by Linda Benson
“They’re trying to shove the raft into that car,” I say.
“They oughta take the air out of it,” says Aunt Trudy. “Wonder what the hurry is?”
I watch them wrestle with the raft. “Maybe they’re tired of standing out in the rain.”
“They can throw it in the back of the truck,” she says, slowing to a crawl. “Roll down your window and ask them.”
The truck window has an old hand crank and the glass wiggles. Raindrops start to blow in on the pups in the front seat and I hastily roll it back up. I push open the door a tad and set my feet on the pavement. A rush of embarrassment rolls over me. I don’t even know these boys, except for David, and I just met him yesterday.
The big husky boy walks right up. “Which way you headed?” he asks. “Can we put the raft in the back of your truck and have you drop us off at my friend’s down by the highway?” He looks around nervously, glancing toward the column of smoke. “We’re in kind of a hurry.”
“Prob’ly,” I say. “But ask my aunt.” I nod toward Aunt Trudy.
“What are you doing here, Olive?” David stands next to me, and he’s tall like my brother Pendleton. He’s so close I can feel the warmth of his skin and see the droplets of water on his forearms. A wave of embarrassment washes over me. Just this morning, I almost told him the entire story of my life, including how I got my name.
“Were you in the raft?” I ask. “It looks like you fell in the water.”
“No. But I might as well have, it rained so hard on us.”
“How come you went rafting in the rain?”
“The sun was out a few hours ago, when we set off,” he says.
I can see my aunt having a short discussion with the other boys, and they fling the big raft into the back of the old pickup and scramble up after it.
I look at David. “Are you coming with us, too?”
“My mom,” he nods toward the SUV, “came down to get us. I guess I better ride home with her.”
“Oh.” I feel a stab of disappointment.
“Where’d you get these?” he asks, noticing the puppies in the box.
“This guy dropped them off at the animal shelter, just as we were leaving. He said he found ’em on the side of the road.”
David leans over and the puppies snuffle his fingers, licking. “Aww, a whole box of little strays.”
I shudder at that word, but then realize David is only talking about the puppies. One of them chews on his finger.
“I like this gold one,” he says. “Does it remind you of anyone?”
“Yeah,” I say. “The yellow dog. A woman came to get him this morning, only an hour or so after you left…”
“Seriously? That was fast.”
“She was all dressed up like she just came from work. I don’t know if they really like the dog so much, or they just paid a lot of money for him.”
“C’mon, Tellington. We gotta go. Quit flirting,” says one of the boys in a loud voice.
David’s face gets a little flushed and he looks around like he’s unsure of what to do.
“I can scoot over,” I say, “if you wanna ride with us.” I imagine me in the middle, with David sitting next to me, balancing the box of puppies on his lap. I can almost feel his leg brushing mine, sitting right close…
“Nah,” he says, looking at the woman eyeballing us over the wheel of the silver SUV. “I better go home with my mom.”
The two boys bang on the side of the old pickup, as if kicking a horse to make it go. “Let’s get this show on the road,” says the larger boy, the rude one. “Hey, we’ll pick up our bikes from your house in a day or two, okay, dude?”
“Yup,” says David, and he turns to go.
“Wait,” I almost say to him, as I pull the rusty pickup door shut. I want to tell him not to leave. I want him to sit next to me on the way home, and jabber about puppies, and tell me about rafting. But my tongue feels like it’s trapped in my mouth.
Without another word David walks away, opens the door, and climbs inside the silver SUV. His mother makes a U-turn and pulls away, and Aunt Trudy heads down to the highway to drop off two boys and to pick up formula for some dropped-off puppies that need to be fed. My stomach turns in knots. I wonder if I’ll ever see David again.
18-David
I keep waiting for something bad to happen. You know, like for someone to find out we were in the barn that day of the fire. But all that happens is it keeps raining. It’s the crummiest summer I can ever remember. Sherman’s dad comes by to pick up his bike, but I don’t even venture downstairs to talk.
James leaves his bike sitting out there against the side of the house and never comes to get it, which is weird. Maybe he’s got another one. He said his dad had that huge collection of fireworks, and I know his family usually has a big party and lots of people come over to watch. He never calls to invite me, and I’m actually glad. After our raft trip, I sort of want to cool my friendship with James.
I think about going for another bike ride myself, all the way to the end of Upper Ridge. I wouldn’t mind seeing Olive again, with her cute freckled nose, and ask how the puppies are. But it keeps raining. And raining. Besides, she knows we were out on the river that day, too. But I push that down to the bottom of my gut and try not to think about it.
Now, finally, it’s actually the Fourth of July, although you wouldn’t know it from the weather. My mom sits on the edge of the chaise lounge outside on the patio. In honor of our country’s birthday, she’s wearing a red blouse, white pants, and a navy-blue sweater. She holds a glass of red wine.
She takes a sip and shivers. “Brrr, it’s freezing out here. I can’t believe this is July.”
My dad has the barbecue fired up, and now he dons his chef’s apron with the picture of a juicy steak on the front. He has the whole weekend off because of the holiday. He’s usually totally stressed from work, but today he seems pretty relaxed.
“If you remember,” he says, “in years past we’ve had this kind of weather on the Fourth, just not for such an extended period of time.”
“David wrote a nice essay to get into the advanced classes at school,” my mom announces. Her face positively glows as she beams in my direction.
My dad douses the steaks with seasoning. “Well, if David wants to get into the Academy he’s going to need a lot more than just advanced classes. He needs to prove he’s well rounded. Get into several sports, involved in community activities, and get some letters of recommendation. Have you thought about what sports you’ll go out for this year, son?”
Geez. Nothing like pressure. I haven’t even started high school yet. And besides, ninth grade is still part of the middle school.
“Maybe cross-country,” I say off the top of my head. I think the season starts right away.
“Well, cross-country is okay. Probably not as good as football or basketball. I’m just making suggestions, is all.” My dad slaps the steaks onto the grill and they sizzle.
I look in the other direction.
A heavy rain shower moves through and blows moisture sideways into the open patio. My mother grabs her drink and jumps up.
“I’m going inside,” she announces.
We had planned to sit out in the yard after dinner, like we used to with my brothers, and watch the fireworks from town light up the sky. But it doesn’t look like that’s going to happen. It’s so overcast that we can just barely make out the glow from town below the cloudbank.
My dad hands me the plate of steaks when they are finally cooked. “Looks like the party’s moving indoors.”
If you call this a party. With my brothers gone, it’s just me and my parents, and it doesn’t seem like that much fun at all. I reach for the platter, suddenly aware of my hand and Grant’s missing ring. Will Dad notice? I turn my hands over quickly, grab the plate of steaks from the bottom, and hustle through the patio door.
My mother already has the table set with red, white, and blue placemats.
“Ran
into the fire chief downtown,” my dad says, as he slices into his medium-rare New York strip.
I freeze.
“Really,” says my mother, pouring herself another glass of wine. “I haven’t talked to Ray in a long time.”
I quickly slide watermelon onto my plate and put my hands in my lap, rubbing the white spot on my finger where the ring used to be.
“We chatted a bit about that shed that burned down along the river,” says my dad. “The only thing they found inside was a melted BB gun.”
He looks straight at me, but I duck, and don’t meet his eye.
“It was Swede Hanson’s barn,” he says. “The entire structure, including all the hay inside, was declared a total loss. And Swede said he had no idea why a BB gun would have been in there.”
I nod, keeping my eyes on my plate. I don’t even know this Swede guy, but I feel bad about the hay. And the barn.
“You boys were down on the river that same day, weren’t you, David?”
“Yes,” I retort. “But I don’t even own a BB gun, Dad! What are you saying?”
“Just wondering,” he says. “You didn’t notice anything suspicious?”
“N-no. Not really.” It feels awful to lie to my dad, but it wasn’t like we meant for the barn to burn. I mean, the whole thing was an accident.
“Well, I just thought you might have seen something. Hey,” he says, changing the subject. “Since we’re probably not going to be able to see the fireworks very well this year, I rented a whole pile of videos. Thought we could have family movie night. I’ll even make popcorn.”
“Okay,” I mutter. “Sounds good.” I don’t mind if we stay inside and watch movies. I’ve kinda had enough fireworks for the whole year.
19-Olive
I guess maybe my mother was right. It does rain here—a lot. Even in the summer. It’s been raining off and on for almost a week. I’m curled up on the bed with Rags, reading another book, bored out of my mind.
Today is the Fourth of July. It should be hot as a firecracker, sweaty-all-over hot, going-swimming-with-your-friends, get-a-sunburn hot. But there is no sun, and I don’t have any friends here. I’ve barely seen any kids at all on this country road out in the boonies, and I haven’t met hardly anybody. We did take those two boys with the raft back to where one of them lived out on the highway, but it’s not like they even so much as looked at me.
David seemed pretty friendly, though. A small shiver goes through my body whenever I even think about him. But I only saw him that one day when we played stick with the yellow dog, and then down by the river in the rain. I haven’t seen him at all since then. Now that we’ve found the owner of the yellow dog, it’s not like I have any excuse to go knock on David’s big fancy door again.
I blink, trying to stay awake. It’s only late afternoon, but I’ve been getting up a couple of times during the night to help feed the puppies. Aunt Trudy moved them into the big dog crate she borrowed. We put cardboard on the bottom, with old blankets for them to snuggle on, and we’re keeping them in the laundry room.
The puppies are actually a good diversion from my boredom. Except that they are so messy! But I love watching them. Their eyes were barely open when we brought them home in the truck a few days ago. But now they zero right in on me whenever I peer in to look at them. They all scramble close, yipping for attention. I can’t decide which one is my favorite, the yellow one, which I call Goldy, or the chocolate one with white on its chest. I name him Chester.
I hear them scrambling around in the laundry room and set my book down to go in and help. “Let’s mix some canned food with their milk,” Aunt Trudy says. “The sooner we can get them eating solid food, the faster we can get them off formula. It’s a job preparing it so many times a day.”
“Why do they poop so much?” I ask. I’m used to cats, which use a litter box and cover their messes. These little puppies just go everywhere, and then they step right in it. It’s positively disgusting, and we have to keep changing their bedding to keep them clean.
“Well, that’s just the way little puppies are, so we’re going to have to deal with it until they can go outside and stay in a pen,” Aunt Trudy says. “It’s so rainy and cool, I don’t want to put them out until it warms up. Then we’ll get some wire panels and make them a bigger play area. That’ll make things a whole lot easier until we can find homes for them.”
I yawn, nodding in agreement. “These middle-of-the-night feedings are making me exhausted.” Not to mention that stupid peacock of Swede’s that still makes creepy noises at random hours during the night.
As the afternoon drags on, I really want to ask Aunt Trudy if there’s anything going on tonight. I mean, it’s going to be evening soon, and doesn’t everybody do something on the Fourth? I don’t expect her to do anything strictly for me. I mean, she is letting us stay here for free. Me and Rags. And I don’t want to be a pest.
I clear my throat. “Are there any fireworks around here?”
“Is it that time already? The Fourth? I can hardly believe it’s already July.”
I don’t know how she can say that. Time just seems to drag some days, especially when I’m stuck inside.
“You know, it’s still raining out,” she says. “It’ll probably put a damper on that big celebration downtown.”
What big celebration? Maybe we could go. “Is there anything else to do?”
“You know, Olive, I’ve never made a big deal out of the Fourth. People around here shoot off so many fireworks, sometimes it sounds like World War III. I usually stay home and let the dogs onto the back porch so they won’t be so scared. And I go outside and talk to the horses so they don’t go running like crazy all over the corral.”
“Oh,” I say. “And that’s it?”
“Well, yes. What are you used to doing on the Fourth of July?”
“You mean when I was home with Mom and Pendleton?”
She nods, reaching into the crate and taking out the puppies’ empty food dishes. She washes her hands in the laundry room sink.
“Well, Mom always drove us to the biggest fireworks display we could get to. We’d pack supper and drinks in a cooler, and get there really early, and lay blankets down to save our spot, right as close as we could get to where the fireworks would be going off. Then we’d have a picnic. You know—fried chicken and potato chips and pop and…” My eyes begin to mist over. I don’t know why. “And when it got dark, we’d all lie down on the blankets on our backs and watch to make sure no embers came down and caught our hair on fire. It was so much fun though, because Pendleton would start singing, and Mom would try to sing harmony, and I’d—” My voice catches in my throat and the rest of it won’t come out.
“I know, Olive.” She dries her hands on her apron and wraps an arm around my waist. “Your mother is, well, she’s your mother. And I know that you miss her.”
I nod my head and swallow. Hard.
“And I’m sure she misses you just as much. But she also knows I’m taking good care of you, so she doesn’t have that to worry about.”
“Yes,” I blubber.
“I can’t imagine what it’s like to be in jail, but I’m sure time is dragging as much for her as it is for you. I know she’s anxious to be out and see you again.”
“But why doesn’t she call?” The words spill out of me. “One little phone call can’t cost that much money. Even Pendleton called to see how I was doing—but not my own mother!” I spit the last word out, surprised at how hateful it sounds.
Aunt Trudy doesn’t answer right away. She just hugs me really hard. Finally she lets go and pulls her apron over her head. “I don’t know why she hasn’t called, Olive. She knows the phone number here. Maybe she’s a little bit ashamed of herself, you know? Maybe she just wants to get right—with herself and her life.”
“Get right?”
“Your mother always was the wild one of the two of us. Practically drove your Gram and Gramps into an early grave, worrying about her. And she ha
sn’t always made the best choices in life, you know.”
“What d’you mean?”
“Well, let’s just say that she didn’t always hang out with the right people in life, for starters.”
“You mean my dad?”
“No. I’m not saying anything against your father, except…” She clears her throat.
“Except that he’s not ever home?”
“Well, there’s that. I know he’s proud of you children, Olive. But he’s never exactly been much of a family provider.”
“Yeah. Mom’s called him lots of names. Lazy. Run-Off. Good-For-Nothing.”
“Your mother was my baby sister, you know. There’s almost twenty years’ difference between us, and Gram and Gramps were already getting up there in age when she was born. So I sort of helped raise your mother, too. She wasn’t very old at all when she found out that she was…well, let’s just say that Pendleton was a bit of a surprise. But your mom and dad did the right thing and got married when they found out.”
“He was a surprise? Was I a surprise, too?”
She laughs out loud. “No, Olive. You were not a surprise. Your mother wanted a little girl so bad, she tried and tried to have another baby for a long time after Pendleton. And when you were born, I don’t think I ever saw anybody so happy as your mother.”
A smile lights up inside of me. I can’t help myself. It’s hard to be mad at my mother when I know this. “But that still doesn’t answer my question,” I say. “Why hasn’t she called?”
“I wish I knew,” says my aunt, shaking her head slowly back and forth. “I really wish I knew.”
A vehicle bounces up the gravel driveway. I run to the window and look outside. Maybe it’s my mother. Maybe she got out of jail early, and drove up to Washington to surprise me. But it’s not.
“It’s Swede,” I say.
“Oh my,” says Aunt Trudy. “And all I’ve got on is my old clothes, and I probably smell like these messy puppies. I wish he’d call before he shows up.”
She’s awfully concerned about her appearance all of a sudden.