I glanced over at Carry, who stood beside Jonathon, holding his hand. Jonathon had a small gray knapsack over his shoulder and his other hand gripped the strap. Carry seemed much more content now than she did when she first got up this morning.
Two girls walked behind the marching band, each holding one end of a banner explaining that they had all come from Murphy High School in Mobile.
“They must’ve got up really early to make it here in time for the parade,” Dewey said. “I’m surprised they look so happy.”
“What’s not to be happy ’bout?” I said. “It’s the Fourth. We get to eat for the rest of the day after this. I love eatin’.”
“Eatin’ is different than gettin’ up early, Abe.”
I gave Carry another sideways glance. She was staring at Jonathon so, of course, I didn’t exist to be seen at the moment.
“Not everyone hates gettin’ up,” I said to Dewey. “Just Carry, far as I can tell.”
“No, my ma hates it, too. That’s why she stopped doin’ it.”
“Stopped doin’ what?”
“Gettin’ up. She stays in bed probably longer than Carry now on most days.”
I stared at him. “Who makes you breakfast?”
“I do. My ma says I should be able to feed myself on account of wolf cubs my age can without any problems.”
I nearly laughed. “What do wolf cubs have to do with you?”
“She always says things would be different if I’d been raised by wolves. I’d appreciate stuff more on account of wolf cubs don’t have much. Just a den or whatever they sleep in. She figures I’d have probably been fixin’ my own breakfast for years.”
“You make your own breakfast? What the hell do you make?”
He gave me a look like I should know the answer to such an obvious question. “I don’t make nothin’, Abe. What do you think? I don’t know anythin’ ’bout makin’ breakfast.”
I thought about this and came to the conclusion he was probably right. “What ’bout toast?” I asked. “Surely you can make that.”
“Never thought much ’bout toast,” he said. “Thanks, I’ll keep that in mind.” Dewey’s gaze drifted back to the parade, where more clowns now filled the street throwing out more saltwater taffy. Four were on stilts and two rode unicycles. Two more just walked normally.
Dewey’s face lit up and he jumped up with his hands in the air, trying to make one of the creepy clowns toss candy his way. “Don’t you just love clowns?” he asked.
“No, I reckon they’re all mass murderers. Why do you care so much ’bout the stupid candy anyway?”
“Candy’s good. I haven’t had breakfast, remember?”
I had no interest in candy. I was saving all my room for a Vera’s Old West barbecued burger. I was glad I hadn’t eaten anything yet. I wondered about Dewey, though. “How long have you been goin’ without breakfast?” I asked him.
“I dunno. A month?”
“A whole month with no breakfast?”
One of the clowns ran up and dropped a fistful of candy into Dewey’s waiting hands. The clown offered another handful to me, but I declined. “No thanks,” I said. “I’m savin’ all my room so I can eat so many burgers there’s a chance I might throw up.” It probably wasn’t the most eloquent thing to say, but it was certainly the truth. Oh, and I’d also be consuming a big bowl of homemade ice cream. The Ladies Auxiliary always handed out homemade ice cream.
“It’s not hard to go a month without breakfast, Abe,” Dewey said, finally answering my question.
“I guess so,” I said, deciding not to spend any more time talking about Dewey’s diet. At least I’d given him the gift of toast.
The clowns were now a block past us up the street, and the members of the Rotary Club were now going by. Every one of them held a little flag not much bigger than a deck of cards.
I looked behind them and saw the Boy Scouts coming up next. They walked four across with one in the front holding out another flag just like the woman in the front of the Ladies Auxiliary had.
My stomach gurgled and popped, like the inside of an active volcano. Like Dewey, I hadn’t had breakfast, either, only I did it on purpose. Now my hunger was beginning to take precedence over watching any more of the parade. I wanted to get down to eating.
CHAPTER 36
When the tail of the parade finally went by, everyone watching spilled into the street behind it, and followed as it made its way to the library and then up Hunter Road.
The sun had hoisted itself way up above the trees and shone straight into my face, forcing me to squint as we went along. I glanced at my watch. The day already felt near on unbearable because of the heat, and it was just past ten-thirty as we hiked up the long hill toward Blackberry Trail, where everyone would turn to make their way to Willet Lake. A bead of sweat rolled down from my hair, running along the side of my face. I wiped it away with my arm.
“Sure is hot,” I said to Dewey. Carry and Jonathon walked in front of us, still holding hands. Jonathon still had his knapsack on his other shoulder. I realized I hadn’t heard either of them say a word since we met up with Jonathon around a quarter to nine at the bottom of Hunter Drive. I started thinking maybe they didn’t talk much when they were together. That would explain the long phone conversations.
“This ain’t so hot,” Dewey said.
I wiped away more sweat that appeared on my forehead. “How can you say this ain’t hot? By the time we make it up this hill, I’m goin’ to be havin’ a bath in sweat.” I saw two beads of sweat run down the side of Dewey’s face. He just left them there.
“I don’t find it hot,” he said. “Not real hot, anyway. I remember way hotter days than this.”
“Dewey,” I said. “You’re sweating pails, just like me.”
“No, I’m not.”
I shook my head at him. “Why are we even discussin’ this? I can see the sweat on your face.”
He finally wiped it away. “I just don’t think it’s that hot.”
I gave up. As usual, there was no point in arguing with him. I think Dewey liked to dispute everything so he could hear himself talk.
We finally got to Blackberry Trail and made a right, getting off the hill. I was actually a bit out of breath as we walked along. Beside me, I heard Dewey breathing heavy. He had on a white T-shirt that was now soaked, and he kept having to wipe sweat off his face. “You’re an idiot,” I said to him.
“What?”
I shook my head. “Never mind.”
Jonathon stopped walking and actually spoke. “Hey,” he said. “I almost forgot.” Letting go of Carry’s hand, he slipped the knapsack off his shoulder and unzipped it. Then he reached inside and pulled out some lady fingers. “Here,” he said to me and Dewey. “I got these for you.”
Dewey beamed as he took the fireworks. “Thanks!” he said.
Jonathon looked at me. “Those are for both of you.”
“Thanks,” I said.
Jonathon and Carry shared a glance at each other. Then Jonathon sort of stammered, “Um, maybe don’t tell your ma you got them from me.”
“Actually,” Carry said, “I wouldn’t tell Mom you got them at all.”
* * *
Lunch exceeded all my expectations. Four cooks from Vera’s manned the barbecues, where they cooked up a whole lot of burgers. The smell of them sizzling on the grill filled Willet Park, which now overflowed with folk from all over town. Looking around, I imagined near on everyone was here other than my mom and Dan. I had no idea what they were doing or where they were, only that it was some sort of emergency. I hoped everything was okay. I had worried that, without my mother, the day wouldn’t be nearly as fun, but it turned out to be all right I figured as I finished my second burger.
“Going to try for number three?” Jonathon asked with a laugh.
I thought this over. “I don’t think so. I have just enough room left for a big bowl of ice cream.” As usual, the Ladies Auxiliary had shown up with tubs of home
made ice cream that would be the perfect topping for the food already in my stomach.
Dewey stopped eating halfway through his second burger.
“You’re not done, are you?” I asked, lifting my can of Dr Pepper to my lips.
“I’m too full,” he said.
“What ’bout ice cream?”
He shook his head. “I don’t think so.”
“But you haven’t had breakfast in a month,” I said. “You should be starving.”
“I reckon my stomach’s shrunk.”
“Fine.” I got up from the grass where the four of us were sitting. “I’m goin’ to get myself some ice cream then.”
“Just do it quick,” Dewey said. “I want to set off these lady fingers.”
“They can wait,” I said. “We’ve got all day until the fireworks.” The fireworks were scheduled for ten tonight. For that, I couldn’t wait. Next to the food, the fireworks were the best part of the Independence Day celebration. Every year, pretty near all of the shops on Main Street pitched in to buy them. I had no idea how much they cost, but there were always a lot of them. They usually went off for near on a half hour.
With Dewey still protesting about me taking time for dessert, I completely ignored him and walked over and got into line at the tables where the Ladies Auxiliary was set up. The sun was right overhead and, I think, even hotter than it had been earlier. I wasn’t sweating near on as much as I was walking up Hunter Drive, though.
Across the park, a few boys were throwing a baseball around. I started thinking Dewey and I should’ve brought our gloves but then figured doing anything in this heat would just be horribly uncomfortable.
A girl walked by with two small dogs. I think they were on their way to snatch the second half of Dewey’s burger, the way they marched on in front of her, pulling their leashes tight.
I finally got to the front of the line and ordered my ice cream. I got two really big scoops, one strawberry and the other chocolate. As I made my way back to where we were sitting, the ice cream had already started to melt from the heat of the sun blazing overhead.
Across the park, someone blew an air horn announcing the start of the sack race. Me and Dewey had decided when we got to the park that we were too old for those kinds of things. Well, I did, anyway. Dewey had taken a little more convincing.
“All they got is buttons and flags and stickers from businesses,” he had said while we checked out the prize tent.
“What do you expect?” I asked. “It ain’t like we’re payin’ anythin’ to be here.”
“The Harvest Fair always has cool stuff like thumb locks and goldfish,” he said, looking across the grass at all the kids hobbling along in the three-legged race. I didn’t think any of them looked older than ten.
“You don’t reckon that looks like fun?” Dewey asked.
“Dewey, everybody in that race still goes to grammar school. Some of them don’t look older than six.”
“Oh.” His attention went back to the prizes. “I kind of like the buttons.”
They were all advertisements for places on Main Street. The ones he had his eye on said: ALVIN FIRST NATIONAL BANK: SECURITY YOU CAN COUNT ON!
“What do you like about ’em?” I asked. “They’re just advertisements.”
“I guess.” His attention wandered back to the kindergarten kids racing in twos with their legs tied together. “I reckon we could win a lot of those,” he said.
“I’d certainly hope so, Dewey,” I said. “They’re barely out of diapers.” I tossed him a snide look. “What the hell’s a matter with you, anyway?”
He shrugged, his eyes fixed on the two boys crossing the finish line being announced winners. “We could’ve beat ’em,” he said, longingly.
I just shook my head, but the cogs were spinning behind his eyes, I could tell. “We could win every single prize in that tent,” he said at last.
“And what would you do with a thousand buttons advertisin’ the bank?” I asked.
“I think you’re missing the point.”
“Dewey, as usual, there is no point. Come on, let’s go find Carry and Jonathon. And ’sides, we have lady fingers. Don’t you reckon they’ll be a lot more fun than competing against little kids?”
He sounded as though he was being pulled from a dream when he answered. “Wouldn’t you just love to have all them buttons, though?”
I ignored him and began heading away from the prize tent, back toward where Carry and Jonathon had claimed a spot in the park’s grass. Eventually, Dewey jogged up beside me, apparently having dropped the idea of winning a pirate’s pillage worth of banking advertisements.
* * *
The day wound down as evening set in and everyone in the park hunted for a good place to sit to watch the fireworks from. They always went off from a small boat anchored in the middle of Willet Lake, which meant there were lots of good spots to sit. Carry and Jonathon led the way to a sandy spot beside a small grove of maple trees.
Me and Dewey had spent most of the day lighting off lady fingers and playing Frisbee. I thought Dewey was going to blow himself up with the lady fingers. He wasn’t very good at throwing them once they were lit. We got the Frisbee from a man and a woman with two little kids who wouldn’t stop crying and so they decided to go home and told us we could have their Frisbee if we wanted. We had no lady fingers left, so I figured we might as well take it. It was something to fill time before I was ready to eat again.
I managed to consume another burger around dinnertime, just before the four cooks stopped barbecuing and started putting everything away. I almost didn’t make it in time.
That was back around seven o’clock. Now it was fifteen minutes before ten and the clear sky had turned a deep violet that slowly dissolved into a black strip in the eastern sky. Above us, the first stars of the night popped out.
Dewey sat cross-legged beside me, a big grin on his face.
“What’re you so happy ’bout?” I asked. I still had the Frisbee, and I was flipping it over in my hands, seeing how the night’s shadows fell over the scratches dug into its white plastic surface.
“I’m happy ’bout fireworks,” he said. “I reckon so far this is the best Fourth ever.”
For once, I couldn’t disagree with him. The three burgers I ate could very well be the best I’d ever had. Them alone were enough to make the day great.
Out on the lake, I heard a trout flip and fall back into the water. Farther out, a shadowy figure stood in a dory, lifting things from the boat and placing them on the floating platform in the lake’s center. That’s where the fireworks shot off from.
The moon had barely risen above the trees, and the dory’s silhouette bobbed gently on the water beneath its pink grapefruit light.
It didn’t take long until the man finished removing all the stuff from his boat.
Then we waited for what seemed like an hour but was probably closer to ten minutes before classical music erupted from speakers that had to be placed discreetly around the lake. I didn’t see them, but I sure heard them. The music came from all around us, echoing out over the lake. Violins grew to a crescendo as the first explosion of fireworks went off above the platform in a shower of cascading silver and gold.
I shifted myself a bit to get more comfortable, my eyes staying glued to the sky above where the dory still rocked on the lake’s gentle waves.
Four more bursts filled the sky, these ones all red, white, and blue. The music swelled to a peak and goose bumps came to my arms for the second time that day.
“I love fireworks,” Dewey said, his voice barely audible above the rising music and explosive fireworks. Carry sat on the other side of Dewey, and she reached across to Jonathon, their hands meeting as their fingers interlaced. Behind me, the rest of the park looked eerily empty. All of the folk who had scattered the grounds earlier were now nestled on the shore of Willet Lake.
With a sigh, I thought about my mother missing all of this. I had actually expected her to show up s
ometime during the day once she’d taken care of whatever the emergency was she needed to deal with. I guessed she was likely out with Dan somewhere, and that brought a strange pain to my stomach. I think maybe it was jealousy. I didn’t get to see her nearly as much as usual now that he was here.
Above my head, the moon gently rose in a field of thousands of stars all twinkling down from a velvety sky.
“Don’t you just love fireworks?” Dewey hollered at me.
I decided it wasn’t worth the struggle of trying to reply above all the noise, so I ignored him and sat back watching as five fireballs shot up in the sky, all popping at once, lighting up the park in an iridescent eruption of bright white light.
My mother was missing the fireworks, and that made me sad. But there was a chance she was looking up and seeing the very same stars as I did twisting brilliantly through tonight’s sky.
And as I had that thought, I hoped that she was.
CHAPTER 37
Bhen Leah finally got home the night of the Fourth of July, Abe was already in bed. He’d left his curtains open and, outside his bedroom, a glittering array of stars lit up the clear night’s sky. She looked in on him from his doorway, lying on his side, his palms pressed together with his cheek lying atop them. He was beautiful, and in that instant she saw him again as a baby. He was always such a good kid. Even when Leah lost Billy, Abe was always there for her. For those months when all she could do was cry, he’d come over to where she was lying on the sofa and say, “Mommy all right?” It always sounded like “all bright” when he said “all right.” Even then, it made her smile through her tears.
Thinking back to that now almost brought them again.
Leah’s mind flashed back to the topless body of Samantha Hughes staked there on the bank of the Anikawa, a 9 mm bullet hole in the back of her head. Leah wondered if Samantha had children. Were they out there somewhere tonight asking where Mommy was? A pang of sorrow hit Leah’s heart. What could anyone ever tell a child to make this okay? How would they ever be able to understand?
She realized she hoped they never would. That was the only way people like the Stickman would ever stop.
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