I didn’t have to ask what Drucker needed to think about. Just like everybody else in Shady Creek, I knew his parents were getting a divorce.
Drucker’s rock bounced off the water six times before it sank. He picked up another rock and handed it to me. “Here, you try it.”
My rock sank on the first try. Drucker stepped behind me and took my arm. He moved it back and forth. “You need a twenty-degree angle between the stone and water,” he said.
I looked up at him. “Are you telling me there’s a science to this?”
“There sure is,” Drucker said, “and according to the Guinness Book, the record is fifty-one skips.”
“How is that possible?”
“Beats the heck out of me,” Drucker answered. “My personal best is ten skips.” He let go of my arm and picked up some more rocks.
“My dad says you’re the quarterback for the Shady Creek Cougars.”
“Yeah, we should be pretty good this year. We picked up a star running back from the colored school.”
Integration was everywhere, or so it seemed. “How’s that working out? Having blacks and whites on the same team.”
“Hard at first. We had a fight, but Coach broke it up.”
“Did anybody get hurt?”
“Nah, a couple bloody noses is all. We’re doing better now.”
Drucker went back to skipping stones. I thought maybe he’d rather be by himself, since he quit talking to me. Anyway, I couldn’t write with him standing so close by. It would be too weird. I picked up my journal from the ground. “I should get going.”
Drucker threw another rock. “If you decide to trespass again, bring brownies. Your dad said you’re a good cook.”
I ducked my head. It sounded like Dad had been bragging about me. I wondered what else he had told Drucker. It was awful embarrassing!
I leaned back against my bed and wrote July 20, 1969, in my journal. It was a special day. If everything went according to plan, Neil Armstrong and Buzz Aldrin would be the first men to ever step foot on the moon. The moon walk was even gonna be on television. I figured, like me, Ruby was planning to watch it. Nearly everybody was.
I had tried writing to Ruby about ten times, but I had never finished. I wasn’t sure how to ask forgiveness for the unforgivable. Today would be the day though. My mind was made up about it.
Dear Ruby,
I’m lonely since we stopped being friends. The farm is not nearly as much fun without you. If I had a magic eraser, first I’d erase Robin’s accident, and then I’d erase our fight. I’d especially erase the mean name I called you. I know you’ll never forget what I said, but is there any way you could ever forgive me for it? I am really, really sorry.
Your ex-best friend,
Sarah Beth Willis
After I put the letter in the mailbox, I felt a whole lot better. It was like I’d been holding my breath underwater and could finally breathe. Ruby might never forgive me, but at least I was trying to make things right. If I didn’t hear from her in a couple of weeks, I’d write to her again.
On my way back from the mailbox, I heard Mama calling my name. I hurried to the kitchen to see what she wanted. “I could use some help getting ready for Cathy’s visit,” Mama said.
Since Cathy was going away to college, she was bringing Scruffy to live with us on the farm. Robin and I were excited to finally have a dog of our own.
I set the table and filled water glasses while Mama made coleslaw for supper. “Cathy’s late,” Mama said. “I hope she didn’t miss the turnoff.”
“We need a sign to mark the turnoff. Grandpa said he’s gonna paint one, but …”
Mama laughed. “I love your grandpa, but he’s a big procrastinator. I won’t hold my breath while he gets around to it.”
Dad carried in a platter of hamburgers, hot off the grill. “Cathy is headed up the driveway,” he said.
A few minutes later, Cathy hurried in, carrying Scruffy in one arm and a Samsonite overnight bag in the other. “Sorry I’m late. I think I turned beside the wrong cornfield.” Cathy put Scruffy down, and he ran to find Robin. “Thanks for inviting me. It’s too quiet without all of you next door. The couple that bought your old house doesn’t have any kids.”
I walked over to the window between the kitchen and den, and stared outside. The new owners had probably painted the lavender library a different color. I felt sick about my old room belonging to someone else.
In the den, Robin threw a plastic bone to Scruffy. Thud … thud … thud. He ran to fetch it, and then stood on his hind legs so she could take it from his mouth.
“I’m glad he’s gonna live with us,” she said. “He’s a smart little dog.”
Mama pulled a chair beside Robin’s cot and cut up her hamburger with a fork. Cathy and I sat cross-legged on the floor to keep them company.
Cathy’s eyes got misty every time she looked at Scruffy. It must be hard to go away to college, like our move to the farm.
“I’d like to propose a change in plans,” Mama said. “How about we share Scruffy? He can live with us while Cathy’s away, and with her when she’s home for breaks.”
Cathy pressed her hand to her heart. “Could we do it that way, please?”
Robin and I agreed that would work just fine.
I carried my empty plate to the kitchen and helped Mama and Cathy with the cleanup. By the time we finished, Robin had fallen asleep.
“I’m glad she’s napping,” Mama said. “Otherwise she’d never stay up long enough to watch the moon walk.”
Cathy and I decided to play checkers until it was time for it to start. She won the first match, and I double jumped with one of my kings to take the second one.
Robin woke from her nap screaming. “Help me,” she cried. “It itches so bad inside my cast!”
She itched nearly every day, but this time seemed much worse. I ran over and knelt beside her bed. “Where does it itch?”
“My back,” she cried. “Take the cast off!”
We had to help her! “What about a coat hanger?” I asked Dad. “You could straighten one out like when we roast marshmallows. That would be skinny enough to reach inside.”
Dad shook his head. “The doctors said not to put anything inside her cast. We can’t risk injuring her because there’s no way to treat it.”
“What about my fingers?”
“That just might work,” Mama said. “Sarah’s hands are tiny. I’ve always said she should be a piano player with those long, skinny fingers.”
Dad bent down and talked to Robin. “I’m gonna turn you on your side. Don’t worry. I won’t drop you. Sarah is gonna be very gentle and slip her fingers inside your cast. She’ll give your back a good scratching.”
I slid my fingers underneath the top of the cast. I moved them up and down, up and down, like a yo-yo. Then I scratched the other side.
Robin finally stopped fidgeting. “It’s all better now,” she said.
I pulled my fingers out, and Dad placed Robin on her back. “Hang in there,” he said. “It won’t be much longer now. Hopefully, they’ll take your cast off in a couple of weeks.”
Mama and Dad moved over to the couch. He put his arm around her, and she leaned her head on his shoulder. We were all miserable.
“Don’t look so sad,” Cathy whispered to me. “She won’t have to wear the cast much longer. How about some popcorn? We can munch on it during the moon walk.”
We dimmed the lights, poured Cokes, and made popcorn. It was a lot like watching a movie.
Robin yawned. It was almost eleven. Way past her bedtime. “I bet this won’t be as good as Gunsmoke,” she said.
“Sssh,” I whispered. “We don’t want to miss anything.”
“I’m going to step off the LM now,” Mr. Armstrong said. He wore a white, bulky suit with a helmet and touched the moon’s surface. The dust was almost like powder. “That’s one small step for a man, one giant leap for mankind,” he said.
Dad whistled loudly, and
the rest of us clapped. “Boy, that’s something,” Dad said. “Those men are all the way to the moon, and we can hear them right here in our living room!”
Mama kept sewing snaps on another pair of shorts for Robin. “I had my doubts, but it seems they’ve pulled it off.”
The astronauts planted an American flag on the moon. I felt patriotic, like when I watched fireworks on the Fourth of July or heard the national anthem playing.
“Do you think ponies and dogs will ever walk on the moon?” Robin asked.
Cathy shook her head. “Nah, I don’t think animals would like being inside those padded suits.”
Robin crossed her arms. “The suits are better than my cast. The astronauts can still walk and jump.”
I bit my fingernail clear down to the quick. I wanted Robin to walk and jump so much I could barely breathe. It was hard to believe that Buzz Aldrin and Neil Armstrong could walk on the moon, but Robin couldn’t take a single step on Earth. It didn’t seem fair.
Robin pitched a fit when Mama put their suitcases by the front door. “I don’t want to go back to the hospital,” she yelled. “I hate it there!”
“It won’t be like last time,” Mama promised. “You’ll only be in the hospital for a week of physical therapy.”
Scruffy started howling along with Robin. I scooped him into my arms and knelt beside her cot. “I wish you didn’t have to go, but you can’t ride Surelick until they take the cast off.”
Robin grabbed my free hand. “They’re gonna saw it off. What if they cut me in two?”
I looked up at Mama. “How do they get her out of the cast? It won’t hurt, will it?”
Mama made a time-out sign with her hands. “Girls, stop and listen. It’s a special kind of saw that doesn’t cut skin.”
Robin’s eyes darted between Mama and me. She squeezed my hand. “I tell you what,” Mama said. “I’ll have the doctor show you how the saw works. I won’t let him start until you’re completely comfortable with it. I promise.”
“Cross your heart?” Robin asked.
Mama made a big X sign across her chest. “Cross my heart,” she said.
After Dad loaded the suitcases, I held the screen door open for him and Grandpa to carry Robin to the car.
“Take care of Scruffy and Surelick,” she said.
“I will. Don’t worry.”
Mama put her arm around my shoulders. “I’m sorry to leave you again, but your grandparents will take good care of you. Remind your granny about the Back-to-School Ice-Cream Social on Thursday.”
I said okay, but just thinking about a new school made my arms and legs itch.
Dad tooted the horn, and Mama hurried down the steps. As the car pulled away, Grandpa was the only one waving. I jammed my hands in my pockets. What if the doctors couldn’t fix Robin’s leg? What would happen to my family then?
After supper at Granny and Grandpa’s, I paced around the den. I was tired of worrying about Robin and bored without Ruby Lee. There was nobody to push me on the swing, or wade in the creek with.
“Walk outside with me,” Granny said. “I could use some help watering the hydrangeas.”
I followed Granny outside and filled up the watering cans with the garden hose.
“You’re awful quiet,” she said. “Are you worried about going to a new school?”
“Maybe a little bit.”
“No need to be nervous. You already have friends.”
I scuffed my sandal in the dirt. “I’ve been wondering about that. I know it’ll be hard, but maybe I should make up with Ruby Lee.”
Granny bent over and turned off the spigot. “Course you should make up with Ruby, but remember what me and Miss Irene told you about school. Times are changing, and we don’t need trouble.”
“I think times are barely changing.”
“It seems that way because you’re young,” Granny said. She walked over by the front porch and pulled some dead leaves off one of the hydrangea bushes. “Time passes much faster when you get old. To Miss Irene and me it’s a miracle that blacks and whites will be going to the same school. We never expected to see such as that.”
I emptied the rest of my watering can on the last blue-flowered bush. “I miss Ruby. I wrote her a letter, but I don’t know if she’ll read it.”
Granny squinted off into the distance. “I’ve been friends with Miss Irene nearly sixty years. If we were as stubborn as you and Ruby, no quilting or canning would ever get done.”
“Ruby’s as stubborn as an old mule.”
Granny laughed. “You’re just as stubborn as Ruby Lee. Why don’t you call her and get it over with? One of you has to make the next move.”
But the truth was, I was afraid to call Ruby. I needed the letter to soften her up first.
Back in the den, Grandpa snored in his brown reclining chair. His chin bobbed against his chest, and he sounded like a noisy freight train.
“We need a project to keep our hands busy,” Granny said. “If you’ll get my sewing basket from the corner shelf, we’ll make a surprise for Robin.”
Granny’s sewing basket was full of buttons and colored threads. I handed it to her, and she pulled a white pillowcase from the bottom. “How about sketching an outline of Surelick on here?”
I peered over Granny’s shoulder. “Sure, I can do that. But what are you gonna do with it?”
Granny searched through her basket and chose a dark-brown embroidery thread. “We’ll embroider around your sketch and make a special pillowcase for Robin. What do you think of this color?”
“No, not that one. It’s too dark.” I searched through the basket and picked a golden-brown thread.
“I believe you’re right,” Granny said. “The little fella is exactly the color of caramel candy.”
I moved to the kitchen table and spread out the pillowcase. I got a clear picture of Surelick in my mind. I drew him cantering through the pasture, because Robin loved to run. If she could just get well enough to ride, maybe everything would turn out okay.
When I finished drawing, I carried the pillowcase to the den and showed Granny.
“That’s darn near perfect,” she said.
I pulled up a stool and Granny asked me to thread the needle. “I have trouble seeing close up,” she said. “That’s what happens when you’re old as dirt.” Granny took tiny stitches, pushing the needle through the fabric and poking it back through from the other side.
“Robin will love this,” I said. “She wants a Western room.”
Granny looked up from her embroidery. “You girls share a room. What do you want?”
I wanted something I couldn’t have … the lavender library back. “I can’t have what I want. There’s no privacy when you share a room with your little sister.”
“Reckon not,” Granny said, “but we could sew up a nice quilt for your bed.” She looked over at Grandpa. “Bet he’ll have a crick in his neck from sleeping in that chair.”
I gave Grandpa a gentle shake on my way to bed. While I was putting on my flowered pajamas, the phone rang. I cracked the door open, just an inch, and listened to Granny.
“Don’t worry about Sarah,” she said. “We’re looking after her. How’s Robin?”
I put my ear closer to the door.
“I’m not surprised,” Granny said. “Physical therapy sounds like hard work. I hate she’s having so many problems. I really do.” Granny was quiet for a while, and then she said, “Charlie, don’t get discouraged. Robin will learn to walk again. The Bible says if you have faith the size of a mustard seed, you can move mountains.”
I climbed into bed. I whispered, “Please help Robin learn to walk again. Please.” I wondered about faith, mountains, and mustard seeds. I punched my pillow and flopped onto my back. I was still staring at the ceiling when the clock struck midnight. I wished I had Ruby to tell my troubles to. That would help a whole lot.
The next morning, Grandpa dropped me off at the library as soon as it opened. Mama and Dad were too busy wit
h Robin to answer my questions, and Granny was stuck in the past. She and Miss Irene didn’t want Ruby and me to be friends at school, but maybe they were wrong. Mrs. Brown, our librarian, had answered almost any question I’d ever had. She would tell me the truth.
I was the only customer except for Mr. Johnson, and since he was fast asleep, he didn’t really count. I marched up to the checkout desk. “Mrs. Brown, do you have time to answer some questions?”
“Of course I do. On what topic?”
“School integration.”
Mrs. Brown fiddled with the chain attached to her glasses. “Sarah Beth, you are always full of questions, but I didn’t anticipate this one.” She straightened her shift and smoothed the sides of her beehive hairdo. “For those with an inquisitive mind, there’s no such thing as a boring day in the library. Come with me.”
Mrs. Brown pulled a scrapbook from a locked file cabinet. We sat beside each other at one of the empty tables, and Mrs. Brown opened the book. “I’ve been saving newspaper and magazine articles about civil rights since Brown versus Board of Education back in ’54.”
I found out real quick that I’d been sheltered from most of the hatefulness. Mrs. Brown said, “In Arkansas, it took the National Guard to integrate Central High School.”
“Do you think that’ll happen in Shady Creek?”
She shook her head. “I don’t believe so. It’s been fifteen years since the Supreme Court ruled. We’ve watched all the violence unfold elsewhere, and the committee charged with school integration is working hard to avoid it. I’m on the committee, you know.”
Mrs. Brown started to close the scrapbook, but I grabbed her hand. “Who’s that?”
“Emmett Till,” she said, “but I won’t talk to you about him. One of your parents needs to accompany you to read about Emmett Till.”
That made me want to know about him even more.
Mrs. Brown put the scrapbook back in the file cabinet and locked it. “In Shady Creek, we have blacks and whites working together, priming tobacco and pulling corn. Attending the same school won’t be much different than that.”
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