I also know that if I don't get some of this stuff settled, no matter how far away from here I get, I'll still not be rid of the pain that came with Lenny's death. Staying away from Charles hasn't helped any. I've stayed away lately, keep putting him off. He asked me to go to Fresno with him a couple of nights ago. Lately he's been talking about what we could do on Halloween night coming up soon. I don't think I should run around with him though. Nobody likes Charles. But nobody likes me either. And kids at school keep asking me about him. I wish I could tell them I've been out with him. He doesn't go by any rules. When we were out shooting rabbits and he was blowing out windows in that little shack, I realized for the first time in my life that all the laws and rules we live by are just made up. People make up the rules. You really can do anything you want to. Charles proved that to me. I always thought bad things started happening to you if you didn't go by the rules. But me and Charles did a lot of things we shouldn't have that night and nothing happened. And the thing is, Charles is right. You can't go by everybody else's rules because everybody has a different set. And then there's this thing about Lenny and what really happened to him. And Charles has all the answers. No one else is going to tell me what happened to Lenny, that's for sure. So why shouldn't I go out with him? Really, it's just up to me. It's like he has a pocket full of keys and each key opens a door to my life. Behind each door is an answer.
Brenda calling me the other night and chewing me out made me start thinking about the way I am. Here I was making plans about things I had no right to even think about, lots of things about her and me, and the future. Now she won't even talk to me. Trying to be good and pretending that I am good just doesn't cut it. Sometime I'm going to have to face up to who I really am. And I'm not all that good. So maybe I should admit some things, some things about myself. And I guess I'll start right here. It wasn't Papa who shot that oriole. It was me.
Part III
Taking Chances and Reaping the Consequences
CHAPTER 18: Oklahoma Credit Card
Charles is on his knees sucking on a hose. Leroy's holding one end in the tank of a Ford tractor, and the other end Charles sticks in a five gallon Army surplus can down on the ground. It's nighttime and we're out in the middle of Mr. Sloper's field getting a little gas for Charles' jeep. Charles sputters, spits. Walks away coughing.
"Don't let it run over," he tells me, trying to clear his throat.
I know the moon is up because I see a light spot in the clouds. A dog barks in Sloper's yard across the field. Charles has been asking about Trish and Curt. He asked tonight if Trish would want to come along. Said he realized Curt's a little young yet. He asked if Trish has a boyfriend. He was just talking. I wasn't talking back. I saw Trish and Eugene fighting the other day. I'm not sure what's going on between them. I get this uneasy feeling that Trish has been seeing Charles.
"It full yet, Bobby?" That dog's spooking him.
"Keep your pants on, Leroy," I tell him. I train my eyes in the direction of their house but can't quite make it out through the dark. Another dog, further away, answers Sloper's.
"Jerk it," says Charles. "He's coming."
Charles takes the hose from me and starts across the field toward the jeep. Leroy, he's already gone. I'm getting the lid on fast as I can, and then I'm running a ways behind Charles. I hear the jeep start, but the yap, yap, yap of that dog's coming up right behind me. When I get to the fence, I know I'm not going to make it through, so I drop the can and turn to meet this dog head on. He's almost on top of me when I hear a shot ring out from behind, and the dog yelps like he's hit, turns a circle growling and whimpering.
"No! Charles. No!" I tell him. I can just make out the dog in the dark, and I think I know him. "Skipper? Is that you, Skipper?"
The dog barks again, but now it's like he just wants to keep me away. Charles's on me to get through the fence. I go over to Skipper and he crouches on the ground trembling like he's done something bad wrong. I hear a pickup in Sloper's yard start and see headlights come on. I know Skipper. Mr. Sloper got him for his wife when their son was killed in Korea a few years ago. No matter how much she went to church, she just couldn't seem to get over him being dead until she got the dog. I reach down, pet him and he rolls over on his back and then it's just wet tongue everywhere. I call him "pup" even though he's a grown dog. I figure every dog is just a puppy at heart. Charles is not going to kill this dog.
"Bring the dog," says Leroy. "Maybe we can sell him."
Leroy is in a bad way. Ever since I brought him along when me and Charles went to Fresno to pickup some hubcaps, he wants to steal everything that doesn't move. This dog is his first moving object. But it's because he has stole everything else. He goes into the 5 & Dime on Robertson, makes off with his pants and shirt stuffed full. Came out to the field the other day where I was plowing-in a ditch we don't need anymore since our cotton is all laid by, wanted me to see what all he got. It looked like he'd won the Halloween jackpot. He had a package of jack-o'-lantern masks, two packages of orange balloons, one package of Halloween candy, a left tennis shoe, three bubblegum balls he pounded out of the penny machine, and two sex magazines he got from the drug store over by the Cotton Club. Brenda sure puts those girls to shame in the tit department. And get this. He had a real nice protractor that you use in geometry. Sole it from the stationery store. Had it all in a brown paper bag. I laughed at him a little, and he didn't like it.
"What're you going to do with all that crap?" I asked. "It's kid's stuff. One tennis shoe?"
"Throw it away before Mother asks where I got it."
"Why don't you quit stealing, Leroy? You're going to get caught."
"I can't, Bobby," he said, and he looked real concerned. "I've tried. You don't know what Charles is doing to me."
And I think he started crying because he turned around without saying he was leaving and walked real slow back through the field to his old brown Ford. The other day, during civics, I caught him making a list of things he was planning to steal after school. He hid it from me. And I know he's going out with Charles when I'm busy. But he won't talk to me about what they do together. Charles hasn't said anything either.
As I head for the jeep with the Army can in my hand, I hear Mrs. Sloper calling for her dog. I dreamed the other night that I was standing on our back porch calling for Tangi, and she came to me. She was all rotting and smelled real bad, so I couldn't get close to her. I tried to see how she was walking with two of her legs cut off. She wasn't mad at me anymore.
CHAPTER 19: Halloween and a Little Dynamite
Mama's just a hard case. She doesn't understand a whole lot. I'm on my way to town on Wednesday, Halloween night and damn if Trish isn't sitting in the front seat with me, and Curt's in the backseat. Damn I can't stand that! Mama said I had to bring them. Curt's not so bad because I can get rid of him, but Trish? I'm supposed to show her a good time. So here I am sitting under the steering wheel, all puffed up and wondering how I'm going to get rid of her. I'm trying to be better to Trish, but I just can't seem to get the knack. When I told Leroy I had to bring her, he decided to take his own car. And Trish, she's fighting with Eugene and doesn't have a way to get around anymore. Eugene called me last Friday night. Said he had a date with Trish, but she didn't show up at the Palm Drive-in where they were supposed to meet. Wanted to know where she was. Later that night she came home on time, but I didn't see who brought her.
"Where can I drop you off?" I ask her.
"You're not dropping me off. You heard Mama."
"Curt," I ask, "did you take a bath?" I smell something and it's coming from the backseat.
"What's it to you?"
"Curt, what have you got?," asks Trish. "That smell's about to gag me." And then she leans over the backseat to take a look.
"You two are always picking on me," says Curt.
"Let me see in the paper bag. Curtis!" And she slaps him but he blocks it with his arm. "Let me see."
"Bobby Ray, get her off me."
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"Oh, good Lord. You should see this, Bobby Ray. He has one of Mama's pillow cases with four white candles, two bars of soap he stole from the bathroom cupboard, a cardboard mask of Count Dracula, a plastic jack-o'-lantern, a book of matches, and a turd in a paper bag."
"Where did you get the dodo, Curt?" I ask.
"It's mine and it's fresh. I didn't steal it from anybody."
I take a glance back and see him guarding all that stuff like an old hen protecting eggs.
"Where you headed anyway?"
I shouldn't have to baby-sit Trish tonight, but after what happened last night, I can't take up for myself. I couldn't help what happened. I was sitting at the kitchen table watching Mama and Trish do the dinner dishes. Papa was in the living room cleaning his pistol. I heard him spin the chamber, then the click, click, click as he dry-fired it. He always likes to shoot three times, for the Father, the Son and the Holy Ghost, is what Mama says. He keeps it in her cedar chest. She doesn't like it there but puts up with it. Makes him keep his bullets in the dresser drawer with his underclothes. When Mama took a bowl of garbage out to the trash barrel, Trish started in on me. She asked when I was going to call Beverly. I told her to just stay out of my life. I don't need her meddling. "Bev's the nicest girl I've been out with," so she said. Can't figure out why Trish, a freshman, has taken up with Bev anyway.
And then Trish started on Charles. She told me she knows he's a thief and that I'm no better. It's like she's following me. Somehow she has some firsthand knowledge about Charles. We started to shout at each other, but I had to watch my voice because Papa was listening. I told her to stay away from Charles, quit playing with dynamite. I was thinking about telling Mama to keep better track of her. We were talking real quiet like, through clenched teeth. And then she started in on me about what Brenda says about me. That was my last straw. I went up to the sink and had her by the arm when Mama came back in from taking out the garbage. Mama jumped on me too, claimed she'd warned me about squeezing Trish's arm before because I leave blue marks. Threatened me with Papa. And then I made my big mistake. "Her mouth's awful big, Mama, to be hooked to such a little body," is what I said. "If her mouth was the same size as her bra, she wouldn't get into so much trouble." And all at once, I wished I hadn't said it. That was when Trish hit me in the face with the dishrag full of soapy water and pounded on me with both fists. I was already feeling sorry, but I knew there was no use trying to take it back. Mama finally got Trish pulled off of me and while I was drying with a dishtowel, Trish got quiet. Mama, she got real quiet too, and I didn't know what was happening. Trish walked out crying. Then Mama turned on me. "I don't think I've ever known anyone as mean as you," she said. "Trish worships the ground you walk on and you treat her like dirt. Here she is just becoming a woman and feeling so uncertain of herself. I'm ashamed to have raised you."
But this thing about Bev is what really worries me. Eugene even called the other night, asked if I'd be interested in double dating with him and Trish. He was trying to get me to ask Bev out too. He sounded worried, not about Bev, but about Trish.
What Mama said about wishing she hadn't raised me, still hurts. And she said it while we were alone. Somehow it's the being alone that hurts the most. So that's the reason I have Trish with me tonight, the reason I can't take up for myself anymore.
I drop Curt off at the Palm Drive-In where a crowd of eighth graders is gathered.
"I'll pick you up at the Bowling Alley at eight o'clock," I tell him. "And you better be there."
"Yes, Papa," he says back.
We make a drag back up main street toward the Palm Drive-In, but before we get to the edge of town, Trish tells me to pull off into the half-circle driveway in front of Wilson School where a bunch of high school kids are parked. That's the bad thing about having Trish with me. She's always giving orders. First thing I see is Thomas Powers standing tall above them all with his girl, Phyllis. He has that big colored kid, Chelsey, with him. Chelsey plays football with Thomas. He's a pretty good guy but still, it's strange to see a white guy and a colored kid running around together. Then I see Leroy's Ford, so I guess I will pull over. Oh! Shit. There's Brenda's car. And there she is, behind Thomas.
Melvin's new '57 Chevy is here too, and that Mexican girl from Madera he loves on all the time and he's loving on her now. The other girl I don't recognize, but she gets out of his car when she sees us. It's Bev with a new hairdo. Got it all puffed up on top of her head. Now ain't she something. She's cinched her belt on that fluffy dress so tight her waist is about the size of my arm.
Before I get stopped good, Trish gets out, runs over to Bev. Maybe Trish will go with them. I walk over to Leroy. Wayne is here too, but even arguing with Wayne is better than being with Trish. I glance over at Brenda. Wish she would talk about what happened between us, but there's not much chance of that. She has a Halloween mask pushed up on top of her head, a rubber band pulled down under her chin. Every time I look toward her, she turns towards Thomas. I can't stand to be this close to her and not say something, so I turn toward her anyway.
"Brenda, I need to talk to you." I just kind of throw the words at her.
"Not a chance, Bozo," she says.
"Hey, Bobby," and it's Thomas calling me now. "Tell your old man to come get his tractor out of our shop." Thomas pokes Chelsey in the ribs and laughs a little. Chelsey is really quiet for a colored.
"Ya? Well, you tell your old man to fix it first," I say.
Then I turn back to Brenda. "I need to ask your cousin something."
"Too dumb to use a phone?" But she looks concerned anyway. Yanks at that big old pullover sweater she has on. It's big enough for two people so I can't see much but I know what she has inside.
"I don't know Helen," I tell her. "I'd like for you to ask her a question for me."
Then damn if she doesn't walk toward me. "Make it quick and stand away from me," she says. "I don't want to smell you."
I take a step back, but I've had a shower. "I want to know about Helen and Charles."
Brenda takes a step closer.
I take a step back.
"They were friends," she says.
I have to keep checking myself to see if her eyes are knocking holes in me.
"I want to know why she slapped him at Lenny's funeral."
She rolls her eyes then turns her head, looks back at Thomas. Takes another step toward me. "What does that have to do with you? You're naive, Bobby. You know that? Really naive."
"I guess that's true, cause I think I need the answer, and I'll never be able to figure it out by myself."
"What difference will it make?"
"Could change a lot of things."
"You're a strange one," she says, and walks away, scoots up against Thomas, puts her arm around him. I wonder what Phyllis thinks about that? Brenda pulls that mask down over her face and looks straight at me. It's a skull, like she is a dead person with all the flesh rotted away. They're leaning back against Thomas' '56 Ford pickup. He has it all fixed up, painted black with pin striping and chrome tailpipes but it's still just a farm wagon. Front end is lowered and with that bed sticking up in the air, looks like a giant stink bug.
"Hey, Thomas," I say.
He turns toward me but doesn't say anything.
"Tell your old man, that oil guzzling sonofabitch of a tractor belongs to him," I say, looking over at Chelsey. Chelsey is the best football player on the team. Some kids are afraid of him. They say he has one hell of a temper, but he seems quiet all the time. God, it's strange to see a colored guy running around with a bunch of white guys.
"You tell your old man he better come up with some money to pay for fixing it or we'll take a piece of ground."
"You tell your old man he better find a piece of backbone before he comes claiming Papa's land." Then I feel like I want to add something. "Chelsey, if I were you I'd watch who I run around with."
Phyllis is talking to Leroy and Wayne. Now that's a switch too. They're standing by Le
roy's junk heap. So I go over.
"Hey, Bobby. I've got a deal for you," Leroy tells me.
"Ya, what's that?"
"I want to buy your car."
Now I know Leroy's mind has finally snapped. "And here I thought you were having a hard time with money," I tell him.
"No kidding, Bobby. I can make you a good deal."
"But that's like wanting to buy one of my arms, Leroy. I don't want to sell an arm."
"Ya, but with what I could give you for it, you could put a little with it and get yourself one of those new '57s. Your daddy's got money. You could swing it."
"Keep your car, Leroy," says Phyllis. "I like it." I guess she has weird tastes in cars.
"Don't need a new car," I say. "You have so much money, buy yourself a '57."
"Just think about it. That's all I'm asking. Just think about it."
Then Wayne butts in. "Bobby thinks smalltime, Leroy. You've got to remember that. Just small-time potatoes. Another Bobbyism."
"Where's your car?" I ask Wayne. "Your daddy got the hearse tonight?" That shuts him up because he doesn't have a real car. I think his face turns a little red to match his hair.
"Okay, I've thought about it," I tell Leroy. "I still won't sell it."
"Does your car slide hookers, Leroy?" asks Phyllis. "I've never turned a hooker."