Color the Sidewalk for Me (10 page)

Last period we were supposed to be answering review questions in our world geography book. Gazing absently at a picture of the Amazon River, I couldn't help but remember Kevy's frantic cries in the current.
Kevy.
A pang of guilt shot through me. I'd been thinking of nothing but Danny all day while my own brother was still in the hospital. Tapping pencil against paper, I wondered if he'd be able to come home that afternoon.

An idea flitted warmly across my mind. Suddenly I had the perfect excuse to talk to Danny after school. He'd want to hear about Kevy. When the bell rang, I was ready to spring, books gathered in my arms.

“Celia!” Bobby Delham called as I sped for the door. “Wait up, I gotta ask you somethin'.”

“Later, Bobby,” I said over my shoulder. “I'm in a hurry.”

He hurried to catch up. “I just wanted t—”

“Not now, Bobby.” We passed through the door and into the hall side by side.

“But I was just wonderin'—”

I pivoted abruptly in exasperation, which sent an eavesdropping Randy colliding into me. “Oh, sorry,” he mumbled sheepishly, fading toward the lockers along the wall.

I gave him a look, then glowered at Bobby. He clutched a notebook against his side, his chocolate eyes apprehensive. “What's wrong with you?” I asked. “What is wrong with everybody today? I don't have time right now; can't you hear?” Flouncing away, I left him watching me with a mixture of confusion and indignation. He didn't deserve it, and word about my treatment of him wouldn't set kindly. Everyone liked Bobby.
I on't care,
I told myself.
I o not care.
Reaching my locker, I jerked out the books I needed for homework, started down the hall, then changed my mind. Spinning around, I headed for the back door, traipsed around the outside of the building, and managed to reach the street without running into anyone.

I looked up the sidewalk. No Danny yet. With a deep breath I tried to settle myself, consciously relaxing my shoulders and tossing hair out of my eyes. Students were beginning to spill out of the building onto its wide steps, some glancing at me with curiosity. Most of us had our daily habits; mine was to leave school out the side door, cutting across the yard with Melissa. I was most conspicuous here. “Hi,” I said to them with nonchalance.

“Who you waitin' for?” Bart Rhorer asked, the sun reflecting in his carrot red hair.

I hesitated. “Danny. He promised to fetch my fishin' pole, and I need to talk to him about gettin' it back.”

Bart raised his chin and let it sink again. “Oh. Well, see ya.” He sauntered up the sidewalk, looking back with a knowing grin.

I pressed my lips together, swinging my head away from him, and caught sight of Danny easing down the steps. For no reason at all my heart started to beat harder. He saw me and reacted, then tried to cover it up by kicking a small rock out of his path.

“Hi, Danny.” I kept my voice light.

“Hi.” His eyes were green like a cat's as he squinted in the sun.

“I just wanted you to know that Kevy's goin' to be okay. And that he'll probably be comin' home today.”

His gaze glided across my face to my hair and back again. “That's great.”

Watching him shift from one foot to the other, a couple of books under one arm, I found it hard to believe he'd hugged me less than forty-eight hours ago. We weren't but four feet apart now, but the distance was a canyon.

“Did you get the poles and stuff?” I asked.

“Yeah.”

“Good. I'll have to get mine back sometime.” I managed a laugh. “I guess Kevy'll be gettin' a new one.”

He smiled. “Guess so.”

“Well.” I glanced down the street to see Melissa following our every move with eyeball-popping interest. “I suppose I'd better go.”

He tilted his head in understanding, a shock of hair falling across his right eyebrow. For some reason I imagined myself pushing it back into place. “See you tomorrow,” I said, not moving.

“Sure.” Starting to step around me, he faltered. “Maybe I could give them back to you this Saturday,” he blurted. “I mean, if you happened to be at the river. I might see you. If I'm done with my work and everything.” I smiled slowly. “That's an idea. If I can go, I'll be there.”

“Good.” His face was a mask that ill-concealed his anticipation. “See you then.”

“Okay.”

He headed his way and I headed mine, rehearsing what I'd tell Melissa.

“Hi, Celia,” Kevy called as I banged through the screen door.

“Hey, Kevy!” I threw my books down and headed to the couch where he lay. Sinking to my knees, I hugged him hard.

“Ow, I can't breathe,” he protested in a muffled voice.

Laughing, I eased away. “That'd be funny, huh? Save you from drownin' only to hug you to death.”

He grinned at me winningly. I examined his face, counting the freckles. His skin had returned to its normal, healthy pink. Smoothing hair from his forehead, I pictured the blanched cheeks and blue lips of Saturday, unmoving and cold. The rush of the rapids echoed through my head. “Don't ever, ever scare me like that again, Kevy,” I whispered.

He nodded solemnly. “I won't. I'm sorry.”

Sensing a shift in our house's atmosphere at supper, I wondered if it was real or if Ihad changed. A quiet joy simmered within me at the sight of our family together again, and for once I wasn't fighting with Mama. She hadn't blamed me for Kevy's accident after all and had almost hugged me for helping to save him. The feel of her hands on my shoulders had been wonderful. And she'd told Danny we owed him a debt we couldn't repay. Last night we had returned from the hospital to a hastily heated bowl of Mama's vegetable soup and thick slices of her wheat bread. I'd been starved, but the food couldn't fill the hole in my stomach, for Kevy's seat was empty. His near death, our family's teetering escape from tragedy, had lent that vacancy a heaviness, as if the very air around it were weighted with grim relief. Now, watching him happily chew fried chicken, I felt a wholeness flow through me, warm and sweet.

Granddad was in high form, chuckling over his old story of how he'd tricked Jake Lewellyn into trading his favorite marble for a toadstool when they were nine years old. That cunning victory had touched off their lifelong besting competition, with Mr. Lewellyn scheming unsuccessfully ever since to get the marble back. “Yep,” he went on, “that black and silver marble a Jake's gave me the favorite story for tellin' in foxholes. I remember one time in Korea we were hunkered down, tryin' to git over a knoll, and our boys was feelin' low. I figured it was time to dust off that story, tellin' about my wiliness and Jake's carryin' on. Halfway through it we heard a mighty whistlin'. Our heads jerked up, eyeballs showin' white. We knew we was about to be hit bad. That was the day—”

“Daddy! Please give us one night. Kevin's just come home.”

Even amid her inevitable protest Mama's voice was different. Usually it was sharp, impatient when she interrupted Granddad, signaling half a dozen things with the mere word
Daddy.
That this was her home, her table. That her life's burden was bearing his animated war stories. That for some unfathomable reason she despised these tales with a tight-lipped, hard-eyed passion, and therefore he was not to mention the subject of battle—an expectation he failed daily. So the cycle began again. But tonight, because of Kevy, Mama's interruption was more of a quiet pleading. And Granddad, instead of making a display of snapping his mouth shut, simply let the subject drop.

“Well, Son,” Daddy said to clear the air, “I guess we owe you a new fishin' pole for comin' home so soon.”

“Yep. Guess so.”

“Gee, Kevy,” I put in, “how could you want to even go near water again?”

He shrugged, swishing iced tea around his mouth, then swallowed. “It don't bother me none. I still wanna go with Reid. Guess I'll stay on the bank, though.”

It don't bother me none.
I sneaked a look at Mama but she didn't blink an eye. She may not have been able to control Granddad's grammar but was typically unwavering when it came to Kevy and me.

“That's a good idea, Kevin.” Granddad smacked the table for emphasis. “Jake's Rock's meant nothing but trouble to our family for years. Best keep away from it.”

We all laughed.

“What about your pole, Celia?” asked Kevy. “And Granddad's bucket?”

I sprinkled pepper on some potatoes, keeping my eyes down. “I'm gonna get them this weekend. Danny Cander said he'll bring them to the river on Saturday.” I finished my peppering and set down the shaker. Reached for my iced tea and drank.

Silence.

“Well, that's as good a way as any,” Granddad declared after a moment. “Right nice of him to fetch your pole.”

“Uh-huh.” My fork slid under my peas. Mama had ceased all motion, a knife halfway through cutting her roll. After a second bite of peas I couldn't stand it anymore and shot her a glance. She was looking at Daddy and he was looking straight back. I decided my potatoes needed a little more salt.

“Celia.” Mama's voice was quiet.

My arm froze, then moved again, fingers closing around the shaker. Events of the school day raced through my mind. My determination to be Danny's friend could end right here and now, I thought, with Mama declaring I couldn't meet him on Saturday because it wasn't fitting, no matter how much we owed him. “Ma'am?”

She hesitated. I could almost hear her thoughts churn. She didn't like the idea yet demurred at appearing ungrateful after what Danny had done. Daddy was eating quietly; this was Mama's call, his actions said. I wished he'd say what he thought for once. I was willing to bet he didn't agree with half her decisions.

Mama finished cutting her roll. Her voice was mild when she finally spoke. “Don't be goin' in the water now, hear?”

chapter 11

S
aturday dawned overcast, with flat gray clouds lurking the skies like the battleships in Granddad's stories. All morning I prayed it wouldn't rain, although after waiting all week, straining for glimpses of Danny between classes, I probably would have walked to the river in a hurricane. I kept an eye on the weather while we ate lunch, thankful for the unusual peace between me and Mama. It was the first Saturday in weeks that we hadn't argued about my going into Albertsville.

“You goin' to Melissa's house this afternoon?” Mama asked as she set down Daddy's plate.

My chest went cold. Daddy met my eye for a moment, then looked away. Granddad busied himself pouring iced tea into Kevy's already full glass. “No. I promised Granddad to get his bucket back, remember?”

“Oh, that's right.” The lightness in Mama's voice was heavier than lead. She hadn't forgotten, not for a minute. She'd probably lain awake the past five nights wondering why on earth she was letting me go. Glancing at the menacing clouds, she remarked, “You may be sorry you went.”

She was talking about more than just rain. “Don't worry. I'll be fine.”

I finished my sandwich and did the dishes in silence.

By one o'clock the skies were still threatening, but not a drop had yet fallen as I brushed my long hair until it rippled down my back and examined my face in the mirror. A couple of months ago in a moment of gushing unself–consciousness, Bobby had told me I was the prettiest girl in school. I wondered if Danny thought so. Backing away from the dresser, I looked at my full-length reflection, turning sideways to critically eye my figure. I'd made a point of sitting in the sun after school that week, and my skin had already turned a light tan. A bright blue knit shirt set off my eyes. As Granddad would say, it wore me well. “Bye, Mama. Bye, Daddy.” The screen door banged as I left.

“Bye, Celia. Don't stay too long,” Mama said.

Walking the block toward Main Street, I could have sworn I felt her peering through the door, watching me go.

Danny was already at the river when I arrived, casually looking through his tackle box, that piece of hair hanging over his eye. Something in his manner was too cool, too collected, and I knew he'd affected it. Wordlessly I approached, crunching over rocks.

“Oh, hi,” he said.

“Hi back.”

Danny never fished that day. When the rain started just moments later, plinking in fat drops across the river, we gathered our things quickly.

“Come on,” he urged. “There's a place upstream where the trees are extra thick.”

We ran carrying our belongings, rain pelting us with fury. So much for brushed hair, I thought, then started to laugh. Danny looked at me curiously before breaking into a grin. “We can't get any wetter than we were last week!” I called above the hiss of rain against rock.

“At least it's warm!”

After a few minutes Danny swerved away from the riverbank and I followed, swishing through wild grass. Breathlessly we reached the trees, throwing down the poles and bucket and tackle box before dropping to the ground. The leaves of two giant oaks formed a dense canopy, dancing in the splattering downpour but shielding us from the water.