"Stu's nice," I started, "but he's kind of a chump. He deserted from the army during the war, and he—"
"The big war with Hitler? The one Donny went to?"
I nodded. "Stu didn't think it was right to kill, no matter what, so he—"
"That's in the Bible," June interrupted. "Thou shalt not kill. We learned it in Sunday school."
"Well, it's different in a war," I said. "It's okay to kill your enemy then."
"But—"
"Will you quit interrupting and let me finish what I'm trying to tell you?"
June's face puckered like she was going to cry, but at least she shut her mouth for a few seconds.
"After Stu deserted," I went on," me and my friends, Toad and Doug, hid him in a hut we built in the woods, but he got sick and these two nosy girls. Lizard and Magpie, found out and tried to help."
June giggled. "Lizard and Magpie? Are they really named that?"
"Well, no, that's just what I call them. They—"
"What are their real names?"
I sighed. "Elizabeth Crawford and Margaret Baker. Now will you hush?"
June's lip jutted out, but she settled down again and let me talk.
"It was Magpie's idea to drag Barbara into it," I said. "Barbara was married to this guy who was killed in the war, so I thought she'd hate Stu for deserting, but she'd known him ever since they were little and she'd always liked him a lot. She ended up taking him to her house. He got better and then—"
"I remember what happened next," June said, sliding closer to me. "Daddy started whipping us and Stu came home and tried to make him stop and Daddy hit him so hard Stu had to go to the hospital."
"And the old man went to jail." That day wasn't something I liked to think about, and I was sorry June remembered it.
"But now Daddy's in California with Mama and Victor and Ernie and Bobby." June's voice sank a little lower. "And they're never coming back."
"And Stu's married to Barbara," I said, trying to make the ending sound happy.
June's eyes filled with worry shadows. "Will we like living with Stu and Barbara?"
"Sure we will, June Bug," I said, hoping I was telling her the truth.
June sighed. "I miss Grandma so much," she whispered. "I just don't think I'll be happy anywhere again, ever in my whole life. Not without her."
I blinked, swallowed hard, and patted June's bony little shoulder. I wanted to comfort her, but I didn't know what to tell her. I'd never been good with words. Whenever I tried to say the right thing, I always ended up making matters worse. So I just kept on patting her shoulder.
"Why did Grandma have to die?" June asked. "It's not fair, Gordy, it's not fair."
She'd begun to cry, so I put my arm around her. "Nothing's fair," I muttered. "Not life, not anything."
What I'd said was true, but as usual I'd failed to make June feel one bit better. She flung herself against me, crying in earnest. I stroked her hair and let her cry until she finally fell asleep. A big help I was.
While June slept, I stared out the train window. The glass was dirty and streaked with rain, but it didn't matter. There was nothing to see. I kept on looking, though, as if I expected to glimpse something that might explain my life—maybe a billboard with a message written in huge letters just for me.
like I'd told June, life wasn't fair. As soon as you thought you were safe, somebody pulled the rug out from under you. And there you were, back on the train, going to the very place you thought you'd left for good.
5
STU WAS THE FIRST PERSON I SAW WHEN I GOT OFF THE train. I'd thought married life would fatten him up, but he was just as skinny as I remembered. Still pale, still kind of sorrowful, he wore faded jeans and a scuffed-up leather jacket a little short in the sleeves.
Stu's face brightened when he saw June and me. He rushed forward and gave me a hug. "It's great to see you, Gordy. And you, too, June Bug!" He swung June up in the air, letting her long legs dangle.
Barbara popped out from behind Stu, smiling and pulling Brent forward to say hello. Her dark hair shone in the cold January sunlight, and her cheeks were as rosy as Brent's. She hadn't changed either. I hoped Stu knew how lucky he was to be married to such a good-looking dame.
"Gordy, just look at you!" Barbara cried. "When did you get so handsome?"
Too embarrassed to answer, I pulled away from her. Me handsome—what a laugh.
"And June," Barbara went on, "you've grown at least four inches!"
While Barbara fussed over June, I glanced at Brent. He didn't return my smile—just scowled like he'd heard all about me and had no plans to be friends. The last time I'd seen him, he was just starting to walk. Now he had the look of a real pest. Probably spoiled rotten, too.
Stu led us across the train tracks to a ramshackle old wooden apartment house. I'd known a kid who lived there when we were in second grade. He was the only boy in College Hill who knew more cuss words than I did, but he moved before I learned them all. Didn't even say good-bye—his family packed up and left town in the middle of the night without paying two or three months' rent. His old man wasn't any better than mine.
The place looked even worse than I remembered—peeling paint, sagging porch, scraggly bushes full of tattered newspapers and other trash, dingy wash hanging from sagging clotheslines. On one side was a cinder parking lot occupied by an ancient black Ford and a Chevy so faded I couldn't guess its color. On the other, a muddy creek ran along between weedy banks.
I might have known Stu would end up in the only dump in College Hill worse than our old house on Davis Road.
Inside, the stairs leading to the third floor were steep and narrow, and the air smelled like other people's dinners. I heard at least three radios, all playing the same soap opera, a baby crying, a dog barking, and a man and woman arguing.
The apartment was smaller than I'd expected—three dinky little rooms plus a kitchen, a bathroom, and a tiny alcove just big enough for June's bed. It was fixed up nice, though—pictures on the walls, rugs, comfortable furniture, and a table big enough for five if you didn't mind being poked by your neighbor's elbow.
Before we'd even taken off our coats, Brent pointed to a box of toys in the comer—trucks and cars, blocks, a big red ball, and a mangy teddy bear without eyes. "Mine," he yelled. "Mine. My bear, my tucks, my tars, my ball, my bocks—MINE!"
While Brent hollered, June stared at Barbara with those big puppy-dog eyes, just begging her to like her. If somebody didn't say something to her soon, she'd start crying.
Finally Barbara noticed and gave June a hug. "Stu, show Gordy where to put his things," she said. "I'll help June get settled. The poor child's exhausted."
Stu led me to Brent's room. His bed was in one corner, my bed in the other, so close we could hold hands all night without even stretching. Between the beds was a little bookcase crammed with Brent's books. Against one wall was a bureau. Barbara had cleaned out two drawers for me. And half a tiny closet. It was lucky I didn't have a lot of stuff.
"I'm sorry you can't have a room of your own," Stu said. "Even with me working part-time, it's hard to pay the rent."
"You'll be getting some money from Grandma one of these days," I said. "Maybe you can use it to buy a house."
"That's what Barbara's hoping." Stu didn't seem to be expecting it to happen anytime soon. For now I'd have to put up with sharing a room with Brent, who was giving me an ugly look.
After Stu left, I opened my suitcase and started to unpack. Brent thrust himself between me and the bureau. "My room," he shouted. "My burro!" Grabbing a pair of my socks, he threw them on the floor and scowled at me.
"Pick those up," I told him. "You're bunking with me now, kid. Don't get too big for your britches."
Instead of doing what I told him. Brent threw another pair of socks on the floor. "Big poopoo head!" he bellowed.
For a second I considered giving him a whack he'd remember. In fact, my hand was up and moving toward his face like it had a life of its
own, but I stopped myself just in time. No sense making everybody mad at me right off the bat.
"Poopoo head yourself," I said, dumping my socks in the drawer and slamming it shut.
Brent glared at me, red in the face and not the slightest bit scared. "Dumb peepee pig."
"Brent!" Barbara ran into the room and pulled my little roommate away from the bureau. "What did Mommy tell you? You have to share with Uncle Gordy now."
Uncle Gordy? I stared at Barbara, too surprised to say a word. Till then, I hadn't given any thought to my exact relationship to Brent. Since we weren't blood kin, I guessed I was his step-uncle—if there was such a thing.
"Yuncle Poopoo," Brent muttered.
As Barbara led the brat away, he stuck his tongue out at me. I stuck mine out, too—even though it wasn't a very dignified thing for an uncle to do. Then I went back to putting my clothes away.
By dinnertime. Brent had raided the bureau twice and dumped all my socks in the toilet. He was caught when he tried to flush them down, stopped up the toilet, and flooded the bathroom floor.
When June saw my socks, she laughed so hard she almost wet her pants, but Barbara didn't seem to find it very funny. She was juggling pots and pans, burning the potatoes by the smell of it, and trying to keep an eye on Brent.
"Poor Uncle Gordy," Stu said, hanging my socks over the shower rod to dry.
"Bad Yuncle Poopoo," said Brent, which made Auntie June laugh again. It looked like she and Brent were going to get along just swell.
At the table. Brent entertained us by mashing his peas into his potatoes and eating them with his fingers. When Barbara told him to stop playing with his food, he rolled his bread into little balls and threw them at me. Then he spilled his milk so it ran into my lap. From the way he grinned, I swear he did it on purpose. It was like living with a three-foot-high troll.
Between June giggling at everything the troll did and Barbara saying, "Brent, sit up straight and behave," I got a bellyache so bad I had to lie down on the sofa.
"It's probably gas" was all Barbara had to say.
After June and Brent went to bed, I started to feel better. Peace and quiet were definitely good for bellyaches. Not that it lasted long. I'd just gotten interested in Gangbusters, one of my favorite radio shows, when Barbara set up a typewriter on the table and started pounding the keys.
"Do you have to do that now?" I asked. "I'm trying to listen to the radio."
"See this?" Barbara pointed at a stack of paper. "I promised I'd have it typed tomorrow."
"What is it?"
"A thesis on cattle diseases."
"I didn't know you were interested in stuff like that." I started to laugh. "Are you planning to be a farmer?"
She didn't laugh. "I'm typing it for a graduate student, Gordy."
Stu gave her a hug. "Barb brings in half our income typing," he said. "She's fast she's accurate, and she knows how to spell."
Barbara smiled at Stu. "They call me the fastest gun on campus," she said, and went back to typing.
Stu kissed the top of her head and turned to me. "You ought to go to bed soon anyway, Gordy. School starts at nine, but we'll have to leave early so I won't be late for work."
"School?" I stared at Stu, stunned. "Can't I have a couple of days to get used to being here first?"
Stu shook his head. "Education's important. I don't want you to miss anything."
"But, Stu—"
"We'll take the streetcar around eight," he went on, sounding a lot bossier than I remembered. "That should give me plenty of time to get to the cabinet shop."
I slumped on the sofa, too depressed to argue. School;—that meant Toad and Doug, Lizard, Magpie, and a bunch of other creeps and jerks I'd left behind two years ago, hoping never to see them again. "Did you tell anybody I was coming back?" I asked.
"Just Elizabeth Crawford and Margaret Baker," Stu said. "They baby-sit for Brent a couple of days a week so Barbara can get some typing done. Do you remember them?"
I groaned. "You'll probably have to find a new baby sitter. Those girls won't come near this place if they know I'm here. They hate my guts."
Stu grinned. "They giggled and made a few wisecracks, but they didn't say anything about quitting. As a matter of fact, I have a feeling they'll be looking for you at school."
I wasn't sure how to interpret that, but I decided I'd keep an eye out for Lizard and Magpie, too. There was no telling what they'd planned to celebrate my return—a big pot of boiling oil, a shotgun, tar and feathers.
"Wait till you see Elizabeth," Stu went on. "She must be the prettiest girl in College Hill."
"Lizard's not so hot," I muttered. "She's got a chicken pox scar on her cheek, for one thing. Plus she's bossy. Stuck-up, too."
I went on and on, telling Stu all the things that were wrong with Lizard. "Any boy who fell for her would have to be a moron," I concluded.
Stu laughed. "You beat everything, Gordy."
"You better believe it." Tired of talking, I heaved myself off the couch and said good night. If J was going to school tomorrow, I'd better get my beauty sleep.
After I brushed my teeth, I tiptoed into Brent's room, undressed, and crawled into bed, praying the troll wouldn't wake up and start hollering.
The kid didn't make a sound, but I lay awake, tossing and turning till way after midnight. I swear I heard every train that roared past, whistles blowing, engines rumbling, crossing bells ringing. My bed shook. The windowpanes rattled. It was as bad as our old house on Davis Road.
Worse yet, people tramped back and forth upstairs, making so much noise it sounded like they were wearing combat boots and dropping barbells on the floor. Next door, someone coughed every few minutes. Must have had TB or something. A radio played so loud I could recognize Hank Williams singing "Your Cheatin' Heart." Dogs barked. The fire siren went off, and the dogs howled—which made barking seem good.
But it wasn't just the noise that kept me awake. It was lonesomeness—no Grandma sleeping down the hall from me, no William next door, no Donny to cadge Cokes from at the Amoco station. When the sun came up, I'd look out the window and see College Hill—the place I got my miserable start in life.
At least the old man was far away—but not forgotten. No, sir. Not by me or anyone else.
6
TRUE TO HIS WORD, STU GOT ME UP BRIGHT AND EARLY. Even though elementary school didn't start till nine o'clock, June was already sitting at the breakfast table, bright-eyed and ready to go.
"Do I look all right, Gordy?" She smoothed her dress. "Barbara French braided my hair—isn't it pretty? She says Miss Porter will be my teacher. Did you have her in third grade?"
When June paused to take a sip of orange juice, I told her she looked nice, her braids were pretty, and no, I'd never heard of Miss Porter. She must be new—which was a good thing. If June ever had a teacher who remembered me, she'd be in big trouble. I didn't tell her that, of course. No sense giving the poor kid something else to worry about.
"I want to go tool too," the troll yelled. When nobody said anything, he knocked over his orange juice. This time I saw it coming and got out of the way fast.
"Eat up, Gordy," Stu said. "We have to be on the streetcar by eight."
I choked down the rest of my lumpy oatmeal and gulped a glass of milk. After Stu gave Barbara a hug and a kiss, I followed him outside. Another cold, gray day. I swear the sun hadn't shone since Grandma died. Maybe it never would. Winter would just go on and on.
I half expected, half dreaded seeing someone I knew, but, except for a mean-eyed dog peeing on a telephone pole, the streetcar stop was deserted. Maybe it was too early for any of my old acquaintances to be out.
Stu and I waited side by side, shivering in the wind. The two of us had never had much to talk about, probably because we were too different. I'd always been closer to Donny—it was easier for me to imagine blowing up toilets than deserting from the army.
Suddenly Stu put his hand on my shoulder. "I saw your report cards f
rom Grandville, Gordy. Lots of Bs, even a few As. Promise me you'll keep up the good work here."
I didn't answer, didn't even look at him, just spit on the streetcar track. If it had been summer, it would have sizzled when it hit the hot metal, but today it just lay there, a slimy gray blob about the size of a quarter.
Stu squeezed my shoulder. "Try," he said. "That's all I'm asking."
"Yeah, sure, okay," I muttered.
The streetcar swung into sight then, and Stu got busy counting out the change we'd need for the fare. I glanced at him just long enough to see the familiar sad look on his face. He, June, and Mama had definitely been cut from the same doth.
A few minutes later the streetcar slowed for Garfield Road. Lizard and Magpie lived down at the end of the street near the train tracks, but I didn't see them anywhere. Not that I wanted to. What a pair they were—dumbest girls I'd ever known.
A few seconds later, we passed the house where Barbara lived before she married Stu.
"Do Barbara's folks still live there?" I asked Stu.
He shook his head. "They moved to Florida last year, after her dad retired."
"Too bad they didn't give you the house," I said, remembering the nice big rooms.
Stu shrugged. "They needed to sell it to buy the new place in Florida."
I looked at him. "What did they think of you and Barbara getting hitched?"
Stu's face got so long I wondered if Barbara had been disowned. I once saw a western movie about a rich girl who married a poor cowboy and got kicked out by her father. Later the cowboy saved the father's ranch and the daughter was forgiven. Movies always had happy endings, but real life hardly ever did.
"I guess they'd have liked it better if I'd had a good job," Stu said finally, "but we get along all right." He sighed and looked out the window.
Ten minutes later, we got off the streetcar and walked a few blocks to the school. Hyattsdale was a big old rambling brick building, at least twice the size of Grandville High. The main part was so ancient, I knew kids whose parents had gone there, but it had been added on to over the years.