Call Me Amy (9 page)

“Where in the world are you going?” asked Nancy, who looked as bored as me.

“Just out.” I stuffed the book under the front of my slicker.

“But, Amy.” My mother looked up from her magazine. “It's pouring cats and dogs out there. You'll be soaked through in no time.”

“Well, I've just got to run quick down towards the pier. Then I'll be dry.”

“To the pier? I don't understand. How will you be dry at the pier?”

I glanced at Nancy and then answered my mother. “Because I'll be in a house down near there.”

Nancy laughed. “Yeah, right. The only one who lives down there is Old Coot. She's the one who used to pass out banned books to kids.”

My eyebrows went skyward as I pushed Agatha Christie further under my slicker. Nancy puffed herself up and waddled around looking as big and ugly as she could.

“Stop that, Nancy.” Mom proceeded to lecture Nancy about name-calling. I could feel the anger rising in me as I took the opportunity to slip out the door. Once again, Nancy had got me furious. There would probably be a lot of explaining to do when I got home; for now though, I just had to get to Pup.

I raced down the hill. I could barely see with the rain slanting into my face. The wind howled and I could hear the surf crash against the shoreline and the grating of haunted lobster boats as they tugged at their moorings.

By the time I reached Miss Cogshell's, I was shivering. She answered my knock as I scraped the mud from my boots. A waft of warm cinnamony smells crept out. Miss Cogshell didn't look at all surprised to see me—almost as though she'd been waiting for me to show up.

I went in and exchanged looks with Craig. He sat at the kitchen table with his math book and papers spread out in front of him.

“Just catching up on some homework,” he mumbled.

“We didn't have any,” I said, before I caught Miss Cogshell's look.

“I still haven't finished last week's,” Craig said. “Not all of us are straight A students. Besides, my house isn't exactly set up for studying.” He gave an awkward laugh as he stood and stretched his legs.

Rather than argue about my occasional B, I grinned and pulled out the book. “This was a great mystery, Miss Cogshell.”

She nodded. “One of my favorites, too.”

I returned the book to its place on the shelf and went in to visit Pup. As I patted Pup, I strained to hear the voices in the kitchen.

“Try this one again,” instructed Miss Cogshell. “I know you can do it.”

The low mumbling that followed must have been Craig's response. I surely hoped this tutoring would get him into the next grade.

Pup got restless and belly-bounced down the hallway. He turned in at the parlor. I followed, calling out to him. Soon Craig and Miss Cogshell joined us, and we all watched Pup explore and sniff every nook and cranny.

“Your house is always so quiet. Don't you have any TV, Miss C.?” asked Craig, looking around in disbelief. “How can you watch
Hawaii Five-0
?”

“Actually, I do own one. It's right under here.” Miss Cogshell pinched up a large doily that had been covering a small television. “Just wait 'til I show you what my friend from Texas sent me.” She carefully unrolled a clingy, plastic sheet and stuck it over the screen. Then she turned on the TV. She moved her massive body to one side so we could see. The once black and white pictures now had tints of color filling in all the light areas. Miss Cogshell watched a moment, then glanced over at us.

“That's super,” I said.

“
Su
-per,” agreed Craig, laughing. “I think I'll stick with Zenith.”

“Well, I'm sure this doesn't compete with the new color televisions. Suits me fine just the same.”

Miss Cogshell was rolling up the magic color screen when there was a thud and a high pitched squeal from somewhere outside, behind the house.

I spun around. Pup must be in the kitchen! I rushed in, grabbed him in a big hug, and slid him under the table, with me right behind. I had to hide him from whoever was out there. Thank goodness the inside door was closed shut against the last of the rain.

“Aw, geez,” said Craig, a couple of seconds after he reached the kitchen.

“She probably slipped and bumped up against the house,” said Miss Cogshell when she joined him. “Do you
know
that young lady peeking in the window, Craig?”

Craig must have nodded because Miss Cogshell opened the door. I couldn't believe it when I heard Pamela's voice and recognized the shiny red tips of her mud-splashed boots as she stepped inside.

“My goodness, you'll get drenched,” said Miss Cogshell.

I listened to the squeaking of Pamela's matching, hooded slicker and could just imagine her straining her neck to peer past Miss Cogshell in search of Craig.

“Oh hi, Craig,” Pamela said. “I thought I saw your bike down here a lot. I just wanted to ask you something, um . . . about homework, in private.”

“I was leaving anyway.” Craig yanked his jacket off the kitchen chair, inches from my hiding place.

“That was a close call,” said Miss Cogshell after the door closed behind them.

I peered out the window and wondered which of a long list of possibilities, each more horrible than the last, Pamela had come to see Craig about.

T
HAT NIGHT, AFTER
I was in bed, the storm still raged outside, sending shadows around the room. My mother
gave a soft knock on my bedroom door. I shoved my diary under my pillow, flicked off my flashlight and said, “Yeah?”

“I just wanted to talk a bit,” she said, as she squeezed in between the pillows of my window seat. She probably wished she could clear them out, but we had decided long ago that my space was off limits.

“You've always been a good girl and I don't want you to think I'm accusing you of anything. It's just that, well, you're a teenager now, and I'd like to know where you go every day.”

She caught me at a relaxed moment, so rather than fight it, I decided to talk to her. “You wouldn't believe me if I told you,” I said, smiling into the darkness.

“Try me.”

“I go to Miss Cogshell's house.”

“For?”

“To visit with her and,” I took a deep breath, “a pet of hers.”

“Well, that certainly sounds admirable. Your grandmother used to speak quite highly of Sylvia.”

“What did Nancy mean about banned books?” I said, knowing something, but wanting to know more.

“Oh, that,” Mom said with a sigh. “I guess years ago a group of parents tried to get her fired from her teaching job because she was recommending books they thought inappropriate. Even literature like
Romeo and Juliet
. That sort of thing. Those former students grew
up still carrying their parents' anger and passed it down to their own kids.”

“Yeah,” I said, “probably they started calling her Old Coot, and everyone else just went along with it because she's so different looking.”

My mother murmured in agreement. Her satin robe glistened in the dim light that shone in from the hallway. “Sweetie, there's one other thing. Nancy thought she saw you with a boy the other day after school.”

Oh, brother. She and Nancy must have discussed me after I left in a huff that morning. “Is that against the law?” I pulled the covers up closer to my chin.

“No, it's just not like you.”

“Well, that must have been my friend Craig Miller.” I tried not to blush. “He's a friend of Miss Cogshell's, too.”

“Craig Miller?” I couldn't see my mother's face in the shadows, which was probably just as well. “That cute little towhead who sat in front of you in first grade? Well, I guess Nancy would be impressed. Seems I heard something about the Millers lately.” She thought a minute. “Well, I guess it was probably just gossip. Anyway, so Craig is a teenager now, too.”

“You make it sound like being a teenager is a disease.”

“Of course not. It's just a difficult time for some.” She adjusted the pillows and I could tell she wanted to
ask something more. Finally she blurted out, “Is Craig a nice boy?”

“Yes,” I said fast. “And Mom, don't tell Nancy. I don't need the whole Port knowing who I'm friends with.”

“My baby's growing up.” Mom sighed as she stood and smoothed the wrinkles from her housecoat. “Did I ever tell you how Dad and I met?”

“Only a thousand times, but go ahead.”

“I couldn't skate for beans. After I crashed into your father, he pulled me around that pond all night, and from then on, we were a couple.”

I tried to picture Mom and Dad years ago, young and in love. Now, Mom was always preparing for some party for other people while Dad spent hours in his office. Sometimes he was in there for so long I forgot he was even home. I guess that's why I became such a good reader. I just didn't click with the rest of my family. Nancy's the one Mom should be discussing boys with.

“Mom, Craig and I are just friends. Besides, who wants a stupid ol' boyfriend?”

My mother watched me for a moment, as though seeing right through my words. Then she kissed me goodnight on the forehead. The tapping of the rain against my window lulled me to sleep.

W
HILE DIGGING IN
my closet Sunday morning, I found an old plastic ball. I started to toss it aside until I realized it might be fun for Pup. I washed the ball, and then polished it with my sweater all the way to Miss Cogshell's.

She had just returned from coffee hour at the church and was busy arranging her letter writing supplies. Floral stationery, stickers, stamps, envelopes and her special calligraphy pen were all lined up on the blue-checked cloth.

Not wanting to rush past her each day in my eagerness to see Pup, I slipped into a chair and glanced at the plant cups on her windowsill. “Looks like your lupines are getting bigger.”

“Oh, yes, they're coming along.” She checked the tip of her pen.

“Who are all these people you write to?” I asked.

“Well, some are from an international pen pal club, and the one from England—she is my old friend from
college. Margie, the one who started my collection when she sent me the little penguin.”

“You went to college?”

“Yes, I was a school teacher up until 1956.”

“Before I was even born,” I said, just so she'd know I didn't care what kind of stuff her students had read. “You must have a zillion books.”

Miss Cogshell chuckled. “I guess I do have a few.”

“So that's how you knew my grandmother, through teaching?”

“Yes, we were both teachers. What a funny pair we made. Me so tall and her so short.”

Of course. I'd forgotten. My grandmother was short like me. Since I was just a little kid when she died I had always thought my grandmother was tall like any other adult. But now I remembered from old family pictures how tiny she had stood in front of my tall parents. My mind raced back to the present. “So that's why you're helping Craig.”

“I do enjoy teaching. However, I also want to help that poor, lost boy.”

“Poor, lost boy?” I looked at Miss Cogshell and decided to set her straight. “Craig's really loud and popular at school.”

Miss Cogshell smoothed out a fresh sheet of stationery. “Sometimes people would rather laugh than cry.” She dipped her pen into a tiny bottle of ink. “Anyway, I will do what I can for him.”

I watched her produce a perfect line of swirly letters, while I tried to make sense of her words. Could a silent shrimp like me, really be happier than a loud happy-go-lucky kid like Craig?

“I might like to be a teacher,” I said, surprising myself. “But I don't want to go away to college. I want to stay right here in the Port forever.” I flung my arms out to encompass my whole world.

Miss Cogshell looked up from her letter and smiled. “I bet you'll change your mind about college when you are older, Amy. You're a clever girl.”

A shuffling noise made us look toward the hallway. Pup was on his way, inching along like a giant caterpillar. I jumped up from my seat to see him better. His floppy little crawl made me laugh. “You're up and about again!”

“Yes, he likes to stretch once in a while.” Miss Cogshell turned back to her work.

“I have a surprise for you, Pup.” I pulled the small plastic ball from my pocket and kneeling down, spun it slowly towards him. With his nose he pushed it back to me. I rolled it again and he returned it once more. Pup looked like a flabby rubber ball himself, dribbling along after the little plastic one.

Back and forth we played. Then I pushed the ball too hard. It spun past Pup, zigzagged down the hall, bounced off the baseboard and into the parlor. Pup went after it and I followed. His snout went under Miss
Cogshell's big chair while the rest of him flipped up from behind. He couldn't reach it and looked back at me.

“I'll get it, Pup,” I said. I sprawled out on the braided rug, wiggled up close to the chair and stretched my arm as far as I could reach. Just as my fingertips brushed the ball, Pup shoved me over and stuck his nose in again. We couldn't both fit, so we kept pushing each other aside. Pup snorted and I pleaded. “I can get it, Pup. Just get out of my way!”

Finally I got hold of the ball and tossed it to Pup. What did he do? He pushed it back under the chair, further than before. “You silly seal,” I said, laughing. I knew Pup was happy even though those big tears were just streaming down his face. I hugged him and inhaled his warm fishy smell. I patted his slick little head and whispered, “You're a good friend.” I thought about how lonely I had been just a month or so ago and added, “You and Craig and Miss Cogshell.” Pup started snoozing right there in my arms. I watched him sleep for a while, and then I gently moved him aside. I tiptoed down the hall and back into the kitchen to find Miss Cogshell still seated at the table.