Rebel McKenzie (12 page)

“I saw a turtle! And I found a real Indian narrowhead!” Rudy cried, pulling it from his pocket. “See?”

“You're a Narrow Head, all right. Your fingernails are filthy,” Lacey Jane remarked. “What did
you
find, Rebel?”

“Where have you been?” I asked her instead. I didn't want her to know a seven-year-old had showed me up.

Her mouth drew a line like it did when she didn't want to answer. “Daddy had an appointment this morning. I went with him, and then we went to the cemetery. I put pink roses on Mama's grave. They were her favorite.”

Rudy stared at her. I was so afraid he was going to ask Lacey Jane what color dress her mother was laid out in and how many cars drove to the graveside service.

But he simply said, “I bet your mama can see those roses and thinks they're real pretty.”

Lacey Jane gave him a weak smile.

“I'm starving,” I said, flinging open the trailer door. “Let's eat lunch. And Rudy, whatever I fix, you're going to eat, you hear?”

I made us open-faced peanut-butter-and-potato-chip sandwiches. My cooking skills were growing by leaps and bounds.

“Rudy, take three RCs out of the fridge and set them on the table. And get the bag of animal crackers.”

“I don't want to eat inside,” he said in that whiny tone that made my jaw clench. “I always eat outside, 'member? Lacey Jane, will you eat outside with me?”

“Lacey Jane doesn't want to bake on the front steps. Take your stuff and go out.”

“I'll eat with you,” Lacey Jane told him, picking up her plate.

That left me and Doublewide. We went outside, too.

“Isn't this cozy?” I said sarcastically. The three of us, plus one large fuzzy cat, were packed together on the top step, balancing plates on our slick knees. “I think I'll get us a blanket so we won't catch a chill.”

“Oh, stop,” said Lacey Jane. “It's not that bad.”

Tilting my head back, I pulled on my RC. Then I let rip an enormous belch. “Ahhh. Better.”

“You are so gross.” But Lacey Jane grinned.

“Rebel, you said you were going to learn me how to burp-talk like that,” Rudy said. “Will you learn me now?”

“Teach, not learn. Okay, first you have to control your breath. Can you hold your breath at least a minute? I'll time you. Go!”

Rudy sucked in a giant breath, clamped his mouth shut, and puffed his cheeks out like a squirrel in a barrel of peanuts.

“You don't even have a watch,” Lacey Jane said.

“I'm counting in my head.”

Rudy looked at me, his eyes bulging.

“Not yet. Almost—”

He let his breath out in a shuddering gasp. “How'd I do?”

“Fourteen seconds. You need to work on it. When you take a bath tonight, hold your head under the water for a really long time.”

“I'll go under a whole hour!”

“Okay, next you have to drink a big swallow of a fizzy drink. Like this.” I slugged back half my RC.

“I'm moving out of range,” Lacey Jane said, scuttling to the ground.

“Me, too!” Rudy scampered down the steps.

Cowards. I waited until I felt like a rocket was going off in my stomach, then I opened my mouth and out came a long, magnificent belch. When it was over, I said, “At least a forty-five-seconder.”

Lacey Jane sat down next to me again, but Rudy had a strange expression on his face.

“You gotta move over,” he said, a little desperately. “He's here.”

“Who's here?” I asked, looking around.

“God. We have to leave a space for Him.” He perched on the very end of the step, leaving a gap between him and Lacey Jane.

She nudged me. “
What
is he talking about?”

“He has lunch with God,” I whispered. “Lynette thinks it's a phase, but if you ask me—”

“You're kidding.” Lacey Jane turned to Rudy. “How do you know He's here?”

“See that cloud?” Rudy pointed at a puffy cloud over the fire station. “That's God's house.”

“God lives in a cloud?” I said.

“Where else? He owns the whole
sky
.” He looked at me like I was a mental case. “Last year, when I was just a little kid, I saw God in a cloud like that one. I think He likes to come down and visit, you know?”

“But how come He only visits you?” asked Lacey Jane.

He shrugged. “When I saw the God-cloud, I wrote Him a letter asking for stuff.”

“Like Santa Claus?” Trying to keep up with Rudy's logic was impossible.

“No, like
God
.”

I twirled a leaf in front of Doublewide's nose. “What'd you ask for?”

“I wanted a truck that runs with this radio thing. And I wanted Mud Hog to win a race.” Propping his elbows on his knees, he dropped his chin on his fists. “But mostly I asked for Daddy to be home more.”

Lacey Jane studied the empty space between them. She started to stick her hand out, then pulled it back.

“Do you think He knows I'm here?” she asked seriously.

“Definitely. But I'm not sure about Rebel.”

Personally, I thought we'd humored him long enough about this lunch-with-God business.

“Rudy,” I said, “would God like an RC? Or an animal cracker? How about a napkin?” I couldn't imagine that God would be a sloppy eater, but maybe He wanted to be treated like everybody else.

“Rebel, be still,” Lacey Jane ordered. “You're such an attention hog.”

“Am not.”

Put out, I petted Doublewide, who lay between my bare feet. The cat twisted his head away, his red rhinestone collar winking in the bright sun. Doublewide's blue eyes were wide and staring, as if he could see something I couldn't.

Rudy was reading my
How and Why Wonder Book of Prehistoric Mammals
. Part of the book is about dinosaurs and early fish and stuff. Rudy was looking at a picture of a Stupendemys geographicus, a longnecked turtle eight feet long.


He asked me to read about turtles. Prehistoric turtles lived 220 million years ago! Today's turtles look like the ancient ones. Box turtles are common. Rudy found one today. The turtle Miss Odenia's friend painted with fingernail polish was that kind. They have hinged shells so they can pull their head inside and close it like a box.


They live 40 to 70 years. Some of them live to be 100! You can tell their age by the rings on their shells, but only up to 15 years. Box turtles can travel 130 miles in a single day! So much for thinking turtles are slow. They won't stay in a new place, but walk to get back home.


Rudy was very interested. Maybe he'll be a paleontologist after all. Anything would be better than planning people's funerals.


T
he pageant was four days away. Lacey Jane and me were discussing what shoes to wear with our dresses as we walked to Miss Odenia's for talent practice.

“Mama took me to the doctor this morning,” I said, shifting the two books I carried. “And he said my heels were almost better. But I still can't wear closed-back shoes. I can't wear these ol' rubber flip-flops with a beauty contest dress!”

Lacey Jane lined her foot up with mine. “We're about the same size. I have some white sandals that would look good with your dress. They don't have a strap across the back.”

“Thanks. What're you gonna do with your hair?”

“Maybe put it up,” Lacey Jane said. “I guess your sister will do yours.”

“I haven't asked her.” Truth was, I didn't want Lynette teasing my hair into a haystack. This morning when she had left for beauty school, Lynette's hair was kicked up like a pig had been rooting for acorns in it.

“What's that other book?” Lacey Jane asked. “I know the one Miss Odenia let you borrow.”

“The poem one, yeah. I'm using my favorite book. It's way better than poetry.”

Lacey Jane said urgently, “There's Bambi. Make like you don't see her.”

Playing like you don't see Bambi Lovering is like trying to ignore a brass band.

“Woo-hoo!” she called. “Rebel! Lacey Jane! I got something to show you.”

“If she yammers more than three minutes,” I said in a low voice, “I'll act like I'm having a heart attack, and you say you have to go dial 911.”

Bambi rushed up, Kissy cradled in her arm. The little Yorkie's topknot was looped with a blue bow and her tiny pink tongue hung out like a postage stamp. Bambi set Kissy on the ground and let the dog run around in circles.

“I just got back from the photographer's,” Bambi said, brandishing a cardboard folder, which she opened. Inside were huge full-color photographs of Bambi in a glittery red shirt holding Kissy (who had a matching red hair bow). They were posed in front of a filmy white curtain.

“So?” I said. “Big deal.”

“These are head shots,” Bambi said in an overly important tone. “Professional pictures for my portfolio. Pick them up by the edges so you don't smudge them.”

“I can see fine from here,” I said, making no move to touch Bambi's stupid pictures.

“Mama says I should be in commercials. I'm not crazy about the idea, but I figure with all the money I'll make, I can start my beauty empire even faster.”

“Lacey Jane,” I said, gazing up at the sky, “do you hear anything?”

“Just some boring ol' droning sound.”

“Must be a big mosquito,” I said.

Bambi pouted. “Very funny. Mama's going to send these shots to a dog food company. She says me and Kissy are a natural to advertise dog food.”

“Makes sense,” I said, “since you both eat dog chow.” Lacey Jane snorted with laughter.

Bambi slammed the cardboard folder shut and snatched up Kissy in mid-circle. “You think you're so smart, Rebel McKenzie. You don't stand a chance at the pageant so you might as well drop out now. You too, Lacey Jane.”

“And miss beating the pants off you?” Lacey Jane said. “I don't think so.”

“Don't bother clearing a spot for that trophy!” I yelled after Bambi.

“I already have,” she flung back, walking so fast Kissy's little head joggled up and down like a cork in rough water.

* * *

I had to knock a bunch of times before Miss Odenia finally opened her door.

“Sorry, girls,” she said. “I was cleaning out my closet. C'mon in.”

“We can come back, if you want,” Lacey Jane said.

“No, no. The pageant is Friday. You need to work on your talent. Tomorrow we'll practice the interview and the next day we'll have a dress rehearsal, walking, talent, all of it. So bring your outfits.”

I laid
Complete American Poems
on her dining room table.

“Which poem did you choose?” Miss Odenia asked.

“None.” I held up the
How and Why Wonder Book of Prehistoric Mammals
. “I made up my own story. From this.”

“But that's a science book,” Miss Odenia said. “Won't it be hard to turn it into a dramatic reading?”

I waved them toward the sofa. “Sit down and prepare to be amazed.” I turned my back on them and waited a few seconds. Then I began speaking quietly.

“Forty thousand years ago, the land in one spot in Los Angeles was different than it is now. Oil seeped from the ground. It was the end of a time period called the Pleistocene epoch. During this time, the earth was in the grip of the Great Ice Age!”

I whirled around to face the audience and whispered.

“It is morning at the La Brea tar pits. A thirsty quagga wan
ders down to the pool to get a drink. The heavy creature picks its way through fallen leaves to find the water.”
I tiptoed exaggeratedly, like I was on stilts. My voice got louder.

“Its heavy hooves get stuck in the asphalt hidden beneath the leaves. Trapped, the quagga screamed!”

I let out a high-pitched yelp.
“Rarff!”
Miss Odenia started.

“Unable to move, the terrified animal shrieked and struggled to get free.”
I threw myself on the floor. Keeping my legs still, I flailed my arms.
“The quagga's cries let a saber-toothed lion (really, a Smilodon) know it was in trouble.”

I hopped up again and stuck two fingers on either side of my mouth, like curved sabers.
“The big cat wades into the tar pit, eager for its easy meal. The cat rips the quagga's belly open with its huge teeth.”

I pretended to tear open the quagga's belly. Then I stopped, a look of pure terror on my face (I'd practiced in the bathroom mirror).

“The cat's paws get stuck too! Mired in the tar, the big cat snarls, attracting other, bigger predators. Meat-eating birds swoop down”—
I flapped my arms—
“and land on the dying animals. But their feathers dip into the tar and they are trapped, too. Soon all the ani
mals lay in the pit. Dead forever.”

I ended by lying twisted on the floor, my eyes wide with horror as I stared sightlessly up at the ceiling.

Lacey Jane clapped, and finally Miss Odenia joined her.

“What'd you think?” I said, getting up.

“It's an
unusual
piece,” Miss Odenia remarked. “But…maybe you shouldn't do quite so much acting?”

“That's the best part,” I said. “I'm going to work on it some more and act out every sentence. Maybe every
word
!”

Miss Odenia rose to put the Patsy Cline album on her record player. “Well. Okay, Lacey Jane. Your turn.”

She didn't budge. “I can't go after a terrific act like Rebel's.”

“It wasn't that good, really,” I said modestly, though I knew it was a showstopper.

“You can't be shy,” Miss Odenia told her. “Everyone will be watching you at the pageant. Maybe do one run-through for us? So you won't get stage fright?”

Lacey Jane shook her head. “I want my talent to be a surprise.”

It'll be a surprise all right, I thought, if she did that awful dance. At least Lacey Jane wouldn't be any competition in the talent part of the pageant. I only had to worry about Bambi. I didn't know the other girls who'd entered, but they were probably no threat.

Miss Odenia always gave us cold drinks after our lesson, but she just sat there looking a little bit like a tar-stuck quagga herself.

I cleared my throat. “All that reciting made me awful thirsty.”

“I don't know where my mind is this morning. Or my manners,” Miss Odenia said, going into the kitchen. “How about some Hawaiian Punch?”

While she poured our drinks, I noticed an envelope propped against a Thom McAn shoe box on the kitchen table. Using my special ability to read upside down, I saw the return address.

Terrapin Thicket.

“Hey,” I said. “Did you get a letter from that guy? What's his name?”

“Ercel Grady. I certainly did,” she replied. “I've been up half the night fretting over that letter.”

“How come?” Lacey Jane asked.

“He wants me to go down for a visit.”

“So, go,” I said.

“I'm not sure I want to. A lot of water has passed under the bridge since I saw Ercel last.” Miss Odenia flipped the lid of the shoe box, revealing a bunch of old letters, postcards, and photographs.

I picked out a bottle of dried-up nail polish. Cherries in the Snow. “You kept all this stuff.”

“Yes.” She sighed. “Even if I want to go, I don't have the money for a bus ticket.”

“Maybe he can pay your way,” Lacey Jane suggested.

Miss Odenia gave a weak smile. “Ercel thinks I'm a famous hand model still. He'd be shocked to find out my fixed income barely pays my monthly bills.”

The answer seemed simple to me. “Tell him to come up here. You want to see him, don't you?”

She studied her hands. They were smooth, with long fingers and nails like flower petals. “I do and I don't. It's hard to explain. When you're older you'll understand.”

Why did grown-ups always pull that “when you're older” bit? It was clear to me that Miss Odenia was mixed up in her own mind but she didn't want to admit it.

Lacey Jane looked at her own hands. Her fingers were long like Miss Odenia's, but she chewed her nails.

“Maybe,” she said, “you'll figure out that dream you had. And then you'll know what to do.”

Miss Odenia nodded. “You might be right, Lacey Jane. Maybe the answer to my problem is in that dream.”

I didn't put much stock in dreams. Nosiree, cold hard cash was the answer to
my
problem.

“Mama brung me a live white mouse!” Rudy exclaimed, practically foaming at the mouth.

Lynette came in from work, juggling her tote bag, purse, and a fake woman's head with a fringe of white hair pinned to it. She set the head down on the kitchen table. “This is not a mouse, Rudy. It's a wiglet.”

“What's that?” I asked. “A wig for a bald-headed baby?” I broke myself up.

“It's a hairpiece you stick on the back of your head,” she explained. “To fill in where you don't have much hair. Maxie, one of the girls at Hair Magic, gave it to me to work on. Her best customer is going to a wedding and wants it styled.”

I unpinned the wiglet and held it on the back of my hand. “‘Hi, everybody! I'm Mr. Peepers!” I balled my hand into a fist and moved my thumb like a mouth.

Doublewide jumped up on the chair next to me and cocked his head. I was pretty good at this. Even the cat was entertained. Maybe I should do a puppet act for my talent.

Rudy giggled. “Hi, Mr. Peepers.”

“Good-bye, Mr. Peepers.” Lynette grabbed the wiglet away from me. “I have to fix this tonight and give it to Maxie. I'm being paid and everything. My first real hair assignment!”

“Not counting the chain saw haircut.”

“Ha-ha. When I get done, and
if
everybody is good, we'll go for a Slurpee run.”

All of us, even Doublewide, watched Lynette shampoo the wiglet in the sink. Then she blow-dried it partway and used her hot rollers. After pinning it back on the fake head, she teased big fat curls into swirls, tucking the ends in with the rat tail of her comb.

“It looks like a fancy cake,” Rudy remarked, as Lynette blasted her creation with hair spray.

“It
does
look like icing on a wedding cake. My Rudy-peepers is so smart!”

“Can we go get Slurpees now?” I asked.

Lynette placed the mannequin head on the top of the fridge and gathered up her purse and car keys. We piled into The Clunker and zipped down the dusty road to the 7-Eleven. Besides the Slurpees, Lynette bought me a roll of Necco Wafers and Rudy a cherry Tootsie Pop.

“What did the doctor say?” she asked me on the way back home. “Today was your appointment, wasn't it?”

“My heels are almost better. And get this! Mama and Daddy are going to Ocean City for two weeks!” No wonder they were so eager to get rid of me. They stuffed me in a hot trailer park so they could go to the beach.

“Oh, for heaven's sake,” said Lynette, pulling into our driveway. “Mama and Daddy haven't been away in years. But that means they won't be at the pageant.”

I was glad. The fewer witnesses seeing me sprint to cash the check and hop a bus to Saltville, the better.

Savoring my Slurpee, I was last to get out of the car. When I heard my sister scream like a herd of quaggas trapped in a tar pit, I hurried inside.

In the kitchen, my sister stood in shock. The mannequin head lay tumbled on the floor, a few pearl-topped pins still stabbed in it.

The wiglet was missing.

“Where is it?”
she screeched. “It was
right there
when we left! Who stole my wiglet?”