The Booster Club

by Angela M. Sanders

“Could be,” Ruby said.

  “Hold this.” Claudine handed her purse to Ruby and set her box on the sidewalk. She grabbed the gutter’s drain and shook it.

  “What’s she doing?” Deborah said.

  “Don’t know,” Ruby replied. Larry the Fence spoke of Claudine so reverently, said she was one of the “elite.” Ruby hadn’t seen anything particularly elite about her clothing or manners, although she did have the air of having walked from the set of an old film noir. Now it dawned on her. Larry had meant the criminal elite.

  With one hand on the drainpipe, Claudine leapt up the firehouse’s brick wall, using mortar as toe holds.

  “Careful,” Ruby couldn’t help saying.

  “No worries,” Claudine said. Within seconds, she was peering into a second story window. She lowered herself a few feet, then dropped to the ground light as a tabby, her hair rustling on her shoulders. She brushed her palms together. “They’re up there, all right. In the firemen’s bunk room. Quite a set-up, too. Four kids, plus a dog. A big one.”

  Deborah’s mouth had been hanging open. She shut it. “How did they get in there? They didn’t climb up like you did. The dog couldn’t make it.”

  “There’s got to be another way in,” Ruby said. “We could toss pebbles at the window and tell them we have things for them.”

  “I don’t think they’re interested in attracting attention.” Claudine examined the warehouse next door, which featured gaping windows, most with broken or no glass, and a sagging door. She returned to Ruby and Deborah. “I bet they enter through there.” She nodded at the warehouse. “There’s some kind of connecting door or window.”

  “Maybe we should just leave our things on the street,” Deborah said. “We could yell up, ‘Hey, Rizzio kids, we’ve got some things for you,’ and then push the stuff against the wall.”

  “No,” Ruby said firmly. “We’ve come this far, and we need to talk to them, tell them we want to help them.” She pursed her lips. “We should have brought dog food. Next time.”

  Claudine shook her head. “They don’t want to be bothered. They’re probably convinced we want to drag them back to their foster homes.”

  “But they need homes. They can’t live all winter in this place,” Deborah said.

  “Yes, we can.” The voice came from behind them.

  A husky boy—Ruby corrected herself, young man—stood behind them. His brown hair was shaggy around his shoulders, and patchy whiskers sprinkled his jaw. He wore a tight gray blazer and matching pants. The combination was part street warrior, part C.P.A.

  “What do you want?” he asked.

  “Larry the Fence told us about you,” Ruby said.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “We have some things.” Deborah pointed to her bulging garbage bag. “Clothes. All dry cleaned and ready to wear. For you and your brother and sisters.”

  He looked at the bag but made no move toward it.

  Claudine stepped forward. “I’m Claudine Dupin. I was so sorry to hear about your mother.” The boy continued to stare, but he didn’t walk away. “I knew her when I was growing up. Wanda was a little older than me, and I looked up to her. You know how I climbed the building just now?”

  The boy nodded. “I saw you.”

  “I learned my agility routine from your mom. She taught me to how to land.”

  Absorbed, Ruby watched the exchange. Claudine was full of surprises.

  “So, you’re—” he started.

  “Yes,” Claudine said. “Larry heard through the grapevine that you kids ran off after your mother’s accident, and he put out a call for help. That’s why we’re here.”

  The boy took in the three women. “I’m Hugo. Uncle Larry told you about us?”

  “Well, Hugo, obviously you’re not getting everything you need or you wouldn’t be living in an abandoned building without heat. If anyone else finds out you’re here—and it’s likely they will sooner or later—you’ll be kicked out,” Claudine said.

  Ah, now she’s taking a harder line. Ruby set down her bag.

  “It’s county land,” he said, defiance in his voice. “Besides, they want to keep us apart.”

  “All the more reason.”

  “For what? Are you a lawyer?” the boy asked.

  “I know a little bit about the law,” Claudine replied.

  Like how to break it, Ruby thought.

  “We could help raise money for a real lawyer,” Deborah said. “We talked about a fundraiser.”

  “No pressure,” Claudine told the boy. “You don’t trust us. I get it. Wanda wouldn’t want us to force you to do anything.” She picked up her box and turned toward the car.

  “Wait.” Hugo stepped toward Claudine. He stopped. He didn’t seem to want them to stay, but he didn’t seem to want them to leave, either.

  “Look,” Ruby said. “It’s easy. We think you might be able to use some help, and we want to help. So we brought some clothes and” —Ruby appraised the boy’s belly— “food.”

  “Yeah?” Hugo said.

  “Some tuna, peanut butter. And donuts. And a cheesecake, although it wasn’t the smartest idea, not knowing your cutlery situation.” Bruce had suggested the donuts and cheesecake. After years working with middle-schoolers, he knew a teen’s appetite.

  The boy’s resolution was wavering. She could tell by the way he swallowed.

  “Well?” Claudine said.

  They stood sizing each other up. A minute passed.

  Claudine turned again toward the car. “Come on. They don’t want us here.”

  “All right,” Hugo said. “You can come up.”

  * * *

  Claudine had been right—the firehouse’s entrance was from the adjoining warehouse. Hugo led them through the old building, where they skirted fallen lumber and crumbled bricks before ascending a staircase at the rear. Ruby stumbled, and Deborah grabbed her arm. A thin shaft of light appeared and bounced before them. Claudine had a penlight. Figured, Ruby thought.

  On the second floor, planks at a window bridged the few feet between the warehouse and the firehouse. If the kids wanted, they could pull in the planks and shut the window, closing off access to their room.

  Hunched over, Hugo scrambled across the planks and dropped into the firehouse. Behind him, Deborah hesitated.

  “Go on,” Claudine said.

  “It doesn’t look sturdy.” Deborah backed into Ruby.

  “It’s fine. You just saw Hugo do it.”

  Deborah didn’t move.

  Claudine let out a sigh. “Watch me. Keep your center of gravity low—you can crawl, if you want.” Claudine crouched slightly and moved purposefully across the planks, making it look effortless even carrying a box. “See? Set your bag on the bridge.” In a fluid motion, Claudine picked up the bag and tossed it through the firehouse window. “Now, you.”

  Deborah bit her lip and gingerly tested the plank. She dropped to all fours and inched across the planks. Once in the firehouse, she broke into a grin. “Come on, Ruby,” she said across the gap. “It’s easy.”

  Ruby crossed, more slowly than Claudine but with relative ease. God bless those yoga classes. She dropped her bag on the other side and stood up straight. “Would you look at that.”

  The bunks firemen had once used lined the back wall, and surprisingly cozy furniture occupied the front of the firehouse’s second floor. A dizzying landscape of spray-painted flowers in glorious orange and red covered two of the walls. But it was cold. In the middle, a fire pole dropped to the first floor. Streaky afternoon light filtered through what was left of the dirty windows.

  The Rizzio kids sat together on a bunk. The pit bull growled. Lordy, Ruby thought. A pit bull was a damn sight bigger than a Chihuahua.

  “Hush, Tinkerbell,” Hugo said. Then to the women, “She’s protective, but friendly. She won’t hurt you.”

  Ignoring the growls, Deborah was at the dog’s side, cooing and stroking her head. Tinkerbell’s ears relaxed
and her eyes shuttered to half mast. Ruby made a mental note to try again to see if Deborah would consider a smaller animal.

  “Impressive mural,” Claudine said, still staring at the walls. Something in her expression seemed to have changed, softened. It sharpened again as she looked around, appearing to make a mental inventory of the room.

  “Joanie did that,” Hugo said.

  A small girl in a hoodie and jeans ducked her head and smiled. Her lank hair was pulled into a ponytail, and a vivid bow clipped its side. She remained silent.

  “That’s Scotty and Lucy. Twins.” Hugo pointed to a boy and girl, maybe about twelve years old. “Team,” Hugo addressed the group. “These ladies brought us some things. I wouldn’t have let them up here, except that they knew Mom.”

  “Why do you want to help us? What are you getting from it?” Scotty asked.

  Deborah paused petting Tinkerbell long enough to ask, “Do we have to get something from it?” Tinkerbell pawed at her arm.

  “It doesn’t make sense that you’d want to spend time and money on us unless you stand to gain. We have to protect ourselves.”

  Ruby looked from face to face. Each child watched her, and so did Deborah and Claudine. Why did she want to help these kids? Sure, she wanted to prove something to the Carsonville Women’s League. But it ran deeper than that. A lot deeper. The Rizzio kids could have been her, Pearl, and Opal. They’d only been homeless a few weeks, but she never forgot the fear, the feeling of being unwanted. As for Claudine and Deborah’s motives, she couldn’t say.

  “We are all fortunate in our situations, but we weren’t always. Look. I brought groceries.” Ruby unloaded her bag. “A can opener,” she said and placed it on top of a can.

  “As if we don’t have one already,” Hugo said.

  Ruby’s patience was waning, and along with it her sympathy. “There’s no call to be rude.”

  None of the children responded.

  Damn Larry the Fence. Ruby didn’t look forward to crawling over those planks again. “Come on, Deb, Claudine.”

  Claudine stepped forward. “Listen. You asked why we’re here. I told you I knew your mother. I did.” She scanned the children’s faces. “I’m not sure how familiar you were with her livelihood, but, well, we’re part of the same community. We help each other because no one else will.”

  The children didn’t reply.

  Claudine continued. “My mother died when my brother and I were little, and the community made sure we had food, got us to school, got us to bed when my dad had to work late. I still consider them family.”

  “You’re crooks,” Hugo said.

  So he did know, Ruby thought. Did the other children?

  “I’ll be honest,” Claudine said. “When I first heard about your situation, I didn’t want to get involved. I still don’t think it’s a good idea. But to the community, I hold a debt of honor. My responsibility to your mother is to make sure you’re okay. But I’m not going to force myself on you. First you don’t want us here, then you lead us up, and now you’re chasing us out again. Make up your minds. What’s it going to be?”

  Tinkerbell made a hollow-throated moan and plopped to her side.

  Hugo looked to his brother and sisters. One by one, they nodded. “I guess.”

  “You guess what?” Claudine said.

  “Yes. Thank you, yes,” Hugo said.

  “Yes, what?” Claudine pressed.

  “Yes, thank you, we appreciate your help. Is that what you want me to say?” Hugo said.

  Deborah anxiously lifted a hanger. “I brought some things from my parents’ business. Two down coats—one is a really cute mauve—and a cashmere trench. Plus a wool blanket.” She unfolded the blanket on a lower bunk. “There’s a little stain up here in the corner. We couldn’t get it out. But it’s perfectly clean.”

  Lucy pulled the plastic covering off the mauve down coat and slipped it on. Tinkerbell rolled feet up on the blanket and made happy growling noises.

  All eyes shifted to Claudine. She paused, then nodded. “Here’s batteries, a couple of flashlights, and books.”

  “We need those,” Hugo said.

  She nailed it, Ruby thought. So dismissive of the Booster Club, but she always seemed a step ahead. “What will you do when it gets cold? No electricity here.”

  Hugo’s face turned stony. “We’ll figure it out.”

  “How long have you been here?” Claudine said. “Larry says it’s been at least a month since your mother’s accident.”

  “After Mom died, someone from the county found us. They made us go to different families,” Scotty said. “But Lucy and I got to stay together.”

  “We didn’t want to be without you,” Lucy added from the armchair, looking at Hugo and Joanie.

  “So you came here,” Claudine said.

  “Grandpa was a fireman.” Hugo had already finished a donut and was rooting in the box for a second one. “He used to work at this station, and he told us stories about it. We made a pact a long time ago that if something happened, we’d all meet here.”

  “With the dog? You came with the dog?” Deborah asked.

  “We found her outside. She didn’t have a home either,” Scotty said.

  “We have to figure out where you can go next,” Ruby said. “Winter comes, this old firehouse will be a freezer.”

  “Oh, no.” Hugo stood up. “We said we’d let you help, not take control. We want to stay here.”

  “We could probably get together enough money to rent a house for you somewhere, a house all of your own. It would be a lot safer. More comfortable, too,” Claudine said.

  “And then throw us out when you got tired of us? Forget it.”

  “But you can’t stay here,” Deborah said. “There’s no plumbing. What about rats?”

  “There’s a faucet downstairs. We haven’t seen a single rat,” Scotty pointed out.

  “Tinkerbell,” Ruby said. “Although a dog doesn’t have to be big to be a good ratter.”

  “Fine.” Deborah stood, hands on hips. “In the meantime, at least we can make this place a little more comfortable.”

  6

  The next morning, Deborah rolled up in front of the firehouse in an old Land Rover, her husband’s birdwatching vehicle. She’d stuffed its rear with things she’d found in the Granzer mansion’s attic: a rolled-up bearskin rug, an armchair, and serving dishes from the family’s third-best china pattern, including a bowl she thought would be perfect for Tinkerbell. On the seat next to her was a bucket of cleaning supplies.

  Ruby and Claudine were already at the firehouse. They’d managed to open the firehouse’s street-level door and had started to load in a few boxes with the help of the boys, Hugo and Scotty.

  Claudine dropped her box and hurried to the Land Rover. Deborah unrolled the window. “We’re unloading quickly, then we’re going to move our cars so we don’t attract too much attention.” She turned to the firehouse. “Hugo? Could you give Deborah a hand?”

  Deborah watched her stride back to the firehouse, brown hair swinging in a ponytail behind her. What was her story? Ruby had already filled Deborah in on her own past as they sat at Crafty Cuts with Ruby alternately trying to convince her to crop her hair or adopt one of the foster dogs and telling her about her rich father down South who disappeared one day. But this one—Claudine—she was a mystery.

  It wasn’t anything she could put her finger on, but Deborah had the feeling Claudine didn’t approve of her. Probably because her crimes were so small. She remembered Claudine scaling the firehouse as if it were a stepping stool. Maybe she was a hit woman. Deborah didn’t see the bulge of a weapon in Claudine’s pocket, but she might use a knife. She’d slip it from her ankle strap and—hi-ya!—slice someone’s jugular.

  Deborah ripped her gaze from Claudine and backed the car to the firehouse door. A quarter of an hour later, Claudine and Hugo pulled the big doors shut and padlocked them.

  Deborah grabbed a broom and the bucket of cleaning supplies
from the Land Rover’s passenger seat and climbed the rickety staircase at the rear. Tinkerbell sniffed around her before abandoning her for a rubber hotdog Ruby must have brought.

  Deborah looked from the younger girl, Lucy, to Joanie, the artistic one, before settling on the older girl. “Honey? We need to clean this place up. Do you know where to get water?”

  Joanie nodded and lifted an empty bucket. She threaded its handle over her arm and disappeared down the fireman’s pole in the corner just as Ruby and Hugo arrived with boxes.

  Claudine might be in charge of logistics, but Deborah was well qualified to lead a mini-renovation inside. She handed her broom to Lucy. “You get started sweeping up, and when Joanie gets back we’ll swab the floors.” They were wooden and scarred but surprisingly not too dirty. Had to be Joanie. Deborah knew a kindred spirit when she saw one.

  Lucy obediently took the broom and began work in the room’s corner.

  “Ruby,” Deborah said. “I packed some old sheets in the box right behind you. I thought we could double them up as curtains if we string up some laundry line as a curtain rod. That’s in the box, too. Maybe you could take charge of that project.” Remembering the grafitti-ed flowers on the wall, Deborah had tucked in pink and green sheets Louie’s mother must have packed away in the 1970s.

  “And me?” Claudine stood, hands on hips, a faint smile playing on her mouth.

  “You’ll help with set-up. I’m envisioning a study area over there” —she pointed to a space to the right of the stairs— “and a reading and relaxing area over there by the side windows so they won’t be seen.”

  “Nobody told us we’d have to study,” the younger boy said.

  “We’ll talk about that later,” Deborah said.

  Claudine held up a pair of wire cutters. “Why don’t I see if I can find electrical service nearby? Maybe we can get the kids light, at least.”

  Joanie, wide-eyed, returned, her thin arms straining over the bucket of water.

  “Do you ever talk, honey?” Deborah asked.

  Joanie shook her head while her siblings chorused, “No.”

  “Do you know how?”