Authors: Diane Munier
Darnay
Road 7
Around
eight in the evening our mothers and grandmothers and aunts start to call us
home. Abigail May and I never say goodnight, we just disappear. We go straight
to the cellar. Usually I lift the big outside door for her and then she holds
it for me while she stands on the stairs and I get under it and we slowly lower
that old gray painted slab of wood with our hands over our heads. But tonight
little Abigail May has to do everything herself with not much help from me.
It’s not easy but we do it. Then we go down the small cement staircase that
smells like mildew and open the door at the bottom and we’re in the cellar.
It’s okay, we already have our flashlights.
No
one knows where we went, we just disappear. It’s so much fun, then we sit on
the blankets and talk for a while then we go upstairs and Abigail leaves
through the kitchen.
But
tonight we have so much to talk about we need a sleepover but since we didn’t
ask for one we have to be happy with whispering in the dark about boys. We’ve
never talked about boys like this, always loved and hated them from as far away
as possible, except for all our boyfriends at school since the first grade, but
it’s so different now.
We
go over and over what happened at the show then in the street, all in one day.
“I wonder if he likes girls at public,” I say, and it hurts my stomach to think
about it.
“Probably
not cause he likes you,” she says squirming around, and kicking her feet, then
she says, “What are you going to do?”
“I
don’t know,” I say. “I’m not doing anything. I don’t know what to do!” We laugh
again.
“Well
Wally Cleaver likes Mary Ellen.”
“But
they’re big kids. They go to dances and stuff,” I say.
“Well
he’s just your boyfriend.”
“No
he’s not. He’s not my boyfriend.”
“Well
you like Moondoggie and he’s way old.”
It’s
just not the same.
She
gets up on her knees and declares, “If Moondoggie came up on your granma’s
porch right now you’d go off to Hollywood with him.”
“What
about school?” I say like she’s being the dumbest kid in the world.
“They
have schools in Hollywood,” she says.
“Well
James Darren is a big man and I’m a kid.”
“What
if you grow up and marry him?” Abigail says, her flashlight under her chin so
she looks scary.
“I
told you not to do it that way,” I say knocking her flashlight away so she
can’t make the fright face.
But
she puts it right back. I can hardly talk to her sometimes.
“Ricky
told him to leave me alone,” I say.
She
pulls the flashlight away. “He’s the dumbest brother in the world.” Then the
light is back. “You have to keep a pen with you all the time,” Abigail says.
“I
can’t do that.”
I
push her over. “I don’t know. Do you think he will?” Suddenly I feel like I’ll
never get to sleep tonight cause now I’m over-excited like when I drink too
much red Kool-Aid. I feel like all this wonderful stuff could happen.
“He’ll
sign your cast in big red letters, ‘Easy,’” Abigail says still laying on her
side.
“Easy?”
I don’t know much about him, but I know his name is not Easy. It’s Ethan.
“E.
C.,” she gets back on her knees and stresses those letters like I’m deaf. “They
call him Easy cause it sounds the same.”
I
can hear it now. “Easy.” I’d heard that before. I heard Ricky say that. “Easy.”
I don’t know about such a name. “What about Joe?”
She
doesn’t answer right off.
“Abigail
May?”
“He’s
Beaucap,” she says.
I
knew it was something so strange. “I never heard a name like that.”
“Ricky
calls him Cap,” she says. “He’s same age as us.”
“Easy
and Cap,” I repeat. I pretty well knew that, just didn’t pay attention. I named
them right off though. Hardy Boys. I knew they moved into one of the houses
further down Scutter during the school year.
“Behind
Miss Little. Scuttertown, going down,” Abigail says like she’s the conductor on
a train. “Should I tell Ricky you like Easy?”
I
shine my light on her face cause she better be kidding. “You better ever not,”
I say. “I’ll tell Cap you like him cause he threw that balloon.”
She
jumps on me, heedless of my arm. She likes to pinch each of my cheeks and pull
until my lips almost rip apart.
“Abigail
May,” I rebuke her real loudly knocking her off and then we wait to see if
Granma opens the door but she doesn’t.
“Well
I’m sorry but you shouldn’t say that,” she says. Then she stands and dusts her
behind. “I’m going home now.”
“You
shouldn’t say it you mean. Don’t you ever, ever tell Ricky I like Ethan.”
“Easy,”
she says.
“Don’t
you ever say that. He smokes.” I’ve got a million reasons why I can’t be in
love with such a boy.
“Is
he the cutest boy you’ve ever seen?” she says picking her shorts in the back.
“You
going to the show?” I say cause she’s picking her seat.
She
giggles her head off. “Is he?” Then she burps loudly. When we drink Coca-Cola
we have a burping contest and I can never beat her. So we’re laughing again.
“Don’t
you think so?” I say in there cause she must see it too.
“Cap’s
the cutest.”
“No
he is not,” I say.
“He
looks like Dr. Kildare,” Abigail says like we’re fighting about it.
I
stand up. “He don’t look like Dr. Kildare.” I love Dr. Kildare but Granma loves
him more than me even.
“He
does too. If you push his hair back he looks just like him.” Hands on her hips.
I don’t know why Granma ain’t at the door.
“He
looks like Eddie Haskell maybe,” I say.
Abigail
stomps her foot and growls like she’s all upset.
“Well
he does not look like Dr. Kildare, that’s just crazy.”
“I’m
not going to play with you,” Abigail says.
“Fine.
I’ll just solve the case by myself.”
“Where
those boys go every night.”
“You
can’t solve it by yourself cause you’re a fraidy cat.”
“Go
on home you little stupid girl. You’re the fraidy cat. Go talk to your old dead
Grandma.”
I
shine my light quick on her face and see the tears. I didn’t mean to say it and
I don’t know why I did. But I’m not sorry enough to say I am. Anyway she goes
stomping up the stairs, lets the basement door slam against the wall and
everything.
I’ve
really, really got the headache now.
I
think of Gidget and all those boys around her, and I’d never have nerve like
that. I’ll be ten years old Fourth of July. That ain’t nearly old enough to
have a bra like Jennifer.
I
am just a kid. But him thinking I’m pretty makes me love him pretty much. And
it sure makes this summer about as interesting as it could be.
So
I hurry up the cellar stairs into the kitchen and almost past the living room
where Granma is asleep in her chair holding onto the green glass. I tiptoe in
and turn off the TV and slowly take that glass from her hand and she wakes up.
“Bedtime Granma,” I say.
“Well
you are the sweetest thing,” she says.
“Yes
Ma’am. I’m gonna take my bath now,” I say.
“Did
you lock the door?” she says while she works to get up.
“I
will.” And then I’ve got to get to my window and watch for the boys to come
around. I have an interest so keen. I get up there and I turn on the bath water
and it has to be shallow cause of my arm. Then I get my notebook for taking spy
notes, then my flashlight of course. I know Ricky has to be in by eight-thirty
and it’s eight fifteen. So I hurry in and get my bath and check my chest and
it’s still as flat as ever. I try to hurry up and get on my nightgown that
says, “Ho-hum sleepyhead,” embroidered on the pocket. It’s pink and the letters
are red. But I get all tangled up and have to start over. Then I unravel my
braids and my hair is wild and crazy crazy and I run the brush over it just a
few times.
Then
I’m at my window and I give the signal, two flashes. Wait. Two flashes, and
Abigail doesn’t answer with the same signal.
It’s
nine on the dot. She knows it’s time to be at her station. What kind of spy is
she? We are never going to get this mystery solved at this rate.
Nine
fifteen the light comes on in Abigail’s room. I can see her yellow curtains
below the shade pulled halfway down. Why is her light on? I wish to St. Peter I
could call her and ask her what in the world is going on? But of course I
can’t. Being a kid makes me so angry sometimes, especially when I’m on a case.
I wait and wait and Ricky’s got a lamp on in his room but the Hardy Boys don’t
show and Abigail May’s light don’t go off.
Then
I see the most amazing thing. It’s dark on Abigail May’s porch, but the door
opens and Abigail May comes out all sneaky but as soon as she clears the porch
she runs into the middle of Darnay Road and she looks right up at my window and
waves her hands for me to come down.
At
first I just stare, then I flash twice.
Then
I tip-toe across the landing and try to take the stairs slow but I already know
Granma can’t hear me and won’t wake up until morning.
So
I get to the front door and I go out and leave it open some and I close the
screen softly and Abigail runs up in my yard and soon as I’m down to the gate
she is hugging me and crying.
“Is
Aunt May dead?” I ask horrified.
“They
can’t make me go. I won’t go,” she’s saying the night breeze ruffling her
pixie.
“Abigail
May, Abigail May,” I’m saying kind of in a crazy whisper while I try to get her
hands away from her face.
She’s
just blubbering.
“Where’s
Aunt May?” I ask.
That’s
when I hear them. The bullfrog noises the Hardy Boys make.
I
look over there and Ricky is coming down the trellis on the side of the house.
We’re standing close to the gate to my front yard, and one of those boys sees
us and there’s discussion going on. I just keep holding onto Abigail and she
don’t seem to care who’s around us.
So
here comes Ricky and the other two behind. They’re on foot now like always when
they come around at night.
“You
get back in the house Abigail May,” Ricky says.
He
doesn’t seem worried that we caught him going out.
They
come clear across the road to stand by my gate.
“Go
on before she comes looking,” Ricky says, but Abigail just clings to me and
ignores him.
I
look right at those boys. “What happened?” I ask Ricky.
“She’s
just being a baby,” he says.
She
does lift her head now. “Shut up you meanie.”
“Hey
what you cryin’ about?” Cap says, but he means Abigail.
Abigail
sniffs. “Who wants to know?”