“Johnny,” I said, glad to know my brother was back. I plopped down on the seat next to him and Candy took the one across the aisle.
“What happened to your blue hair?” asked Candy curiously. “It’s gone.”
“Blue hair?” Johnny reached up and touched his head, sounding as if he had no idea what Candy was talking about.
Then the two high school girls he sat with this morning boarded. Their names were Ashley Fenng and Prudence Warwick. They were only freshmen, but everyone knew they were nothing but trouble. They usually hung around with the older guys, and it surprised me that they’d even talk to Johnny at all.
“Hey, Jonathon, what are you doing up here at the front of the bus with the nerds?” asked Prudence.
“Yeah, come sit with us in the back of the bus where the cool kids hang out. Like you did this morning,” added Ashley.
“Huh?” asked Johnny, sounding very confused. “Ok,” he answered, a big smile spreading across his face. After all, what eighth grade boy in his right mind would turn down an invitation from two high school girls wearing short skirts, heels and low-cut sweaters in winter? He started to get up, but my hand shot out and pulled him back down.
“My brother’s got a headache,” I said.
“No, I don’t,” grumbled Johnny, trying to get up again. One more time, I pulled him back down next to me.
“Move along, girls, you’re holding up the line,” called out Mrs. O’Malley from behind the wheel.
The girls gave Johnny an odd look and continued to the back of the bus without him.
“Raven, I’m going to kill you,” spat Johnny. “Why are you keeping me from sitting with those two hot girls and why did you say I had a headache?”
“Johnny, we need to talk,” I told him, letting out a sigh. “And for the record, those two girls are nothing but trouble. Not to mention, you will have a headache as soon as Mom finds out you’ve been hanging out with floozies and dying your hair blue.”
“They’re not floozies, and my hair isn’t blue.”
“Maybe not now it’s not,” I told him, looking over to Candy and shaking my head. “But I can guarantee that it will be blue again, and that is something that is going to be really hard to explain to anyone.”
Chapter 4
“I don’t believe you, Raven.” Johnny played with the dogs as soon as we got home, barely even paying attention to me as I spoke.
“Johnny, are you listening to me?” I asked. “Did you hear anything I just told you?”
“Yeah, I heard,” he said, lying down on the floor. The two dogs jumped on top of him. “You were Mary, Mary and Candy was Miss Muffet and now you think I’m Little Boy Blue. You girls are crazy.”
“I can prove it’s true.” I jumped up off the couch.
“Raven? What are you doing?” asked Candy.
“I’m going to take Johnny to the graveyard and show him the headstone of Jonathon Wolsey. Then he’ll know I’m not lying.”
“I’m not going,” grumbled Johnny.
“I’m staying here, too,” said Candace.
“Come on, Johnny.” I grabbed my coat and took my brother’s arm and dragged him to the door. He was still wearing that bomber jacket and didn’t seem to ever want to take it off.
“Slow down,” complained Johnny as we went out into the backyard with the dogs following. The snow was only ankle deep and we trudged through it, heading for the little cemetery that butted up to the back of our property.
“This all started when I dug up that nursery rhyme book in the back yard and this crystal,” I explained. I turned around and held up the crystal still fastened around my neck. Johnny bashed into me because I stopped so fast.
“Raven, leave me alone,” he complained. “There is no such thing as ghosts.”
“Really?” I asked, stopping at the edge of our property. The creepy gravestones rose up into the sky, warning us not to enter. “Then you won’t be afraid to go into the graveyard, will you?”
“I’m not afraid,” he said, but I could hear the lack of confidence in his voice.
“Good. Then follow me, and don’t lag behind. You never know what might happen in a graveyard.”
Suddenly, Johnny was stepping on my heels. Like I said, he was fourteen now, but still acted like a baby. There were a lot of things that scared him. Ever since our dad left, Johnny’s confidence had seemed to go down the drain. He bragged a lot, but that was all fake and I knew it. He just did it to try to cover up the fact he didn’t feel good about himself at all.
“Here it is.” I walked up to the stone and held out my hand.
“Yeah. So?”
“It’s the gravesite of Jonathon Wolsey.”
Silence.
“He was the illegitimate child of the Cardinal Wolsey.”
It still meant nothing to him.
“Don’t you know who Thomas Wolsey was?” I asked, pretending like I hadn’t just found out the answer to that today. “He was the lord chancellor and almoner of King Henry the eighth.”
“Isn’t he some medieval king?” asked Johnny.
“Yes. He is from the 16th century.”
“Uh huh.” Johnny yawned. “And you want me to believe some guy from medieval England is buried here?”
“Well, no. That’s not what I mean. Even though I can’t explain it, he was here, I swear. Or maybe I was there, I’m not exactly sure.”
“Raven, you’re nuts!” Johnny turned around and ran for the house.
I looked around the graveyard and even touched my crystal, but nothing happened. “Maybe I am nuts,” I muttered to myself, letting out another sigh and heading back to the house as well.
The weekend passed by and nothing out of the ordinary happened with Johnny. He acted like his normal, irritating self. Studying for our history test on Monday was hard for Candy and me because even with the door closed to our bedroom, the sound of Johnny’s horn penetrated the thin walls.
“That’s it!” I slammed shut the book and got off the bed. Then I stormed across the room.
“Where are you going?” asked Candy, running after me. Her strawberry-blond hair was tied back into a ponytail and it bobbed up and down as she moved.
“I just heard Mother get home from work and I am going to tell her that Johnny has got to stop that.” I headed downstairs to find Mom unloading food she’d brought back from the diner. It was all leftovers or old, but we didn’t care. None of us liked to cook or had time for it. So we mostly ate what was convenient just so we didn’t starve to death.
“Mom, we’re trying to study for a test and Johnny is making too much noise,” I complained, entering the kitchen.
“Really? Are you sure?” My mom spoke into the phone tucked under her chin as she unloaded the bags.
“Mom,” I said again, not even certain how she could hear who she was talking to since Johnny was blowing that trumpet so loud.
“Okay, thank you. Let me know if you hear anything else. I appreciate the call.” She hung up the receiver of the ancient phone that hung on the wall and had a rotary dial, of all things. It was what Aunt Bestla used. She’d never kept up with the changes. None of us had a cell phone because we couldn’t afford it. Being poor really sucked most of the time.
“Mom?” My mother seemed really upset and I swore I thought I saw her wipe away a tear. But then she pushed her chin up in the air and forced a smile. “Is everything all right?”
“Sure,” she answered. “Why?”
“Who were you talking to?” I asked her, instead of accusing her of holding back tears. I had to find out what had her so upset.
“Oh, it was just one of our old neighbors from back home.” She busied herself with putting the food on plates for us, microwaving them one by one. “Dinner is ready if you want to eat.”
I decided not to push her to say more. “We were trying to study but Johnny’s trumpet is distracting,” I said, trying to find a nice way to tell her the boy sucked at playing the horn.
�
�It is awfully loud,” agreed Candy, almost shouting now since Johnny had entered the room.
“He’s got to practice,” said Mother. “The tryouts for lead trumpet and a solo for the Christmas concert are tomorrow and he wants the position really bad.”
“Yeah, Mom, but be serious. Johnny’s never going to get the part.”
“Never in a million years,” agreed Candy.
“I’m not good enough, am I?” Johnny lowered the trumpet and looked like he was about to cry. What was I supposed to tell him? That his trumpet playing sounded like a dying cow? I couldn’t lie and give him hope, but neither could I bring him down since he looked so sad.
“Here, Johnny, it’s time to eat,” said my mom, taking the plate out of the microwave and handing it to him. She slapped another one in to get warmed up.
“Oh, yuck! I hate peas,” complained Johnny. “And the beef looks tough and stringy.”
“I’m sorry,” said Mother, looking like she was going to cry now. “I thought I’d have a little extra money to buy and cook a real meal for you kids, but the diner’s been slow and things aren’t going so well at my other job either.”
“What do you mean, Mom?” I asked, taking the plate out of the microwave and handing it to her.
“No thanks, Raven. I ate at the diner,” she told me. “You kids eat all the food. I’m going to take a bath and go straight to bed.” She hurried upstairs.
“I wonder what’s wrong,” said Candy, taking the plate from me and sitting down at the table. “Your mom seems so upset.”
“Well, if Johnny wouldn’t complain so much about the leftover diner food, it might make it easier,” I said in disgust.
“This food sucks!” yelled Johnny, jumping to his feet. “When dad was here, we used to have stir fry and homemade pizza and spaghetti and meatballs and even ice cream sundaes with twelve toppings on them that we could make ourselves.”
“Well, Dad’s not here and Mom is too tired to cook those things,” I told my ungrateful little brother. “If you don’t like the food then maybe you should start cooking something yourself.”
“The diner’s food is awful,” said Johnny. “I probably could cook better than this.” He pushed the plate away, leaving his trumpet, and bounded up the stairs to his bedroom, slamming the door.
“Well, I guess it’s just you and me,” I told Candy, sitting down and eating my brother’s food. I took a bite and made a face. “He’s right, it isn’t that good.”
“I think it’s great,” said Candy, cleaning her plate. She came from even more poverty than we did, so she appreciated every little thing. That’s what I liked about her. She always brought me back to my senses.
“It’s not that bad, I guess,” I said, eating the rest of the food on Johnny’s plate. Of course, as soon as I finished, I heard Johnny coming downstairs. “Before you say a word, I only ate your food because you said you didn’t like it,” I told him. “But there’s more if you want me to warm some up.”
“Food? I am hungry and would love some,” said Johnny, making Candy and me instantly know something was up.
“Johnny?” I asked, looking closer and gasping in surprise. As he entered the kitchen, I saw his blue hair was back. He also looked taller again, or maybe he was just standing up straighter.
“My friends call me Blue,” he told me, digging the extra food out of the bag and sitting down next to me and across from Candy. I wasn’t sure if he was serious about being called Blue, or just joking and somehow found out about our little code word for him.
“Did you want that food warmed up?” asked Candy.
“Naw. This food is so good that it tastes great cold.”
I didn’t know what to say. Candy and I just sat there and watched as Johnny – or Blue, I should say, devoured not only one plate of food but all the leftovers that Mom brought home.
“Delicious,” he said, gathering up all the dishes and rinsing them in the sink. My brother never did anything in the line of chores. “Oh, my horn,” he said, spotting the blue trumpet that Johnny left on the table. “I’d better practice for the audition.”
“No!” both Candy and I said together.
“Girls?” He made a face and chuckled. “You almost act like you don’t want me to play the trumpet.”
“We don’t,” Candy admitted. “We’ve got a lot of studying to do.”
“Really. Well, I won’t play long then, because I’m kind of tired anyway.”
He moved over to the living room and when he walked to the couch, the cat darted away and even the dogs ran into the other room. The dogs usually loved my brother, but now they seemed scared of him.
“I always loved blue,” he said, studying the trumpet as he plopped down on the couch and stretched out his long legs, resting his booted feet on the ottoman. Raising the instrument to his mouth, Candy and I flinched, ready to cover our ears.
But when he blew the first note out of the trumpet, it sounded like the music of angels. And it wasn’t the first note only, but the second and third and every note he played afterwards that sounded fantastic. The song was perfectly in tune and without a sour note anywhere. It might have been bad of me, but I was starting to think Blue was the way I wished my brother would be.
“Johnny? That sounds great,” said my mother, poking her head down the stairs. “I think you’re going to do well in the auditions tomorrow.”
“Well? Hah!” He sprang to his feet. “I’m the best horn player in the whole school, and when I’m done with auditions, everyone will know it.”
“Uh, that’s a little presumptuous, don’t you think?” I asked him. “After all, this might just be a fluke. Who knows if you’ll be able to do it again tomorrow.” I was trying to help Johnny save face, because as soon as Little Boy Blue left my brother’s body, we all knew that he’d be playing notes that sounded like a dying cow again.
“Raven, it would do you good to support your brother,” said my mom, heading back up the stairs. “Wait a minute.” She turned around and came back down into the kitchen, clutching her bathrobe around her. “Johnny? Come here,” she said. “Let me see your hair.”
“Uh oh,” Candy mumbled, and we both knew what was coming. My mom was going to explode.
“Is it . . . blue?” she asked, reaching out and touching a strand.
“Yeah. I like blue.” He flicked his head, making his hair fly. “And thanks for the food. It was delicious. I hope you didn’t want me to save any because I ate it all.”
“You did?” My mom’s eyes lit up and she pulled Blue into her arms and hugged him. “My, I think you’re going through a growing spurt lately, Johnny, because you seem taller.”
“So, Mom,” I said, bringing her back to the point. “You’re not upset about Johnny’s blue hair?”
Just then, Blue gave my mom a smile to die for. Candy and I looked at each other and rolled our eyes.
“I think, if he likes it, then that is all that matters.” Mom reached out and lifted his chin. “It makes your eyes look greener, Johnny.”
“Green?” Candy and I both blurted out at the same time. Johnny had hazel eyes.
“It makes you look . . . handsome.” My mother smiled.
“Handsome?” I said, unable to believe my mother was acting this way.
“Oh, my, look at the time. I need to be at the office early in the morning for a meeting with the boss,” said my mother, talking about her second job as a receptionist. “I’d better get to bed.” She turned and went up to her room.
“What just happened?” I asked Candy.
“I – I’m not sure,” she said.
Trapper walked into the kitchen and Blue bent down to pet the dog.
“Come here, Butch,” he said, but Trapper showed his teeth and growled.
“His name is Trapper,” I spat. “And you need to get out of my brother’s body right now.”
“Raven? Are you sure?” whispered Candy. “He’s not that bad, and he knows how to play the horn.”
“S
top it!” I told her, standing up to Little Boy Blue, not at all sure how to make him leave. “Get out! I mean it.” When nothing happened, I knew I had to take more extreme measures. I held on to my crystal with one hand and reached out and touched his bomber jacket with the other and tried again. “Leave now!”
“Stop it,” said Blue, looking disoriented, and grabbing on to the kitchen table. He collapsed atop a chair. I didn’t let go. “I mean it,” I threatened the entity, hoping it would work.
Green eyes looked up to me and, all of a sudden, I saw anger . . . intense anger behind them. “Don’t think you’ll get away with this,” he hissed, and I became very, very dizzy. I shook my head and tried to focus, not wanting to back down. Then I saw the green eyes disappear and the hazel color of my brother’s eyes get stronger. I didn’t let go until I saw the blue hair disappear as well.
But when my brother’s higher voice came back ragging at me, I knew it was over.
“Let go of me, Raven! You’re going to wreck my jacket.”
I sank atop the chair across from him, my body shaking as I pulled my hand away from him.
“Johnny? Is that you?” Candace bent over and looked under his long bangs.
“Of course it’s me. Who did you think it was?”
“Jonathon Wolsey,” I told him, waiting for a reaction.
I think he knew he was just Little Boy Blue, but enjoyed it. “Mom likes my blue hair,” he said, reaching up to touch it.
“You don’t have blue hair.” I grabbed the toaster and stuck it in his face for him to see his reflection.
“It’s gone?” he asked, sounding and looking very disappointed.
“It is gone,” said Candy. “How are we going to explain this to your mother in the morning?”
“Or anyone at school?” I added.
“I know,” said Johnny, jumping up from the table. “I have a few cans of blue hair spray that one of my friends gave me on Halloween. He was going to use them for his costume but changed his mind.”
“On Halloween?” I asked. “You mean to tell me you still have them?”
Blue Page 3