by Boo Riley
“You’re lying. He never did and you know it. Take it back.”
Panic hit me. There was no way to prove I’d driven a pickup, or that Mr. Jordan had taught me. “You’ll just have to take my word for it.”
Hillman took a bite of fish and spoke, smacking his food. “I’m not taking the word of no storyteller. Take it back or I’m telling everyone you’re a bald-faced liar.”
It was all I could do to keep my hands to myself. Every inch of me begged to strike, but Dad didn’t abide troublemaking in school. Said it made him look bad. Cameron might have already got us in a pickle.
Last winter, me and Cameron got creamed for fighting. My ears don’t like cold weather because they stick out from my head too far and don’t get any heat. At least that’s what Cameron says. A kid thumped the right one while we were outside waiting for the doors to open to go into the school. Then, he laughed about it. I let it go, but Cameron seen him do it. A bad morning for thumper turned into a bad evening for us when Dad found out Cameron went crazy on the kid.
I stood and picked up my tray. I hadn’t even finished the tater tots, the best of all. Cowboy kept mouthing off, rubbing the sore spot on my feelings. This turned out to be the worst day of my life.
24
Cindy sat two seats behind me, next to the window. Mr. Cowboy sat just behind her, on the edge of the seat, legs in the aisle. He ran on about his horse, a fifteen-hand tall roan, whatever that meant. Said his dad was teaching him to rope.
Like anyone cared two hoots. Big whup.
The screech of brakes drowned him out. The bus slowed. Mrs. Adams popped out the stop sign, opened the doors and another kid got off.
Cameron elbowed me. “What’s the matter?”
“Nothing.”
“You eat something at lunch that made you sick?”
“I’m not sick.”
“You look sick.”
“Cameron, sometimes you’re thick as a tree stump. Leave me be.”
He shrugged and eyed Jason, the kid who said he could smell us. His ear looked red, probably sore too. He hadn’t been bumping his gums none. Bet he didn’t go home and tell his ma and pa the neighbor kid jumped on him and bit his ear. Wouldn’t blame him none because that wasn’t a story I would tell. Too embarrassing.
Our stop came into view and none too soon for me.
Jake knew when school was out and waited for me at the bus stop. He never missed a day. He could brighten my worst moods. The urge to look back at Cindy only made the ache in my chest worse. Oh, Cowboy would be talking about me after we left. I just knew it. I kept my eyes on Cameron’s back and followed him out the door.
“Hi, boy.” Jake rubbed his head on my pants and tried to weave in and out between my legs, his tail going crazy. I gave him a scruff. “Come on, Jake, not now, quit.”
Cameron kicked a rock down the road toward our house then looked back as Jason crossed in front of the bus. “He don’t say much now, does he?”
Black smoke billowed and the bus pulled away. Sun glare on the windows prevented me from seeing if Cindy looked my direction. “Would you?”
“No, I don’t suppose. Bet he ain’t so quick to notice how folks smell no more neither.”
That still bugged me. No wonder people looked at me. I took a quick sniff at an underarm but didn’t notice anything unusual. “How we going to get deodorant to make us smell better? We don’t have any money.”
Cameron took a quick whiff of his own armpit. “I don’t know. Besides a bath now and then, I didn’t know we had to put something on.”
“Dad and Momma Ray don’t tell us nothing about stuff like that. And look at us, Cameron. They don’t care about what we look like. I got to do something with these shoes. It’s going to be hard to put my toes back in them in the morning. Might have to wear my old ones.”
“Just tell Momma Ray they’re too small. What can she do? You going to wear them all year?”
“Hey! Hey, wait a minute.” Jason trotted in our direction.
Here we go again. Going to be some more comeuppance for the big kid. I’ll have to hit Cameron with a stick to get him to turn loose this time. Mrs. Adams was long gone.
Then something happened I never figured on. Jason stopped right in front of Cameron and stuck out his hand. “I’m…I’m sorry for saying what I did. I don’t know why I said what I did.”
Just like that. You could have pushed me over with a chicken feather.
I didn’t have a clue how Cameron would react, but he took the hand, looked Jason dead in the eyes, and asked, “Friends?”
“Friends,” Jason said.
Then Jason stuck out his hand to me. His grip was firm, his brown eyes direct, like he meant what he said. My smile only got a nod in return. He left the same way he came, trotting at an easy pace.
We walked for a spell, slow and quiet. There wasn’t a thing to run home to. Cameron picked up a rock and whacked it with a stick.
“That took a lot of guts,” I said.
Cameron shrugged. “Nah, I didn’t think nothing of it.”
“Not for you, goofy. For him. He did the insulting, got the whupping, then said he’s sorry. That takes something, down here.” I gave my chest a pat.
Cameron looked back at the empty road. “Might just be a big weenie, we’ll see. So, what was your problem on the bus?”
“Oh, Hillman, ole cowboy wannabe, called me a liar at lunch.”
“About what?”
“I told him and Cindy that Mr. Jordan taught me how to drive his pickup, and he said I lied.”
“Why didn’t you whack him? He’d take it back.”
“Cameron, we can’t be whacking everyone. Dad would have my hide and you know it. We might already be in trouble ’cause you chewed on Jason.”
Cameron hit another rock and it whizzed off like a noisy bumblebee. “Nah, we’re not in trouble. Mr. Ellis isn’t going to tell. He said he would leave it in his office. I’m counting on it. Just forget what Hillman said. You didn’t tell a lie. We know it. That’s all that counts.”
“Cindy heard and she’s wondering about me now, all because of Hillman. She hasn’t said a word to me since.”
Jake stopped to look behind us. Dad’s pickup rattled up the road with Momma Ray sitting in the middle next to him.
Cameron moved right, to Dad’s side; me and Jake moved left. Dad stopped between us. “You boys are taking your sweet time getting to the house.”
“Yes, sir,” I said. “My shoes are too small and killing my toes.”
Momma Ray leaned over to look. “You wear your old shoes tomorrow, and I’ll take those back. You should have said something.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Cameron stepped back from Dad’s window as a stream of tobacco spit landed at his feet.
Dad wiped his lip. “Cameron, you have trouble with a kid on the bus this morning?”
Uh-oh, Cameron was in for it now. Mr. Ellis called after all.
Cameron never hesitated. “He said we smelled and hit me in the nose.”
Dad sat for a minute then turned off the pickup. He worked the chaw of tobacco and spit again. Water gurgled in the engine. Momma Ray put a hand to her mouth and coughed, quiet like, dainty almost. “The principal just said the boy insulted you. He hit you, eh? Did you hit him?”
“Sure, I hit him.”
“I told you before not to cause trouble in school.”
“Yes, sir, and I didn’t cause no trouble. He did. I ended it. You want me to sit and do nothing?”
Cameron jerked and moved to the front of the pickup as Dad’s door flew open, but he stopped and held his ground as Dad approached. Dad didn’t move a muscle, Cameron neither, their noses only a finger’s width apart, Cameron bolder than the cheek-lady.
Then Dad whispered, almost for Cameron alone. “When are you going to learn to listen and keep your mouth shut and not hit people?”
“You taught me.”
Oh, Cameron, you shouldn’t have said that.
The pickup horn blared, and we all looked into the cab. Dad, too. Momma Ray held it down for a good five seconds. Her lips were set, a thin line of red lipstick below rose-tinted cheeks and a white nose.
Dad froze, staring at her. She moved her head left then right twice, but not so much as to say quit. More of a warning to think before he hit Cameron. Dad turned loose, stepped back, then walked to the door to get in.
I couldn’t help but notice Momma Ray slide over against the passenger door. Got a little space between the lovey-doveys now. Not so happy. Cameron rolled off the hood, landed on his feet, and walked around beside me.
Dad hesitated at the door. “You boys ever think about running away? Do ya? I know these woods. I know people. You remember that.” He opened the door, got in, and started up. “Get on home, get your chores done, and get a bath. You’re going to church tonight, down to the little white church on the highway.”
Me and Cameron stepped to the middle of the road and watched the tailgate disappear in the dust. Cameron straightened his shirt.
“That was real close, Cameron. You could have got killed for that.”
“I’m not taking no more from him. If both of us stand up to him, he’ll back down.”
“I don’t know about that. Did I hear him right? He’s going to take us to church tonight? Do they have church on Wednesday nights?”
“I hope not. Maybe we can just mess around on our own, or run away.” Cameron ran a hand over his head. “I don’t believe he knows a thing ‘bout these woods, and I ain’t scared. Not no more.”
“He’d kill us for running away.”
“He’d have to catch us first, and he’s fat, can’t run no distance at all. How come he didn’t come uncorked?”
“He did come uncorked. Momma Ray saved your hide, honking the horn like she did.”
“Reckon she’s found religion?”
“I don’t think they go places where there’s any to find. Besides, he could have given us a ride to the house, not made me walk in these shoes. I told him my feet were killing me. They might have found something, but I bet it ain’t religion.”
25
Dad had the radio turned up. Deep bass pulsed through the speakers, static in the background. The words were hard to make out.
I whispered to Cameron. “Your pits on fire? Mine are burning up.”
“I thought it was just mine, and I scrubbed my pits good too. That don’t help.”
Dad turned down the lane to the little church. “What y’all whispering about? Quit whispering.”
“Dad,” I said. “That spray stuff burns.”
“How much did you use? You ain’t supposed to put on the whole can. It should last you a while. Just a quick squirt every morning’s all you need.”
Me and Cameron exchanged looks. Now he tells us. We couldn’t believe they bought some. Should have told us how much to use before we put it on. Turns out, Mr. Ellis did us a favor after all.
Dad hit a button on the radio where another voice belted out a song. “You boys don’t dally when the meeting’s over. I’ll be waiting on you.”
He did a quick loop, pointing the pickup out of the lot, and stopped. We got out. The tires spit rocks at our feet when he left.
Cameron laughed in Dad’s direction. “He’s in an all-fired hurry to get out of here.”
“Yeah, like to have hauled me back to the house with him before I could get out and shut the door.”
We’d just been dropped in China for all I knew about going to church. People, families with mom, dad, and kids, women alone with books tucked under their arms, men alone, all walked toward the church like there wasn’t a minute to spare. Not a familiar face in the bunch.
No suits, ties, or fancy dresses. Mostly jeans and tennis shoes, so we might fit in. I ran my hands around my waist, pulling up my britches.
Cameron tugged my elbow. “We ought to go hide somewhere, run off into the woods and skip this deal.”
“We can’t do that. You’re the one who wondered if Dad would bring us to church after I told you what the lady at the bait shop said. Come on. Let’s go see.”
Cameron threw his hands out. “T, go where? See what? I just changed my mind and don’t want to go in there.”
I pointed. “The doors are open. People are walking through them. That’s where. What’s it going to hurt to go look?”
Piano music drifted on the evening heat, sweet and inviting.
“Hey, guys.”
Jason walked up, his parents behind him. “Mom, Dad, this is Cameron and Ty. We, uh, we ride the bus together. They live down the dirt road across from the house.”
I was shocked. Insulting us one minute and introducing mom and dad the next. His ear looked better, not as red.
Cameron’s “hi” followed mine.
Mr. Morris offered his hand and we shook. “Men, pleased to meet you. Son, get on to catechism. We’ll see you after church.”
“Yes, sir.”
The adults walked away leaving us standing there in the dirt. We looked at one another, all three of us poking the ground with the toe of a shoe, silent.
Jason spoke. “Do you guys know where to go?”
Cameron shook his head. “Haven’t got a clue.”
“Follow me. We don’t sit in big church on Wednesday nights. We have something kind of like Sunday school.”
My face must have given me up because Jason continued. “You don’t know what Sunday school is?”
“We’ve never been to church,” I told him.
“Really?”
“Really,” Cameron said.
We stepped out with Jason in the middle. “What’s cataclysm?” I asked.
“Catechism. It’s like Bible study. Talk about God and stuff. Mostly just stories about people who died two thousand years ago. Y’all have a Bible?”
“Never seen one,” Cameron told him. “Not that I know of anyway.”
Jason led us up concrete steps through brown double-doors. Bright red carpet stretched wall to wall down a long entry and through another set of oak doors into a meeting hall that looked like it could hold two hundred people. Fifty, maybe sixty adults milled around toward a raised area in the front, shaking hands and talking. Some sat in long wooden seats with books in holders on the back of them.
Reminded me of school, girls and boys in separate groups. The piano struck up another tune, louder, the tempo faster.
At the end of the entry were three small rooms. In one, an older woman sat in a chair with a book on her lap. Four small kids sat on the carpet in front of her. In the second room, an older group of kids stood in a circle holding hands.
We entered a room like a big kitchen with a white stove and sink, brown cabinets, and gray tiled floor. A dozen white folding tables were stacked against the far wall, folding chairs next to them. One table and a dozen chairs were set up in the middle of the room.
A young guy who looked like he wasn’t long out of high school spoke up. “If everyone will be seated, we’ll begin.”
Not what I expected for a teacher.
I recognized several kids from school. One boy, who was always quiet, kept to himself. He walked up and said hi and welcome. In school, he never said anything.
Me and Cameron sat next to Jason.
“Jason,” the teacher said. “Would you like to introduce your friends to the group?”
I wondered what he would have thought if he knew there’d been a big scuff between friends on the bus that morning.
If Jason felt uncomfortable, he didn’t show it. “This is Cameron and Ty, ah–”
“Ray,” I threw in to help him.
“Cameron and Ty Ray,” he finished.
“I’m Brother Mark. It’s great to have you. Let’s pray and we’ll go around the table and introduce ourselves.”
The next hour flew by faster than a night asleep. Befo
re I knew it, we were praying again and then we were dismissed. Brother Mark never asked me and Cameron a question, as though he knew we didn’t know anything. But then, I felt like he talked to only me. Like we sat alone, face to face. Before we left, he gave us our own Bible, a pocket-sized one with a red cover and the words New Testament in gold letters.
Jason’s parents walked out with us. Mr. Morris pulled his car keys out of his pocket. “Do you boys need a ride home?”
Dad was nowhere in sight. “No, sir,” I said. “Our dad should be along soon.”
We said our goodbyes.
Another lady stopped to offer us a ride. We told her the same thing and then moved to one side, so folks wouldn’t feel obliged to check on us.
The sun had set. Only a tinge of yellow glowed through the sky above the treetops, onto the back of some clouds, and made them glow with the yellow of a fire. The church, with its white board siding and wooden cross hanging below the steeple, stood out against the background of the dark forest.
The last light went out inside the church. After a minute, a small light over the doors clicked on. A man walked out and locked them.
The last car turned toward town and sped away, leaving us standing alone in the dark.
Cameron was quiet. It was unusual for him not to mention something, anything, about what he’d seen and heard. He was thinking, mulling it all over.
I couldn’t wait for him to volunteer information. “What’d you think?”
“It was OK. They sure do lots of praying. Seems like it would be uncomfortable talking to a feller who ain’t sitting there.”
“You didn’t pray?”
“Heck no. What would I say to Him? Like I said, uncomfortable talking to the air.”
“Brother Mark talks to God like they’re friends, and He’s sitting there looking at him.”
“He said God’s everywhere. What’s He look like, I wonder? I’d want to know what He looks like ’fore I’ll talk to Him.”
“I mentioned He was everywhere the other night. Don’t know where I ever heard that. Maybe He’s whatever you want Him to be, in your mind. I don’t know.” I looked toward the little building. “They had some pictures of Jesus hanging on the wall. He had long hair.”