Who'll Pick Me?

by Janice Alonso

  “You sent that man to buy the painting?” whispered Peri.

  Aunt Susan nodded. “And your daddy sent your furniture ahead of time.”

  “I thought we’d sold everything.” Peri looked up at her aunt, but she couldn’t find the words she wanted. Tears rolled down her cheeks. When she looked up to Aunt Susan, she was crying, too, but they both had smiles on their faces, real smiles.

  A New Day

  The sun beamed through the window, warming Peri’s shoulders and scattering patches of morning light across the bedcovers. At first, when she squinted into the brightness, she couldn’t remember where she was. Then her gaze came to rest on the painting, and memories of yesterday bubbled up like hundreds of helium-inflated balloons released on a breezy day. She remembered their Knoxville home and the move. She remembered last night how the old Victorian loomed in the midnight shadows. And, she remembered the loving care Aunt Susan had given to this room, her new room. Peri was happy and sad at the same time. Rolling to her back, she kicked both feet out from under the quilt and looked up. The ceiling was painted the same soft blue as the walls, but billowy white clouds swirled from one end to the other. They looked as if they were in motion, as if a gentle wind were puffing them along. Maybe her new home and town would eventually puff away the sad thoughts like these clouds, thought Peri.

  Outside the distant droning of a lawn mower and the closer singing of a bird filled the gaps between the tick-tocking of her beside clock. She didn’t know much about birds or which kinds made what sounds. This little fellow’s melody was a high-pitched, cheerful lilt with tuneful lyrics that seemed to say, “Wake up you sleepyhead!”

  Peri touched her big toe to the hardwood floor, the surface cool and smooth against her skin. Her eyes absorbed what was around her. Aunt Susan had placed a few small rugs in the room. Each rug was a different color, the bright colors adding a carefree spirit to the blueness of the walls. Against one wall, she’d placed the bookcase Peri and her daddy built last summer. Familiar books lined each shelf: Nancy Drew, Anastasia Krupnik, and the Boxcar Kids. Peri loved to read everything, but mysteries were her favorite. On the top of the bookcase her aunt had placed a bamboo picture frame with a snapshot of Peri, her mama, and Gigi when they’d visited Bell Buckle last Thanksgiving. Beside the photograph lay a book Peri didn’t recognize. She walked over to the bookcase and picked the book up, stroking its soft leather cover with her fingertips.

  The cover was a light brown. On the side a lock clasped the book closed, and a gold key was attached by a delicate chain. A burgundy velveteen ribbon peeked out from the bottom. Peri pinched the catch between her thumb and finger and opened the book. A musty smell tickled her nose. The blank pages had turned from a white to a yellowed ivory, and the edges were jagged like someone had cut them with pinking shears. Slowly, she eased back the book’s spine to the inside cover. Written in flowing black script was a note from her aunt.

  Dearest Peri,

  I found this book in the attic and thought you might want it. I hope you

  will come to love your new room and your new life here, but don’t ever forget

  your old one. Use this journal to record all your memories. Create a new life on

  the foundation of the past.

  Love,

  Aunt Susan

  * * * * *

  Smells of sizzling maple bacon and warm cinnamon rolls greeted Peri and teased her taste buds as she descended the stairs and walked toward the kitchen. Aunt Susan had spent the first few months after she moved into the house remodeling the kitchen and its eating area. Since the house had been built over a century ago as a place for boarders, the kitchen was large and had lots of counters. These spaces gave her aunt room for food preparation. Aunt Susan said the previous owners had updated the kitchen and bathrooms during the nineties, but no other work had been done since then.

  Her aunt had painted the walls a bright yellow and the cabinets an off-white. White and yellow curtains hung from small brass rods on windows that overlooked an area where a flower garden had once been planted. Now all that remained were weeds and large areas where no grass grew, exposing the red Georgia clay. Statues of flower fairies, their wings broken, sat forlorn in the neglected garden.

  Off from the kitchen was the eating area. Aunt Susan had found an old round table with four chairs in the attic and asked Mr. Lamb, the man who lived down the street, to help her bring the set down to the kitchen. Then she’d spent the winter months stripping and staining the furniture. The eating area had French doors that led outside to the garden area as well. Spidery cracks webbed across many of the panes, but the glass wasn’t broken. Peri looked around and let out a mental sigh. Her aunt was right; they had a lot of work ahead of them.

  “Good morning, Peri,” greeted Aunt Susan. She wore a white bib apron over a red checked shirt and a pair of blue jeans. “Did you sleep well?”

  “I slept great,” said Peri. “The kitchen is beautiful.”

  Aunt Susan’s face beamed. “I did most of it myself.” She brought Peri a glass of orange juice and set it down on the place mat. Running her hand along the table, she continued. “This table was scratched and had cigarette burns in it. I sanded it down and made it look like new.”

  Peri’s daddy looked up from his newspaper. “I didn’t know you knew how to restore furniture.”

  Aunt Susan frowned. “You do what you have to do, Joseph. I got a decent amount of money when I lost my job, but I can’t be spending it on things I can do myself.” She walked back to the stove. She turned to look back at her brother. “I didn’t know I could cook either until I took some lessons.”

  Peri sat down in a chair opposite her daddy at the dark oak table. She lifted her nose and sniffed. “What smells so yummy?”

  “Simply Scrumptious Eggs,” said Aunt Susan. “It’s a recipe from one of my classes.” She added, “But I made some changes so it’ll be special for the people who stay at our inn.”

  Aunt Susan trotted back over to Peri and set down a plate with a mound of . . . of . . . of, well, Peri couldn’t really say exactly. It did smell good, but it looked, well, rather odd. She could identify the scrambled egg part and something gooey that she thought might be cheese except that it had a reddish tint to it. But it was the brown and grey parts she was having trouble identifying.

  “Thank you,” said Peri. She picked up her fork and moved the egg mixture around.

  Her aunt flushed with pride. “I only used the recipe as a guide.” She leaned over and winked at Peri. “I added my own special ingredients.” She straightened. “After all, I want our bed and breakfast to be unique.” She turned around and hurried back to the oven where she had something baking.

  Using her fork, Peri scooped up a portion of the conglomeration. She brought the fork to her mouth and paused midair. She looked over to her daddy for guidance.

  Mr. Hardy picked up the salt shaker and leaned toward Peri. “Use a lot of salt,” he whispered.

  Peri took the shaker and sprinkled her Simply Scrumptious Eggs with a generous layer of salt. Then she added some to the bite that waited on the fork. If the look of the casserole had been indescribable, then its taste was like nothing she’d ever known. While Peri chewed, her daddy buried his head in the morning newspaper and avoided her stare.

  “Well?” asked Aunt Susan as she closed the oven door and reset the timer. She took off her hot mitts and faced Peri. “What do you think?”

  Peri swallowed the mouthful and then gulped her orange juice. “Aunt Susan, I can honestly say it’s the most unique thing I’ve ever tasted!”

  Once again, Aunt Susan flushed with pride. “I’ll tell you my secret if you promise you won’t give it away.”

  Peri made a cross over her heart. “I promise.”

  “Just as the eggs were finishing cooking, I threw in some dry oatmeal and pecan chips.”

  “But, it tastes kind of, well, sweet,” said Peri.

  Aunt Susan leaned in closer. “When I added the
shredded cheddar cheese, I mixed it with strawberry jam first.”

  Peri smiled. “I don’t think there’ll be another bed and breakfast around that’ll have breakfasts like ours!”

  Mr. Hardy looked over his paper and focused his stare on his sister. “Are you planning to adjust all the recipes?” he asked.

  “Goodness gracious, no!” Aunt Susan waved her hand. “I’m just going to create special breakfast menus.” She turned and walked back to her oven.

  Mr. Hardy frowned at Peri. “Thank goodness there’s a diner on the square that serves breakfast,” he whispered.

  Who’ll Pick Me?

  Peri brushed her teeth really well after breakfast. Flossed, too. As much as she didn’t want to hurt Aunt Susan’s feelings, she didn’t want a Simply Scrumptious Eggs bit wiggling loose in her mouth and revisiting her taste buds!

  Peri pulled on a pair of denim cut-offs and a loose T-shirt. Her skinny arms and beanpole legs stuck out like twigs from the shorts and baggy top. Using her fingers, she raked her long hair into a pony tail and secured it with a rubber band. Then she stuffed her hair under a baseball cap. Tugging on her sneakers, she stood in front of the full length mirror and studied her reflection. Her mama had said she was small for her age, but Peri knew the truth. She was what some adults referred to as “scrawny.” She could easily pass for a girl of six, instead of her age of nine.

  The aroma of freshly cut grass met Peri’s nose as she descended the front porch steps and maneuvered her way through their mangled yard. She wandered into the garage where her daddy was on his knees rifling through boxes. Most of the boxes were unopened and contained their things from Knoxville.

  “Where’s my bicycle?” asked Peri. She wiggled between the stacks of tightly-packed boxes, peeking inside those with opened tops.

  Mr. Hardy’s head rose over the edge of a tall box. He looked over to Peri. A few of the Styrofoam peanuts used as packing had worked their way into the curls of his hair. His eyeglasses dangled lopsided and balanced over his left ear.

  He lifted his head, repositioned his glasses, and then sighed. “Looks like some of our stuff didn’t make it. Your bicycle was in one of those crates.” He stood and brushed the dirt from his knees.

  Peri’s shoulders slumped. “That’s okay,” she said, trying to hide her disappointment. “I can explore by foot.”

  Mr. Hardy’s eyes widened as he snapped his fingers. “Wait just a minute. I think I saw a bicycle over there.” He pointed to the opposite corner. “The old owners must have left it behind with the other things.”

  Mr. Hardy disappeared behind a mountain of odds and ends and soon reappeared riding a small two-wheeler. Peri felt a large tickle form in the bottom of her stomach and threaten to make her explode into gales of giggles. With the Styrofoam peanuts still in his hair and his large, grownup body atop the child’s bicycle, her daddy resembled a clown who’d escaped from the Barnum and Bailey Circus. The handlebars had a horn that he tooted as he rode past her. All he needed was a bright red rubber nose and a crown of carrot-orange hair to look like Bozo himself!

  Mr. Hardy stopped in front of his daughter and climbed off. “I know it’s kind of small, and it’s for a boy,” he apologized. “But if I take off the horn maybe it’ll do until yours gets here.”

  With a couple of twists of his screwdriver, Mr. Hardy removed the horn and rolled the bike toward Peri.

  “Thanks, Daddy,” said Peri. Throwing her right leg over the bar, she sat down and tested her balance by making a couple of laps around the garage. She waved good-bye, gave herself a push and pedaled into the street that lead toward the town square in Bell Buckle.

  Bell Buckle had a large square in the middle of town. There were businesses on the four streets lining the square. Houses filled the streets that encircled this business area. Their bed and breakfast was two blocks away on a street named Blueberry Lane. The town was over a hundred and fifty years old, but most of the houses were built at the beginning of the twentieth century and were closer to a hundred years old.

  The house her aunt bought was one of the oldest. It was built in 1875 and had been a boarding house for people to live in while they mined for gold in Dahlonega and other towns close by during the 1800’s. It had remained a boarding house until after the depression in the 1930’s. Over the next few decades Bell Buckle’s population got smaller and smaller until the owners of many of the residents lost interest in the dwindling town and moved to Atlanta, a city that was growing by leaps and bounds. A few years ago people, once again enchanted by the life style offered by a small town, decided Bell Buckle was a great place to live. Bell Buckle lay at the foothills of the Smokey Mountains and was close to many hiking trails, waterfalls, and lakes. It was also only two hours from Atlanta.

  Some of the old houses had been torn down and replaced with brand new houses, but Aunt Susan wanted to keep their bed and breakfast as close to the original house as possible, preserving the history of the house and Bell Buckle. Many residents felt the same way her aunt felt. These people had formed a group known as the Bell Buckle Historical Society. While they wanted Bell Buckle to grow and keep up with modern times, they felt strongly that a sense of the past should be maintained as well.

  Within minutes Peri arrived on the main square, known as Pioneer Square in honor of the twelve original families who’d settled there. Peri rode around the downtown area. The street was called Main Street, no matter which of the four sides she was on. She noticed that Main Street became Main Street, north, east, south, and west. Each street corresponded to the appropriate direction. She studied the names of the businesses as she circled Pioneer Square. Myna’s Confections, The Book Nook, Nash’s Real Estate Office, and First Bank of Bell Buckle were a few of the businesses on West Main Street. The Sheriff’s Department, the Courthouse, several government offices, and Tucker’s Coffee Den were on South Main. North and East Main were also filled with an assortment of restaurants, gift and clothing boutiques, the Public Library, a cleaners, and a couple of hair salons.

  Peri left the town area and rode over one block until she came to a sign. She put on the breaks, peered up, and read: “Pioneer Park.” Peri pushed off and peddled slowly, her bottom feeling every bump and hole on the mulch-covered trail. Soccer and baseball fields, tennis courts, and an oversized pavilion filled the recreation areas. Picnic tables stood under magnificent oak trees and in areas off of a large lake.

  In another area was a playground with swings, slides, and see-saws. She spotted a group of girls who looked about her age. She took a deep breath and cruised toward them. She stopped her bicycle, straddling the bar, and smiled.

  “Hi, my name’s Peri Hardy,” she said in her cheeriest voice. “I just moved here from Knoxville.”

  The group of girls studied her from head to toe. One girl had on a pair of Capri pants and a matching raspberry colored top. She lowered her sunglasses and peered at Peri over the top of the lens.

  “Hi, Peri,” she said. Then she pointed across to the other side of the field. “The first grade boys are playing over there.”

  * * * * *

  Peri sat in the porch swing enveloped in her aunt’s reassuring arms; hot, angry tears streamed down her face. Through chest-wrenching sobs, Peri buried her face deeper into Aunt Susan’s bosom and smelled the scent of roses, her aunt’s favorite fragrance.

  “Now, now,” her aunt said, patting Peri’s back. “You do not look like a first grade boy.”

  “Yes, I do!” wailed Peri. Using both hands, she dug her knuckles into her eyes and cried harder. “Those girls pointed me over to the side of the playground where the boys were playing!”

  Aunt Susan sighed and didn’t say a word for a few minutes. Then she placed her hand under Peri’s chin and tilted her face upward toward her. Peri had her aunt’s dark brown eyes, and right now they were red-rimmed and filled with tears. Her long dark eyelashes clumped together from the crying.

  “With that gorgeous long blond hair, there’s no way you c
ould be taken for a boy.” Aunt Susan pursed her lips and shook her head.

  “I had my hair under a baseball cap,” sniffled Peri.

  “Hmmm,” said Aunt Susan. “You are a beautiful child and one day you’re going to be an even more beautiful woman.” A small smile tugged at her lips. “But I won’t lie to you, sweetheart. You are small for your age, and, I suppose . . .” Aunt Susan paused and her eyes softened. “With the cut-offs and shirt and your hair hidden beneath a baseball cap . . .” She stopped and sighed. “And riding a boy’s bicycle, I could see how the girls might have mistaken you for a boy.”

  “And Peri isn’t exactly a girl’s name either,” Peri added. “No girl wants a friend who looks like a boy.” Peri gulped. “I wish I could move back to Knoxville and have Abby as a friend again.”

  Peri dissolved into a fresh wave of sobs. Her whole body shook from the unhappy thoughts rushing through her head. Her life was ruined. She’d be laughed at for being mistaken for a boy.

  “Nobody will pick me for a friend.” Looking at her aunt through bleary eyes, she said, “And besides, by third grade everyone has already made friends.”

  Aunt Susan ran her fingers through her hair as her mind raced. She reached into her pocket and pulled out a Kleenex.

  “Dry your eyes, sweetheart, and listen to me.”

  Peri took the Kleenex and dabbed it against her cheeks and eyes. She looked once more at her aunt.

  “You had friends in Knoxville, didn’t you?” asked Aunt Susan.

  Peri nodded. “I had lots of friends.”

  “Then you’ll have friends here, too. Friendly people always have friends.” Aunt Susan’s smile grew bigger. “And you’re the friendliest person I know.”

  Only now did Peri smile. “Do you really think I’m friendly?”

  “I promise.” Then Aunt Susan added. “We’ll pray for God to send you a friend. Lots of friends for that matter.”