Every Day After

by Laura Golden

  The words “Field Day” brought on hoots and hollers from the boys. The girls sat quietly, but I wasn’t fooled. Some of the girls were more competitive than the boys. Girls like me. And Erin.

  “Quiet down, please,” Miss Jones urged. The room fell silent. “Since this is the end of the year, both second- and third-place students will receive certificates of achievement, while first place will receive this blue ribbon.” Miss Jones held up the ribbon and the class answered with oohs and aahs. “All three winners will also have their names printed in the town paper’s “School News” column. I would like to congratulate all of you on a job well done. Now, we’ll begin with third place.”

  The last name in the world I wanted to hear was my own. Taking care of Mama was more important than school, but keeping my grades up was important to Daddy, and I didn’t want to let him down either.

  Miss Jones glanced down at the paper in her hands. I balled my fists. “Harold Watson.”

  I inhaled deeply, realizing I’d been holding my breath. The air rushed in and soothed me, until Erin tapped my shoulder. “You know I’m getting first place this time, Hawkins,” she whispered. “You remember who got extra credit and who didn’t. Guess you should’ve apologized to me after all.”

  I pretended not to hear her. I watched as Harold went to the front of the room to receive his certificate. He grinned, and Erin snickered behind me. Poor Harold. His teeth were so buck he could’ve eaten corn through a picket fence. He got it from his daddy. It must’ve been a sad thing to know that out of five kids, you were the only one to get stuck with teeth like that. Maybe his brains made up for it in some way, ’cause while the rest of the Watson kids didn’t have buck teeth, they didn’t have Harold’s brains either. You can always get teeth fixed, but Daddy always said if you ain’t got brains, you’re just headed up a creek with no paddle.

  Harold sat back down, and Miss Jones looked once again at her paper. “Second place goes to …”

  This was it. If I didn’t hear my name now, I’d know I’d made it to first. There was no way that one D and a B would send me all the way back to fourth place. I pictured Erin waiting just as intently as me for that first letter to come from Miss Jones’s mouth. Would it be “E” or “L”? I gripped my locket, praying for the “E.”

  Once again, God wasn’t listening.

  “Lizzie Hawkins.”

  My heart dropped like a dead duck. I didn’t want to stand up. Didn’t want to go up to the front of the room and pretend to be happy about second place. But I did. Daddy had always told me to be the best in everything I did, but Mama had taught me to never be a sore loser. I stood up. I walked up to the front of the room. I smiled about second place. I did it for Mama. I did it for her, even though my insides were twisted in all the wrong ways, because I knew exactly who’d gotten first.

  “Congratulations, Lizzie,” Erin whispered when I sat back down. “Now, you’d best congratulate me when I’m announced. It’s nice to think about all the people who’ll see my name printed above yours in the paper.”

  I held my locket. It was cold and hard in my palm. I squeezed it tighter. I’m sorry, Daddy. I’m sorry I let you down.

  Miss Jones’s voice broke my thoughts. “And now for first place. The student with the highest grade average is … Erin Sawyer.”

  Erin let out a squeal behind me. The shrillness pierced my eardrums. I would’ve been disappointed to lose to anybody. But losing to Erin was devastating.

  Since the beginning of 1931, all it’d done was pour rain in my life. First Ben’s pa died; then I failed the spelling bee last March; then Daddy lost his job in July. If that wasn’t enough, bratty old Erin had come at the start of the school year and Daddy had left before it even had the chance to end. Then a part of Mama left too. Now this. I was beginning to think the rain would never stop.

  Erin took her ribbon from Miss Jones and smiled. Her teeth, unlike Harold’s, were perfectly straight and white. I guess I noticed because it was the first time I’d actually seen her smile that big. Well, if the only time she wanted to smile was when she beat me, that smile was about to disappear. We still had Field Day races to run, and before the day was through, I’d have some blue ribbons of my own.

  “Let’s have one last round of applause for all our hardworking students,” Miss Jones said. The class erupted into rowdy claps and hollers. “And now,” Miss Jones yelled above the noise, “you’re dismissed to Field Day.”

  Kids bolted from the classroom and onto the field like ants pouring out of a stomped-on ant bed. Miss Jones and the other teachers began to organize the races. Field Day was the one day we all got to wear our regular clothes to school. Nobody, not even the most proper of teachers, expected us girls to high-jump or race in a dress.

  The school competed in sections: first through third grades, fourth through sixth grades, seventh and up. The only race that required boys and girls to run separately was the 100-yard dash.

  First up was the three-legged race. Ben had always been my partner before, and we’d won every year since third grade. All the other teams in our section were boy-boy or girl-girl. Even though I knew it was the combination of me and Ben together that helped us win every year—we were coordinated with each other and we both had a good sense of timing from so much fishing—I didn’t want to break the tradition of my girl-boy team.

  “You want to partner with me for the three-legged race?” I asked Charlie Martin. He was the tallest boy in our division, which meant he had long legs for covering a lot of ground. And he was fast. He always took the blue ribbon in the boys’ 100-yard dash.

  “Sure, Lizzie,” he said. “Maybe then I’ll have a chance to win it this year.”

  “Thanks, Charlie,” I said. “I just can’t see running it with a girl.”

  He laughed, and we bent down to tie the rope around our legs. “I can’t see you runnin’ it with a girl either.”

  We stood and hobbled to the line. Hobbling up to our right was Erin. She’d partnered up with Sheriff Dawson’s daughter Eliza. She was two grades below us, and I figured Erin was trying to cozy up to her so it’d be easy for her to hold Sheriff Dawson over my head too, just like she did Dr. Heimler.

  Erin glared at me and I glared right back. Poor Eliza Dawson didn’t realize who she’d agreed to get tied up with. The grades might’ve gone to Erin, but the races would be mine.

  “On your mark,” Miss Jones called out.

  Six pairs standing at the starting line wrapped their arms around each other.

  “Get set.”

  Six pairs leaned forward, waiting for the word.…

  “Go!”

  Charlie and I took off. Our legs glided over the ground in long, smooth strides. The pair to our left got tangled up and hit the dirt. Erin and Eliza were still to our right.

  “Go faster, Charlie!” I yelled, though my legs were already struggling to keep up with his.

  And faster he went. I’d never run that fast with Ben. My legs near buckled beneath me. The finish line was only another ten yards away. I had to hold on. I shifted some of my weight onto Charlie’s shoulders, and for a second it felt as if he were carrying me. The finish line moved closer. The two figures to our right fell behind ever so slightly.

  The finish line flashed under our feet.

  We came to a stop and turned just in time to see Erin and Eliza cross the line. They’d fallen all the way back to third place.

  Miss Jones clapped. “I believe that was the best race I’ve seen yet!”

  Charlie offered his hand and I shook it. He was grinning from ear to ear. “Ben or no Ben, I’m runnin’ with you again next year.”

  Erin stomped up to Charlie. “No wonder you won. You practically carried her across the line.” She flipped her braids and walked off.

  Miss Jones handed me and Charlie our blue ribbons, and we pinned them to our shirts. “You’d better hurry, Lizzie,” she said. “They’re lining up for the girls’ hundred-yard dash. As fast as you were with one leg
tied to Charlie, I’m sure you’ll be even faster with both legs free.”

  I smiled. “Yes, ma’am. I hope so.”

  There were seven other girls lined up with me, including Erin.

  “You won’t win this one, Hawkins,” she snapped. “You don’t have ol’ Charlie-boy to carry you down the field.”

  “Why don’t you just worry about running the race and not your mouth?”

  She hushed up and got into her running position. I did the same.

  The next thing I knew, Miss Jones yelled, “Go!”

  And go I did.

  Right past Erin. Right past everybody.

  Miss Jones had said it. I could run fast with Charlie, but I could run even faster by myself. Erin didn’t stand a chance. I pictured her far behind me, the dust I was kicking up blowing right in her face. The finish line was coming up fast.

  “Come on, Lizzie!” I heard Charlie call from the sideline.

  The wind blew into my face, and I smiled. I was beating Erin bad. She was too far behind to catch up now. I wanted to look back just to be sure.

  I don’t know if Mama has any proverbs about looking behind you in the middle of a race, but it ain’t really such a good idea. I never got a peek at Erin. My foot hit a hole, and without Charlie there to lean on, my legs went flying out from under me. All I got to see was the grass heading straight for my face.

  I heard the pounding of Erin’s feet as she ran past me. I looked up and saw her bony body crossing the finish line. I put my forehead to the ground and lay there.

  “Lizzie, are you all right?” Miss Jones reached to help me up.

  “Yes, ma’am. I’m fine.” But I wasn’t fine. My knees and palms burned like they’d been set on fire, and I’d bitten my tongue. It hurt bad, but I didn’t taste blood.

  “Bless your heart,” she said. “You were doing just fine till you hit that hole.”

  I nodded, then watched Miss Jones give Erin the blue ribbon that should’ve been—could’ve been—mine. Like always when I’d done something stupid, Mama’s voice echoed through my head: “A haughty spirit goeth before a fall.”

  And a fall I’d had. If only I’d heard that voice a few seconds sooner.

  I didn’t hang around much longer after that. I left with my one battered blue ribbon—one blue ribbon that should’ve been two—and my second-place certificate. Erin must’ve seen me leaving, because I hadn’t yet made it past Mr. Watson’s honeysuckle-covered fence when she ran up behind me on the road. “You know, watching you bite the dust was just about the best thing I’ve seen since I came here. Might even top seeing Myra Robinson wet her drawers. And falling to the ground doesn’t seem to be the only way you fall. You’re pretty good at falling in grades too. I sure do wish Ben could’ve seen it.”

  I stopped dead in my tracks and whirled around. Her words fueled the flame of anger within me, the same flame that’d sparked the day I saw her traipsing around with Ben. Words—burning, blistering words—boiled up from that flame. But I couldn’t let them escape, no matter how badly I wanted to scream at her about Ben, about Mama and Dr. Heimler, about her selfish ways. Once I did, she’d have the upper hand. She’d know she’d managed to get to me, and then her never-ending threats truly never would end. And I had Mama to think about.

  I breathed in. I let myself utter two words. Two tiny words that held more weight than a million. “You win.”

  You know how people are always saying “like mother, like daughter” or “like father, like son”? Well, at that moment I was “like mother,” because just like Mama had been shocked by Mrs. Sawyer’s reply outside the church, I was shocked by Erin’s now.

  She reached out her hand and placed it on my shoulder. She cooed, as sweetly as if she were talking to a baby, “No, Lizzie. You’re wrong. I haven’t won. Not yet. I’ve learned a lot about you since I’ve been here, but the most important thing I’ve learned is this: you might fall, but you always find a way to get back up.”

  My mouth might as well have been stitched shut. I didn’t know what to say to her. I thought she was apologizing. I was wrong. Dead wrong.

  “It seems to me,” she went on, “that if I want to keep my top spot around here, I’d do best to get rid of you once and for all. I’ve finally bested you, Lizzie Hawkins. I’ve got your best friend, I’ve got top grades, and I plan on keeping it that way.”

  For once in my life I didn’t have anything to say. The flame inside me erupted into a full-blown fire, but all that smoke muddled my thinking. I just stood there. Stood there and stared.

  Erin started to walk away, but she stopped short and turned back. “So have you figured out how I always know the very things you don’t want me to know? Well, I’ll tell you: Ben. He tells me everything. I know it all, and it’s only a matter of time before the whole town does too.” Then she was gone.

  I stood there wondering if my best friend was purposely betraying me to my worst enemy. I didn’t want to believe it. But how could I not? Ben did like rattlesnakes. And how could Erin be so sure of getting rid of me? She wasn’t just sure, she was downright haughty.

  Well, I knew three things for certain: First, I couldn’t stand around in the middle of the road worrying about Erin; I needed to tend to Mama. Second, I had some mending to deliver to Mrs. Martin, and Erin or no Erin, delivered it was gonna be. And third, there was another part to Mama’s proverb: “Pride goeth before destruction, and a haughty spirit before a fall.” A haughty spirit was me. I got it. And I’d taken my fall. But if I were Erin, I’d stop being so all-fired prideful before I got flat-out destroyed.

  Twelve

  Banks Lend Umbrellas When the Sun Is Shining and Ask for Them Back When It Starts to Rain

  Dr. Heimler showed up again the next day. I figured he must’ve designated Saturdays his “Check on Rose Hawkins Day.” While I still pretended not to be home, his arrival didn’t give me such a panic this time. It was earlier in the morning than last time, and I hadn’t yet gone outside to work on the wash. This time I knew he hadn’t seen me, ’cause I was already inside. I’d also decided ahead of time not to let Mama sit on the back porch, just in case. I’d decided right. She was sitting peacefully in her chair, and the last time I checked, a wingback chair doesn’t rock. Dr. Heimler knocked a couple of times before getting in his car and driving away. Later, when I went out to sweep the front porch, a piece of paper fell from the door. It read:

  Mrs. Hawkins,

  I’ve dropped by the last two Saturdays to check on you. If you’ll send Lizzie to get me at your earliest convenience, I’ll be sure to come right away. We seem to be missing each other.

  Sincerely,

  Dr. Heimler

  But Dr. Heimler wasn’t the only unwanted visitor that kept stopping by. There was one even worse. The one who’d started all this mess in the first place. Since school had let out, Erin didn’t seem to have anything better to do but come by and bother me. She wouldn’t come up to me; she’d just stand there, hovering at the end of our drive. I looked around at all I had to do—laundry, cooking, cleaning, tending to Mama—and I thought how she needed to get her cotton-pickin’ self on home and tend to her own business and stop standing around my drive trying to stick her curled-up nose into mine. She’d gotten the final word the last day of school. Guess that wasn’t good enough.

  Her hateful glare might’ve driven a lesser person inside, but not me. She could pout and stare till her eyes popped out if she wanted. I wasn’t about to let her know she bothered me one little bit. I’d pull a handful of pesky weeds from the vegetable garden or sweep the front porch, and I took my sweet time doing it. This was my house, and I wasn’t going inside till I was good and ready. She must’ve been nearly as determined as me, ’cause she’d usually stay there for the better part of half an hour before giving up and stomping off.

  I’d claim small victories in waiting her out, but I couldn’t escape the nagging feeling that things were about to get worse. Much worse. I tried to sweep the worries into the back
corner of my brain, but they refused to disappear. Fact was fact—Erin wasn’t gonna give up till she got what she wanted. And what she wanted was to get rid of me.

  When Tuesday morning came, it promised a bluebird day. Since it wasn’t Saturday and I planned to be home most of the day, I let Mama sit on the back porch. I helped her into her rocker, and she began her forward and back rhythm. She leaned her head back and closed her eyes. The fresh air would be good for her. She hadn’t been out in days—not on the days school was still in, not on Saturday because of Dr. Heimler, and not Sunday or Monday because it’d rained. I laid her book in her lap and went to the front porch to await Erin’s arrival.

  It’d been four days since school ended, and Erin still hadn’t tired of her harassing ways. I had. I was bound and determined that the next time she showed her scowling face at the end of my drive was gonna be her last. I was gonna jerk a knot in her tail.

  I didn’t get the chance, because a new unwanted visitor pulled into the drive. This one was just as bad as, if not worse than, the other two. No regular car had a star symbol on the passenger door. And no regular car had a single red light mounted on the bumper. What if he’d heard about me and Mama and was coming to take me away?

  I couldn’t hide. I was already out for the world to see. And I couldn’t run. Running makes you look guilty, and I couldn’t leave Mama here by herself. He’d find her for sure when he was looking around for me.

  I decided to act as calm as possible and walk right up to his car. He might’ve been as big as all outdoors, but at least he wasn’t mean. In fact, other than his size, I’d never really understood how he’d become sheriff. He was just a big ol’ baby.

  Once, I’d been walking to Hinkle’s to get a few things for Mama when I passed by a group of people gathered around a truck. In the middle of the group was Sheriff Dawson, bawling his eyes out. Apparently, Mr. Watson hadn’t been watching where he was going and had run right over Mrs. McClain’s dog. All I know is, even Mrs. McClain wasn’t crying near as bad as the sheriff.