Darnay Road

by Diane Munier

  Around eight in the evening our mothers and grandmothers and aunts start to call us home. Abigail May and I never say goodnight, we just disappear. We go straight to the cellar. Usually I lift the big outside door for her and then she holds it for me while she stands on the stairs and I get under it and we slowly lower that old gray painted slab of wood with our hands over our heads. But tonight little Abigail May has to do everything herself with not much help from me. It’s not easy but we do it. Then we go down the small cement staircase that smells like mildew and open the door at the bottom and we’re in the cellar. It’s okay, we already have our flashlights.

  No one knows where we went, we just disappear. It’s so much fun, then we sit on the blankets and talk for a while then we go upstairs and Abigail leaves through the kitchen.

  But tonight we have so much to talk about we need a sleepover but since we didn’t ask for one we have to be happy with whispering in the dark about boys. We’ve never talked about boys like this, always loved and hated them from as far away as possible, except for all our boyfriends at school since the first grade, but it’s so different now.

  We go over and over what happened at the show then in the street, all in one day. “I wonder if he likes girls at public,” I say, and it hurts my stomach to think about it.

  “Probably not cause he likes you,” she says squirming around, and kicking her feet, then she says, “What are you going to do?”

  “I don’t know,” I say. “I’m not doing anything. I don’t know what to do!” We laugh again.

  “Well Wally Cleaver likes Mary Ellen.”

  “But they’re big kids. They go to dances and stuff,” I say.

  “Well he’s just your boyfriend.”

  “No he’s not. He’s not my boyfriend.”

  “Well you like Moondoggie and he’s way old.”

  It’s just not the same.

  She gets up on her knees and declares, “If Moondoggie came up on your granma’s porch right now you’d go off to Hollywood with him.”

  “What about school?” I say like she’s being the dumbest kid in the world.

  “They have schools in Hollywood,” she says.

  “Well James Darren is a big man and I’m a kid.”

  “What if you grow up and marry him?” Abigail says, her flashlight under her chin so she looks scary.

  “I told you not to do it that way,” I say knocking her flashlight away so she can’t make the fright face.

  But she puts it right back. I can hardly talk to her sometimes.

  “Ricky told him to leave me alone,” I say.

  She pulls the flashlight away. “He’s the dumbest brother in the world.” Then the light is back. “You have to keep a pen with you all the time,” Abigail says.

  “I can’t do that.”

  “Sure you can. What if he pops up and asks again.” Then she mimics him, “Hey ballerina you’re so pretty, can I sign your sweet little Boris Karloff arm?” She says this in a high creepy voice.

  I push her over. “I don’t know. Do you think he will?” Suddenly I feel like I’ll never get to sleep tonight cause now I’m over-excited like when I drink too much red Kool-Aid. I feel like all this wonderful stuff could happen.

  “He’ll sign your cast in big red letters, ‘Easy,’” Abigail says still laying on her side.

  “Easy?” I don’t know much about him, but I know his name is not Easy. It’s Ethan.

  “E. C.,” she gets back on her knees and stresses those letters like I’m deaf. “They call him Easy cause it sounds the same.”

  I can hear it now. “Easy.” I’d heard that before. I heard Ricky say that. “Easy.” I don’t know about such a name. “What about Joe?”

  She doesn’t answer right off.

  “Abigail May?”

  “He’s Beaucap,” she says.

  I knew it was something so strange. “I never heard a name like that.”

  “Ricky calls him Cap,” she says. “He’s same age as us.”

  “Easy and Cap,” I repeat. I pretty well knew that, just didn’t pay attention. I named them right off though. Hardy Boys. I knew they moved into one of the houses further down Scutter during the school year.

  “Behind Miss Little. Scuttertown, going down,” Abigail says like she’s the conductor on a train. “Should I tell Ricky you like Easy?”

  I shine my light on her face cause she better be kidding. “You better ever not,” I say. “I’ll tell Cap you like him cause he threw that balloon.”

  She jumps on me, heedless of my arm. She likes to pinch each of my cheeks and pull until my lips almost rip apart.

  “Abigail May,” I rebuke her real loudly knocking her off and then we wait to see if Granma opens the door but she doesn’t.

  “Well I’m sorry but you shouldn’t say that,” she says. Then she stands and dusts her behind. “I’m going home now.”

  “You shouldn’t say it you mean. Don’t you ever, ever tell Ricky I like Ethan.”

  “Easy,” she says.

  “Don’t you ever say that. He smokes.” I’ve got a million reasons why I can’t be in love with such a boy.

  “Is he the cutest boy you’ve ever seen?” she says picking her shorts in the back.

  “You going to the show?” I say cause she’s picking her seat.

  She giggles her head off. “Is he?” Then she burps loudly. When we drink Coca-Cola we have a burping contest and I can never beat her. So we’re laughing again.

  “Don’t you think so?” I say in there cause she must see it too.

  “Cap’s the cutest.”

  “No he is not,” I say.

  “He looks like Dr. Kildare,” Abigail says like we’re fighting about it.

  I stand up. “He don’t look like Dr. Kildare.” I love Dr. Kildare but Granma loves him more than me even.

  “He does too. If you push his hair back he looks just like him.” Hands on her hips. I don’t know why Granma ain’t at the door.

  “He looks like Eddie Haskell maybe,” I say.

  Abigail stomps her foot and growls like she’s all upset.

  “Well he does not look like Dr. Kildare, that’s just crazy.”

  “I’m not going to play with you,” Abigail says.

  “Fine. I’ll just solve the case by myself.”

  “What case?”

  “Where those boys go every night.”

  “You can’t solve it by yourself cause you’re a fraidy cat.”

  “Go on home you little stupid girl. You’re the fraidy cat. Go talk to your old dead Grandma.”

  I shine my light quick on her face and see the tears. I didn’t mean to say it and I don’t know why I did. But I’m not sorry enough to say I am. Anyway she goes stomping up the stairs, lets the basement door slam against the wall and everything.

  I’ve really, really got the headache now.

  I think of Gidget and all those boys around her, and I’d never have nerve like that. I’ll be ten years old Fourth of July. That ain’t nearly old enough to have a bra like Jennifer.

  I am just a kid. But him thinking I’m pretty makes me love him pretty much. And it sure makes this summer about as interesting as it could be.

  So I hurry up the cellar stairs into the kitchen and almost past the living room where Granma is asleep in her chair holding onto the green glass. I tiptoe in and turn off the TV and slowly take that glass from her hand and she wakes up. “Bedtime Granma,” I say.

  “Well you are the sweetest thing,” she says.

  “Yes Ma’am. I’m gonna take my bath now,” I say.

  “Did you lock the door?” she says while she works to get up.

  “I will.” And then I’ve got to get to my window and watch for the boys to come around. I have an interest so keen. I get up there and I turn on the bath water and it has to be shallow cause of my arm. Then I get my notebook for taking spy notes, then my flashlight of course. I know Ricky has to be in by eight-thirty and it’s eight fifteen. So I hurry in and get my bath
and check my chest and it’s still as flat as ever. I try to hurry up and get on my nightgown that says, “Ho-hum sleepyhead,” embroidered on the pocket. It’s pink and the letters are red. But I get all tangled up and have to start over. Then I unravel my braids and my hair is wild and crazy crazy and I run the brush over it just a few times.

  Then I’m at my window and I give the signal, two flashes. Wait. Two flashes, and Abigail doesn’t answer with the same signal.

  It’s nine on the dot. She knows it’s time to be at her station. What kind of spy is she? We are never going to get this mystery solved at this rate.

  Nine fifteen the light comes on in Abigail’s room. I can see her yellow curtains below the shade pulled halfway down. Why is her light on? I wish to St. Peter I could call her and ask her what in the world is going on? But of course I can’t. Being a kid makes me so angry sometimes, especially when I’m on a case. I wait and wait and Ricky’s got a lamp on in his room but the Hardy Boys don’t show and Abigail May’s light don’t go off.

  Then I see the most amazing thing. It’s dark on Abigail May’s porch, but the door opens and Abigail May comes out all sneaky but as soon as she clears the porch she runs into the middle of Darnay Road and she looks right up at my window and waves her hands for me to come down.

  At first I just stare, then I flash twice.

  I almost put on my robe but it would take forever and I can’t go into the middle of the street in that so I find the shorts Granma laid out for tomorrow and I pull those on and that takes forever too with just one hand to pull them up. Then I stick my feet in my pink thongs and I go out in the hall trying not to let them flip flop on my feet too much. I listen at Granma’s door and she’s got her radio playing softly and she’s snoring.

  Then I tip-toe across the landing and try to take the stairs slow but I already know Granma can’t hear me and won’t wake up until morning.

  So I get to the front door and I go out and leave it open some and I close the screen softly and Abigail runs up in my yard and soon as I’m down to the gate she is hugging me and crying.

  “Is Aunt May dead?” I ask horrified.

  “They can’t make me go. I won’t go,” she’s saying the night breeze ruffling her pixie.

  “Abigail May, Abigail May,” I’m saying kind of in a crazy whisper while I try to get her hands away from her face.

  She’s just blubbering.

  “Where’s Aunt May?” I ask.

  That’s when I hear them. The bullfrog noises the Hardy Boys make.

  I look over there and Ricky is coming down the trellis on the side of the house. We’re standing close to the gate to my front yard, and one of those boys sees us and there’s discussion going on. I just keep holding onto Abigail and she don’t seem to care who’s around us.

  So here comes Ricky and the other two behind. They’re on foot now like always when they come around at night.

  “You get back in the house Abigail May,” Ricky says.

  He doesn’t seem worried that we caught him going out.

  They come clear across the road to stand by my gate.

  “Go on before she comes looking,” Ricky says, but Abigail just clings to me and ignores him.

  I look right at those boys. “What happened?” I ask Ricky.

  “She’s just being a baby,” he says.

  She does lift her head now. “Shut up you meanie.”

  “Hey what you cryin’ about?” Cap says, but he means Abigail.

  Abigail sniffs. “Who wants to know?”

  He grins and looks at Easy and he grins back.

  “C’mon Abigail,” I say, ready to walk her home. But now that I had a better look Cap does not at all look like Dr. Kildare. But that other one Easy, he might be the cutest boy I ever did see in my life.

  “No,” Abigail pulls away wiping the backs of her hands under her eyes. She steps back from me. “They want to take me to Florida,” she cries again.

  “Who?” I say.

  “Mommy,” she says.

  I look at Ricky. “Who’s they?”

  “Get in the house, Abigail May,” Ricky says through his teeth.

  “No,” she says and she takes off running down Darnay Road.

  Ricky takes off after her, but no one catches Abigail when she’s wearing her Keds, and she is.

  So Cap runs back to Abigail’s yard and here he comes on his bike taking off after the Brodys. I step out near the road. All I can think is Aunt May’s going to come out that door any minute looking for Abigail and we’ll all get in trouble.

  But there’s another thing I think too. Easy is standing nearby, nearer than I realized and he’s lighting up a smoke like Aunt May showing up ain’t even a thought. I look at him and he bends a little, staring at my chest, and my hand goes there and he carefully moves my hair back behind my shoulder and he says, “Ho hum sleepy head?” Then he pulls on that smoke but he’s smiling some.

  And I know my face gets as red as those letters but I make myself look straight at him cause no boy ever makes me afraid to even talk or something. But then no boy is ever allowed to touch my hair.

  So I just say, “Yes.”

  Darnay Road 8

  The last thing I expect to see in my whole life is Abigail May sitting in between the raised handlebars on Cap’s bicycle with her arms lifted like she is on the roller coaster called Red Baron at the school picnic. But that’s what I see all right, her whizzing past while that big boy pedals and grins like a fast pumping fiend.

  I nearly have no words except to whisper her name, “Abigail May.” Well, she isn’t crying any more, that’s for sure.

  Poor Ricky is somewhere up the street where he’d gone on a run for Abigail.

  “You want to ride?” Easy says to me.

  I hold up my cast.

  “It won’t get in the way,” he says.

  Well I am so scared to say yes to such a thing. It is nearly ten o’clock even though I’m not wearing my Cinderella watch because of my bath. And my Granma is upstairs sawing away and God only knows if Aunt May is also in the land of dreams or staring from her window right now—staring in shock and horror.

  “Well…I…,” I say.

  Then Easy looks in the direction Ricky went and he takes my good arm and says, “Come on.”

  And that’s what Granma always says. “If someone asks you to jump in the lake, Georgia Christine, you going to do that too?”

  If it’s Easy doing the asking, I guess it’s possible I’ll jump right in.

  We run across the street and along Abigail’s side yard and through the back yard and Paterson’s old dog goes to howling and Easy’s bike is back there laying on its side and he lets go of my arm and gets it, and I see how big he is again, and I just swallow my good sense and I hitch up my nightie with my good hand and put the backside Granma is going to wallop regardless of my beautiful eyes right there in the middle of that u-shaped bar and Easy is breathing loud as he pushes off and takes off on the grass, and I feel the power in his legs as we go right over that rough patchy grass, but we don’t go for the street, we ride behind the yards, setting the dogs off one by one, and he says something and I say, “What?” and he says to take ahold of my hair cause it’s pretty much attacking him I guess, so I sink my behind more over the bar and I have to let go with my one hand and I gather my hair up then and he’s breathing right by my ear and I keep my eyes straight ahead cause I don’t know what the heck I’m doing.

  Darnay Road 9

  Honor thy Father and Mother (and Grandmother too, I know cause I asked Sister Mary Sponza once before I knew she was pretty close to playing a harp in heaven forever and ever) that it may go well with thee.

  Well I do honor her, but those little questions under the commandments that Sister Karfarik, then Sister Eladine, then Sister Sponza, then Sister Margaret Mary her replacement, then Sister Mary Elizabeth always asked before we made confession, those are the ones I hate, hate. They just get about everything a kid can think to do.


  But I can’t let Abigail May go riding off into the night with a boy from Scutter Road now can I?

  So Easy is pumping his legs off behind me and I wonder how he can be so strong, but the arms either side of me have muscles and smoking has not stunted his growth at all.

  But it’s so dark and scary along these tracks. Many’s the time Abigail May and I have looked back here during hide-and-go-seek and said, “Not back there, compadre.”

  And here I am now and Easy don’t seem to know he’s supposed to be scared of the bums that run along here. He’s pretty brave. Well strong and brave but I’m still so wide-eyed I wouldn’t blink if a bug hit me in the eye.

  Finally he goes around the house on the corner and hits the sidewalk and my teeth can stop rattling. He hits the street like he knows where he’s going.

  “Where we going?” I say.

  “Trestle,” he says.

  The trestle bridge? Is he out of his mind?

  “Where’s Abigail May?” I say.

  He don’t answer for a minute and I let my hair go and grip that bar cause Lord a mercy I’m being kidnapped and I suddenly want Granma so powerfully.

  “Whoa,” Easy says cause I sit up some and I hear his shoe slap the ground a couple times, then he’s got it again. Even if he’s kidnapping me I pretty well knew he wouldn’t let us fall.

  “Take me home!” I say.

  He slows to a stop and we’re there near the curb and I hop off and it makes my arm ache. Facing him is harder than I thought. He’s a really big boy and I don’t know what I’m supposed to do but I’m trying not to cry.

  “Are you afraid?” he says.

  “No!” I say too loudly.

  “Get on. I’ll take you back.”

  He has the kindest eyes. If he had a bath and some new clothes he could be in the movies maybe or in the Mickey Mouse Club for sure. But then he’d meet Annette Funicello and so long Easy.

  “Little girl?” he says.

  Well he shouldn’t call me that. I ain’t so little I can’t answer to my real name.

  “Where did your brother take my friend Abigail May?” I say ruffling my feathers like I do when Granma calls me Missy and says something about my high horse.