Give Me Wings

by Joy Redmond

  Carnikko got out of the car and watched as Daddy took a swig from his pint, wiped his mouth with his sleeve, and then yanked the Model T into gear. As he drove away, Carnikko turned toward the house, telling herself that she had to find another pair of panties and put them on so no one would ever know she had just sinned.

  Before she went inside the house, she felt the urge to pee, so she walked out back to the outhouse. When she raised her dress, she saw tiny drops of blood on her thighs. She was paralyzed with fear, wondering if she was going to die. She quickly ripped out a page from the catalogue, and frantically wiped off the blood. Finally, she sat down and tried to pee, but nothing would come out—not one drop.

  As she closed her eyes and strained, Purple Angel fluttered in front of her eyeballs. “Give me wings,” she pleaded. This time the purple wings emerged more quickly. She flapped them happily, and she was soon soaring again in the sky. When she landed this time, the sky was a blanket of blue hues mingled with streaks of white and gray. The grass was soothing green, and the small blades pushing between her toes tickled. She saw thousands of flowers in full bloom—roses, tulips, daffodils, and many others she didn’t recognize. The sweet aroma was intoxicating. She picked a rose and stuck it behind her right ear. Then she gathered some tulips and carried them like a bouquet in her hands.

  She saw mountains looming in the distance, and at the foot of one mountain, she was amazed to see a brontosaurus swishing its gigantic tail back and forth slowly as if it was sweeping the earth. It was all so peaceful. There was nothing to fear. There were no drunken daddies yelling and cussing, no mamas crying, and no nasty men who turned little girls into sinners.

  “Carnikko!” she heard her mama call from faraway. “Carnikko, where are you?”

  Just as suddenly as the last time, she was sucked back to the real world. She opened the outhouse door and called, “I’m comin', Mama.” As she walked back toward the house, she hoped she wouldn’t have a nightmare about the nasty man. If she screamed in her sleep, it might give away her secret.

  Chapter Nine

  The Randalls had been living in the country for two years and Carnikko loved the wide-open spaces where she could run free without worrying about cars, alley cats, or yelling neighbors. She loved to race barefoot through the white clover, and though she sometimes stepped on honeybees, being barefoot was a part of feeling free.

  During the hot summer months, Carnikko made a pallet and lounged under the elm tree. Daddy had told her that the elm was the best source of shade—and he was right!

  Lee and Carnikko played tag, jumped rope, and made chains from the white clover that covered the front and back yards. Don was a loner and he spent his time drawing and coloring.

  Evan was twenty-one months old and tried his best to tag along with Carnikko. She pulled him in the red Radio Flyer wagon, shooing chickens away as she circled the house. When she was tired and hot, she took Evan to her favorite shady place, where she smothered him with hugs and kisses and snuggled with him until he fell asleep. Sometimes she took a nap, too.

  For two springs, Carnikko helped Daddy plant a garden, opening packages and dropping seeds in the trenches that Daddy had dug with a hoe. She was anxious to see what would happen after he covered the seeds with the loose dirt, even though he had told her it would be several weeks before she’d see anything.

  When the vegetables began to sprout, Carnikko was amazed, but the most amazing part was seeing vegetables hanging on the plants, making them look just like the pictures on the seed packages. She couldn’t figure out how the seeds knew what they were supposed to look like.

  Mama canned vegetables in Mason jars so they’d have plenty to eat during the long winter months. They had fresh eggs for breakfast every morning, and on Sundays, Mama made fried chicken. Carnikko enjoyed the fresh vegetables she helped plant—except green peas, which she refused to eat.

  “Eat yer peas, Punkin. They’ll make ya pretty,” Daddy said as Carnikko pushed the peas around on her plate. “You’ll be the prettiest girl in first grade this year.”

  “Peas will make me pretty?” Carnikko asked in surprise. She held her nose, swallowed several peas, and felt herself getting prettier with each bite. “I’m gonna be the prettiest girl in the whole wide world!” she announced.

  Living in the country was wonderful in many ways, but there were two things the children were forbidden to do. They couldn’t go into the woods behind the house because Canoe Creek was close by, and they couldn’t go into the attic because the people who owned the house had stored some of their personal items there.

  For two years, Carnikko wasn’t concerned about what was in the attic. Then her curiosity got the best of her as she thought about how exciting it would be to find a pot of gold or some dark secrets about the people who owned the house. She’d heard grownups talking about secrets hiding in closets and she figured that an attic would be an even better place to hide them.

  She stood in the kitchen and listened, her eyes darting around the room. Mama was rocking Evan. Don and Lee were playing with a yo-yo in the backyard. Daddy was on the back porch, humming, which meant he was lost in his own world and wasn’t concerned about what she might be doing.

  She eyed the door to the attic, which was next to the wood burning stove. She dragged a chair over to the door, climbed up, and unhooked the latch. Then she pulled open the door, eyed the ladder attached to the side of the wall, and stepped onto the first rung.

  Just as she was lifting her leg for the second rung, she heard Daddy yell, “Carnikko! Where do ya think yer goin'?”

  “I—I—just—” Carnikko stammered.

  “Ya were gonna climb up into the attic, wasn’t ya?” Daddy said firmly, but with a sly smile on his face. “But ya know better than that.” Then he looked at his daughter’s face and whispered, “I’ll tell ya what. If ya wanna go up there, go on—but don’t tell yer mama I saw ya, okay?”

  Carnikko’s eyes widened as she said, “Really, Daddy? I can go?”

  “Yeah, but before ya go all the way, I better warn ya about who lives up there,” Daddy said ominously.

  “What?” Carnikko asked, turning to look at her daddy. “Somebody lives up there?”

  Daddy’s voice was low and his tone was deadly serious. “Bloody Bones lives up there—and he hates little children. If you’re not careful, he’ll grab ya and shake ya by the shoulders till yer eyeballs fall out.”

  Carnikko looked at her daddy for a long moment, but his expression never changed. Then she looked back up toward the opening to the attic, as if weighing the danger.

  Finally, she jumped off the ladder, pushed the door shut and said, “Lock it, Daddy!” She could see an image of Bloody Bones in her mind. He was a big skeleton, blood dripping down his long arms—arms that were reaching out to grab her. Then she saw a terrifying image of her eyeballs bouncing down the ladder and rolling across the floor like marbles.

  Her voice shaking, Carnikko said, “I’ll never open the door again! I don’t want Bloody Bones to get out!” As she headed out of the kitchen, she turned and looked back at Daddy when she heard him laughing. “You ain’t funny, Daddy. You just made that up!”

  Daddy continued laughing. “Maybe I did and maybe I didn’t. Do you wanna push ya luck?”

  Carnikko was still unnerved by the thought of her eyeballs falling out and she decided she wasn’t going to push her luck and venture into the attic, just in case Daddy was telling the truth.

  When she reached the middle room, she saw that Evan was down for a nap and Mama was sitting at the Singer, feeding material through the presser foot as the needle went up and down while she pumped the foot pedal. Mama saved cotton chickenfeed sacks that had pretty prints on them and when she had enough material, she’d make Carnikko several dresses. Grandma also mailed them flour sacks with pretty prints on them.

  Carnikko picked up a pattern slip, gazed at the picture, and asked, “Is my dress gonna look like this?”

  “Oh, I’m going
make it prettier than the picture,” Mama said, raising the presser foot and lifting the material. She held the dress up for Carnikko to see. “I’m going to trim it with rickrack and make a wide sash that can be tied in a big bow in the back. Do you like it?”

  Carnikko took the dress and held it in front of her. “Oh, Mama! I’ll be the prettiest girl in first grade for sure!” she said as Mama helped her slip on the dress. With eyes closed, Carnikko stretched her arms out wide and turned in happy circles. “I’m a princess! I can’t wait for school to start!”

  On September 3rd, Carnikko stood at the window with Mama, waiting for the big yellow school bus. She was wearing one of her new print dresses—the one with pink flowers and bright green leaves against a white background. It had puffed sleeves, white rickrack from the shoulders to the waist, and a wide sash tied in the back.

  Rachel had pinned a pink bow into Carnikko’s chestnut-brown curls, and she thought she was beautiful, although she was quite upset about having to wear a pair of hand-me-down black Buster Brown oxfords from Cousin Alice.

  A few minutes later, Mama said, “Okay, kids, here comes the bus. Don, I want you to make sure you take Carnikko all the way to her classroom—and watch out for her.”

  While Mama held the door open, Don and Carnikko ran under her arm, across the yard, and down the hill. As the bus rolled to a stop, Carnikko pushed Don aside. Even though he was older, today she was determined to be the star.

  When they arrived at school, Don took Carnikko’s hand and led her to the first grade classroom. “This is yer room. I’ll be in the third grade room, two doors down,” he said haughtily, knowing he had seniority on Miss Prissy Pot, as he liked to call his little sister.

  Carnikko entered the classroom and she recognized some of the other students from Sunday school. As she scanned the room, her eyes fell upon the most beautiful woman she’d ever seen. She was wearing a shiny red dress, red earbobs, and a matching necklace. She wore red high-heeled shoes and her nylons had a seam up the back. She smelled like lilacs.

  Standing in front of a desk at the front of the classroom, the woman smiled and said, “Good morning! My name is Miss Sue. Please sit at any desk you’d like.”

  “Good mornin', Miss Sue,” Carnikko said, suddenly feeling very shy.

  When everyone was seated, Miss Sue said, “Welcome to first grade, children. Now I’d like each of you to stand and tell everyone in the class your name, beginning with the front row.”

  Miss Sue pointed to the first student to her right, and a boy immediately stood and introduced himself. Carnikko was seated in the second row, and was the eighth student to stand. She smiled as she stood and said, “My name is Carnikko.”

  She was surprised to hear snickers at the sound of her name. Then a boy near the back of the room said, “Carnikko, Carnikko—you look like a mosquito!”

  Another girl said, “That’s a stupid name!”

  Carnikko felt her cheeks flush as more giggles erupted around the room.

  Miss Sue clapped her hands loudly and snapped, “Students! That’s enough! It’s not nice to laugh at someone. I think Carnikko is a beautiful name.”

  The room fell silent. Carnikko sat down, slumped in her desk, and wished she could become invisible as the introductions continued.

  An hour later, a bell rang and Miss Sue said, “Okay, children, it’s time for recess. Please line up, single file, and we’ll go out to the playground. Use the toilet before the bell rings, then come back inside and sit in the same place you are now.”

  Carnikko was anxious to play on the merry-go-round as she followed the line through the door and out to the playground. As she stood waiting for the merry-go-round to stop so she could jump on, two girls walked over and stood next to her.

  The first girl laughed, pointed a finger, and said, “Where’d ya get that dress—from a hog feed bag?”

  The second girl pointed at Carnikko’s feet. “Yeah, and look at them ugly shoes. Don’t you got no shoe polish?”

  “Ragamuffin!” the first girl yelled over her shoulder as the two girls turned and ran away, laughing loudly.

  Carnikko looked at the other girls on the playground. Her dress was as pretty as any of theirs, but since it was made from a feed sack, maybe that made it look ugly to the other girls somehow. Then she looked down at her shoes, and even she thought they were butt-ugly—but they were the only shoes she had. She wished she had some patent leather shoes, but Mama had told her they didn’t have enough money to buy a pair and that she should be grateful to have any shoes at all.

  Her eyes filling with tears, Carnikko watched as the two girls slid down the sliding board. What was a ragamuffin? And why had those girls been so mean to her on her first day?

  At lunchtime, Carnikko noticed that most of the students were carrying lunch pails with pictures of comic characters or radio stars on the sides. Other students bought lunches at school, but they sat at a different table.

  Mama had fried an egg, put it on a biscuit, and packed it in a brown paper bag for Carnikko. At the table where she was sitting, she noticed that even the lunch pail kids didn’t sit with the brown baggers such as her.

  Again, tears filled her eyes as she ate her egg-and-biscuit sandwich in silence. Her mouth was dry and she almost choked on the last bite. She hurried back to the classroom ahead of the rest of the class, wishing that she never had to come back to school. She hated everything about it. She sat at her desk and couldn’t even look the other students in the eye as they returned to the classroom.

  That afternoon as the bus stopped in front of the Randall house, Don jumped off first, running toward the house, yelling, “Bet ya can’t catch me!”

  Carnikko was in no mood to chase her brother. She slogged up the hill, her head down, and when she saw Mama waiting on the porch, she ran to her and began to sob, “Mama, please don’t make me go back to school. I hate it!”

  “What’s the matter, honey?” Mama asked, kneeling down and stroking Carnikko’s hair.

  “The kids laughed at my name, they called me a mosquito, they made fun of my dress and my shoes—and called me a ragamuffin,” Carnikko managed to say between sobs. “I hate ꞌem! I hate every single one of ꞌem!”

  Mama took Carnikko’s hand and led her to the swing. “Sit here, honey.” Standing in front of her daughter, she said, “Carnikko, you’ve been going to Sunday school ever since you were a year old—and you’ve been taught never to hate anybody. You know you’re supposed to forgive and pray for the people who treat you mean.”

  “But, Mama,” Carnikko protested.

  Mama interrupted, “Honey, those mean kids will find somebody else to pick on tomorrow. They just chose you today because you’re new.”

  Carnikko looked deep into Mama’s eyes and said, “I know what my Sunday school teachers say, but they don’t know what it’s like at that school. Daddy says all that church stuff is horse-shit! And he’s right!”

  Mama gasped, “Carnikko! I can’t believe you said that! What am I going to do with you? You’re too much like your daddy.” She stormed away, went inside the house, and left Carnikko alone on the swing.

  “Yeah, I’m like Daddy, alright,” Carnikko mumbled, “and Daddy says that anybody who thinks they’re better than us is a jackass jerk.” Fresh tears rolled as she closed her eyes and concentrated with all her might, saying again and again, “Purple Angel, give me wings. Please, give me wings,”

  Suddenly, Purple Angel fluttered across her eyeballs, and she could feel her wings begin to sprout. A moment later, she was airborne, soaring with the birds, high in the sky.

  It was only when she landed that she noticed that she was naked and barefoot—completely free! She waded into the brook and happily splashed in the water for a few minutes. Then she climbed up the bank and found herself standing in a meadow. As she looked around, she saw a tree that was adorned with beautiful dresses made of satin, silk, lace, ruffles, and bows.

  She plucked a red satin dress from the tree, pulle
d it over her head, and began to twirl. When she stopped, she saw another tree—this one was covered with shoes of every description. There were patent leather shoes with high heels and dozens of other styles—so many styles that she was sure she could find a pair of shoes to match every one of the dresses on the dress tree.

  Purple was her favorite color, but since she was wearing a red dress, she plucked a pair of red shoes from the tree. In that dress and those shoes, she would look as beautiful as Miss Sue. She walked back to the brook and looked at her reflection—and she saw that she was beautiful!

  Euphoria spread through her soul at that moment, but her reverie was interrupted by the sound of the old Model T, its busted tailpipe rumbling as the car struggle up the hill.

  “Uh-oh, I gotta go,” Carnikko said—and instantly she was back on the swing. She watched as Daddy reached under the front seat, grabbed a brown bag, then stepped from the car, and started walking wearily toward the house.

  Daddy walked up the steps and looked toward the swing, saw her tear-streaked face, and started toward her. “What’s wrong, Punkin?” he asked as he sat beside her.

  She again told her tale of woe, and as she talked, Daddy’s jaw muscles tightened. He took the pint from the bag, uncapped it, and took a large swig. Then he reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out a cigarette and a Zippo lighter, but after flipping it three times with his thumb, it still wouldn’t catch fire.

  “Gawddang thing is outta flint again,” he said, slamming the Zippo back into his shirt pocket. He reached into his pant pocket and pulled out a book of matches. He struck the match, lit the cigarette, and held the match for Carnikko to blow out. The cigarette dangling from his mouth, he lifted his daughter from the swing and held her in his lap.

  “Punkin, I want ya to listen to me, and listen good,” he said. “Always hold yer head up high, and don’t let nobody try to make ya feel ashamed of who ya are, where ya live, how ya dress, or what ya have to eat!”