“Vannah, you here?” she calls.
“Yes, ma’am,” I reply, as we come out of the shadows towards the house.
“Y’all want to come in and watch a movie?” she asks.
My mouth is watering for more of what we’ve been doing, but what choice have we got?
“I reckon,” I tell her as we head inside.
“Dog get off to Dave’s okay?” she asks.
“Gina came and got him,” I answer.
“Y’all have a nice evening?” she asks, eyeballing Jackson.
“Yes, ma’am,” he replies in a croaky voice, squirming.
When she heads off to the bathroom, I put a movie in and cuddle up beside Jackson on the couch, hoping she might go spend some time in her room. But she’s back, making herself comfortable right beside us.
“What movie did y’all choose?” she asks, like we’re having a little get-together with her.
“
Star Wars
,” I say, trying to hold my grin. I know she hates those movies, and Jackson, like all guys, will probably love them. Personally, I could take them or leave them. But I know Mama won’t have too much patience for this one.
Out of the corner of my vision, I can see her looking at Jackson. “How’s your mama doing?” she asks.
Durn, that woman ain’t got no sense! He doesn’t want to be talking about his grieving mama!
“Fine, I reckon,” Jackson replies.
“And your brothers?” she asks.
Jackson shifts uncomfortably.
“Mama,” I say, “did you not invite us in here to watch a movie?”
“All right! Just trying to make conversation.”
I glare at her and she smiles, picks up
People
magazine, and starts flipping through it. “You watch the stories today?” she asks me.
“Like I have time? You know I got a list of chores could keep a body busy till dark if I let ’em. You think I’ma waste my time on a bunch of soap operas?”
She shakes her head. “I never get a chance to watch my stories, just wondering what all was happening.”
I put my finger to my lips, silently telling her to shut up so Jackson can watch in peace. I love my mama, but damn, can she be a nuisance when she wants to be. She goes back to flipping through her magazine.
Inch by inch, Jackson moves his hand, so it’s on my back against my skin.
“Y’all want something to eat?” Mama asks, jumping up.
I sigh, wishing she’d just go on to bed. I’m about to yell no, when Jackson looks at me all desperate. “I could eat,” he says. Boys are always hungry.
Mama steps into the kitchen and starts banging things around.
“You want me to fix you a sandwich?” I offer. Then I change my mind and whisper, “Let’s go into town and get a burger and a shake.” ’Cause suddenly I feel an intense need to get out from under Mama’s thumb.
“How we gonn’ get there?” he asks. He’s got his driver’s license, but no car. I ain’t got neither.
“We can ride bikes,” I suggest. “You can borrow Dog’s.”
“What about the movie?” he asks.
I just look at him.
“Okay.” He smiles. “Let’s go.”
I call to Mama. “We’re gonn’ go get some burgers and stuff out at Eddie’s.” That’s the main diner in town.
Mama looks at the clock. “You only got about an hour till curfew,” she warns, looking hurt that we’re leaving. I shrug. “Don’t be late!” she hollers as we head out.
We sit across the table from each other, staring into each other’s eyes. This is way better than some old space movie. We’ve got two straws in our strawberry shake, just like in a picture.
“What’s wrong?” I ask Jackson, noting the down-turned corners of his mouth.
“Nut’n.” He half smiles.
“Come on, don’t lie,” I say, hoping he hasn’t grown tired of me already.
“My ma’s been calling.”
“What about?” I ask.
“I reckon things are hard for her. Carter and Tyler keep getting into trouble, and my dad ain’t there to set ’em straight.” He sighs. “First she don’t want me around ’cause I remind her too much of him. Now she wants my help in his place.”
Lois brings us our food. Her hair, which is very big, is forever changing colors. Today it’s ruby red. “Here y’all are,” she says. “Enjoy.”
“I like the color,” I say, pointing at her hair.
“Why thank you, sugar,” she replies, patting it gently. “Sweet of you to notice.”
I pour a pile of ketchup on my plate and salt it up real good. Then I dip my fries in one at a time.
Jackson chuckles. “Most people put the salt on the fries.”
“Well I ain’t most people,” I say.
“That’s for sure true,” he replies, but I can tell by his smile he means it kindly. He eats some of his burger, then looks at the Elvis clock ticking on the wall. “Things was easier before.”
“Before your dad passed, you mean?” I ask.
“Yeah, that. But also before . . . you know, all them rules and whatnot.”
“You mean before Mama’s manifesto? I know. I told you we shouldn’t let her know about us.”
He shrugs, looking forlorn.
“Tomorrow’s Saturday. I get a break from chores,” I say. “We could spend the day at the beach.”
“That sounds right about perfect,” he replies.
“What your cousins gonn’ be up to?” I ask, wondering if he wouldn’t ruther be off running around with them.
“Usual dumbass crap,” he replies.
Nope, I reckon he wouldn’t, I think with a smile, glad they haven’t pulled him into their bullying richy-rich gang.
He lights up. “Hey, come surfing with me tomorra.”
“I don’t know how,” I say, though the idea seems exciting.
“I’ll take you on my board,” he says. “I’ll teach you.” Mama’d have a fit if she knew. But my asthma’s been good since I started the new medicine.
“I’d love to,” I say.
“Meet me soon as you get up,” he says. “We’ll get an early start.
Meantime, we best get you home. You got fifteen minutes.” He leaves some money on the table, then holds the door open for me on the way out. As we ride, he looks over through the dark every couple of minutes just to smile at me.
We crunch into the gravel driveway at exactly eleven o’clock on the nose and set the bikes back in the carport. Jackson leans up against me and kisses me real deep. My insides turn to jelly. But then the outside light flips on.
“Curfew,” Mama calls, sounding none too happy.
I hug Jackson tight and wave good night. Then I walk on in right past Mama without even saying a word. My mind is already floating on that surfboard somewhere out in the sea.
I get up at first light Saturday and tiptoe around, careful not to wake Mama. I want to be good and gone by the time she rises. I’d ruther wait on Jackson down there than risk her holding me up. I make sandwiches and put them in my backpack along with some green grapes, potato chips, and cold lemonade. After taking my medicine, I pack my inhaler and slip on outside in my hot pink two-piece swimsuit. The pavement is already steaming, which doesn’t bode well for the heat this afternoon. But leastways we’ll be out on the water. I’m so excited, I forget the sunscreen and towels. I creep back inside, careful not to slam the screen, and get that stuff quick as I can.
I see him down by the water waxing his board. Damn, he looks fine, his chest muscles bulging and the sun glinting in his wet hair. I lock up my bike and run down to him.
“’Bout time you got here,” he chides.
“It ain’t but seven thirty!” I reply. “When did you come?”
“Crack o’ dawn.” He stares at me like I’m his dinner, and you remember what I said about boys being hungry. It’s like in them cartoons when the cat is looking at the bird and suddenly it appears to be a roast chicken. “Couldn’t sleep.”
There are only two other people on the beach. And though I’m tempted to lay down with Jackson in the sand, you know one of them folks has just got to know my mama.
“How ’bout that surfing lesson,” I remind him.
“Cold water’ll do me good.” He laughs. “Wait here and I’ll show you a time or two.” He paddles out to where the waves break. He catches a good one. But then he’s showing off, trying to look cool, and next thing you know, he’s falling facefirst into the water. Lucky for him, the board goes the other way ruther than hitting him on his head. I cover my mouth, but I can’t help but giggle. He comes out of the ocean all dripping and blushing.
“Some teacher you gonn’ be.” I laugh.
“I just got a bit ahead o’ myself is all. Come on, I’ll take you out.” He reaches for my hand, but I ain’t so sure I’m wanting to try it after all. I don’t want to be falling and looking foolish like that.
“That’s okay,” I tell him. “I believe I’d ruther sit and watch awhile.”
“Come on. Don’t be chicken,” he teases. But I back away, smiling, and run down the beach. He runs after me, tackling me to the sand. And then we’re kissing and law, everything seems perfect.
“Savannah, that you down there?” I hear a voice calling. I look up and good God a’mighty, it’s Mr. Howard, my third-grade teacher, wearing Bermuda shorts with black socks, a tank top, and a fishing hat. I sit up right quick.
“Hey, Mr. Howard.”
“Well, I’ll be, Savannah Brown. You sure have grown. Why I just saw your mama, wadn’t but last week. She told me you were coming up, but I didn’t realize you’d grown so.”
You know he’s going to run straight to Mama aiming to get into her good graces. I always did think he had a crush on her, and now here’s his excuse to call her up.
We get on up out of the sand. “It has been a long time,” I say, looking for my way out. “If you’ll excuse me, sir, I was just about to have a surfing lesson, so we’ll have to catch up later on. Take care now.” I grab Jackson’s hand and tear on down the beach, the both of us laughing ourselves silly. Jackson takes his board and we splash out into the ocean.
Past the wave break, where the water is deep and calm, we hang on to opposite sides of his surfboard. It’s quiet out here, and Lord have mercy, we are actually alone.
“Sorry about that,” I say, “us being interrupted and all.”
“Don’t worry. It’s kinda funny, ain’t it?”
I just love that about him, how he can see the humor in a situation. I hop up across the board and kiss him on his salty mouth.
“Savannah Brown,” he whispers.
“Jackson Channing,” I whisper back.
A seagull screeches overhead.
Jackson looks up. “He know your mama, too?”
After a while, he rides me to shore on his board—him standing towards the back, me on the front on my knees. It’s way more exciting than Boogie Boarding. So I decide to give it a try.
He drops the surfboard in the sand and shows me how to jump up onto my feet on it. I’m just glad there ain’t too many people out yet. I expect I look awful silly.
“I reckon you’re ready to give it a go,” he says, clearly having more faith in my abilities than I do myself.
I paddle out and he wades in beside me. He anchors the board until a nice, gentle wave comes, then launches me into it. I hang on tight as I can.
As the wave crests, I let out a little shriek without meaning to. “Now!” he yells.
So I jump to my feet, which sends the board out from under me, and I belly flop into the shallow water. I come up sputtering, and he laughs.
“You okay?” he asks, grabbing the board and my hand.
I nod, not too sure I want to try again.
“Come on, now,” Jackson says. “You just got to land with your feet evened up is all.”
So I give it another go. This time I nail the landing and manage to stay on my feet for a good five seconds before I wipe out. “Did you see that?” I call when I come up.
“You did it! Woo-hoo!” he yells.
I take a couple more turns, then collapse on the sand.
“What’s wrong?” he asks.
“That’s hard work!” I reply. I’m beat, but it’s been real fun having Jackson for a teacher. “You go on. I want to watch you.”
So he goes out and catches those waves like a pro. He seems to know how to read them, become a part of their motion, whereas I’m just standing on the top of them hoping they’re not going to buck me off.
By the end of the day, I’m able to actually stay up all the way to shore. I never imagined I’d be able to learn so quickly. Course I’m only catching the baby waves, but still.
When we’re fixing to leave, he says, “You want to go watch the fireworks with me on the Fourth?”
“Sure,” I say, “long as Mama’s okay with it and all.”
“My cousins are having a party afterwards at the house. My aunt June and uncle John are gonn’ be out of town for the night.”
“I’ll check with Mama. I reckon I won’t mention the out-of-town part.”
“That sounds like a good idea.”
Imagine a Wonder Bread like me at an upper-crust, upperclassmen party. Stef and Joie would flip!
8
I
wait until the morning of the Fourth before finally broaching the topic of my plans with Jackson. I’ve taken the risk of asking Mama while she’s getting ready to head to the Family Dollar, so if I can get the yes, she won’t have a chance of taking it back since she’s working late. But so far, it ain’t quite going my way.
“It’s a weeknight,” she says. “Curfew is ten o’clock.”
“The fireworks won’t even start until nine thirty! Only babies are gonn’ have a ten o’clock curfew tonight.”
“You are a baby—my baby—and I ain’t too keen on the idea of you going to this party. Them boys are too old for you.” Imagine what she’d have thought if I’d mentioned the parents weren’t going to be there.
Just my luck, Dog stumbles in from our bedroom in his boxer shorts, his hair all bedraggled. “Did I hear you say we got to be in by ten on the Fourth of July?” Dog demands. “Gina’s letting Dave stay out until eleven thirty! Fourth of July is the best night of the year! If you say ten, I’ma just go stay at Dave’s.”