The Skull of Truth

by Bruce Coville

  “I suspect that’s true of most things,” said Ms. Priest.

  “I think I liked it better when I didn’t know that,” said Charlie. “In fact, there’s a lot of things I’d rather I didn’t know.”

  “You mean like about Bennie?” she asked softly.

  “Definitely.”

  She smiled sadly. “For my part, I’m glad Bennie said what he did. I think it will make his life easier.”

  Charlie shrugged morosely.

  “Does it change things for you that much?”

  Charlie thought for a minute. He started to say, “Well, I can’t go places with Dave and Bennie anymore,” but the words, not being true, wouldn’t come out of his mouth. He frowned and tried again.

  “I won’t feel good going places with Dave and Bennie anymore.”

  “Why not?”

  “Well, what will people think?” he asked, as if he was talking to a moron.

  Ms. Priest raised an eyebrow. “What did people think that last time you went someplace with Bennie and Dave?”

  “I don’t know!” he said savagely. Then, seized by the need to speak the absolute truth, he added, “Nothing, probably. But this is different.”

  Well, that must be true. If only she wouldn’t ask—

  “Why?”

  Charlie sighed. “Because I feel different.”

  Ms. Priest nodded, seeming content to leave it there.

  “Don’t you want to know why?” asked Charlie suspiciously.

  “I think I can figure it out.”

  “And she’s going to let you figure out whether your reasons are any good or not,” added the skull.

  “Perhaps, Yorick, you should tend to your own business,” Ms. Priest said softly.

  “I’m not a businessman,” sniffed the skull. “I am an artiste.”

  “And where is it written that you can’t be both? Anyway, businessman or artiste, you still have to deal with whatever is heading your way.”

  “Do you have any idea what it is?” asked Yorick, suddenly serious.

  Ms. Priest shook her head. “I do not. Nor does the old man. All we know is that it is both strange and powerful.”

  Without intending to, Charlie made a small gasp.

  “We don’t think it’s after you, Charlie,” said Ms. Priest calmly. “Even so, I urge you to be wise, wary, and watchful. I have to go now. You can find me at the library if you need me.”

  “Wait!” said Charlie and Yorick together. But she shook her head and, without saying another word, stepped swiftly and silently out of the grove of trees.

  ELEVEN

  The Great Toad Fiasco

  Charlie watched her walk away, then shivered as he saw her step into a patch of mist from which she did not reappear.

  “Women,” said the skull.

  Charlie wasn’t sure what Yorick meant, but he figured it must be true. He thought for a second, then said, “Well, now what?”

  “Go back inside?” suggested Yorick.

  He shook his head. “Not yet.”

  “All right, then why don’t you tell me a story. To be more specific, why don’t you tell me the story about why you always tell stories. I figure there must be a reason.”

  “I don’t like to talk about it.”

  “Hey, I don’t like talking about some of the things that happened to me, but I showed them to you anyway. That’s what friends do. It’s part of how you get to know each other.”

  “Who said I want to be friends?”

  “Boy, no wonder you’re in trouble in school. If I had feet, I’d be outta here myself.”

  Charlie sighed. He had known it was a rotten thing to say even as the words were passing his lips. “Sorry.” Then, because he still felt guilty, he added, “Okay, I’ll tell you.”

  He took a deep breath.

  “My mother still calls it The Great Toad Fiasco. It happened back in second grade. Me and Gilbert and Mark Evans were pretty good friends that year.” Charlie paused. It had been so long since he’d thought about what happened back then that he had almost forgotten he used to be friends with Mark. “We hung out on the playground together, stayed over at each other’s houses. Stuff like that.”

  “Sounds nice,” said Yorick, and for a moment Charlie almost got the impression he was jealous.

  “So anyway, one day Gilbert found this big old toad on the playground. I mean really big, the kind that fills both your hands.”

  Charlie’s mind drifted back as he started to tell the story, so that he almost felt as if he were on the playground again, with the hot sun beating down on him, the shouts and shrieks going on all around, the toad heavy and dry in his hands.

  “While I was holding it, I suddenly remembered something. ‘My uncle Bennie told me if you put a toad’s head in your mouth and count to a hundred, you’ll be able to talk toad talk,’ I told the guys.

  “Gilbert said I was full of baloney. But Mark said, ‘No, Gil, it’s true. Toads are about the most magical animals there are.’

  “‘Fine,’ said Gilbert. ‘Then you put his head in your mouth.’

  “Mark shook his head. ‘It has to be the one who found him. That’s part of the magic.’

  “‘I didn’t know that,’ I said.”

  Charlie shook his own head at the memory. “I was so dumb back then! I thought it was cool that Mark knew about the toad-talk thing, since I had never heard it from anyone but Uncle Bennie before. I didn’t have enough brains to see he was just trying to get Gilbert to do it.”

  “I know the type,” said Yorick.

  “Anyway, Gilbert took the toad back and looked at him as if he was really thinking about doing it.

  “‘I hear they know amazing secrets,’ Mark whispered.

  “Before I knew it, Gilbert opened his mouth and stuck the toad in headfirst as far as it would go.”

  Yorick laughed. “Whatta yutz!”

  “Hey, we were only in second grade. Second graders will believe anything. Anyway, that was when the teacher showed up. She saw the toad’s butt sticking out of Gilbert’s mouth and shouted, ‘Gilbert Dawkins, you spit that out right this minute!’

  “Gilbert did. The toad came flying out. I caught it. I didn’t mean to, it was one of those reflex things. Its head was all covered with spit, and it felt disgusting, so I tossed it away.”

  “You tossed it away?”

  “Well, actually, I threw it to the teacher.” Charlie shuddered at the memory. “She was not amused. At least the toad was okay, except for being scared. And offended, maybe. When she put it down, it looked pretty cranky.”

  Yorick snickered. “Wouldn’t you, under those circumstances?”

  “I suppose. Anyway, if the toad was cranky, Mrs. Pitwing was even crankier. ‘Just what is going on here?’ she asked. Gilbert started to blubber. ‘Charlie told me if I put the toad in my mouth I would be able to talk toad talk!’

  “Mrs. Pitwing turned to me. ‘Charlie, is that true?’

  “I didn’t know if she was asking me if I really said it, or if it was really true about learning to talk toad talk. Remember, I was only in second grade. So I just nodded my head. ‘Mark said it. too,’ I added.

  “‘I did not!’ said Mark.

  “I couldn’t believe he was lying like that! ‘You did too!’

  “‘Did not!’

  “‘Liar!’ I shouted.

  “The teacher turned to Gilbert. ‘Did Mark say it, too?’

  “Gilbert looked at me. He looked at Mark. Then he shook his head. ‘Just Charlie,’ he whispered.”

  “Ouch!” said Yorick. “What a letdown. So what happened next?”

  “What do you think happened? I got in trouble. I got in trouble with the teacher. I got in trouble with my parents. I got in trouble with Gilbert’s parents. I even got in trouble with Mark’s parents, because they claimed I was trying to blame their precious baby for what I had done. Anyway, that was when I gave up on the truth. Bennie had lied to me, though he was just fooling around. Mark had lied abo
ut me. Even Gilbert lied. I was the only one who told the truth that day, and I was the only one who got in trouble.”

  “How come Gilbert lied, anyway?” asked Yorick.

  “I asked him about that a couple of weeks later, when I was finally talking to him again. He said Mark would have beat him up if he hadn’t. Which was probably true. Anyway, after that I noticed that Mrs. Pitwing never believed me, no matter what I said. So I figured, why bother, and started telling her lies. I started with little ones, things about what had happened to my homework, stuff like that. Then I started inventing things to make myself seem more important at school. Pretty soon I was inventing stories to get sympathy at home. After a while I got so used to lying that I didn’t even think about it. And you want to know something weird? At first almost everyone (except Mrs. Pitwing) believed me, because they were used to me telling the truth. Then they started to figure it out. These days no one believes me, even when I do tell the truth! So what’s truth got to do with anything, anyway?”

  “Don’t ask me,” said Yorick bitterly.

  “Anyway, I stopped being friends with Mark after that. I almost stopped being friends with Gilbert, but he was really sorry for lying about me, plus he pointed out that if I hadn’t told that stupid toad story to begin with, none of it would have happened. So I forgave him.”

  Charlie sighed. “We used to be really good friends. I wish I hadn’t hurt his feelings on Friday.” Suddenly he stood up. “I have to go do something.”

  “Hey!” shouted the skull. “Don’t leave me here.”

  Charlie hesitated for a moment. Then he picked up the skull, put it in the box, and walked back through the cemetery to his house.

  The company had left. From the sound of things, his parents were in the living room. Charlie slipped up the back stairs and returned the skull to his closet. Then he sat on the edge of his bed, trying to gather his courage for what he needed to do next.

  Yorick remained mercifully quiet.

  Though he knew what he wanted to do, Charlie’s mind kept racing in different directions. There was so much to think about: Gilbert, his grandmother, his mother’s previous marriage, Uncle Bennie’s revelation.

  He wondered how many more secrets his family had. Did every family have secrets like this, kept hidden and covered up, festering in the darkness? And was it better to keep them hidden—or to bring them out into the light?

  Well, for better or worse, a batch of the Eggleston secrets had been unearthed.

  Now the family had to live with them.

  Of course, the ones who’d had the secrets had been living with them all along. Charlie wondered what it had been like for Uncle Bennie to live hiding the fact that he loved someone, cared about someone, hiding it because he feared the family would scorn him if they found out.

  And how did he feel now that his secret had come to light?

  Curiosity and concern outweighing his nervousness, Charlie decided to go ask his parents about Bennie.

  And after that—well, he might talk to them about the other thing, too, the thing he needed to do to make things right with Gilbert.

  Or maybe not.

  He tiptoed as he went down the stairs, just in case he decided to change his mind at the last minute.

  The tiptoeing didn’t do him any good. His parents heard him coming, something he could tell by the way their voices dropped to whispers.

  He paused on the steps.

  “Charlie?” called his mother, after a moment.

  “Yeah?”

  “Come on down and talk to us.”

  Relieved, in a way, that the decision was made for him, he clumped down the stairs and into the living room.

  “How are you?” asked his father gently.

  He shrugged. He had expected them to be angry at him. But he suddenly realized that they had no way of knowing that the catastrophic dinner conversation had been all his fault.

  “Sorry about Gramma Ethel’s birthday,” he said softly.

  His father laughed. “Don’t worry about that, bucko. She said it was the most fun she’s had in years.”

  Charlie smiled. “She would say that. But how about Uncle Bennie? Is he mad at me?”

  Mrs. Eggleston shook her head. “Bennie wanted to stay to talk to you, but I told him to let it wait for a while. He did say to tell you good night.”

  Charlie looked at his mother and found himself trying to imagine her married to someone other than his father. He shook his head to drive away the idea and asked, “Is he all right?”

  She smiled. “It’s nice of you to ask, Charlie. Bennie is fine. In fact, he was mostly worried about you.”

  “I’m okay. I just don’t like it much, is all. And I don’t want anyone to know about it. I’ve got enough troubles as it is.”

  Mr. Eggleston spread his hands in front of him. They were thick with muscle from his work at the butcher shop. “Charlie, there’s not much you can do about it. Either the information gets around or it doesn’t. If it does, you’ll probably get some teasing. But not from your true friends.”

  True friends. How many true friends did he have?

  Well, one that he could think of. One that he had hurt very badly.

  Looking at his parents, he said, “I need your help.”

  “To do what?” asked his mother.

  “I want to shave my head.”

  Charlie’s mother looked at him in shock for a moment. Then she started to smile. “Why, sweetheart! What a perfectly wonderful idea!”

  “It is?” asked Mr. Eggleston in surprise.

  “It certainly is,” she said, and in her voice Charlie heard a kind of pride in him that he had almost forgotten.

  It took a little longer to convince Charlie’s father, but once he had heard the whole story and understood what his son was doing, he agreed. “Go for it, Charlie,” he said, as he often did. “After all, what’s the worst thing that could happen?”

  Charlie’s mother, on the other hand, despite her approval, asked three times, “Are you sure you want to go through with this?”

  Three times he answered that he was positive.

  That was before they went into the kitchen and actually started the cutting. When Charlie heard the buzz of the clippers he started to panic.

  When he felt their cold metal vibrating against the back of his neck he nearly jumped off the stool where he was sitting.

  And when he saw the first clump of his straight brown hair hit the floor, it was all he could do to keep from shouting, “Wait! I changed my mind!”

  Except he hadn’t, really. And even if he had, it would have been too late. He could already feel the wide stripe of bare skin growing on the back of his neck.

  Closing his eyes, Charlie tried to keep from trembling.

  The buzzing continued.

  “All done, champ!” said his father at last.

  Charlie slipped from the stool and went to stand in front of the bathroom mirror. Though he knew what to expect, the sight still shocked him. His head suddenly seemed enormous.

  What have I done? he thought in horror as he ran his hands over his shiny bare skin.

  Then he thought about Gilbert, and realized that at least he, Charlie, had chosen to look like this.

  Gilbert didn’t have a choice.

  Well, Karen can’t say I didn’t try, he told himself—knowing full well that didn’t mean she wasn’t going to laugh when she saw him.

  Suddenly he understood a little of how Gilbert must have felt the night before he returned to school.

  His mother came to stand behind him. Putting her hands on his shoulders, she met his eyes in the mirror.

  “I think you look very handsome,” she whispered.

  Charlie figured that must be the truth.

  He also figured he couldn’t count on most people to see him with the same eyes that his mother did.

  “Great bouncing billiard balls!” cried Yorick when Charlie returned to his room. “What happened to you?”

  “I
shaved off all my hair,” said Charlie. “Well, actually my parents shaved it off. But I asked them to.”

  “Ah. I take it you were so impressed with how incredibly handsome I look sans hair that you decided to try it yourself?”

  “Yeah, right. Now be quiet, would you? You’ve caused enough trouble for one day. I want to think.” It didn’t take long for him to give up on that idea. Between the family fiasco, the situation with Uncle Bennie, and his own new state of hairlessness, thinking was an exercise in pain and confusion. Finally he decided to call Gilbert and ask if they could walk to school together the next day.

  “I don’t walk now, Charlie,” said Gilbert, when his mom called him to the phone. “I’m not ready for that yet. But thanks for asking.”

  “Sure,” said Charlie. “No problem.” He was too startled to say more; he hadn’t realized Gilbert was so fragile.

  He was also frustrated. He had wanted to see Gilbert, show him what he had done, before they got to school. Somehow just telling him on the phone didn’t feel right.

  So he kept his mouth shut.

  “Holy mackerel!” said Tiffany, when Charlie sat down at the breakfast table the next morning. “What happened to you?”

  “Charlie’s a baldie!” squealed Mimi.

  “Charlie’s making a fashion statement,” said Mrs. Eggleston. “Leave him alone.” Then she winked at Charlie as she set a plate of pancakes in front of him.

  When his father offered to drive him to school, Charlie accepted gratefully. He put on a baseball cap and managed to dawdle enough before they left that by the time they got to the building most of the kids were already inside.

  “Good luck, champ,” said Mr. Eggleston, as Charlie climbed slowly out of the EGGLESTON’S MEAT MARKET van.

  “Thanks, Dad. I’ll need it.”

  Torn between feeling triumphantly virtuous and thinking he had finally done the most stupid thing in his entire long history of stupid mistakes, Charlie headed for the building.

  TWELVE

  The Bald Truth

  “Hats off in school,” said Mrs. Lincoln automatically, as Charlie came through the door.