“Nearly broke Beth’s jaw once with that buckle,” Dolly muttered. “I don’t see you bragging about that.”
Penny sat up straighter. “Do what now?”
“You heard me,” Dolly said. “She was about a year older than you.”
“And came sneaking in the house after midnight,” Jem said. “Come on now, Dolly. You know Beth’d never do something like that to these girls.”
“And I told myself I’d never whip mine a’tall, and I intend to stick to that,” Dolly said. “Just because they did it to us don’t mean we got to do it to our own. You girls don’t deserve to be hurt, you hear me? You’re good children. Of course you are—you’re related to me.” She kissed first Misty and then Penny on the cheek.
Misty uncurled her legs and stretched them across the top of the hood. She’d been so afraid that Jem or Dolly or the garden would think less of her because of the marks, but when they found out, all they wanted to know was if she was all right. They didn’t treat her poorly—they still loved her, whipping and all.
“Hush now,” Jem said as Misty’s mother walked back over. “We sure missed you at church, Beth. You ain’t getting sick on us, are you?”
“I’m not sick,” their mother said. “Just tired. And I didn’t know they’d started taking attendance.”
Dolly sighed. “Well, you missed a real humdinger.”
Jem shook her head. “Sister Cheryl got filled with the Holy Ghost about ten minutes into the service. Took off down the aisles like a bat out of Hell.”
“After the preacher gave that announcement about Revival, everybody was beside themselves and it turned into a worship service,” Dolly said. “They sang your favorite song, too. I swear that Ida Day has got the prettiest voice in the whole congregation.”
“That old bullfrog?” Jem said. “I’d rather listen to Sister Trish and her niece, that little dark-haired thing—what’s her name?”
“What announcement?” their mother asked.
“You ain’t heard then?” Jem asked.
Misty’s mother shook her head.
Jem glanced at Dolly. “He said we was going to have Revival on location this year.” Jem added air quotes to the word location.
Their mother frowned. “What does that mean?”
“He wouldn’t say.” Dolly shrugged. “But the rumors are already flying that it’s going to be at that garden of Earl’s. An unveiling of sorts for them strange things that’s been growing in your yard. You never did let us come and get a look.”
“Yeah,” Jem said, “we need the backstage tour.”
“I thought Earl didn’t want nobody to see them,” Misty said.
Their mother looked back at her. “Where’d you hear that?”
Misty shrugged and Penny said, “He put that gate at the end of the road.”
“Do what?” Dolly said.
“That man ain’t right,” Jem said. “I think it’s what he did that’s eating him alive. Killing Caroline, covering it up. You can’t lie about something like that without paying the cost.”
Misty’s mother crossed her arms over her chest. Her face looked dim and pale, like someone had turned off the light inside her. “He has been acting awful strange. I saw him in his yard just this morning stomping at the ground, telling something to stop watching him. I don’t know what’s going on with him, but it ain’t right. And it sure don’t need an audience.”
“Beth!”
Everyone turned toward the voice and found Shannon walking along the rows of cars, one hand waving wildly in the air. A man walked behind her wearing a button-up shirt and dark jeans. Misty searched the road for any sign of William but couldn’t see him anywhere. She sat the rest of her food down and drew her knees to her chest.
Dolly shook her head. “Is that Shannon? I swear half that woman’s clothes come from the newborn section at Kmart.”
“Hush,” Jem said. Then, smiling at Shannon, she called, “Hello, stranger! Been a while since I saw the likes of you.”
“If you’d ever get out of the truck and come say hello when you get gas down at the store, you might see me more often,” Shannon said.
“But then I’d have to see everybody else,” Jem said, and they laughed.
“I can’t argue with you there. I wouldn’t mind a few days off from that bunch myself, but little boys need food for some reason. Lots of it.” She turned to the man with her and squeezed his arm. “Y’all know Harold Whitehead. He’s a boss at Blue Diamond. Goes to church up on Big Creek. His mom’s the secretary of the elementary school up that way.”
“Oh, yes,” Dolly said, “I reckon you worked with my husband. Wayne Phelps.”
“Yeah, yeah. Me and Wayne go way back. He’s a fine man,” Harold said. “Tell him I was asking about him.”
Dolly smiled. “He’ll be glad to know you’re doing well.”
“Is William with you?” Penny asked.
Shannon’s smile faltered. She glanced at Harold and then away again. “No, honey, he’s at home.”
“We wanted to bring him,” Harold said.
“Of course,” Shannon said.
“But he’s getting to the age where they start to act out. Talk back. Sometimes he don’t treat his mother with the respect she’s earned.” Harold squeezed Shannon’s shoulder, and she smiled at him.
“You know how it is, Beth,” she said. “Kids don’t have a clue what it’s like to be a parent and be working. They don’t understand what all it takes and sometimes they just… Well, they start taking you for granted, and you get used to the way things are—”
Misty’s mother nodded. “I understand.”
Shannon smiled, relieved, but Harold kept talking. “The way I was raised, a belt could straighten out about any problem a child had. A few good slaps never did anything but good for me. Especially for boys. If you don’t teach them consequences, they’ll cause nothing but trouble.”
Shannon looked at Harold. “Hon, would you mind getting my jacket out of the truck? I thought I could tough it out, but it’s a lot colder than I thought.”
He nodded, gave a little wave to Misty and her family, then walked away. Shannon waited until he was a few cars down before she turned back to Misty’s mother and sighed. “I swear I don’t know if I’m doing the right thing half the time.”
“That’s motherhood for you,” Dolly said.
“I reckon that’s the truth. Harold is a good man, though. Strict, but good. And he means well. He wants William to do good in life, you know? He wants him to have something when he grows up. He wants us to have something now. It’s so hard getting by on your own all the time.” Shannon looked overhead as a firework exploded in the air, sending a shower of dim red sparks streaking through the sky. “Oh! It’s starting. I better get back to Harold before I lose him in the dark. It was good to see you girls. Have fun!”
Shannon ran back along the edge of the road, her hair lit by the lights of a passing car. Jem and Dolly and Charlene all crawled into the back of her truck and Penny went with them, claiming she could see the sky better from there. Misty watched her sister to see if she whispered anything to Jem about moving in with her, but Penny seemed occupied with the fireworks. Misty’s mother climbed onto the hood of the car beside Misty and stretched out on her back. They lay side by side with their arms touching, both of them watching the sky so that it seemed the sky was all that existed, that they floated together on the back of a dark and calm sea with no thought of where they would land or when.
More fireworks exploded. Children screeched with joy all along the road, and some of the younger ones started to cry. People oohed and aahed at the colors and the designs, which were almost identical to the year before, but they seemed different every time somehow. The hood of the car was still warm from the engine, and the warmth seeped into Misty’s shoulders. Bullfrogs croaked in the ditch lines
by the side of the road, and the sound was like an echo of the greater boom of the fireworks. The explosions resounded in Misty’s chest until she felt like she was part of them, like she was bursting in the sky, like she was filled with light.
There was so much around her that she wouldn’t mind being a part of. The lights, the noise, the crowd. The grass swaying slowly back and forth. A creek that trickled sluggish and cold beside the road. All the cars lined up together, their engines ticking as they cooled. She wanted to hold on to all of it for a little while longer.
She closed her eyes and thought of her mother counting money at the coffee table, the little speckles of rainwater that darkened her shoulders; the crawdad’s empty shell in her hands, the light pouring straight through it; a green light underground, writhing like a flame; her father brushing her bangs across her forehead, the rough calluses of his fingers; the green bottle spinning on the floor of the barn; the birds on the roof, crowding together, the scrape of their claws; the rattle of her mother’s breathing, rocking her, begging her to sleep; William’s hand on her hip; a fawn in the woods, blood on its hip and pain in Misty’s leg, pain in her chest; a crawdad tangled in her hair; William’s hand creeping lower; Earl’s shadow on the living room carpet, growing, distorting; a weight on her back, pressing and pressing; William’s breath against her ear, the smell of soured milk and hard-packed earth and—
Misty opened her eyes.
The door inside her chest slammed shut and her mother jumped.
“Did you say something?” she asked.
Misty shook her head.
Her mother smiled. “I swear I thought you said something. It must be these fireworks. Ain’t they pretty?”
Tears welled in Misty’s eyes, multiplying the fireworks above her, turning them blurry and dim. Names changed. Names were honest. The whipping hadn’t been in her name this time, but William had. She didn’t know how to make something disappear from her name, how to control it all on her own because it wasn’t just her choice. And if talking to the world, to the garden, or even to her family meant that she had to relive what happened in the barn, then she would rather be quiet. She’d rather be alone.
Shed
Once the crawdad’s old shell has withered, it’s time to let it go.
The old body fights to keep hold of itself as the crawdad struggles to cast it off.
Eventually, the old shell yields and is discarded.
What’s left beneath is different—newer, but weaker. Vulnerable to attack.
Twenty-Four
A name was like a map. Even with just one part of it, Misty’s friends could still find her. But if Misty chose not to answer their calls, then all they could do was stand at the door and knock. Eventually, she thought, when enough time passed and her name changed drastically, her friends might not be able to find her anymore. Even if they looked, even if they wanted, Misty would be lost to them.
But still, she ignored them.
She turned away the barn and the trailer, the crows who lived in the dead trees down by the creek, the redbirds and bluebirds, the starlings and blackbirds, the killdeer with their thin, delicate legs. She turned away the rabbits burrowed under her trailer and the groundhog who lived under Earl’s barn. She turned away the mice and the owls, the worms and centipedes.
Days passed, but eventually everything stopped trying.
Their voices fell away one by one until only one remained.
The garden came to Misty every morning and every night. She knew just by the knocking who it was. Three little raps that reminded Misty of a stone skipping across a pond—three jumps until it sank below the water and was gone.
And for nearly a week, Misty turned the garden away, too.
* * *
Misty tried on three outfits in a row, but none of them felt comfortable enough to play in. Every shirt felt too itchy or too tight. The waistband of her shorts dug into her belly, or the elastic was too loose and slipped over her hips. The fabric was wrong—too soft, too hot, too clingy. Static crackled her hair as she ripped off another T-shirt and flung it behind her, where it hit the bedsheet Penny had tacked to their ceiling.
“What’re you doing?” Penny said. Her foot appeared under the sheet and kicked the shirt back to Misty’s side of the room.
“Getting dressed.”
“It sounds like you’re fighting the clothes, not wearing them.”
“Why do you care?” Misty asked.
“I don’t.”
Penny’s feet disappeared back onto her bed and the room returned to silence. Misty grunted as she tore off a pair of pants that had been her favorite just a few weeks ago, but now made her skin feel sticky and hot.
But even without the clothes, her skin felt strange.
There was too much of her that touched the world, too much of her to find. Everything reminded her of her body, and her body reminded her of the barn. What she wanted was a new body—something smaller or lighter. A bird body or a snake body, any body, really, that was not her own.
She picked up the clothes that she’d worn the day before and put them on. The clothes didn’t feel good, and they smelled like sweat and dust, but they still felt better than anything else, so she gave up and went outside.
Misty walked down to the creek. She didn’t bother to roll up the hem of her shorts, but sank herself knee-deep in cold water. She searched for crawdads under the heavy stones, tipping them up, muddying the water. But every stone that she turned was empty. The crawdads had all been called from the creek by the garden. They were buried deep in the earth, digging.
Bells tinkled nearby. They were so faint and faraway that at first Misty forgot what the sound meant. Then she looked up and saw William standing on the hill. He held on to the old swinging bridge chain as he stumbled onto the sand. His shoes squelched as he walked toward her. Misty’s mouth felt dry, her cheeks warm. She thought briefly of running, but her legs didn’t seem to be hers anymore, her hands numb and faraway.
“What’re you doing?” William asked.
“Playing.”
“Can I help?”
Misty didn’t say anything, so William walked past her. Water splashed onto his shirt, leaving dark stains behind. “You know, my cousins built a dam in their creek once. With rocks and stuff. They turned it into a swimming hole. I bet we could do the same thing here.”
He bent down and cleared a spot beneath the water, then started stacking stones in place. Misty watched him for a while, then started to help. They worked together for an hour. William never mentioned what had happened in the barn. He acted as though nothing had changed, and Misty began to wonder if it had happened at all. If maybe she had imagined that evening, the press of William against her back, the weight in her chest. Maybe it had been someone else, some other boy in William’s skin, someone meaner and heavier.
It would have been so much easier to believe that, so she tried. And she went on working as though they had only ever been like this, only ever friends.
Penny came by once to see what they were doing. She stood on the hill overlooking the creek with a little bag in her hand. Misty was sure the cards that Sam gave her would be inside. Penny had taken to playing in the woods by herself, casting cards, not coming home until almost dinner, looking tired and lost. “What’re you doing?”
William dropped a stone in the water. “What’s it look like we’re doing? Long division?”
“Praising the Lord?” Misty said.
“Bass fishing?”
“Cooking your dinner?”
Penny peeled herself away. “Y’all are just a bunch of smart-mouth fools, you know that?”
William waited until Penny disappeared into the trees before he said, “Has she been extra sour to you lately or just to me?”
“She’s been that way to everybody lately. Mom says it’s part of growing up.”
; “I guess everybody turns into a jerk like Earl eventually.”
Misty laughed.
“Hey, you want to play something else for a while? My hands is getting tired.”
“Like what?”
“We could play Wolf,” William said. He smiled.
Misty’s stomach did a funny twist. She’d played the game with William before. Sometimes they pretended that they were being chased by a pack of wolves, and they had to come up with traps to keep themselves safe. Sometimes they took turns being the wolf, and the other one had to run, to hide, to stay alive.
“We’ll play Wolf for a while and then we’ll play something else. Whatever you want,” William said. “I’ll be the wolf first.”
Misty opened her mouth to suggest something else, but William had already turned his back to her and closed his eyes. He started to count out loud, slowly, and then faster. He would chase her whether she ran or not, so Misty turned and ran through the creek, the water splashing against her thighs. She ran into the trees, searching for a place to hide, until William’s voice cut through the air, calling her name.
Misty ran toward her trailer instead. If she was near her family, then she might be safe. Misty paused in her backyard, bending to inspect a cut on the bottom of her foot when she heard William crashing behind her. She ran through the front yard and around Earl’s trailer, where more crawdad chimneys had appeared. The ground was damp with water and uneven around the chimneys, dipping and shifting as Misty ran around them. William was right behind her, his face bright red.
Without thinking, Misty ran into the barn. It was the only place left, and her legs were tired, and her foot was throbbing from the cut.
William followed her inside.
“Wait,” Misty said, a second before his hand touched her face. He hovered beside her for a moment before he kissed her, his mouth missing hers by an inch, so he tried again. He backed her toward the corner, their knees knocking together until Misty tripped and landed hard against the ground. William knelt in front of her. He didn’t even try to close the barn doors.
Every Bone a Prayer Page 15