Darnay Road (9 page)

Darnay
Road 18

“Give
me the notebook,” I say to Abigail while standing in line for our pancakes.

I
am speaking very low and out of the side of my mouth the way that old actor
Humphrey Bogart might speak. I don’t want Aunt May to hear me. And she doesn’t
want me…or Abigail, to hear her, but I know she’s filling Granma’s ears about
‘you-know-who,’ and her brother not wanting to go, ‘you-know-where,’ with
their, ‘you-know-what.’

Abigail
May looks at me and rolls her eyes. We are just too deep in the spying business
not to be able to figure this out.

Ricky is standing in
another line. He looks like he’s part of Tim Barton’s family. He likes Tim
sometimes, but not lately with the Hardy Boys around. I guess we both ditched
Tim, me and Abigail too, but he shouldn’t have fallen in love with me and
chased us home every night. I tried to tell him.

Then
his mother had to come down and talk to Granma about it, how mean I was
treating Tim, well me and that Abigail May Brody. Her little darling Poo-Poo,
as Abigail May calls him now.

My
Granma said, “Why Virginia I wasn’t aware that Georgia Christine was running
away from your Timothy, but I imagine if he’d quit chasing her that would solve
the problem.”

Of
all the times I’ve eavesdropped in my whole life that is the time I almost gave
myself away from the need to laugh. Mrs. Barton did not complain about me again
and she was there to walk Poo-Poo home from school after that.

So
I can barely look over there now. Abigail gives me the notebook and I take the
pencil from the spiral and hand the book back and slide that pencil down the
top of my cast and saw it up and down and around. It feels so good to itch my
arm that way I almost howl like an old dog.

Then
I think of all the dogs set to howling when Easy rode me past on his bike that
time and I wonder what he’s doing, being a heathen but very, very handsome as
he must be, wherever he is on this Sunday morning.

Finally
we get up there to get our pancakes. Abigail May is in front holding her big
china plate. I am surprised when Ricky appears out of nowhere to take my plate.
I was waiting for Mr. Young to take mine for me as he is helping folks to the
long tables and the lady serving told me to wait. Granma already went on and
Abigail May never thought to look back neither, but I know Ricky is mad at
Abigail and I, so the last thing I expected was for him to leave the Bartons
and be a gentleman for me.

He
has his plate too, and without a word he leads us to the table where our
families sit. He puts my plate down and takes his back to sit with the Bartons.
He never looks at me or says anything, so I don’t either because I don’t know
what to say but thank you and he didn’t give me a chance.

So
Abigail just shrugs and she’s already chewing because we said a big grace
together before they started to serve. Now I’m looking around and then I spot
him, Father Anthony wearing the hat that looks like a king’s hat only black and
without the crown part, just a big snowball on the top instead.

Makes
me think of my missing pom-pom. And that makes me think of the missing kittens.
And that makes me think of Abigail May leaving. “You think Abigail will have to
go?” I ask Aunt May.

But she doesn’t hear
me, she is watching someone, and I fake cough into my hand and look quickly for
where she’s looking, and she’s looking at him, the man in the dress, Father
Anthony. He’s talking to Miss Amanda Dunbar. She is the other unmarried woman,
almost same age as Aunt May might be—one hundred and five minus fifty or
something. I can’t imagine. All I know is Abigail May says Aunt May loves,
loves President Kennedy. Well everyone does, but Aunt May has his picture
hanging in the hall at big gray. Abigail May says Aunt May told Edna she wanted
her hair cut like Jackie’s, but Edna said that style wouldn’t work for Aunt May
as Aunt May has all that natural curl and Aunt May said, ‘do it anyway,’ and
Edna was right cause you can’t really tell what Aunt May was going for. But she
might be going for Father Anthony if that’s possible. He has red hair and it’s
thick like the president’s, and he has that red-head skin and freckles and if
you squint a little he is a little like President Kennedy. Maybe. He could be a
cousin at least.

But
I cough again and turn around to my food and Granma is pointing at me with her
fork. “Eat,” she says.

And
I cut a triangle of pancakes and poke that in my mouth and chew, chew but soon
as Granma quits looking at me, I am peeking at Aunt May and she is flushing red
while she looks in Father’s direction.

The
thing about spying, until you do make yourself notice everything and everyone
around you, you just don’t notice much. Abigail and I will sometimes give one
another ‘spy tests,’ where one gets until the count of ten to look at
everything in a picture in a book and then without looking at the book again
you have to say as many things as were on the page.

Abigail
and I almost tie most of the time.

But
I look at Abigail and she is eating her syrup, which is what she always does,
lays her fork in the syrup and lets it cling like honey then she licks it off.
Granma says Abigail May lives on air, but I say it’s sugar she likes the most.
But she’s not spying right now at all, and I know what she means about the bad
seed--her mother. Sometimes it’s so close you just don’t see.

So
I look at my granma, and what do I really know about this woman who seems pretty
innocent as it goes, but could she have made a phone call to someone to take
those kittens away?

She
looks at me and I cut another triangle really quick.

“Better
get busy,” she says.

But
I am busy. I am very busy.

Darnay
Road 19

“
The
Edge of Night
,” the dramatic voice says long about this time every
afternoon as the creepy dark shadow covers the city on the TV screen.

I
don’t know what Granma would do without the perils of Constance. Granma swears
if I love mysteries like I say I do, I should watch this show. Then she ups and
says it’s not for children, but truth is I can’t put up with that show for long
it’s just so boring.

We’ve already been to
Joe’s for the cherries to put on my birthday cake. We’ve already gotten Dad’s
phone call how he meant to get here but he has to work. And I’ve been paying
more attention and I did hear something I might wish I wouldn’t have, but then
again I have to be prepared to hear things sometimes if I’m going to do spy
work.

Granma
thought I went upstairs, and I did, but I came back down and she was still on
the phone with him and normally it’s hurry up, hurry up because we can’t run up
the charges for long distance from Chicago. And I hear her say, “You’re missing
everything.”

And
then she’s listening and then she says, “Out of sight, out of mind.”

And
then she listens, and then she says, “She needs to know she has a father.”

And
then she listens, and then she says, “You can’t just put her away until you’re
ready. She’ll be all grown up. And she’s special. You don’t even know it.”

And
much as I wish to be like Nancy…Drew, it’s just too hard to be me at that
moment and I run back upstairs.

I
don’t know if he really loves me. I haven’t thought about it because all the
times I hoped he’d come and see me, Granma says he loves me, so I figured he
did. But now hearing her upset, I just don’t know. It’s like there’s something
to be mad about and I didn’t know I should be mad. I mean…Abigail May might ask
me if he’s ever coming, but still I don’t feel mad. Her mom doesn’t come around
either, but we have Granma and Aunt May. Really…I don’t want him coming around.
Not if he’s going to try and take me away. I think we should just leave him
alone before I’m in trouble like Abigail and Ricky.

I
wish I could tell Granma this. “Just leave him alone,” I’d say. I wish he
wouldn’t come by. I don’t even miss him.

But
I can’t say that to Granma at all. When she comes upstairs we don’t even talk
about it. She just says real jittery how she doesn’t think Daddy can get off
for my birthday or Fourth of July, them being the very same thing, and I say
okay. I don’t want her sad about it.

The
worse thing is Abigail’s mother is coming to talk Abigail and Ricky into being
good about Florida. I know Abigail misses her mother. Not terribly, but some.
More than I miss Stanley. He’s my dad—Stanley Green. But I don’t even miss him.
Abigail May does miss her mom. But not so much she wants to leave big gray.

If
she went to Florida for good, I don’t know what I’d do. Aunt May says she could
come here in the summertime. But that’s not enough. Here’s the truth, if I had
to give up Daddy so I could keep Abigail, I would say, “Bye-Bye Stanley Green.”

“I’m
not being nice to her,” Abigail May tells me, biting off a long string of red
licorice then tipping back her head and slowly dropping that long string into
her mouth like she’s eating a big worm. We’re holding bags of penny candy and
walking slow because it’s hot as a boiling kettle of missionary soup. Made with
real missionaries.

I blow a big pink
bubble and it’s as big as my face and I hit her arm to show her and she tries
to pop it and we fight a little and she doesn’t pop it but it pops on its own
from all the fighting and it’s all over my face now. “Abigail May!” I yell.

I
pull what I can off my face, my eyes at least, and Abigail is telling me shhh.

We’re
in front of Miss Little’s. We forgot to cross the street. That house up close
is scarier than
The House on Haunted Hill
with Vincent Price. Normally
Vincent Price does not scare me or Abigail or Granma either. We think he is
cheesy doodle. But that movie does scare me some. Just some. But Miss Little’s
house is the worst on our street. It’s so shabby it’s like the old crone
amongst the beautiful sisters.

But
today it’s all shut up so tight. I am chewing my gum and still trying to peel
off that big bubble.

“Abigail
May,” I say, “there’s just too many mysteries around here.”

“There’s
only six,” she says. We solved number one about where the boys went at night.
But then we got a new one about Aunt May and you know who, dominus, dominus.

We
haven’t seen the Hardy Boys around for nearly a week. Ricky made up with them,
we know because we saw them playing at the ball fields, but Ricky played for
Darnay and Cap and Easy were playing for Scutter. Ricky used to cross over and
play with the Hardy’s, but he’s not doing that now and good thing because he’s
the best player Darnay has. But he’s hanging at the Quick Shop. I know because
Aunt May came to the fence and talked to Granma about it. She said he fought
with her about going there and Aunt May said she didn’t know what to do with
him. My Granma said to speak to Father Anthony about it, and Aunt May just got
quiet.

I
know priests can’t have girlfriends. Me and Abigail talked about that. Being
spies we say things sometimes that spies have to say to think of evidence. They
can’t be like…in love. That would be right off of
The Edge of Night
.
Worse than Constance even. I don’t know that such a thing has ever happened.

Abigail
May says I’m a dummy to even say such a thing.

‘But
May never did marry.” Ain’t that what Granma said? It surely is. And he came
out of the house at night. And it wasn’t the first time as Abigail May said.

 
But back to the new mystery—not the Aunt May
one, the Hardy Boys one. Where would those boys be? I mean, I plan to save a
big piece of my birthday cake for a certain Easy Caghan. I am going to do that
for sure cause I don’t think he knows it’s my birthday and I don’t think he
gets a lot of cake and never a cherry one. But I can’t give him cake if I can’t
find him.

Also
Abigail May and I have decided to sneak in our school and go to the top floor
and see if it’s haunted once and for all. You can’t do real sleuthing around
while eighth graders are chasing you and screaming like at the school picnic. Abigail
May and I have decided to ask the Hardy’s to go with us so we won’t be so
scared. One thing I know about those boys they are very very brave.

“We need to go by their
houses,” I say. “They could be in terrible trouble.”

Allice
looks at me like I got two heads, or plenty of bubble gum on the head I’ve got.

“I
will,” she says.

“It
would be the worst thing we’ve done,” I say. Worse than looking in the altar
and sneaking out at night to ride on the handlebars of boys that aren’t Catholic
or even very clean. I am under punishment and possibly Abigail too. So this is
almost like thumbing our noses at our Lord though I don’t mean it and I hope
he’s kind enough to know. I wonder if my guardian angel is still around or if
he’s just given up.

I
always believed my guardian angel is Michael the Archangel and Abigail thinks
hers is Gabriel. Of course Gabriel talks to her and I say, “You sure that’s not
your Granma Nettie?”

It
makes her so mad. “My Granma Nettie does not have big gold wings!” she says and
I might try not to laugh or be terrified cause she will never take it back.

But
my dad doesn’t love me, and Abigail May’s mother is kidnapping her, so why
should we try to be so good all the time? And anyway, when two boys just
disappear shouldn’t the Darnay Spies pay attention?

I
said I wanted to see where those boys live, didn’t I? “If your mama takes you
away from big gray, don’t you want to at least know where Cap lived all this
time?”

“Yes,”
Abigail May says feeding another mile of licorice in her mouth.

I
wish I was really brave, but I’m not. But if I was I would march right past
Miss Little’s house and up her yard and all the way through her property to the
tracks. Then I’d cross those and go through Easy’s yard and knock on his back
door and say, “Easy, where in the devil have you been?”

But
I am a good little Catholic saint. And I’m so so tired of it. You just can’t
solve mysteries being a saint.

I
face Miss Little’s house very squarely. It’s just a house, just boards and
nails and a crazy lady. I’ve seen her before haven’t I? I’ve been all the way
to her porch once to rescue a dog! And wouldn’t Easy do it for me? Wasn’t he
the first one over me when I nearly died in the street? And didn’t he ride me
to the trestle and face Disbro on that bridge and save those kittens? Didn’t he
put that heart around his name on my cast…just for me? And I won’t do this for
him?

“Come
on Abigail,” I say, and I work Miss Little’s rickety gate open and it drags on
the ground, but that don’t stop me. I’m in a mood, maybe on my high horse, I
don’t know, but something inside me is waving a fist.

“Oh
no,” Abigail says.

“Oh
yes,” I say.