone even if he did think I was a girl. I knew he was just teasing me, like my dad's uncles sometimes teased Mom, but it really made me mad. I shouldn't have told him I was eleven, if he thought I was only nine maybe he wouldn't have kissed me on the mouth.
Our team was still up. Greg knocked a little bouncer to centerfield and beat the throw at first then Pete hit one into a tree in the outfield, a ground rule triple, scoring Greg. Matty stood in against Julio to a count of three-and-oh, then Julio switched places with the third base man and the new pitcher plonked Matty in the arm, the second time he'd been hit by a pitch.
"It's deja-vu all over again," said Jimmy. I laughed but I wasn't sure why. It wasn't the same, Pete was on third this time.
Jimmy gave me a lighter bat as I took the batter box. He grinned at me and mussed my hair again.
"Jeez," said the pitcher, a big red-headed kid. "You're too small to pitch to. You're just a little girl."
"Am not," I said, getting a little mad again. And I couldn't make a point about being a boy now, it wouldn't be safe. "I'm eleven!" I said. I shut my mouth and glared at him.
He sneered and I swung the bat to show him where I wanted it. "Just pitch," said Jimmy.
He pitched, a slow looper that would likely bounce on the plate but I shifted my grip, reached forward and bunted it down the first base side. I took off running, careful to swing wide of the ball. The pitcher cussed and ran over to get it, he took a swipe at me and missed then threw to home to try to get Pete. He threw wide by more than the catcher could jump. The ball headed toward the street between the field and the motel as I ran for first. Pete scored.
"Ball inna street! Ball inna street!" somebody was yelling.
"Ground rule double!" shouted Jimmy. That started an argument. Matty ran all the way home in front of me and I followed him. The ball had rolled under an old derelict car and two kids were arguing about who was going to brave the black widows and crawl in after it.
Jimmy was laughing. "You dorks should have taken the ground rule double, 'cause now it's a homerun." That started another argument as the fielding teams tried to retract their opposition to a new ground rule that would have kept me at second and Matty at third.
They finally compromised and I ended with a "ground rule extra base" plus an error and two runs batted in. Not like anyone kept a scorecard but they seriously knew how the game is supposed to be played. Jimmy patted me on the butt as I headed back to third. At least, he hadn't tried to kiss me again.
Julio grinned at me. "You can bunt, chica." I think he was glad he hadn't been involved in any part of the bonehead play. I grinned back at him, pleased all over again. It really had been a beautiful bunt.
Sometimes you know what team you're on, and sometimes you don't.
by Wanda Cunningham
Chapter 5
Needles
Jimmy hit a towering fly to deep right field, I tagged up and made it home before the relay from the field. Then another argument started as to how many outs there were. The score stood at six-nothing-ten. I sat on the bench and grinned a lot, I had something to do with four of those runs. Finally, they pitched to Greg and he hit a come-backer to the pitcher for our third out.
In this weird three-sided version of the game, we were now Out and we headed to the outfield. Jimmy took center, Pete left, Matty shortstop and Greg right, leaving short field for me. It's not a position that exists in Little League and I felt a bit lost. It didn't matter, only one chance came to me when a high bouncer got past the second baseman. I fielded it cleanly and threw the runner, Julio, out at first for the third out.
Jimmy said, "Ayiii!" and shook his hand like it hurt and laughed. My hand really did hurt in the glove but I just grinned and moved over to second. Julio's team had scored twice, making it eight-oh-and-ten and with Jimmy pitching we got the middle team out one-two-three which ended the game 'cause they got disgusted with not scoring in three innings and four of them wanted to go home.
"We won?" I asked Jimmy and he grinned and nodded.
"Next time," said the captain of the middle team, "we get la guera on our side." And he pointed at me.
"What did you call me?" I said, trying to sound like I might do something about it.
Jimmy laughed and so did the other boys. "La guera means your hair, the blonde."
"I'm not blond," I protested.
"Look around you," grinned Tony.
I did. Almost everyone had black hair, darker than my dad's, I'd noticed it before. With light brown hair, in that group, I guess I did count as blond.
The boys laughed some more but they didn't sound like they were being mean, just like they were having a good time. Tony said, "All las chicas want to be las gueras."
I frowned at him. "I'm not blond," I repeated. And that set all of them to laughing again. Maybe I said it funny, I don't know. I think I rolled my eyes and they laughed at that, too. Then I stuck my tongue out at them and Tony almost fell down laughing.
"You okay, chiquita," said Julio. "You don't get mad unless someone try to kiss you, huh?"
I ran over and picked up a bat and they laughed some more. I even laughed a little when some of the girls came over and stood near me. Two of them picked up bats, too.
The tallest girl, Brenda, said to me, "They're all pendejos, dumb-heads."
I nodded. I stuck with the girls while the older boys figured out how to keep the game going.
Brenda said, "You got dirt in your hair."
"Doesn't matter," I said. I may have turned red.
"Such pretty hair, you better wash it tonight."
"I will," I told her. Well, duh? Like I'm going to go to bed with dirt in my hair?
She grinned. "You ain't that much of a tomboy, huh?"
I made a face and she laughed.
Besides the four from the middle team, two other kids wanted to leave which left us with only nine players. But one of the spectators joined bringing us back to ten. Not enough for team play, so the guys worked out rules for a kind of fungo workup.
Three batters, seven fielders, nobody pitching or catching, reaching third counts as a run. The batter hits a ball he tosses up himself; two strikes or three fouls and you're out. No base stealing. No bunting. On a force play, the batter is out, not the runner; that one takes a little thinking to see why it's more fair. If you're out, you go play right field and everyone shifts over a position: right to center to left to short to third to second to first and first becomes a new batter.
"Shortest kids start at bat," said Jimmy. "Tallest kids in the outfield." No one argued that, when the tall kids got their turn at bat they would likely not make an out as fast.
Being the second shortest kid playing, I batted second. The first kid made an out on a weak roller to first. I wasn't that used to hitting my own fungos but I got lucky and hit a seeing-eye grounder between second and first. The third kid, one of the girls, hit a blooper to second and was out.
"I wanna go home," she said.
"If you go home, Luz," Jimmy told her, "we'll have to do without a shortstop to make this work."
"I don't care."
Julio said something to her in Spanish and she said something sassy back.
Matty said, "Oh, go home, Lucy. You don't see Blondie crying."
"She knows how to play!" Luz protested.
I felt good and bad about this discussion. I would sure hate to be a whiner but I felt bad that Luz wanted to quit. Plus, being called Blondie steamed me a little.
We would have had to quit playing or changed everything again but Tony offered to solve the problem. "Hey, Luz, I'm shortstop now, I trade with you. I go to rightfield and you play short."
"No," said Jimmy. Jimmy was a thinker, he had a better idea. He shuffled things around; the new rule was that the four shortest players and the one tall girl, Brenda, would start at short when they were out, not at right. I didn't say anything but I was kind of glad to know I wouldn't have to try to make a throw in from the outfield. I'm not a strong thrower.
Everyone seemed okay with the new rule and we got back to the game.
We played for another hour or more, just running, throwing, hitting the ball and screaming when someone made a good, or bad, play.
It got hotter and hotter but I made two runs before I got put out on a force play and I got to bat again and score one more run. Every time I scored a run, Jimmy threw me a kiss from wherever he was. I stuck my tongue out at him the last time and he thought that was pretty funny so I laughed, too.
And then suddenly, someone called from a long way off and two kids looked up and started off the field. The game broke up quickly, more and more kids heading away some of them talking about going home and getting lunch or doing chores.
I found Jimmy, putting gloves and base bags and bats in a pile behind home plate. "Where's everybody going?" I asked. A lot of the conversations were half in Spanish I didn't understand but I figured Jimmy would know what was going on.
"It's too hot," said Tony, flopping down in the narrow shade of the little concrete building. I noticed nobody lay or even sat down on the yellow needles under the trees without kicking most of them away and sitting on the dirt.
"We'll play again when it cools off some," said Jimmy. "Right now, a lot of kids have to go home to watch kid brothers or sisters for their moms." He made a grab for me.
I figured he was going to kiss me again so I ducked under his arm and ran a little ways away. "Okay," I said. "I'll try to come back when I see the game starting up again. I've got to go see about my mom. She's sick."
"You live in the motel?" Jimmy asked.
I thought he might try to catch me so I kept my distance. I shook my head, "We don't live there, just staying a few days, till Mom feels better."
Two other guys sat down near Tony, under the trees, after kicking bare places in the needles.
"You don't have to go right away, do you, chiquita?" one of the boys said. "You say your mom was taking a nap, let her sleep."
"Uh," I said.
Jimmy laughed. He put his hands up. "I promise, no kissing."
"You shouldn't be kissing her, Jimmy," said Tony. "She's too little. You're only nine, huh?" he said to me.
"I'm eleven," I said, annoyed.
"She told me that," said Jimmy. He winked at me.
The older boys all laughed and looked at each other then at me. "Stay," said Tony. "If he kisses you again, we'll put needles in his hair."
The needles looked dry but they had a sticky sap on them which is why no one wanted to sit on them. It would be pretty nasty to get them in your hair.
"Aieee!" said Jimmy, wringing one hand and laughing. "Okay, I leave chiquita alone till she's older. But one day, we'll get married." He blew me another kiss. I just closed my eyes and shook my head.
"You cabron," said Tony to Jimmy. Then he said to me, "I call him a goat; he's horny and he smells bad." They laughed again, teasing each other.
I really didn't want to go back right away, Mom did need to sleep and I knew if I went in and watched TV, I'd end up waking her up. Jimmy scooped away some of the yellow needles with the side of his foot to make a place for me to sit under one of the big shaggy trees. Then he sat down under a different tree, far enough away I knew he wouldn't grab me so I went ahead and sat down. I really liked these guys, except for them thinking I was a little girl.
We just sat in the shade for a while, talking about the game and the heat. I finally asked someone about the funny little cement building with no doors or windows. "It's a sump," said one of the bigger boys. "For water," he added.
"A pump?" I asked.
He nodded but he said, "No," which confused me. I'd seen several of them do that before, nod 'yes' but say 'no'. "Hey, Jimmy," he said, "tell chiquita what a sump is."
"It's for the water," said Jimmy. "The town has water underground." He pointed at the sump. "That thing is open at the top, you can't see it. They have to work on the water, they climb up the side and go down into the underground part." He showed me a sort of ladder made of iron staples about a foot wide in the concrete side of the building. I hadn't noticed it before.
I still couldn't figure out why they would make a thing like that. In the city we just have manholes in the street. But no one treated me like I was stupid for asking about it.
They didn't actually say much to me but they stuck mostly to English, guessing that I wouldn't understand much Spanish. When everyone had been quiet for a couple of minutes, Jimmy looked at me and winked.
I stood up quickly. "I got to go check on my mom," I said.
Everybody started getting up then. They all had things to do, too, but Jimmy said, "Hey, be back by four? We'll play some more before it gets dark. You, too, chiquita."
"Maybe," I said, heading toward the motel.
"You play pretty good for a girl," Tony called after me. "She does," he told his friends.
I didn't say anything to that, just trotted across the little side street into the motel parking lot.
Why is the most difficult question in the world ... except for why not.
by Wanda Cunningham
Chapter 6
Why or Why Not
I checked on our car as I passed. A practically brand new Jeep Grand Cherokee, it looked okay or at least I couldn't see that anyone had bothered it. A lot of our luggage still lay piled in the back behind the seats.
I still wondered a bit about what all Mom had packed since the first I'd know about us leaving was her waking me up just after midnight and telling me to grab anything I didn't think I could do without for a long trip. I packed some books and games, my baseball equipment, a few clothes and some of my favorite action figures. Most of that stuff was still in the Jeep.
I walked on down the covered walkway in front of the motel. I'd noticed that most buildings here had such walkways in front of them. Having felt the midday summer sun now, I understood why. I found our room and let myself in quietly but Mom had already woken up. She sat in a pile of pillows and covers and smiled at me. "Hey, kid. Did you have a good time playing?"
"Um, yeah? I'm sorry I didn't come back sooner?" She looked and sounded better, not as congested and I knew she had been out of bed cause her face looked less puffy; she'd put on a bit of makeup, too, I figured.
"I took a look outside earlier, saw you playing," she said. "I knew you were okay." But I could tell she was worried about something.
I sat on the bed next to her. "You want me to get you something from the restaurant?"
"In a bit, maybe we'll both go over there. A good dinner and another night's sleep and I think we can go in the morning." She reached a hand out to ruffle my hair. "You got kind of dirty playing, didn't you?"
"Uh, yeah, I guess so. All the kids went home for siesta or something, we might play some more later?"
She laughed. "Well, you can wash your hands and face now and take a bath later tonight?"
"Okay. You're not worried about me playing?" I asked.
"No. You looked like you were having fun; they even let you play second for awhile, huh?"
I grinned. "I'm the best second base they got."
"That's good," she said. "You should have fun if you can. I'm sorry about this, punkin."
"I know," I said. "I just don't really understand it?"
She sighed.
"Are you and Dad ever going to get back together?" I asked, trying to keep any quiver out of my voice.
She shook her head. "I don't know. Maybe. But probably not soon."
"Why? I mean, why not?" I knew my voice caught that time but it hurt to think Mom and Dad would not be my Mom and Dad together again, as soon as possible.
"Go wash up," she said. "We'll go get some burgers or something."
I shook my head. "Not till you tell me what this is about?"
She looked at me and her mouth got thin and flat. "I'm the mother, you're the kid, Drew. I don't want to talk about this right now."
"I want to know," I insisted. I didn't want to sass her but not telling me just wasn't fair.
She sighed, then coughed several times, took a tissue and wiped her eyes. I didn't know what to do when I realized she was crying. "Go wash up, honey. Wash up, and then I'll tell you."
I got off the bed and went to the little bathroom to clean the dirt off my hands and face and clothes. I heard her sniffling and crying in the room and I felt really bad about making her cry.
When I came back out, she was just putting away her lipstick. She'd put her makeup back on after crying. She didn't usually wear much at all but I guess she still wanted to cover up the bruise around her eye.
I sat down on the bed and she sat in the straight chair in front of the little desk/vanity table. "Are you going to tell me?" I asked.
She nodded. "Your dad's uncles have gotten into something that could cause your father to go to jail. I told him he had to quit or I would leave him."
I blinked. "I thought this was about you being jealous of each other." That's what all the arguments I had heard had been about.
She shrugged. "That doesn't help. But I'm not really worried about your father, uh, sleeping with someone else. I just say those things 'cause he's jealous about me and I want him to see it cuts both ways. But it makes him crazy." She rubbed her cheek where I guess it still hurt from when Dad hit her.
"What --" but she stopped me by holding up her hand.
"I'm not going to tell you exactly what's going on. You're too young and, and the fewer people who know about it, the better."
"Uncle Randy and Uncle Kevin are doing something illegal?"
She sighed but didn't answer.
"Does Granddad know?" I asked.
She shook her head. "I don't know. Probably."
Granddad is Charlie Kelley. He started a chain of video game places called, "Only-a-Dime," back before I was born. The idea is that kids pay to get into the place and then games are only a dime. Or a ten-cent token. You can win tokens by winning games and you can buy prizes with the tokens you've won, too. Cheap stuff, like cockamamies and little toy cars, or bubble gum.
They sell hotdogs and soda and potato chips, too, and everything once you're inside is just a dime for the first hotdog or the first soda. Like that. It costs about $6 to get in, most of the places, more some places where the rent is higher, I guess.
I thought about that for a bit.
Granddad had some great stories. He was the oldest brother, ten years older than my dad's uncles. His father had run a bar in Cleveland, "Good Time Charlie's," back a long time ago and his name had been Charlie, too. Actually, John Charles Francis Andrew Kelley, come straight over from Dublin, Ireland, but I guess there were too many men named John around. Granddad's best stories were about the wiseguys who used to come into his father's bar. It took me a long time to figure out that wiseguys was Granddad's word for mobsters.
I didn't know exactly what might be going on but I did know that criminals had money they needed to hide. The news called it money laundering and I went and looked that up because it didn't sound like something that ought to be a crime. What it means though is to hide where money comes from by running it through a cash business or a crooked bank or something.
And Dad's job for the family business was going around the country, checking the books in all the videogame places and fixing things if they needed it. All the company places used mostly cash; I figured a lot of money could be hidden doing something like that.
I grabbed my own arms and hugged myself. I'm only eleven and if I could figure that out, the cops would figure it out sooner or later. Then my Dad would go to prison.
Mom stared at the brown air conditioner while I cried. "I can't hug you, honey. You'd catch my cold," she said.
"I don't care," I sniffed. I held my arms out to her and we did a quick hug, at least. We didn't kiss each other though.
We cleaned our hands and faces again and Mom fixed her makeup a third time, then we went over to the Denny's and had a late lunch or early dinner. I had a kid-size cheeseburger with fries and a salad. Mom had baked fish with steamed vegetables and salad. It was pretty good but I didn't eat all the fries.
We didn't talk about our problems in the restaurant and Rosie, the nice lady who had served me breakfast wasn't there. A younger woman waited on us. She sort of ignored me and just talked to Mom but that's okay. I didn't mind.
I thought about some things in between telling Mom about the softball game. She thought the idea of three teams was pretty neat. I didn't mention Rosie or the ball players thinking that I was a little girl, that was kind of embarrassing.
Mom complained that she couldn't really taste anything and she made several gross noises because of her cold. Mostly, I tried to ignore that so I could enjoy eating. "I hate having a cold," she said. Then she blew her nose and it sounded like a taxicab honking. "It's breaking up," she said.
I didn't want to think about big, slimy masses of snot coming apart like an old pair of jeans inside my Mom but like I said, I didn't eat all the french fries.
I tried to think about our situation. Why we had left home in the middle of the night and why Mom had pulled money out of several bank accounts before we left. She told me that when I got scared about how we would live on the run. She had a lot of money in cash with her. So far, we hadn't put anything on a credit card and she hadn't had to visit an ATM once we had got out of the city limits back home.
That meant she was afraid of being followed. And if Mom was afraid of something, that meant I should be scared, too.
What kind of guys had Dad gotten mixed up with?
The hard part of making a plan is telling someone about it.
by Wanda Cunningham
Chapter 7
Hiding Place
We finished eating and Mom paid with some more damp money. The waitress didn't look any happier about touching it than I had the ten Mom had given me earlier. Mom was a regular walking oolie, which is something that is so disgusting you don't really want to touch it if you can avoid it.
We walked across the parking lot and the heat made the air dance over the pavement, like a movie taken underwater. Mom said the heat felt good and I didn't mind it except that going in and out of hot and cool kind of gave me a headache behind my eyes.
"Do we need to disappear?" I asked Mom after we got back to the motel room. The brown air conditioner made enough noise that once inside it seemed to be a little private world all our own. The air was actually cold but if you got near the back wall, which faced south, you could still feel the heat right through the cement blocks.
Mom lay across the bed right away after we closed the door but she sat up when I started asking questions. She nodded, looking miserable. "I'm afraid if they find us, they'll take you back. I won't be able to fight them, honey. "
I wanted to cry but it looked like if I started that Mom would cry, too. She said, they, not he, so I knew it wasn't Dad she was afraid of but the men he worked for now.
"If they take you back," Mom said, "I won't have any leverage to make your father quit this business because I won't leave you there without me and we're the only two things your father cares enough about to go against his family."
"Have you got some kind of plan?" I asked Mom. "Someplace we're going where they won't find us?"
She shook her head. "Not really." She sighed. "I have a friend in Arizona who might be able to help us. She has a place way out in the middle of nowhere. I thought it might be a good place to hide. But your father knows her name and sooner or later, he might try to find us there."
"Huh," I said. That still sounded pretty good. Maybe if Dad figured out where we were, he wouldn't tell on us. But no, he'd be really worried, and maybe mad, wondering if we were okay. He'd help them find us and we'd have to go back. And Mom didn't want to do that. I understood that; I didn't like what it meant but I understood it.
"What we need to do is just disappear for a year or so. Maybe your father can figure out how to get out of this situation. I'm afraid he might go to prison if he doesn't." Mom put her the side of her hand in her mouth and chewed on it, something I've been trying to break her from for years.
"Stop that," I said. "If I did that, you'd really be upset."
She grinned at me and wiped her hand on her slacks. "Sorry," she said. "It itches there when I'm nervous or upset."
"It' s unsanitary and doesn't look very ladylike," I told her. "And wiping your hand on your pants is worse."
She laughed at me, and I grinned. We'd done this before, I hated it when she chewed on her fingers and she knew it but it kind of become a joke between us.
"You're pretty bossy sometimes. Do you forget who's the kid around here?"
"No, but sometimes you do," I said.
We both laughed, then she coughed and got up to blow her nose and rinse her mouth and wash her hands. The coughing sounded better but I reminded myself not to kiss her yet.
"You and your father are the only ones who ever expect me to be ladylike," she said, after she stopped coughing. "Remember, I had three older brothers, I think I'll always be a bit of a tomboy. " She smiled. "I've got some pictures, or my brother Jake does, of me at your age, dressed almost the same. I played second base, too, you know."
I grinned at that, I'd seen the pictures. She did look like me, except, she had a bow in her hair. "What about Uncle Jake and Uncle Todd and Uncle Marcus? Would they help?" We didn't see them much, even Uncle Marcus was a lot older than Mom and none of them lived close by.
"Yeah," she said looking a bit sour. "Jake would help put your father and his uncles behind bars. He's with the state attorney's office, remember?" She made a face, "And Todd is in Europe with the Navy. Marcus is no help, he'd just run to Jake."
I felt a sinking sensation, like someone pushed my heart down under the ice cubes in a tall soda. Mom's brothers were all years older than she and no one in her family really liked my dad that much. Mom's parents were dead and Jake was head of the family. They'd help, but they'd only help their way. They actually called Mom 'Little Sis' and she always complained that they treated her like she was still twelve.
I took a deep breath but it didn't help. I still felt scared and lonesome, even with Mom right there in front of me. "I think I have an idea how we could hide where no one could find us," I said. It hadn't just come to me, I'd been thinking about it since before lunch.
Mom looked at me. "I don't think there could be such a place, honey," she said.
"Not a place," I said. My idea was really embarrassing and it was hard to talk about it. I shook my head.
She looked thoughtful. "Some kind of disguise?"
"Uh, yeah," I said. Mom is little and cute, too, and lots of people don't believe how smart she can be or that she'll be thirty in less than two years. I bet myself she figured out what was going on with my uncles before anyone told her.
Which reminded me that Dad is pretty smart, too. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea. But if we thought Dad would be able to out think us, no matter what we did, then we might as well just go home.
"It's worth a try," I said out loud.
"What is?" Mom asked. Then she had to cough some more and spit up ugly green nose potatoes. I looked away until she was done.
"I got the idea when I went out to play ball with the other kids," I said, when Mom was through being disgusting.
"Um?" she said. "I don't think we could disguise ourselves as locals. Everyone here is so dark. Black hair, brown skin and eyes, it's almost like being in a foreign country. Not really, but you know what I mean. I grew up in a small town back east ...." She trailed off, looking at me oddly.
"Well, Dad and his uncles are going to be looking for you and me, right?"
She nodded. "So your idea is that we be someone else?"
"Uh huh," I said. "They're looking for a young mom with a son who's starting sixth grade. Right?"
She nodded again. "Am I going to think you're crazy when you tell me your idea?" She grinned. "You want me to disguise myself as a boy or something?" She pulled her shirt tight over her front and looked down. "I admit, I'm not Dolly Parton but ...." She patted herself on her butt, snorted a laugh, then had to blow her nose.
I wiped my hands over my face. This just wasn't easy and Mom being sick made everything harder. "Is it really, really important we don't get caught? I mean, couldn't we go to the police and have them protect us?"
Mom looked down at the floor. "Maybe, but that would be like trying to get your dad in trouble. We'd probably have to tell why we're running away and ... I'd rather not. This is your dad and his family, they wouldn't really do anything bad to us so it's not right to get them in trouble. But I want to ..." She stopped and looked around the room for a moment.
I decided she was trying to think how to tell me something that made her feel bad so I just stayed quiet and studied my shoes. They were maroon and gray cross-trainers with a big red letter N on the side. I hadn't brought my baseball shoes with the rubber cleats along but these worked pretty good out on the field. I wondered how much money Mom had with us; shoes and clothes weren't cheap and if my disguise idea worked, we'd both need a lot of new clothes.
Mom got up from the chair where she'd been sitting and walked over to the little TV fastened to the table against the wall opposite the gap between the two beds. She turned the set on and a bunch of Spanish came out of the speakers before the picture came on. The TV looked pretty old, it still had a picture tube not a flat screen. She flicked through a few channels when the picture came up and found some old movie in black and white. In English but with Spanish in yellow letters near the bottom. It looked really odd to have yellow letters on the black and white screen.
I didn't recognize any of the actors and Mom turned the sound way down, so it might as well have been in Spanish, anyway, since neither of us could hear it; just see the Spanish words on the screen.
After she stopped playing with the TV, she went over to the air conditioner hanging in the small window high up in the front wall. She studied the controls or maybe just pretended to because she didn't touch them. Finally, she turned to me and I quit playing with my shoelaces and looked at her.
She sighed and wiped her nose with a tissue then wadded it up in her hand and squeezed it. "We're running away because I want your father to worry about us," she said. She acted like it was a big thing, that she felt bad about, and maybe she thought I would think it was a terrible thing to do.
I just nodded. I'd figured that out, too.
"Maybe if we're gone, he'll think about why we left and change what he's doing," Mom said. She really looked awful, not just from the cold but from the pain it caused her to do something that mean to my dad. I knew that my mom and dad really cared about each other, more than about anyone else in the world, except me. And here Mom was doing something to hurt Dad and using me to help her do it. No wonder she got sick.
I nodded again.
"Do you think it'll work?" she asked. And that's how messed up she was about this; she was asking me how a grown-up would act about something.
"It's worth a shot," I said, not wanting her to feel worse. Personally, I thought Dad would be worried, then mad, then worried again and finally, he might try to think why she would do something so awful as running away. And maybe he would decide that he was the one who had messed up. But maybe not. And I knew that Dad could stay mad a long, long time.
And Mom knew that, too. Which was probably part of what she felt so bad about.
She sighed, rolled her eyes, cleared her throat and spit into her tissue.
"Please don't look at it," I said.
She grinned at me, threw the tissue away and got a clean one. "So tell me this idea of yours," she said.
"That's why it's a perfect disguise." It didn't sound any less stupid to say it out loud.
by Wanda Cunningham
Chapter 8
More Than One Way
I sat on the bed, I had to pull myself up a little, it was a pretty high bed. Which was weird -- you'd think it had a thick, soft mattress or something but it wasn't much softer than the worn-out spots in the carpet on the floor where you could see the cement underneath.
I didn't know how to begin. Now that it got down to actually telling Mom what I'd thought of, it sounded stupid. I stared at the air conditioner for a bit. The buttons were all little rectangles, kind of off-white, except that the off button was brown and the button to make it swap air with the outside instead of recycling inside air was olive green.
Mom didn't interrupt my time trying to think what to say. I got the idea she had figured it out but wanted me to say it. I coughed, just to clear my throat. I hadn't caught Mom's cold, yet.
I turned sideways on the bed so I could lean back on the headboard but I kept my feet hanging off the bed because my shoes still had dirt and leaves stuck to them. Some of those sticky yellow needles from the shaggy trees next to the ball field. I realized that they had a smell, like the trees -- a dusty smell like an old pine scented air freshener that has hung from the mirror in a car so long it's gone stale.
"What if you cut your hair and dyed it black, and wore black jeans and the kind of makeup teenage girls use?" I said suddenly.
Mom flashed a grin at me. "I'd look ridiculous." She sat down in the beat-up looking chair in front of the dresser, or dressing table, I guess it was.
I shrugged. "No worse than the other girls. I think if you dressed and acted like you were seventeen or nineteen, no one would guess you were nearly thirty."
She made a face. "Right now, I feel more like sixty." She touched a finger to her red and swollen nose. Then she laughed, "Me as a goth teenager, that's a heck of a disguise, kiddo." She closed her eyes and shook her head. "What about you?"
I swallowed hard. "They're looking for a woman and her son." The rest of the words stuck in my throat.
Mom opened her eyes and looked at me. "Maybe you should have got that haircut." She laughed quietly, then coughed and spit up and I turned my head so I wouldn't have to watch.
Finally, she asked. "Are you trying to say what I think you're trying to say?"
I still didn't look at her. I shrugged and then nodded.
She didn't say anything for a bit then she asked, "I thought you didn't like it when people thought you looked girlish?"
I made a face. "That's why it's a perfect disguise," I said but not very loud so I repeated it. "That's why it's a perfect disguise." It didn't sound any less stupid to say it louder.
Mom made a funny noise, not like she was going to cough again but like she didn't want to laugh and hurt my feelings. "Your father would absolutely hate the thought," she said.
I did look up then but she had a perfectly straight face. Until I smiled just the tiniest bit and she totally cracked up. She laughed so hard she had to go into the tiny motel bathroom and shut the door.
I laughed some because she had laughed so hard but really, I didn't want to laugh. It really was a crazy thought. And scary. So was listening to Mom coughing in the bathroom. I didn't see how I could avoid catching whatever she had and I wasn't looking forward to it.
Mom came out of the bathroom, wiping her mouth with a towel. She looked less pasty and had more animation in her face than any time since we sneaked out of the house. She looked at me and chuckled. "Your father would hate the thought. So he won't think of it. And that's what makes it perfect." She grinned.
I think I grinned, too, but maybe it was a sick grin. I almost told her right then to forget it.
Mom said, "Do you really think you could do it?"
I nodded slowly. "All the kids at the ball game, they thought I was a girl. And I wasn't even trying. They called me chica and muchacha. I don't speak any Spanish really, but those words mean girl, I know that because they end in 'a'."
Mom smiled. "We'll get you a job as a translator at the UN. You didn't tell them you were a boy?"
I shrugged. The question made me uncomfortable. I felt a pressure in the back of my throat. "Um," I said, trying to make the lumpy feel go away. "I told them I wasn't a little girl. But they thought ...." I couldn't figure out how to say it without embarrassing myself down through the hard motel bed and the concrete floor and straight through the Earth where I would drown in the Indian Ocean, because China isn't on the opposite side of the world from America, I checked on a globe once.
Mom looked thoughtful for a bit. "Okay," she said. "Let's think about why it might not work."
I frowned. "Huh?"
"It's how you plan for emergencies, you think about what could go wrong."
"Okay, yeah, that makes sense." Like being ready to go either direction on the ball field instead of just planning on the left-handed batter hitting to right field. Coach always said, you can't be ready for everything so you have to be ready for anything. What he meant was keep your options open, don't move in so close you can't react to a ball hit over your head, don't move before you know where the ball is going. Like that.
Mom sat down on the foot of the bed. "We won't have any identification for being someone else. That could get us in trouble. With the police, or, well, how long are we going to keep up a disguise? Had you thought about that?"
I nodded but I didn't say anything.
"School starts in another month," Mom pointed out.
I took a breath but it felt like the brown air conditioner had blown soapsuds into the room instead of air. It burned my eyes and caught in my throat. I turned away from Mom so she wouldn't see if I started crying.
"We might have to be in hiding for a year, or more," she said.
"I know," I managed to choke out.
"Do you think you could do this for a whole year? Not let anyone find out you're really a boy?"
I nodded then shrugged.
"That's lots of time for things to go wrong," she said. "And just getting you registered in school could be a big problem. Plus, I need a driver's license to drive." She chewed her lip. "Really ought to get rid of the Cherokee anyway. Frank could report it stolen."
Frank is Dad. Actually, John Charles Francis Andrew Kelley IV. And I'm the fifth, which is why Dad's uncles call me Vee. Granddad Charlie calls me Andy. At school, I'm usually called John by the teachers and Johnny or Drew or Kelley by the other kids. Mom and her brothers started calling me Drew and Dad joined in, though sometimes if he's annoyed he calls me Andrew. I prefer Drew.
Mom's first name is Debrah. Debrah Lois Naismith Kelley. Deb or Debi to almost everybody, but her brothers call her Sis or Little Sis or sometimes Louie, a nickname from when she was little. I call her Mom and sometimes Dad does, too. Her parents were both doctors and died in a plane crash in Africa before I was born.
Technically, Mom and I are Jewish, since Grandma Ruth Garnitz Naismith was Jewish, her parents were from Lithuania, and neither Mom nor I have ever been baptized or confirmed in any church. Dad sometimes took us to church, Catholic church, and Mom's brothers sometimes took me to synagogue but I haven't really been taught to be real religious.
I realized I was thinking about other stuff to stop thinking about what Mom and I were planning on doing. I sighed and tuned back in to what Mom was saying.
"We'll need new clothes," she said. "And we don't want to buy them all at once. But we should definitely switch before we get to Martha's."
"Martha's?" I said.
"Your Grandma Ruth's college roommate. She married a rancher and now she owns his ranch in Arizona."
"He died?"
"No, she divorced him," Mom grinned. "It's more complicated than that. But that's where we're headed. It's near the Mexican border." She seemed to be thinking some more, imagining more problems we would have to solve.
I went into the bathroom to look at myself in the mirror. I'm short, I said that before, and skinny. I'm eleven and I should start the sixth grade this year. It seems like every year since I started school, the other kids have gotten taller and I haven't. I'm only a couple or three inches over four foot tall and I don't weigh even sixty pounds. Lots of eight-year-olds are bigger than me.
People remember my hair. It's not blond, it's light brown and has yellow, red and white streaks in it. Pretty distinctive and I like to wear it long since, well, it does help people remember me. Long is down to my shoulders, almost. I've got bright blue eyes, not pale blue, but bright blue like the sky after it rains in the morning and all the clouds blow away in the middle of the afternoon.
Mom has the same hair, a bit darker, and the exact same eyes. She's short too, but almost a foot taller than me. We're both skinny, Mom doesn't even weigh a hundred pounds.
We've got the same face, too, nearly. Cute, I guess. Dad says Mom is beautiful but Mom says he's full of shit. She's pretty, though, even if she thinks she's too cute to be beautiful. We both have little round chins with dimples in them and small noses that would look piggy if they were any bigger.
It wasn't that hard to imagine Mom at my age, she looked pretty young as it was and I had seen pictures of her from when she was a kid. I looked so much like her that I really thought that this would work. If I wanted it to....
For some reason, I thought of when Jimmy kissed me. What would I do if I disguised myself as a girl and another boy wanted to kiss me? I didn't know.
People have been telling me I'm too pretty to be a boy since I was too little to know the difference. Maybe now was the time to find out if they were right.
"It's going to be weird having a big sister, though not as weird as..."
by Wanda Cunningham
Chapter 9
Double Dog Dare
Chapter 9
Mom decided she felt well enough to go get a few things at K-Mart. We had passed one coming into town, just after getting off the freeway so she knew where it was and how to get back to the motel once she got there. She washed her face and changed clothes and redid her makeup, partly to cover her black eye, I guess. The makeup also did a good job of disguising the fact that she still had a monster cold that had only partly been tamed and probably wouldn't eat anyone who didn't tease it.
"You want to come along," she said before she headed out the door. "I'm going to get a few things for our disguises." She grinned at me.
I wanted to squirm at the thought. "Uh," I said.
"You don't have to, but we should be back before four. That's when your game starts again, isn't it?"
"Yeah."
"Well, okay, then. C'mon. We'll get you a cute little cap to keep the sun out of your eyes and dirt out of your hair." She kept grinning. "Or do you think you can't do this?"
"Mom!" I protested. "That's like daring me to do it!"
"Yeah," she said. "I double-dog-dare you. What's a big sister for?"
I didn't need to washup again or put on makeup so I thought about what she said while following her out to the Cherokee. Getting into the tall Jeep was always a hassle for Mom and I because of being short. Mom had picked it to run away in instead of her own little car because it would hold so much stuff and it had a good air conditioner for crossing the deserts in the summer but the tires were nearly armpit height on me.
She'd already said something about getting rid of it and that made me a little sad; I'd always liked the pretty Jeep even if I felt like I needed a stepladder to get into it. We clambered in and shut the doors, another hassle because the handles were far away and the door heavy.
After belting in, I told her, "Big sisters are for little sisters to be annoying to." I blushed when I said it, though.
She grinned at me. "Bring it on," she said which was something Dad said when he wanted me to throw harder.
I didn't say anyhing else until we were out on the street, heading in the right direction. "It's going to be weird having a big sister, though I guess not as weird as ... well, um...."
She laughed. "I can give you lessons in being the annoying kid sister, but I don't think it's in my best interests. I had years to perfect my technique." She glanced at me. "You really think you can do this?"
I shrugged. "One way to find out, huh?" The cold spot in the middle of my chest didn't seem to have anything to do with the hundred-plus weather outside.
We drove north, I think it was north, back up through the town. Motels and restaurants and shops lined one side of the street for most of the way but there were also houses and apartment buildings. On the other side, a wide green park separated the street from a set of railroad tracks. Off that way, I could see the freeway sticking up above the roofs of houses on the other side of the tracks, probably a half a mile away.
The park was weird, so green, like a golf course. The rest of the town had a dry look like an old piece of bread that no one wants except here and there, someone would have a green lawn or some fruit trees growing in their yard. Like mold, maybe, though why I thought of that, I don't know.
"Age," said Mom as we neared the left hand turn into the K-Mart lot. "One thing that might help our disguises, well, sixth graders in a lot of places are expected to change clothes for P.E., I don't think you're going to want to do that."
"Uh, no," I said.
"So maybe it's not just me that should appear younger," she said.
I thought about that while Mom cruised the lot. There was no shade but she wanted to park where the sun wouldn't shine directly in the front windows. As she pulled into a space, I said, "Last year, I had an argument at lunch with a substitute teacher who thought I was one of her second-graders."
Mom laughed. "You never told me about that."
"Yeah, well, it was embarrassing. It was near Halloween and we wore parts of our costumes to school. One of her kids had the same baseball cap I did and a similar glove."
Mom turned off the engine and pulled up the parking brake. "How old do you think you look?"
I mumbled something. "Most people think I'm only eight or nine."
She frowned. "You're short and you've got chubby cheeks, but wouldn't you be kind of tall for an eight-year-old?"
I shook my head. "Uh, no, Mom. I'm about the size of the average kid starting third grade this fall." I know I blushed but the heat from opening the car door hit me at about the same time so it probably didn't show.
"Wow," she said. "I was tiny, too. We need to talk to Martha."
"Huh?"
"She's a doctor. I'll tell you more later."
When I caught up with her on the way to the front door of K-Mart, she held her hand out. "Sisters hold hands a lot," she said. "Especially if one of them is only eight." She grinned at me.
I took her hand. It made me want to squirm a little bit but it had been a long time since I had held Mom's hand in public. I kind of liked it as long as I didn't think of her wiping her nose with that hand.
"We won't buy much here, we don't want to be too memorable. We'll stop somewhere else and buy more tomorrow or later tonight." She laughed. "This is sort of exciting."
"Scary," I said. She squeezed my hand and I squeezed back.
"Uh-huh," she agreed. "But now I feel like we might actually be able to hide long enough to drive your dad into giving up his evil schemes."
I looked at her and she giggled, knowing she had said something silly. I just smiled and shook my head.
"Have you ever been to Martha's?" I asked her.
"Uh, huh," she said. "Years and years ago, when I was in junior high. Spent a Christmas vacation there. Rode horses, branded pigs, all that farm stuff."
"You don't brand pigs," I protested.
"How do you know?"
"They cut notches in their ears instead," I told her. "I read it somewhere."
She laughed. "Yeah, they do. Gross. They squeal like anything, too, fershure."
I looked up at her as we went into the store. She must be practicing trying to sound like a teenager, I decided. A brown-skinned old man held the door and smiled at us.
"Thank you," we both said. Then Mom poked me in the shoulder, "Jinx, you owe me a Coke."
"Ow!" I said, though it hadn't hurt. Mom grinned at me and I grinned back. I pointed at the snack bar, "We can get cokes with ice."
"On the way out," she said. She headed immediately toward the health and beauty stuff. For some reason, I had thought we were clothes shopping which was straight ahead from the entrance and we almost got tangled up as she crossed in front of me. "Hey?" I said.
"Hair dye," she said and continued moving so I followed.
Catching up with her, I put my hand back in hers. "Are we going to be brunettes?" I said. A little shiver went through me for some reason. Then I realized it was because of how the word is spelled and that seemed very strange to think about.
"I'm thinking about it," she said. She glanced at me, "And you're right, we're going to have to cover up your hair color too. It's just too distinctive." We turned down a row that seemed to be nothing but hair dye on one side. "Your hair is so fine, though, we'll have to be careful. Maybe a rinse for you."
"What's a rinse?" I asked.
"Temporary hair dye," she said. "It comes out a little each time you shampoo."
"Oh," I said. I resisted squirming until I just had to say. "I thought -- uh? Maybe?"
She looked up from reading a box and raised an eyebrow.
"You can't turn brown hair blond with a rinse, can you?" I managed to ask.
She shook her head. "Not really. But we're both blondes now."
I blinked. "We are?"
She nodded. "Dark blond but blond." She grinned. "On a guy, this hair color would be called light brown, but on a girl, it's blond." She pointed at her head then wagged it back and forth and grinned goofily, "I'm so-o blonde!"
I laughed. Or maybe giggled.
"It's a shame really," Mom said. "People pay lots of money to get highlights put in their hair and you and I have got that naturally. And we're going to dye it and cover that up. Oh, well." She looked at another box. "My brothers all claimed I had tabby cat genes."
I giggled again. Tabby woould be a cute nickname for a girl with streaks in her hair, I thought.
Mom held up three boxes, one red, one blonde, one black. "Maybe I'll go calico this time?" she said.
We both laughed. She looked at more boxes then handed one to me. "What do you think?" she asked.
It said something about gentle hair-color creme and no ammonia and the color was described as light chestnut brown but looked red to me. "For you?" I asked.
"For both of us," she said. "I'm thinking, that's our 'natural' hair color now, we've got the complexion for it, then I dye mine mostly black with red bangs."
I shivered. "Bangs," I said.
"Yeah, the hair that hangs down almost in your eyes, you know. You okay?"
I nodded, looking at the long red hair on the model pictured on the box, trying to imagine having hair that long.
"What do you think?" she asked again.
"Is this a rinse?" I asked.
"No," she said. "Rinses are no good, they come off on your clothes. I remembered that, I'm so sure!" She giggled; practicing, I guess.
"So, it's a permanent change?"
"Uh, huh." She pointed on the box where it said 'permanent hair color'. Reading the box made me feel like I had swallowed something I shouldn't have.
I handed it back to her. I didn't think I could say anything so I just nodded.
"Okay with you?" she asked.
I nodded again.
She stood, sort of half bent over, looking me in the face. "You sure?"
"Yeah," I whispered. "Being a redhead will be okay."
She grinned, straightening up. "You're really something, punkin."
"You shouldn't call me that," I said.
"What?"
"Punkin."
"Why not?" She had three boxes in her hands, one blonde, one black, and the red one.
"Because that's what you call me."
"Hmm," she said. "Rats. You're right." She found a red shopping basket, the kind with handles that go over your arm, at the end of the aisle and put our hairdye in it. Then she took the blonde and the black out and put them back. "We'll get those somewhere else." She grinned at me. "You're not paranoid if someone's really out to get you."
I nodded. She put her purse in the basket too and took my hand again. "Let's go see if they have a pink Diamondbacks cap."
"Diamondbacks?"
"We're going to Arizona, remember? Maybe we'll even live there a while. Can you learn to root for the D'backs?"
"I guess," I said. They weren't in the same league with the team back home so I didn't know much about them. "But will pink go with red hair?" I asked.
She laughed. "We'll see."
"What t'heck are mary janes?"
by Wanda Cunningham
Chapter 10
Shoe Department
Chapter 10
Shoe Department
We walked through the aisle that had nail polish and Mom picked a couple of bottles. One was called Peachy Pink and the other was called Asphalt. "One for me," she held up the one that looked the color of a dirty street, "and one for you." She held up the pink one. "Unless you'd rather pick your own?"
I shook my head. I'm not sure what expression I had but Mom laughed and said, "I promise it won't hurt." Then she got two more bottles, base and quick drying topcoat. "We'll have a nail painting party tonight," she said as she dropped them into the basket. She added some of the finger sander boards and a package of little orange sticks that I had no idea what they were for. The package said 'orange sticks,' which was no help at all.
We made another stop in jewelry. Mom looked at various bracelets and earrings and finally shook her head. "Most of this stuff is too old, we'll have to find a mall or something."
"Too old?"
"For the new me," she said.
"Oh." I guess most of it didn't look like what a goth teenager might wear.
Mom did look at some things and picked out three sets of beads. The black set was all crunchy shapes like found rocks, even though they were plastic. Another set of big purple ones were flattened like fish linked nose to tail. The other set was smaller and had pink and blue and clear beads, some round like pearls and some cut like little gems. I had a funny feeling about the last set but Mom didn't say anything so I didn't either.
I looked back at the glittery stuff and wondered if they had anything else that a girl my age might wear.
"They must have a mall in this town," Mom said. "We'll go there later."
We went straight back passed the grown-up ladies underwear to shoes next and Mom picked out a pair of black high top sneakers in her size. We went around the corner of the shoe rack and found the kids' shoes. "These are pretty cheap shoes," she complained.
I thought that was funny so I smiled but Mom didn't mean the prices were cheap, she meant they looked cheap. "We could wait till we get to the mall?" I said, feeling a bit shy at looking at girl's style shoes, anyway.
"What do you want? Sandals, sneaks or mary janes?"
I didn't know what mary janes were so I just shook my head.
She looked down at my feet, "Those are okay, I guess. Sneaks are sneaks." She grinned. "Unless you want pink or glitter?"
I shook my head again. I didn't see any pink sneakers that I would want to wear. They really did look pretty cheap and I had a good pair of crosstrainers on. They're not easy to find in my size, since my feet are small even for my height.
She looked at a few pairs of kids shoes and picked out a pair of sandals. The staps were light brown with flower-shaped gold buckles and the lining on the sole part was shiny pink. "These aren't bad?" she asked, holding them out to me.
I nodded, barely moving my head.
"You don't like them?"
"They're okay. I guess." They were girl's shoes, it was hard for me to say anything about them.
She made a face. "Well, they probably won't last a week. Flipping cardboard soles, I think. You want to try them on?"
"Those are threes," I said. "I wear a one."
"A one?" she said. "I only wear a five or six, myself. Oh, yeah, kid's sizes and women's sizes aren't the same."
"They aren't?"
"Nah," she said. "I remember when I switched to women's shoes, my shoe size went down two sizes."
"That's goofy," I said.
"Men's sizes are different, too," she said.
"Goofier," I said, grinning at her.
We laughed. It was a lot of fun to laugh at things with Mom. Dad and I had fun together, too, but we didn't laugh as much or at the same kind of things. Mostly, we played ball or watched sports on TV. Or sometimes we went to see a game, live. Once I went with Dad to Chicago and we saw the Cubs and Cardinals play at Wrigley Field.
When I saw how green the field was and the ivy growing on the brick outfield fence, I kind of thought I understood something about why some people liked to go to church. I liked the ball field at home, too, but Wrigley Field is something special.
I wouldn't be going with Dad to any ball games for a long time, though. I realized how much I was going to miss my father and I looked around quickly for something to distract me before I started crying.
I saw a boy over in the boys' jeans looking at me. He looked about ten or maybe younger and he just stared at me for a moment then looked away.
I reached for Mom's hand again but she had shoes in it.
Mom had found a boxed pair of size one sandals and gave them to me. "Try them on," she said. They were girl's sandals, just like the one's we'd looked at a minute ago but in my size but I didn't think about that right away. Seeing Mom holding them out for me to try on was the kind of distraction I needed.
"Okay," I said. I sat down and pulled off my trainers and slipped my feet with socks into the pink-lined sandals. After fastening the buckle, I wiggled my toes in my socks. They seemed to fit but my socks looked kind of dirty, I guess I'd got dirt in my shoes playing.
"Stand up," Mom said.
"They fit," I said.
"Walk around," she said.
So I walked around a bit feeling a little silly like I always do when trying on shoes.
"Think they'll still fit if you're not wearing socks?" she asked.
"Uh?" I bent over to see how many holes there were in the straps to see how tight they would go. How else would I know? I hadn't worn sandals for several years since I started playing Little League every summer.
Mom laughed.
I looked up at her, sideways.
She smiled. "Honey, don't bend over like that in public. You should squat down." She leaned close and whispered. "It's more ladylike." She grinned and winked at me.
I know I turned bright red. I remembered that the shoes I was trying on were girls' shoes. I squatted down quickly.
A lady sitting in another of the chairs trying on shoes, laughed. "Wait'll she discovers boys in a year or two. She'll snap right out of that tomboy phase and you probably won't be able to get her out of her pretty dresses."
That made me think about the boy I had seen looking at me and I turned my head to see but he was gone.
Mom laughed, then choked a bit on something that fell into her throat from the back of her nose and started coughing. I jumped up and led her to one of the chairs so she could sit down.
"Oh, dear," said the lady.
"It's just a cold," Mom managed to say. She got tissues out of her purse and worked at not being an oolie for a bit.
The lady lectured me, "You've got to take better care of your mom, sweetie." I didn't like that much, what business was it of hers? She probably just meant to be friendly but it came across as nosy.
"Yes, ma'am," I said. "But she's my sister." I really only said that because I wanted to make the old lady back off but it must have made Mom laugh more and cough more. It got pretty disgusting to listen to the noises she made.
"Oh," said the woman. "Maybe you'd better take her to the ladies' room." And she pointed the way.
I saw the sign, it was right at the back of the store between the shoes and the baby stuff. Mom saw and nodded between coughs. I helped her get up and get started. We left the basket sitting there on the seat chair since we hadn't paid for any of it yet and Mom had her purse on her arm.
I steered her between the racks of shoes and the displays of baby clothes back to the little hallway toward the restrooms. She had one hand on her purse and the other with a tissue over her mouth. She coughed and coughed, making faces behind her hand.
The noises had gotten even more disgusting, like she might be thinking of throwing up. I found the right door and pushed it open, leading her inside. That's when I remembered that I was still wearing the girl's sandals I'd been trying on.
And I was in the ladies' room.
Of course, I'd been in there before; only three years ago, in fact. It was at a Little League game and I had collided with the left fielder who was covering third base while the infielders rushed a bunt. I had a bloody nose and Mom had yanked me into the ladies' room to put cold, wet paper towels on my head. Coach had put a pinchrunner in for me so I was out of the game.
This wasn't nearly as embarrassing as that was but it did feel a bit odd.
Two teenage girls were yakking near the sinks. They made faces at us. The brunette had on a black, short skirt and some stupid looking sandals with big heels and a yellow top with birds and flowers on it. She had a head scarf the same color. The blonde had on a pink top with a big silly looking hippo wearing purple eyeshadow on it, cut-off jeans and more stupid looking sandals. She had a pink and purple headscarf or band in her hair.
They had a lot of make-up spread out on the stainless steel counter above the sink and they both had on too much eye makeup.
"She's sick," I said which was a stupid thing to say with Mom gagging and coughing. I tried to steer her toward a sink but she pulled away and headed into a stall. Just as well, I didn't really want to see whatever she coughed up.
"You need any help?" one of the girls asked.
I wasn't sure if she was talking to me or Mom but Mom answered. "No. No, thanks. Where's my purse? Oh, I've got it."
The girls glanced at my feet then smiled at me and I remembered again that I was wearing sandals I hadn't paid for yet. I wondered how they knew that then I figured that they must have been wondering if I were a boy or a girl and decided based on the shoes.
I blushed. "I guess we're going to buy these shoes," I said to Mom.
She laughed. "Okay. Maybe you'd better run back and make sure no one puts your old ones back on a shelf." She pushed open the stall door and stuck her head out. "I'm okay, honey."
The two teenagers laughed. "You were trying on shoes?"
Nice to know I'm not the only one who can say stupid things. I just nodded and headed out the door of the restroom.
* * *
Maybe having your mom pick girls' clothes for you to wear is more embarrassing than doing it yourself --
by Wanda Cunningham
Chapter 11
A Bunny, A Pony, A Kitty and a Duck
Chapter 11
And there was the lady we'd been talking to, pushing a cart into which she had put our basket of stuff. She wasn't as old as I guess I had thought she was but a lot older than Mom. Her hair had some gray in it but it wasn't white or that weird blue some ladies' hair turns, maybe they dye it. Maybe they used to dye it blue when they were teenagers.
Even if she had been pushy and nosey, she was trying to be nice. "Thank you, ma'am," I said. She'd even put my shoes in the basket and the box the sandals had come in.
"Oh, you're welcome, honey," she said. "Take care of your mommy, dear. Oh, no, you said she was your sister."
I nodded. I'd actually forgotten having said that. What a weird thing to have to remember.
"Well, you two look so much alike," she laughed as if that were funny. "You should get her some lemonade from the snack bar to help cut that stuff she's choking on."
That was actually a good idea so I nodded again. "Thank you, ma'am."
"Such a polite little girl!" she said. "You're just a darling, aren't you?" She practically cooed at me.
I wanted to argue with her but I just smiled, though I'm sure I turned bright red. I got ready to dodge in case she tried to pat me on the head or pinch me.
The two teenage girls came out of the bathroom just then. "She's watching her face," said the brunette. At least, that's what I heard. If I hadn't already listened to how the locals talked all morning I would probably have taken a look to see. Of course, she was washing her face so I knew I didn't have to check to see if she was watching it.
"How come you're wearing boys' clothes?" asked the blonde.
I guess girls that age notice clothes more than anyone. I didn''t feel worried about it though, for some reason. I shrugged. "I like to play baseball, why get my good stuff dirty?"
"She's got a bigger brother," said the brunette. "She wears his old clothes to play in, huh?"
That sounded pretty good as an explanation, so I just shrugged. I felt kind of odd about how easy it was to let them think I was a girl. It was like reading something funny in a schoolbook, you don't want to laugh out loud in class but who expects a schoolbook to be funny?
After a few noises, the polite kind, they wondered off and so did the nosy lady who had turned out to be nice.
I leaned on the handle of the cart, bracing it against the wall so it wouldn't roll away. I looked back at the restroom door, trying to decide if I should go back in. The little drawing of a woman wearing a skirt looked back at me.
I started to put a foot up on the wheel of the cart and decided that would not be a good idea while wearing sandals. I wondered for a moment how a girl would stand if she were waiting for her sister to come out of the restroom.
Duh. I pushed the door open and went back in.
Mom looked past me as I came in. I guess checking to see if anyone else was coming in. She stood at the mirror, brushing her hair. She looked a bit better than before. The awful gross blue light in the room made the makeup around her black eye really look like makeup, or paint, though.
"C'mere," she said to me, grinning as if she wanted to tell me a secret.
I walked over and looked into the mirror. We really did look a lot alike but that was no secret.
"I'm going to do something with your hair," she said. She pulled a comb out of her purse. "Never use a brush on wet or dirty hair, you'll break your hair and cause split ends," she said.
That probably wasn't a secret, either, but I hadn't known that so I nodded.
She started combing my hair. "I know you've got dirt in your hair from playing, so we can't do as much but I can comb a lot of the dirt out and maybe make it look -- pretty."
I saw myself blush. The bridge of my nose turned pink, then it spread across my cheeks and down onto my neck and up to my forehead. If I didn't have some tan from playing baseball half of the summer it would have showed up a lot more, I knew.
Mom worked with my hair for a bit, she even wet the comb under the tap a few times. I don't know exactly what she did, other than take a little blue and yellow hair-thingie out of her purse and pin the longer hair on the right side of my face back so it wouldn't fall in my eyes. When she finished, I looked in the mirror and realized no one would be wondering if I were a girl or a boy now.
"There," she said. "Do you like it?"
I didn't dare do anything but nod.
"Such enthusiasm," said Mom. "Having second thoughts about this wonderful disguise idea of yours?"
"No," I said, quickly. I reached up and touched the hair-thingie. It was shaped like two small butterflies, one blue with yellow wings and the other the opposite. It did look pretty and I felt a bit confused about that.
"It's called a barrette," she said. "Or a hair clip. I keep several in my purse and that's the smallest one I have."
I could see her smiling in the mirror. She bent down just a bit to put her face next to mine. "We're obviously related," she said. "But I don't think I'm going to pass as your sister until I get rid of this mouse." She touched the discolored skin near her eye.
I laughed. Mouse. "Well, when you dye your hair dark, stop covering it with makeup and just pout a bit. It'll be very goth," I said. "A goth mouse."
We laughed. She made mouse ears with her hands on her head and then on mine and we laughed some more.
Two ladies came in the door while we were laughing and that made it even funnier. Mom grabbed her purse and put stuff away as the two women found stalls and disappeared.
They didn't say anything to us but we couldn't stop grinning at each other. Mom put a finger under her eye and said in this weird Freddie Krueger sort of voice, "Mousie!" I don't know why she did that but I got the giggles over it, tying not to laugh so the ladies in the stalls wouldn't think we were so weird.
Before we left the bathroom, I stopped to look at my hair again. I turned my head back and forth, trying to see just what it was Mom had done. "Will you show me how to do this?" I asked.
"Sure," she said. "And we'll get you some of your own hair clips and stuff."
I nodded and followed her out into the store.
When I saw the basket with my sneakers still in it, I remembered the sandals. "Can I keep wearing the sandals? Or do I have to take them off to pay for them?"
Mom thought about it a second, then stuffed my sneakers into the box the sandals came in. "Nah, keep the sandals on and we'll pay for the sneaks." She grinned at me.
I laughed at that, knowing she was being silly. Really, I giggled and I wondered a little why but then thought that maybe I wouldn't have laughed at all before at something silly. But giggling seemed okay with a barrette in my hair and pink-soled sandals on my feet.
Mom picked a couple of pairs of socks to throw in the basket. She showed them to me first. One pair was just plain white with pink stitching near the top and the other pair had little lavendar ballet shoes embroidered on the side of the cuffs. I nodded to show her those were okay with me.
Everytime we picked out something new for our disguises, my disguise, I felt this spot in my chest kind of swell up and sometimes a sort of ringing, not in my ears but in my head.
I figured that it was a bit like being scared, but like at a theme park where you're going to ride the big coaster and you're standing in line and everytime the cars go by you hear people screaming and you think maybe this isn't a good idea. But I still wanted to ride the coaster and I didn't want to think about why too hard.
We left the shoe department and Mom steered us toward the girls' pants and tops. A pair of gray-blue jeans with pink stitching went into the basket after Mom held them up against me. "These are a seven, same as the one's you're wearing," she said. "They should fit, and for nine bucks on sale, I'll chance it." She grinned.
I'm not sure what my expression might have been but she added, "You want to pick out a cute top to go with them?"
I think I nodded. A lot of the clothes in my size looked really babyish, but then girls' get to stay babyish longer than boys. Still I didn't think I wanted to go back to the baseball game wearing a shirt with a pink teddy bear on it. I picked a yellow one with flowers in a band across the chest. The flowers were blue, pink and red with green leaves. One pink flower had a purple butterfly on it. I thought it would go good with my barrette.
My hands were shaking so I dumped the top into the basket before I did something embarrassing like -- I don't know what would be more embarrassing than picking out girls' clothes to wear but there must be something.
Mom checked the size then picked another similar top, pale mint green with little cartoon animals - a rabbit, a kitten, a pony, a duck and an elephant - all in flower-like colors. I squirmed but I didn't say anything. Maybe having your mom pick girls' clothes for you to wear is more embarrassing than doing it yourself -- that shirt would make me look about seven, I thought.
"I'm trying to keep this not much over one hundred," Mom said. "But I need something black or purple myself."
I pointed toward the junior department, Mom wears petite or junior sizes. She nodded and got the cart out of the narrow aisles in the kids' department while I headed toward adult sizes. On the way, I passed a rack of underwear. I had to slow down to look. A big pack of seven briefs all had Disney princesses on them.
Without saying a word, Mom pulled that pack off the shelf and tossed it into the basket.
I didn't say anything either. I wondered if girls' panties would feel any different than boys' shorts to wear. Probably not, I decided, the label said cotton and cotton is just cotton. But... it would feel different just because you knew what you were wearing.
I giggled again and Mom smiled.
* * *
What you see is what you get...
by Wanda Cunningham
Chapter 12
Mirage
Chapter 12
We bought a few more things, mostly for Mom. We didn't find a pink Arizona Diamonbacks cap but Mom got me a bucket hat, green with Tinkerbell in different poses all around it. I wasn't sure I would wear the thing.
The bill at the register came to less than $150 and Mom paid with some twenties that she had got from an ATM the night we left the house. I tried to remember if that had been last night or two nights ago or more and got mixed-up.
Then we got drinks at the snack bar before carrying our loot out to the Jeep. I settled on lemonade since the only orange drink they had was Sunkist. Mom got a herself a khaki-colored mixture of lemonade, Diet Coke and orange drink that she called a 'suicide'.
"You said it," I told her which caused her to snort into her straw. "Don't play with it, just drink it," I added -- something she used to say to me when I was littler.
So we had a good laugh or two.
Once we got back in the Cherokee and out of the parking lot, Mom asked, "Do you really want to go back to the dirty old baseball game or would you like to do more shopping?"
I fingered the barrette in my hair while I thought about that. I wasn't sure if Mom was just trying to goof on me for liking baseball or if she really meant I should volunteer to do more shopping. Shopping had been fun, kind of, if scary, kind of. But did I want Mom to know how I felt about it?
She snickered evilly when I glanced at her which was no help at all in making my mind up. I almost broke up in giggles just looking at her. Being with Mom was always a lot of fun and if she felt like being silly, even more so. But if we were going to go hide on a ranch in the Arizona desert, how soon would I get a chance to play ball with other kids again?
"How much money do we have?" I asked.
"Enough to do some shopping, which we need to do, and buy gas and food to get us to Martha's and then some left over," she said.
"Huh," I said. "How about if I play ball for a couple more hours while you get another nap then we can get dinner and do some more shopping?"
"Place like this, I bet the mall closes early," she said.
I looked around. It was actually a fairly good-size town, not a real city like back home but probably 20,000 people or more. A big government place outside of town made a lot of jobs available. I wasn't sure what they did out there, making rockets to shoot at the little green men who were supposed to have landed not too far away fifty or sixty years ago maybe.
High mountains climbed above the town to the east, fuzzy looking higher up with distance and forests. On the west side, scrubby-looking desert stretched toward something white and shiny on the horizon, like a big piece of metal or a lake. A lake seemed unlikely but a piece of metal that big would have to have been brought by the little green men.
The sun wouldn't go down for hours and heat waves bounced off everything in sight, especially the street. Maybe the shiny stuff was a mirage.
The Jeep had gotten pretty hot while we'd been inside K-Mart and the air conditioner was roaring, trying to get the inside cool again. I put my hands up and played with the stream of air while I thought about things. It was only another mile or so back to the motel.
South, I could see planes landing and taking off at the airport next to the government place. We'd come from the north and I knew there was another town, almost just like this not more than a dozen miles up along the freeway. It had more hills in it though; we had come down out of mountains right into the middle of town there. Maybe it was cooler back there, I thought.
But here we were and we wouldn't be going backward. Mom had traced the route we had planned on the map last night. From here southwest into Arizona then follow the interstate there until we could turn south. Martha's ranch must be within a few miles of the Mexican border.
"How far is it to Martha's?" I asked.
She glanced at the digital clock on the dashboard. "I'm not sure how far in miles," she said, "but I figured it out last night, we could get there in eight or ten hours . We've got some mountains to go through but it's really good road up until the last thirty or forty miles. Well, on the map." She grinned at me.
From the passenger seat, I couldn't see the bruise under her left eye. She looked very pretty and maybe like she wanted to laugh. I smiled back at her.
"Well?" she asked me.
"I'm still thinking," I said. She sniffed then made a snorting noise and I looked away in case anything tried to escape from her nose.
We stopped at a light. There didn't seem to be much traffic. I decided I kind of liked this town, it was hot in the summer but I bet it was nice most of the rest of the year. And hot wasn't so bad.
"Will the police be looking for us?" I asked.
She shook her head. "We haven't done anything wrong, honey. And your father and his uncles won't want the police involved. At least, not officially."
"Huh?"
She pulled away from the light. Alongside us, a big flatbed truck loaded with dark-skinned people in work clothes chugged out a puff of black smoke.
Mom sighed. "Officially, the police won't be involved but that... it's complicated. But people like your father's uncle's friends often have friends with the police in various places."
"Bad guys," I said.
She nodded.
I looked around. "Even in a small town like this?" The Spanish name of the place meant something like "Big Orchards," but there actually weren't that many trees. The only things that seemed big were the mountains and the desert.
"Well, maybe not here," she agreed. "And probably not in any of the little towns near Martha's. But I looked it up in the phone book, there's a 'Good Dimes' place in the downtown here." Good Dimes was another of the names the video game places our family owned sometimes used.
"Wow," I said. I didn't understand why we used different names in different places, something to do with franchising which Dad had told me meant that people paid us to use our idea and open their own stores. So, maybe we didn't own this one here but Dad went around and visited the franchise stores, too. The idea of Dad coming here to look for us and maybe finding me with a barrette in my hair made me nervous.
We had to stop at another light and the truck full of men and boys in khaki pants and white shirts caught up with us. The older ones all wore straw hats but most of the younger ones wore baseball caps. They looked tired and dirty and sweaty but several of them smiled at me and a friendly-looking older guy winked.
The light changed and we pulled away from them again. Why would he wink at me, I wondered.
Mom got over to the left to turn into the parking lot of the motel. The truck full of working guys passed us again and I watched them go. It didn't look like a fun way to make a living, out working in all this heat.
"You still thinking?" Mom asked as we bumped into the parking spot in front of our room.
"Huh?" I think I said, or maybe, "About what?"
She sighed like I had just said the dumbest thing then shook her head and grinned at me. "About whether you're going to go get more dirt in your hair or go shopping before the mall closes."
"Uh," I said.
"See, if we're going to go shopping, you can get a shower and change into your new clothes."
"Uh-huh," I said.
"That's what you want to do?" she asked.
"I don't know, maybe."
She stuck her tongue out, probably annoyed at me for not making up my mind. We climbed out of the truck and carried our bags of loot inside. Someone had made the beds and cleaned the bathroom while we were gone, I could smell the cleanser. We piled all our stuff on the bed nearest the front of the room and Mom sort of flopped across the other bed.
"It's nice and cool in here," she commented, then rolled onto her back and watched me.
I stopped in front of the mirror to look at my hair and the barrette that kept it in the new style. I still looked like me, but a girl me. I didn't look silly at all, even if I felt a little silly. A tomboy, sure, but -- I didn't look silly.
The girls at the store had thought I must be wearing my brother's clothes. I'd let them think that. This morning, even without the barrette, everyone thought I must be a girl. I put one hand to my face and played with my lower lip, thinking.
"Don't throw any breakers," Mom said. "Thinking so hard." She propped herself up on one elbow and grinned at me.
I shook my head. I could feel my cheeks turning read. "If there's really going to be a game this afternoon, I'd like to play...."
"Okay," she said. "I'll take a nap then, wake me up when you come back in." She got up and went to the other bed to dig in one of the bags and come up with the Tinkerbell hat. "If you're going to be out in the sun, wear a cap or something."
I took the hat and tried it on, looking in the mirror. Now I really looked about eight or nine, and more than a little silly in the hat. "Uh?" I said.
"No argument," she said. "That sun is brutal out there. Where are your sunglasses? You should have been wearing a hat and sunglasses earlier. We both ought to wear hats and sunglasses when we go outside here."
"I think mine are in the car," I said.
She dragged her purse onto the bed and rummaged inside it. "Here's mine, like a dummy. Take the keys and go find yours," she said, handing me the wad of keys with the little pink troll attached. She took her glasses out of the case and started cleaning the lenses.
"Okay," I said.
"Bring the keys back before you go off to play," she said.
"Uh-huh. If there's no game, or after the game, I'll come back and shower."
"Right, and we can decide what to do then, depending on what time it is. I think I'm just as glad to take a nap." She sucked on her suicide soda until it made that rattling noise you get when there's nothing but ice.
I went back out into the heat and unlocked the Jeep. My sunglasses were in the console between the seat and I found them right away. But I crawled into the back and found the big canvas bag of baseball stuff in among the suitcases. I dug out my shoes and glove and put them to the side. I pulled out my Little League uniform cap and looked at it but I thought the orange-and-black with the "Hilltopper" in like handwriting over the big capital G might be too memorable.
No chance Dad would come looking for me and ask Jimmy and his pals about anyone wearing a Hilltopper Giants cap but it would be better to pretend that it might happen and get in the habit of not doing things that might give me away.
By that logic maybe I shouldn't go play ball at all. Or would it be better to go there and be as convincing as I could be at being a girl. Thinking that made me, I don't know, shiver or something.
I pulled the top of the bag tight and put it back with the baseball stuff back inside. I'd take the keys back to Mom and change my new sandals for my crosstrainers. Better to not let anyone know I had my own baseball equipment.
With just the sunglasses and keys, I climbed down from the Jeep and relocked the car door. I looked toward the vacant lot across the side street. Six or seven kids were already there playing pepper, standing in a big circle near the trees. I recognized Jimmy because of his height.
Seeing him made me smile, I'm not sure why. I took off my Tinkerbell bucket hat and put my sunglasses on and put the hat back on. Then I went inside the motel room to give Mom her keys back and change out of my sandals.
Too Cute for Shades?
by Wanda Cunningham
Chapter 13
Muá±equita - The Little Doll
Chapter 13
I left the motel room and trotted across the little street toward the ball field, noticing that in the short time I had been inside the weather had changed. All day, what wind there had been had blown from the west or northwest, coming across the desert. Now the wind blew from the southeast, off the mountain and it had an odd feel.
I actually stopped in the middle of the street to smell the wind, like a goof. But I'd smelled that sort of wind before, living where we had -- rain. I looked up toward the mountains and saw the anvil shape of a thundercloud away to the south. The bottom of the cloud looked dark with rain, and gray and white clouds spread out from it like spilled milk in a slow motion movie special effect. Almost the whole southern sky was covered by clouds.
Besides the wind being wetter somehow, it had that electric feel. It's kind of a good feel but it sort of makes you nervous too. I could see lightning playing around the peak of one of the mountains. The quiet thunder came so late I knew the mountains were further away than they looked -- and bigger than they looked, too. The rain was pretty far away.
If I had seen a cloud like that back home, the wind would probably have been cool and clammy. Here it felt hot and sticky. It might have been cooler than the dry air it was pushing away but it had enough heat and wet to feel hotter. We didn't have mountains nearby back home, though. A thunderstorm there came across flat land for hundreds of miles. I wondered what difference the mountains would make.
Grandad Charlie always said that if you could see the thunderhead and feel the wind on your left cheek, the storm was coming straight at you. The clouds were south of us and the wind was coming from the east. I wondered how long we had before the rain arrived.
Getting out of the street, I walked on across to the ball field where the kids had changed from playing pepper to work-up. I heard someone yell, "Chiquita!" I looked and Jimmy was trotting toward me.
"Cute hat," he said. "And the sunglasses make you look like a movie star." He grinned.
"Mom said I had to wear them," I told him.
He laughed like that was actually funny. "You wanna bat? I'll let you take my place up and I'll go to the outfield? Hah?"
"You don't have to ..." I started to say but he trotted on back toward the players, talking in both English and Spanish, telling them that he was giving up his place for me.
A big kid with brown hair and pimples on his forehead protested. "She's just a little kid!"
Tony, who was pitching, and Jimmy, started telling him that I was actually a good player and older than I look. The big kid, they called him Andrew, scowled but he shut up about me and stood in the batter box, left-handed. "C'mon, throw it," he said to Tony.
I walked around the sort of pit dug by maybe hundreds of batters and catchers kicking the dirt for years and years and sat on the rickety bench near the big concrete sump-thing. A little girl, about four, sitting there with a rag dolly in her lap, reached out and took my hand. It surprised the heck out of me.
I looked at her. She had dark, curly hair and eyes so brown they looked black. I hadn't seen her before and didn't know why she would take my hand.
She looked really cute and she grinned up at me. "I'm Delia. Wass your name?"
I didn't want to say Drew again, I wanted to stop using my real name. Besides, I probably should use a name that couldn't be a boy's name if I really wanted to make my disguise work. So I took the other end of the name I usually use and said, "Call me Annie." Besides, now there was another Andrew in the game.
I meant to say something more but stopped because what I had said gave me like a chill in my stomach. The wind had actually died away again, so that wasn't it and it wasn't a cold wind anyway.
"My dolly's name is Annie, too!" said the little girl. She held the doll up with her other hand and danced it on her lap, "Anita Muá±equita!"
We both giggled for some reason. She squeezed my hand and I squeezed it back.
"You're pretty," she said, "and you gots a Twinkie Belle hat!"
So we giggled some more.
A new gust of wind brought that smell of rain far away again and I looked up. From where I sat, the thunderhead seemed to sitting right on top of our motel room. I didn't like that.
An argument started at home plate. In work-up, after you have two strikes, a second foul ball counts as a strike. The pitcher and catcher said Andrew had fouled off four pitches in a row which made him out. Andrew said it had been only three pitches because when I got there he'd had only one strike against him.
Tony said it had been two. The catcher wasn't sure anymore. Jimmy settled things by yelling in from right field. "Give him one more pitch."
Just like in the morning, pretty much everyone did whatever Jimmy said. I wondered if he owned the ball or the field or something. Or maybe just because he was the tallest kid. Andrew must have been nearly as tall and maybe heavier but for some reason, I didn't think the other kids liked him very much.
He growled at Tony and waved his bat so the end of it made a little circle above his head. "Throw the damn ball," he said.
"Watch-a-lay," said Tony. I think that's what he said. "There's little kids here, no cussing." He wagged the hand holding the raggedy-looking softball at the batter.
"Throw it!" Andrew shouted.
Without a windup, Tony lobbed a soft underhand toss over the big batter's head. Andrew cussed again, even louder and more nasty.
Mattress, the catcher, said something like, "Quiet-ay! No cussing! Tinker Belle and her friend are listening." He pointed at me then threw the ball back to Tony.
Andrew snorted and used an even worse word then yelled at Tony. "Throw it!" He added some more cussing and called Tony a greaser.
Mattress stood up behind the batter, looked at Tony and pointed at his own head like with a gun.
Andrew didn't notice. Tony nodded, then lobbed another soft one, this time right at Andrew's head -- you could tell.
I saw Jimmy running in from right field. Andrew dodged but the ball hit him on the thigh. Then he screamed more cusses and started toward Tony with the bat in both hands.
Everybody was yelling. Delia held onto my hand and practically pulled herself into my lap. I hugged her up close because I felt kind of scared, too.
Jimmy had the biggest voice, even bigger than Andrew's cussing. "Take your base, moron, or you're out and out of this game!"
Andrew turned to face Jimmy. "He did that deliberately!"
Jimmy nodded. "Yeah, and that's wrong. Are you hurt?"
That seemed to puzzle the big kid. "Uh, no," he admitted. "It was just a loop-de-loo."
"Well," said Jimmy. "Don't be such a big baby about it. Take your base and quit whining." He turned on Tony and said, "And no throwing at people." Then to Mattress, "And no doing what you did, you know what it was."
Mattress just grinned and Tony laughed and looked embarrassed.
Andrew tossed the bat back toward home plate and trotted to first. Jimmy followed and they said something together. Then Jimmy turned and looked at me, "It's your bat, Tink."
"Aw, man!" said Andrew. "She's going to make an out and I'm going to be stuck here. Why you give your bat to Tinker Belle, anyway?"
"Her name is Annie! Just like my Dolly." Delia yelled back at him from my lap, waving the doll around.
I felt my face turn red, that stupid hat. A gust of wind came up and I wished it would blow the hat away.
Jimmy just laughed and trotted on out to right field again.
Delia scooted up in my lap and pulled my shades down. "Ooo. Pretty eyes," she said. She giggled and I had to laugh. I tried to put her down but she put her arms around my neck and held on.
The other two kids who were batters, a big girl I hadn't seen before and a skinny boy named Chava, waved at me. Chava ran out and got the bat and brought it toward me. "Let her go, Dely. She has to bat." Delia kissed me on the cheek then slid down off my lap and laughed.
"She's my little sister," he said handing me the bat. Little Delia immediately grabbed his hand like she had grabbed mine.
I pushed my sunglasses back up, smiled at both of them and walked to the plate.
"Oh," said Tony. "Shades, she's got shades." He grinned at me. "'At's a really cool look, Tinkabell."
I made a face at him and he laughed again. Julio, who was playing third, called out, "She's too cute to pitch to, you gonna have to walk her." He and Tony laughed some more and I heard Mattress snicker behind me. I thought about turning around and bonking him, just lightly, with the bat.
It was a bigger bat than we used in Little League, almost an adult-sized bat. A softball bat with a longer barrel and shorter handle which would make it awkward to bunt with. The smaller baseball-style bat I'd used in the morning game was gone, whoever owned it probably took it home and hadn't come back or forgot the bat. Now we only had the one bat to play with, so I had to use it. I felt pretty sure that I wouldn't be able to hit with it for any good plays.
I would have to try to draw a walk or bunt. A softball is easier to bunt than a baseball -- even with the big awkward bat, I thought I could do it. I didn't want them to know that, so I swung the bat around my head like Andrew had, pretending I would try to get a hit with a full swing. Some of the kids laughed. I heard one of them say, "The bat is bigger than she is."
"She's too little to pitch to," I heard from third base. Julio, who'd been one of the pitchers on another team in the morning waved at me. He had the black glove I had used earlier but it was too small for him. He only had his thumb, index and third finger in the glove with his long finger and pinkie outside it. His third finger was in the glove part for the pinkie, too.
I tried to give him a cool look through my shades but I guess that's hard to do when you're wearing a Tinkerbell hat cause he just grinned at me.
Tony grooved one and I laid a bunt down the third base side and took off running. Andrew ran for second. I didn't look to see what happened but I figure that Julio tried to scoop up the ball in that too small glove and missed or dropped it. I beat the throw to first and Julio overthrew and Andrew ended up on third, laughing and trash-talking Julio for the bonehead play.
Jimmy was playing right field so he didn't make any mistakes and I knew I couldn't get to second so I just tagged up and smiled. It was as good of a bunt as I'd ever laid down.
Tony called at Andrew, "Told you she knows how to play."
Andrew grinned then made a face and called over to me. "You should have tried for the double, Tink!" Then he chopped at his arm, wiped his hand across his forehead then his thigh. He cut his eyes and wagged his head and clapped his hands twice as Tony got ready to pitch.
It looked funny but I knew what he wanted. I let Tony throw to the big girl first. She popped the very first one up and Mattress caught it right in front of home plate. I knew I couldn't run so I just stayed close to first. Andrew and Julio traded more insults.
Amy, the big girl became catcher and Mattress took her place at bat since he had caught her pop-up in fair territory. If he'd caught it foul, she'd just be out and go to right field and everyone would have rotated and Nacho would be at bat.
Mattress called at me. "I get you home, chica."
Delia called out, "Her name is Annie," like she had before. She waved at me and I waved back. Chava was sitting with her on the bench by the big sump-thing and he waved, too.
Another gust of wind reminded me to look at the sky but the rain still hugged the mountain far away.
I looked over at Andrew and he did his impression of a third base coach again. This time I nodded. Amy wouldn't be expecting it, just having come up to catcher. I snugged my hat down, and took a lead off first. Andrew and I were going to try a double steal.
Sump-Thing Happens
by Wanda Cunningham
Chapter 14
Double Steal
Chapter 14 - Double Steal
Tony pulled his arm back to throw and started his motion forward. I took off running. Andrew had managed a huge lead off third and now ran for home. Mattress at the plate saw me running, probably heard Andrew bearing down on him from behind and stepped out of the box -- well, pit in the soft dirt of the field where the batter's box would be on a real field. Walking backwards up the slope, he sort of tripped on a clod and sat down hard in the dirt.
The pitch bounced once on the ground behind home, Amy scooped it into the big first baseman's glove she was using as a catcher's mitt, looked up and saw Andrew coming home and Mattress falling onto his butt practically right in front of her and, well -- she panicked. A first baseman's glove is designed to hold the ball tight, it's not as easy to get the ball out of as a real catcher's mitt is. Amy tried to stand up and dig the ball out at the same time while yelling, "He's stealing home! He's stealing home!"
"Ah-hoo-gah! Hoo-gah! Hoo-gah!" Andrew screamed like a car alarm, scaring the heck out of a lot of the little kids watching. He came toward the plate with his arms in the air above his head, waving around like a maniac -- bad technique, except with a panicky catcher.
Tony ran toward home from the pitcher's pit, too, yelling at Amy to toss him the ball. Mattress tried to get out of everyone's way, crabbing backwards on his heels and elbows. Amy, really rattled now by the yelling, finally managed to get the ball out of the glove and threw it to -- Andrew!
"No! No! No!" yelled Tony. A lot of the spectators and other players were yelling, too. I barely saw this as I ran toward second but it made me laugh.
Surprised to see the ball coming at him, Andrew slapped at it with his hand. He got a good swat and it flew back toward Amy, hit the plate, hit Amy in the head as she stood up, bounced off her and hit Mattress in the chest just as Tony dived for it and Andrew collided with -- well, everybody.
While they were all lying on the ground laughing and yelling at each other, I turned the corner at second and stole third, still giggling, I guess.
"Dead ball! Dead ball!" called Jimmy, running in from right field again. He didn't want me to keep going and steal home, too, but he was laughing like everybody else.
I knew the rules. It's not a dead ball unless it's out of the playing area or in the umpire's or pitcher's hand or someone is injured and with no ump to make a ruling I might as well keep running for home. The worst that could happen was I would get sent back to third. So, I ran, whooping and laughing.
I yelled something, maybe "Corn Flakes!" as I dived into the pile of kids at home. I wiggled around, got my arm under Tony and Andrew and touched the big piece of flat plastic being used as home plate. "Safe!" I screamed into Andrew's ear.
All the little kids sitting on benches or the ground watching ran in then and jumped on the pile, too, yelling things like, "Rhinoceros!" and "USA! USA!"
It took a while to get everyone sorted out, what with all the laughing and fielders running in to join in the dogpile. I got tickled several times; once by Jimmy as he dragged me out by my foot.
"Where's your hat, Tinker Belle?" he asked after putting me on my feet.
I checked to see if I still had my barrette then looked for the hat. Delia had it, someone had already rescued her and she had the hat on, standing by the bench near the sump-thing. "I gots your Twinkie Bell hat, Annie," she called, holding it up and giggling.
I dodged around the still kicking and laughing mess of kids in the pit around home plate. I took the hat from Delia's hand and put it on her head, then tickled her ribs quickly. Her shriek of glee nearly caused me to fall over, surprised but laughing, too. We sat on the bench and she climbed in my lap again.
Jimmy eventually got everyone back to the game and since there is no scorekeeping in work-up, everyone just stayed where we were so Andrew and I got away with our double steal. He came over and sat on the ground near the bench, winking at me. He had a mark under one eye, maybe someone kicked him in the face during the dogpile.
Okay, I know I meant to laugh at him but it came out a sort of strangled giggle so he laughed and Delia shrieked again, deafening both of us bigger kids.
"Hogfat!" Andrew shouted. "Kid, you need a muffler." He darted one hand at her belly as if intending to tickle her again which, of course, produced more shrieking.
I covered my ears and she slipped off of my lap to run around chanting, "Hogsfat! Hogsfat! Piggie, piggie, pig!" And then a shriek. Andrew and I laughed.
After Nacho grabbed Delia and told her to not be such a noisy brat, she quieted down and sat in the dirt to play with some of the other little ones. Nacho gave me my hat back again and I put it on carefully, tucking some loose hair up inside.
"I guess you can play a little," said Andrew.
I grinned at him. "You play a lot?"
He nodded. "I'm on a Pony League team back home. We're just here visiting my grandpa."
I realized his accent had more Texas in it than the local version. "I'm in Little League," I said.
"You're little all right. Jim says you're eleven?"
I nodded then thought of something and added, "Well, almost. In a couple of months." No sense letting him know my real age.
He grinned. "I'll be sixteen next month, myself." He laughed and lay back on the dirt. "Man, I love baseball. I want to make it to the Big Leagues."
"Me, too," I said. "Except...."
He looked up. "They don't take girls, not even at second base."
"Rats," I said, like I hadn't already known that.
Andrew laughed. "Don't worry about it, Tinka. In a few years, you're going to be so pretty, you can have a boyfriend who's a star in whatever sport you like. You'll probably end up marrying a Triple Crown winner," he teased.
Yikes. I didn't really intend to stay disguised quite that long. He laughed again, probably at the face I made.
"Maybe you're still too little to care about boys, huh?" he said. "I got a little sister about your age, she went from 'boys, oh, gag' to," and here he did something really funny, fluttering his eyes and pitching his voice up, 'oh! boys!'"
I got the giggles and pulled my hat down over my face.
About that time we heard the crack of the bat and looked up. Mattress hit a long fly ball out to right field, Jimmy ran to get under it and let it fall into his glove. Which meant Mattress went to the outfield and Jimmy was now up. Except Jimmy waved it off and yelled, "Work-up!" meaning everyone move up a position. He went over to center field and Mattress trotted out to right field.
Andrew shook his head. "That Jimmy, he's probably going to grow up to be governor or something."
"Huh?"
"He's always trying to make everyone happy. Either a politician or a minister. Priest, I guess, in his case."
"Oh," I said. I looked out toward Jimmy and thought about that.
"You like him?" asked Andrew. He grinned at me and I know I blushed.
Nacho popped out to the pitcher. Another quirk in the rules, pop-ups to the pitcher are just outs, not swaps. Before Nacho headed for the outfield, he rounded up Delia and carried her over to sit next to a slightly older girl who looked to be another sister. "You're supposed to be watching her," he said. The two girls stuck their tongues out at each other and giggled.
What would it be like to have a sister, I wondered. Or be one?
"You're up, Tinka," Andrew reminded me.
I grabbed the too heavy bat and headed to the plate, holding my hat on against a sudden gust of damp-smelling wind.
The first and third basemen came way in, almost halfway to home. With no one on base, it wasn't a risk. Nacho at right and Jimmy at left now moved in to cover the corner bases.
Andrew started laughing behind me. I looked back and he pointed. Mattress had moved in from centerfield to stand behind Luz-Maria, the new pitcher. Tony and Amy, the other two up-players now were laughing, too.
"Five-man infield," said Andrew. "You're a bunting terror, ain't you, Tinka?"
"Her name is Annie," I heard Delia say. Her sister shushed her, and she shushed right back.
Luz-Maria, not the same girl as Luz or Lucy, glared at me. "I'm gonna walk you, you so little," she said, like she was complaining.
"I can't help that," I said.
She tossed the first ball and it bounced on the plate. "Ball one," said Andrew.
I moved to bunt the second pitch then pulled back because it went wide. "Ball two," said Andrew.
"Aw, crap," said Luz-Maria. She threw two more balls and I took my base, trotting out toward Julio, standing near first. He put a fist out and we did a bump. I think I giggled again.
I took a lead off first and Luz-Maria threw to Julio. I dove back to base and Julio touched me on the back of the neck with the ball. "No stealing on my watch, unnastand?" he said.
I just lay there for a moment and giggled at him. I got up and dusted myself off after he threw back to the pitcher. He pretended to try to grab my hat and I pretended to kick him in the shins.
Luz-Maria stood and held the ball for a while, waiting out a big gust of wind. Maybe she didn't wait long enough. When she finally threw the ball, it sort of seemed to hang there in the air, held up by the wind, before it came down near the plate.
Andrew reached out with the long bat and popped it foul. Julio and the catcher ran toward it, trying to catch it in the air. Another gust of wind carried it deep into foul territory, almost to the trees. Everyone gasped when it disappeared into the top of the sump-thing.
"Holy crap," Luz-Maria said and Julio laughed like a dog barking at the mailman. I just stared at him -- that was one weird laugh.
Andrew said some really bad words. "Doesn't that thing have a lid on it?" he asked after he got through cussing. He started toward the sump-thing.
Julio shrugged, pointing at a broken concrete circle lying under one of the trees. It looked kind of like a manhole cover with a rusty iron handle sticking out of it.
Two little kids had been sitting on it earlier. One of them went over and kicked at it. He missed, which was good, it would have hurt his foot. But missing caused him to lose his balance. His friend grabbed him and they both went down, crying.
I figured the ball was dead -- no one was going to tag me out with it in the sump -- so I started over toward the two crying boys to see if they were hurt. Luz-Maria came, too, and we knelt down. "Qué pasa?" she said to the boys. "Are you guys okay?"
"Bien," said one of them and they both giggled so Luz-Maria and I giggled, too.
I saw Delia running toward me with her sister chasing her, so I stood up to catch her. "We winned! We winned! Annie, we winned!" she shrieked.
"We sure did," I said, grabbing her to keep her from starting a new dogpile by jumping on top of the boys lying on the ground.
Jimmy came trotting up. "Game over," he said.
Andrew stared at the sump-thing. "That was our only ball? Hogfat! I'll climb in and get it." He started up the iron loops that made a ladder on the side of the concrete cylinder.
Jimmy touched his arm and motioned toward the clouds that had gotten a lot closer. "No, man," he said. "Flash flood fill that sump up like lightning, man. Fill it up from the bottom, even if the rain is miles away."
"Huh?" said Andrew.
Jimmy tried to explain but I stopped listening; a police car had turned onto the side street and pulled to a stop against the curb, facing the wrong way. I pulled my hat down tighter and started walking around the outside of the crowd, heading back toward the motel.
GRRLZ 4EVAH
by Wanda Cunningham
Chapter 15
Redheads
Chapter 15 - Redheads
I knew they weren't after me, but I didn't want them to see me, anyway. A fat white guy wearing a big wide belt got out of the cop car and yelled, "You kids go home, storm coming."
I crossed the street as far from the cop car as I could without looking like I was actually avoiding it.
"Jaime Gongora," the cop called out. "Jaime, tell them in Spanish, too. If I say it, they'll laugh."
I looked back and Jimmy waved at the cop. He began shouting what the cop had said in Spanish and English. Andrew looked mad and all and frowned. I turned back and scooted on to the motel, just as a real gust of wind came up and almost knocked me down. I thought there might actually have been a drop of water in that gust, though the storm still looked miles away.
I dug the key out of my pocket and let myself into our room, trying to be quiet because Mom might be asleep. Instead, she had the tv on and was watching some movie. It took me a moment to recognize it as A League of Their Own, about women professional baseball players back in the 1940s.
There used to be a league just for women players; when I saw the movie, I went and got a book about it out of the library to see if it was true. It lasted all through World War II and for almost ten years afterward but died out when television killed off most of the minor leagues, way back before even my parents were born. I felt kind of bad about that, it would have been kind of nice if there were a Big League for girls.
"Game over?" Mom asked.
I nodded. "It's going to rain and the wind is blowing hard. And we lost the ball, in the sump-thing."
"The what?"
"Uh, it's like a manhole but it sticks up above the ground about eight feet."
Mom blinked a couple of times at my description. "What did you call it?"
"It's really a sump, but I just called it the sump-thing -- because -- because it's funnier."
Mom laughed. "A sump? In a playground?"
"No one can fall in, it's like eight feet high and the opening is up there and it's supposed to have a lid but the lid is broke and the ball went inside and we only had the one ball. Jimmy said it would be too dangerous to try to get it back and then the police came and said we had to quit because of the storm, anyway." I talked quickly 'cause I had to go to the bathroom.
"Storm? Cops?" Mom said.
I heard her go outside to look while I was in the bathroom. I sat on the toilet to make water and used a piece of toilet paper to wipe myself dry instead of just shaking.
Mom came back from outside, "It's really looking stormy outside. I don't think we're going to go to the mall."
I guess I came out of the bathroom looking a bit disappointed. She grinned at me. "We can color each other's hair instead, okay?"
I nodded. "Should I take my bath now, then?" I asked.
"Yes, but don't wash your hair. Dirty hair takes color better, weird as that sounds."
It did sound weird. Mom wouldn't kid me about something like that, though, so it must be true. I nodded.
Mom's face went into the contortions that meant I had done something funny without knowing it and she was trying hard not to laugh.
"Ho, ho, hee, hee," I said.
And that really cracked her up, she laughed so hard she made hooting noises. "You look so serious!" she managed to gasp before collapsing on the bed with another coughing fit.
"Are you going to be okay?" I asked.
She nodded. "I'm feeling much better, now," she said which for some reason made her laugh again. And cough some more. "Go take your bath," she said. "Then I'll take one, then we can do our hair and when it's done we'll see if it's still stormy out or what?"
"Okay," I said. I took a pair of the girl's underwear we'd bought out of the package. Each pair was a different color to match the princess printed on the leg. Cinderella was blue; Aurora, Sleeping Beauty, was pink; Belle, yellow; Ariel, the Little Mermaid, aqua; Pocohontas, lavender; Snow White was white; and Jasmine, from Aladdin, green. I picked Ariel, since she had red hair and so would I. I almost picked Pocohontas because she was the only one I could imagine playing baseball; well, maybe Jasmine or Belle.
I saw Mom watching me choose and I know I turned red but neither of us said anything about it.
"Here," said Mom, handing me one of her t-shirts. "Wear this when you come out, in case we get dye on it."
It was one of her older t-shirts, faded black with that kind of lettering on it that begins to come apart after a washing or two. "This is going to fit me like a dress," I complained, holding it up. The broken letters read, "GRRLZ 4EVAH!"
"You can wear it as a nightie," she suggested. "We forgot to get you one."
I didn't look at her as I went into the bathroom, afraid I might blush again.
I put the princess panties and t-shirt where they wouldn't get wet then I got undressed, wondering a little bit if I'd be wearing girls' clothes for a long time. Months, probably. However long it took Mom to figure a way to get Dad away from his crooked uncles so we could go home. I piled my boy clothes up in the corner. The only thing I'd been wearing that a girl wouldn't wear, ever, was my boy undershorts.
A long mirror on the back of the door gave me a look at myself. I hid the evidence of my boy identity by crossing my legs. I looked pretty convincing as a girl, I thought.
I wondered if there would be any situation in which I might have to make my disguise work while naked. If I went back to school, some places have sixth graders change clothes for physical education. I'd have to figure a way around that problem if it came up.
The water didn't take long to get hot. I pulled a clear plastic shower cap down over my hair and stepped into the stall. I took a lot of care to get clean everywhere, even the bottom of my feet. Getting dirty isn't bad but girls don't like to stay dirty, I knew that. Well, neither did I, but I made an extra effort this time.
It took two of the hard, stiff, motel towels to get dry with. I didn't have to dry my hair though, since the shower cap had kept it dry. I pulled the cap off and just fluffed it out a bit.
I pulled the Ariel panties on and tucked my boy parts backwards. If the panties were tight enough, maybe they would stay that way. I looked in the mirror again. No one would know me as a boy now, not just from how I looked. I blushed a bit, then pulled mom's old t-shirt over my head. The neck and shoulders were a bit too wide and the bottom reached almost halfway down from my waist to my knees. I checked in the mirror again; okay, I looked kind of cute and I blushed again.
Mom knocked on the door. "All done?" she asked.
I opened the door and she grinned at me. "You're right, it's almost long enough for a dress for you." She suddenly bent to pull me into a hug, carefully keeping her face away from mine because she still had a cold. "I hope we can keep having fun with this," she said.
"So far," I said, hugging her back.
Mom got busy getting the hair dye ready, telling me as she worked just what she was doing and explaining that hair dyes are powerful chemicals and have to be treated just as carefully as you would treat a lit stove or a strange animal. We both wore plastic gloves that came in the packages and we wrapped brown towels, our own, around out necks. Mom did the snipping of tubes with little manicure scissors but she let me mix my own dye before she applied it, squeezing little bits into my hair and then thoroughly wetting the locks before moving to the next combed together little clump. It smelled terrible, like someone burning a bottle of cheap perfume.
After she had my hair thoroughly wet with the dye, she let me help her with her own, which was way more complicated since she wanted to dye most of it black with undyed areas and red-dyed areas. I helped her comb it and decide where the streaks would go. She would end up with most of her hair black, red bangs and a single lock of blonde from the top of her head down and in front of her left ear.
By the time we finished putting Mom's dye in, it was time to rinse mine out. We did this over the sink in the bathroom, using the long hose from the shower. The dye made a shampoo when water was added and after rinsing it out, we used another tube of neutralizer/conditioner that left my hair very soft. And red. Not super red-red, it actually looked sort of red-brown while it was wet.
Mom got out some scissors and trimmed my hair a bit, shaping it some. Then I took the hair dryer to use while she finished up with her own hair. Using more than one color of dye on it took some careful work, I thought -- glad we hadn't tried that with me.
I combed and brushed my hair when I finished drying it and it fell very neatly into a new style -- actually shorter, but softer and fuller in back with bangs in front. A little red-haired girl looked back at me over the dresser mirror. I didn't look at all like Andrew Kelley.
While we'd been running water ourselves, we hadn't noticed the rain begin outside. After Mom finished rinsing her hair and conditioning it, the sound seemed louder, beating on the air conditioner and the small, high-up windows of the motel room. The air felt thick, too, not like the earlier heat outside.
Mom sat at the vanity using two hand mirrors while she trimmed and blow-dried her hair. She had on one of Dad's old t-shirts that looked as much like a dress on her as one of hers did on me. "It's not even seven yet, kiddo. You want to get dressed again and see if any stores are open?"
"It's raining outside," I said.
She stopped working to listen a moment. "Oh, yeah, huh? I guess it is. Well, maybe it won't last too long and we can go get some dinner later. Is it cold in here to you?"
"Kind of," I said.
"Turn off the air conditioner," she suggested. "At least for awhile."
I climbed on a chair to reach the control panel on the top of the window unit, even Mom had had to do that. I figured out which button to push and the air conditioner stopped blowing cold damp air on my belly.
That's when we heard the sirens outside.
Very, very frightening...
by Wanda Cunningham
Chapter 16
Thunder and Lightning
Chapter 16 - Thunder and Lightning
I felt a stab of fear, certain for a moment that Dad's uncles had caught up with us. I glanced at Mom who looked more puzzled than afraid.
"Tornado warning?" she muttered then shook her head. "I don't think they have tornadoes in New Mexico, not near the mountains." We heard thunder, too, a long roll that meant it was a long way off.
Back home, tornadoes had been rare near the city but sometimes hit some small nearby town pretty hard. I stopped thinking about uncles and got down off the chair I had climbed, not really relieved to think it might only be a bad storm.
Mom opened the door of our room and peered out. A chilly wet wind blew in with the noise of the sirens so loud they seemed to be right in the room with us. I tried to crowd in beside her to get a look, too, but she pushed the door closed, locked and latched it with the chain. She looked at me and she looked worried. "Get dressed," she said. "Wear your new clothes."
I could hear three distinct sorts of sirens. One was the electronic-sounding honk-honk-honk-braaap!-wee-oo-wee-oo used by police cars back home. The second was the high pitched owie-wowie-owie-wowieeee! that meant an ambulance to me. And the last was the deep-toned double oo-OO-oo-OO-oo that only fire and rescue trucks used in the midwest. I had a new and very scary thought. "They're across the street, aren't they?" I asked Mom.
She nodded "Get dressed. We're leaving before someone comes looking for the little girl in the Tinker Belle hat."
"I...." I didn't want to say what I had suddenly thought but Mom saw my face and pulled me into a hug.
"It's probably nothing, honey," she whispered. "Probably nothing at all." She patted me on the back. "We'll get dressed and leave and we'll be at Martha's in the morning. Okay?"
I nodded, my cheek against her side. We stood like that for a moment. I don't know what Mom thought about, it was all I could do not to think about the baseball in the sump-thing. We didn't let go all at once but only a little at a time.
Mom checked her hair in the mirror again, decided that she'd done enough. The multi-colored hairdo distracted you from looking at her face and it did make her look younger, somehow.
I found the gray jeans with the pink stitching and removed the labels, using a pair of manicure scissors. Mom bounced around the room, then slipped on the pair of black jeans she'd bought for herself. She changed her top, too.
I pulled on my new jeans and they fit just right, not too tight, not too loose. I thought they felt good, a better fit than any of my other pants.
"Looking good, honey," said Mom, smiling at me.
I tried to smile back but we both could still hear the sirens across the street.
"Wear your sneaks, hon," she said when I started to put my sandals back on. "It's still going to be raining when we leave."
"Okay," I said. Outside, I could sort of hear someone talking on a megaphone like cops and firemen sometimes do at the scene of an accident. Or at least, they do that in the movies.
I wore my new socks with my old boy-type sneakers. Probably no one would notice. They'd get wet but my leather boy shoes were still outside in the Jeep.
Mom collected things out of the bathroom, putting them back into our suitcases. She put her dirty clothes into a plastic bag and mine into another different bag.
"We've got to do more shopping for you," she said.
"I know." I found the new tops we had bought and decided to wear the green one with the baby animals. Just then I wanted to feel younger, back when I thought Mom --and Dad-- could keep anything bad from happening. I snipped the little plastic tags off and put the scissors back in the overnight bag. I got one of Mom's tissues and blew my nose. Then I changed shirts.
One of the sirens outside stopped, I think it was the firetruck with the deep, "OO - oo - OO - oo!" It had been so warm in the room earlier but my arms had goosebumps.
I went to look at myself in the mirror. A little red-headed girl I didn't know looked back at me. I found another tissue and wiped my eyes and blew my nose again.
The ambulance sound cut off suddenly, right in the middle, with a loud chirp. A roaring noise that had also been going on got louder, the rain coming down. It almost drowned out the sound of the cop car's noisy hooting and beeping. Maybe there were two cop cars, not quite sounding the same. There were gusts of wind out there, making the rain louder then not so loud. The little brown air conditioner on the wall rattled like a drum when the wind threw the rain against it.
Mom and I stopped in the middle of the room to hold each other again. We didn't say anything until Mom squeezed me and said, "Help me finish packing."
We had everything packed back up in about ten minutes, except Mom found our rain coats and left them out, laying mine across the bed. She put hers on. "I'll carry everything out to the car, honey. You stay here until we're about to go."
"You're still sick," I told her. "You shouldn't be carrying stuff in the rain." She hadn't coughed or sneezed once since we first heard the sirens, though.
"It's not far and all of our bags are light enough for me to carry alone," she said. "No use both of us getting wet." She smiled at me.
I tried to think. If I had something to say, maybe I wouldn't cry again. I sat on the bed and pulled the rain coat into my lap. It was blue with bright orange panels on the back and sides and sleeves. It had big orange plastic buttons, too. The orange was brighter than the new color of my hair but it would probably look better on me than it had when I was blonde.
Mom opened the door to carry out our biggest bag, and the roar of the rain sounded like an ocean. I saw the ocean once when we went to New Jersey on vacation. This was louder, more like the ocean sounds in a movie when someone is going to get in trouble on a boat. She laughed when she came back in. "So much for using the hair dryer, huh?"
I nodded, smiling at her. I could still hear the police sirens.
She grabbed two of our smaller bags and headed out again. We hadn't brought in everything from the Jeep, so there were only two suitcases left, one of them full of the two bags of dirty clothes. I stood up and pulled the rain coat on, turning the hood up and pulling it down over my head, it almost hid my face. Like a lot of my old clothes it seemed a bit big. I guess Mom and Dad kept hoping I'd grow into them.
I looked in the mirror and fussed with the hood a bit. Maybe I could get clothes that fit from now on, I thought -- before the sirens outside reminded me of why I wanted to cry.
Mom came back and walked around the motel room, looking on shelves and on the floor for anything we had forgotten. I knew we hadn't missed picking everything up, so I just watched her. I'd already checked. She handed me the overnight bag and took the last large suitcase herself. "Let's go, kiddo," she said. Her smile looked a little fake.
When she opened the door, the sirens across the street got loud enough to break through the sound of the rain again.
"Don't look," Mom said as she hurried to the Jeep through the wind.
The town that had been so dry and dusty looked like it might get washed away in all the rain. When I stepped out from under the arcade in front of our motel room, a wind hit me and I staggered. I hadn't expected that but now I saw that the rain wasn't coming straight down but at an angle.The drops were big thunderstorm drops and they stung when they hit my face.
Mom had opened the rear door on her side and put the suitcase in with the others. "C'mon, honey," she called to me. "Let's get out of the wet. I bet we can outrun this storm in less than an hour." She had to be yelling or I wouldn't have been able to hear her. She closed the back door and opened the driver's door.
I wagged the overnight bag over to my side while Mom climbed in and reached across to open the door for me. I put the overnight bag in the floor in front of the front seat then climbed up. I hadn't noticed before but Mom had pulled my old booster seat out of the back and put it into place. I looked up at her.
"For a while," she said, "we're going to pretend you're young enough to need that. 'Kay?"
I nodded. Only last year, Dad had to talk a Missouri Highway Patrol out of giving him a ticket for me not being in a booster seat. I'd had to prove to the cop that I was ten by doing long division in my head. He picked a hard one, too -- seven into forty -- so I had asked him how much was sixteen times nineteen. I learned a trick for problems like that one. Dad laughed until the cop told him I was a very smart little girl.
I pulled the door closed and threaded the car seat belt through the booster. I got it adjusted right while Mom started the car then I sat down and fastened it around me. I smiled over at Mom and she reached over to tug on the belt. "That's good, honey," she said, smiling back.
I stuck my tongue out at her and we both laughed like we thought it was funny.
"I'll get you a dolly next time we stop," she promised.
I rolled my eyes. I wanted to ask her what kind of dolly but I didn't say anything. I hadn't brought Timmy, my bear, with us and something to hold would have been nice.
Mom backed the car out of the space, turning so we didn't face the side street where the police cars and firetruck had blocked the street. I couldn't twist to look back in the booster seat but I got a glimpse in the big outside mirror.
Lightning behind the trucks and cars lit everything up. A crane or a derrick hung over the sump-thing and they looked like they were pulling something out. Guys in bright yellow and blue slickers stood around looking sad. I couldn't see their faces but just how they stood looked sad. The thunder boomed, close this time.
My stomach turned to ice and I couldn't breathe for a minute. We went left on the street, heading into the wind and rain toward the freeway entrance at the south end of town. After a few blocks, I couldn't hear the sirens any more. I gasped in a big breath and squeezed the arms of the booster, trying not to cry.
Mom turned on the radio and someone sang a sad song in Spanish. We didn't say anything at all.
I thought about Jimmy and Andrew, Julio and Mattress, Natcho and Tony, Luz and Luz Maria, and little Delia who kept insisting on everyone calling me Annie. I wondered if the crane on the firetruck had been pulling one of them out of the sump-thing.
We turned west at the end of the town and got onto the freeway. The rain stopped. I almost cried myself to sleep. Mom passed me a box of tissues. I blew my nose and wiped my eyes and put the tissue into the little plastic trash bag we kept in the thing between the seats.
Outside the car, the clouds hurried away to the north, letting the stars shine on the weird desert. When had it got late enough for the stars to come out, I wondered. What would happen to us when we got to Martha's? Would Daddy be able to find us by tracing the Jeep? I wondered a lot of things and the radio played more sad songs.
Behind us, the thunder rolled again, getting further away. Had someone I knew and liked drowned in the sump-thing? How would I ever know?
Then I wondered if I would ever play baseball again.
Down in the valley...
by Wanda Cunningham
Chapter 17
Owl and Pussycat
Chapter 17 - Owl and Pussycat
The night around the car seemed deep and wide and the moon in the Western sky looked like a boat. For a moment, I could imagine the Owl and the Pussycat from the song floating away across an ocean full of stars. Neither of us said anything for a long time.
I tried not to think too much on what had happened in the vacant lot across from the motel. Maybe I slept for awhile, though it couldn't have been very long. I woke up while we were going through some mountains. We started down a long hill into the Valley of the Rio Grande, according to a well-lit sign.
We began talking again a few miles from Las Cruces. Mom said a couple of times that we would get on the freeway there.
I looked out the window. "Isn't this the freeway?" I asked. The road stretched away across desert and farmland behind us and in front of us in two concrete and asphalt ribbons. It sure looked like a freeway.
Mom shook her head. "No, honey, this is just a divided highway. See? There are crossroads without overpasses or exits. In the next big town, we'll catch Interstate 10 and head into Arizona."
Her cold seemed a lot better, not so congested and she hardly coughed at all. On the other hand, I felt tired and sick and sad -- and grumpy.
She glanced at me sideways several times. "Want to stop and get something to eat?" she suggested.
"I guess," I said. I knew I should feel hungry but I didn't really want to eat. I kicked my feet where they dangled off the booster and the edge of the car seat. Sitting in the booster seat made me feel a little silly. I'm actually eleven even if I do look about eight and could pass for seven. As long as I keep my mouth shut.
"We'll get fast food," Mom decided, "then do some more shopping. Walmart will be open."
I thought about that for a bit. "Okay," I said. "I want a Happy Meal."
"Chicken?"
"Yeah," I said. "And a milk." A Happy Meal isn't a lot of food but it sounded about right.
"Okay."
I turned sort of sideways and looked at Mom. Her new hair made her look different. More daring, black with red bangs and a blonde streak on the side I couldn't see. She looked younger and could almost have been some high school girl. She didn't look like anyone's mom.
She saw me looking at her and grinned. "What's going on in your head, kiddo?" she asked.
"What are we going to call each other?" I asked. "I mean when anyone else is around?"
"Uh?" she said. "I dunno. What name did you tell the kids back there?" She meant the ones I had played baseball with in the last big town where we had bought the hair dye and clothes.
"Annie," I said. "But some of them called me Tinka, after the Tinker Belle hat I had on." One of my real names is Andrew and before we ran away, most people called me Drew.
She nodded. I'd told her that before but things got a little dramatic with the storm and the sirens and us leaving the motel in a hurry. "Annie is fine with me, easy to remember. Maybe we'll think of something better when we get to Martha's."
"Okay. What about you?" Mom's real name is Debra or Debi.
"Yeah, I dunno. I've always kind of liked Jennifer."
"You don't look like a Jennifer," I said. I couldn't imagine a Jennifer dying her hair three different colors.
She laughed. "Okay, what do I look like?"
"Something weird," I said. She laughed again. "How about Zoe?" I suggested.
She thought about it. "Annie and Zoe. What a minute, that sounds familiar somehow." The town had begun around us and the road had changed to be more like a freeway. "Annie and Zoe?" she repeated.
"Last name?" I said.
"Cooper," she decided. "Annie and Zoe Cooper, I guess. Do you think I could pass for a teen-ager?" She steered toward an exit to a sort of fast food oasis thing.
"No zits," I said.
"Oh, come on!" She laughed. "I never had zits!"
"That's good to know," I said and she laughed again. It felt good to make someone laugh.
Mom, or Zoe, took the exit and the McDonald's was just half a block down. We did the drive through thing and asked the lady at the window how to get to Walmart. It wasn't far away. "Let's go there and eat in the parking lot," Zoe suggested. I had to get used to thinking of her as Zoe.
We drove toward the town, which had even more trees than the previous one that was named after trees. The Walmart parking lot wasn't that crowded and we got to park pretty near the door. I used the Happy Meal box as a table and dipped my chicken and fries in the barbecue sauce and drank my milk. Mom, er, Zoe, had a fish sandwich and a diet cola and she stole some of my fries.
The meal came with a little toy in a plastic bag, a My Little Pony, all pink with a fluffy mane. "I've never got one of these," I said.
"You got the girl's Happy Meal this time," Mom pointed out.
"Oh, yeah," I said. "Wow, I would have really liked this when I was little."
Mom --Zoe!-- grinned.
I frowned a little to have admitted that, but something occurred to me. "Will they have horses at Martha's?"
"They did when I was there before you were born. But no little cute pink ones. Just big brown cowponies."
I stuck my tongue out at her grin. Well, if she was going to be my sister and tease me like one, I could do that, too. Anyway, we both giggled. "Did you ride one?"
"A couple of times. Scary. Horses are big. Tall, I mean. It's a long way to the ground." She thought about it. "And I was bigger then than you are now. I think I'd still be scared on top of one of those horses."
"I think it would be neat to get to ride a horse."
"We'll see," she sort of promised. "We may not be staying that long."
We finished eating, bagged all the trash and carried it to the door of Walmart to dump in the trashcan there. "Huh," said Mom once we were inside. "There's a McDonald's in here."
"Yes, miss," said the greeter, pointing toward it. "Most Walmart's have a Mickey D's inside now."
"Thank you," said -- Zoe. We both smiled at the greeter who looked a little like some old cowboy star.
He grinned back at us. "Y'all have a good evening and thank you for shopping at Walmart," he said; he even sounded like a movie cowboy.
Mom took the cart he pulled out for us and we wandered in past the checkouts.
"This place is huge," I said.
"Well, don't get lost. I'd never find you."
"How much cash do we have?"
"Enough," she said. She picked up another pair of black slacks for herself and one black and one plum-colored top. They were plain and pretty cheap but she ended up putting them back, deciding to shop in the junior department. "I'm supposed to look nineteen or so, huh?" she said.
"I guess. If you chew gum, maybe you can look even younger." I mimed chewing gum like a cow.
"Younger or dumber?" She laughed.
We cruised through the juniors shop and she picked up some more fashionable stuff. "This will probably fit me better anyway," she said.
"'Cause you're short," I said.
"Look who's talking."
"I'm only nine, I'm not that short for nine," I said.
"Nine, I thought you were supposed to be eight?"
"I dunno," I said. Getting closer, I whispered, "Do you really think I can sound like I'm only eight?"
"Sure," she said. She grinned at me.
I didn't know if she meant it or was just trying to yank on me. So I stuck out my tongue again.
We ended up in the little girl's part of the store. "Let's see how serious you are about making this work," she said. She headed toward the dresses.
"I knew you'd think of this," I said, following her.
She laughed again. "Well, if you want your Dad not to recognize you, this would do it." She pulled out a frou-frou kid's dress in an orangey sort of pink with little yellow flowers and green leaves. It didn't have any sleeves and had ruffles top and bottom.
"Z-zoe," I said.
"It's a sundress," she said. "For playtime, you'll look adorable." She picked out another one, a blue-purple with kittens wearing red bows. It had poofy little sleeves and a kind of square collar. "You pick one," she said.
I looked up at her. "I'll figure out something to do to get even, you know."
She grinned. "I don't think you're nearly as upset about the idea as you think you ought to be."
I frowned at her logic and she crossed her eyes at me. I had to look away to keep from laughing so I stepped over to a different rack and pulled out a green dress that looked more dressy. It had white cuffs and a collar and a bow in the back. I glared at Zoe.
"You sure?" she said. "That's sort of a party dress."
I almost couldn't hear her. As soon as I touched the green dress, the sound of my blood running in my ears drowned everything out. I didn't want to let Zoe -- Mom, know how much I wanted that dress. And I wasn't quite sure why I wanted it, but I knew I did. "I guess I should try them on?" I said. I didn't seem to have enough air to say it very loud.
"What?" Zoe leaned over next to me. "I didn't hear that."
I pointed at the dressing booth which had a sign that said, "Probadores" besides the one that said, "Only 3 items in Dressing Rooms."
She handed me the other two dresses, "Well, you've got three of them to try on."
I nodded but didn't move.
"You want me to come with you?"
I nodded again. It just seemed safer somehow.
The lady at the counter near the booths smiled at me. "She's afraid to go in alone?" she asked Zoe.
Mom laughed. "Yeah. She's a bit shy."
I know I blushed.
"Just as well," the lady at the counter said. "We don't allow kids her age to go in alone, huh?" She smiled at me. "Someone pretty as you...." She trailed off and shrugged. Her nametag read Sylvia and she looked a bit like a younger sister of Rosie back in the Denny's in the town where I had played baseball.
Zoe nodded, looking serious. She took my hand. "C'mon Annie, let's see if they fit." We went into the dressing rooms together, my heart still pounding in my ears.