Last in a Long Line of Rebels Page 9

  I looked at my watch. “Mama, I was supposed to meet everybody fifteen minutes ago!”

  “They’ll wait.” She held up a ten-dollar bill. “What are the rules?”

  “No talking to strangers, no leaving the fairgrounds, and no gorging myself on cotton candy.” I grabbed the money, grinning.

  “And stay together,” she said.

  “See y’all at ten o’clock,” I called over my shoulder. I ran in and out of the parked cars, headed for the midway.

  “Meet at the Ferris wheel,” Daddy yelled, “and don’t be late.”

  I rolled my eyes. We were late getting there; you’d think we could have stayed a little longer. I got to the Bullet just as Benzer, Franklin, and Patty were getting off the ride.

  “It’s about time,” Benzer said. “Pete King almost lost his caramel apple.”

  “Yes,” said Franklin. “You should have seen him. He was a very unnatural shade of green.”

  And Patty was a very unnatural shade of orange, I could have added.

  “Been doubling up on the tanner?” I asked.

  “Why? Does it look weird?”

  I sniffed. A strange smell, like burnt rubber, hit my nose. “Um, no. You look great.”

  “Do you want to borrow it? All the girls in junior high will be coming back from summer break super tan.”

  I pretended not to hear her. “Why don’t we go ride again?”

  We rode four more times, and then everyone voted to take a break. Even Benzer looked a little sick.

  “Would anyone like a burger?” Franklin asked. “My parents get home tomorrow, so we might as well spend the rest of the money they left me.”

  A few minutes later, we were eating at picnic tables, watching the waves of people pass by. Several kids from school stopped to talk to us, reminding me that the summer would eventually end. My stomach hurt just thinking about it. The only good thing was that I’d heard Sally Martin was still on her cruise, so I wouldn’t have to see her.

  “C’mon, you guys,” Benzer said. “I think I can handle the Spinning Genie now.”

  “We’d better hurry,” Franklin said. “The line will be extensive at this hour.”

  I swallowed hard, ignoring the knot in my stomach, and joined my friends.

  We had ridden every ride at least three times, eaten caramel apples and cotton candy, watched the Fairest of the Fair contest—Tracy Kimmel won, big surprise—and lost all of our money helping Franklin try to win stuffed animals.

  “You want to ride the Haunted Helicopter one last time?” Patty asked. “I’ve got a few tickets left.” It was her favorite ride, mainly because the operator was our age and winked at her every time she handed over two tickets.

  “No way,” Benzer answered. “That ride is lame. Maybe the—” He stopped suddenly and peered over our shoulders.

  We turned together, curious to see what had caught his attention. A crowd of people stood around the dunking booth. Coach Peeler sat on the small metal seat, his shirt soaked and clinging to his fat belly. I barely had time to notice the smug grin on his face before the ting of a ball hitting the target sounded, followed by a whoosh, splash, and he disappeared.

  A few people in the crowd cheered, but most stood by, frowning.

  “Hey, kid, give it a rest,” shouted a burly man in the crowd. I recognized Mr. Kramer, the road commissioner. Bertie went on a couple of dates with him a year ago, but quit. “He’s a drinker,” she’d told us. “It’s a wonder every yellow line in Zollicoffer’s not crooked.”

  “That’s Isaac,” whispered Franklin.

  “C’mon,” Benzer said.

  I had told the three of them about overhearing Isaac and Daniella, and we’d tried to guess what he was planning. Mostly we’d come up with egging the coach’s house or something involving toilet paper. We hurried over to the crowd.

  Sure enough, there was Isaac, standing at the booth. He wore Levi’s and work boots, a white button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled back to show strong forearms, and a beat-up UT cap. My mind searched for a word to describe him. “Fierce,” I finally said in a quiet voice.

  TING, WHOOSH, SPLASH.

  The crowd moved and murmured. “Stupid, uppity jerk. What’s he trying to prove?” Their voices rang out clearly across the fairground, over the bells and whistles of the carnival games.

  The four of us walked through the crowd, pushing our way to the front. Daniella put a hand on Isaac’s elbow, but he shrugged it off.

  I noticed Bertie standing nearby, and I made my way toward her.

  “What’s going on?” I asked.

  She put an arm around my shoulders and leaned down. “Isaac is soaking the creep, that’s what’s going on. It’s been going on for fifteen minutes.”

  “Three more,” Isaac said in a tight voice.

  “Just a lucky shot,” Coach Peeler called out. “I’ve seen that arm in action. There’s a reason you didn’t play quarterback.”

  “Show him, Isaac,” one voice called, then another said, “He ain’t got what it takes,” and “Somebody needs to teach him a lesson.”

  I wasn’t sure if they meant Coach Peeler or Isaac.

  The attendant pocketed Isaac’s money and handed over three more balls.

  “Drown the son of a gun,” Bertie yelled.

  I turned, scanning the faces of the crowd. I couldn’t tell who was for Isaac and who was against, but the white faces outnumbered the black ones by a mile. One face stood out, pale and shaky: Drew Canton. He hung toward the back with Tracy Kimmel, peering around the person in front of him, as if trying to get a better view while staying unnoticed.

  Isaac threw a ball. TING, WHOOSH, SPLASH. Coach Peeler went down. Isaac picked up another ball, tense, staring at the place where Coach Peeler had been, waiting for the next chance to soak him.

  “We get it, boy,” a guy called out. “You can throw a ball. Now, move on.”

  Daniella looked around, glaring. She looked like she was ready to march into the crowd and punch the guy. I moved forward to go and stand with them, but Bertie held me back.

  “Oh, no you don’t. Isaac can handle this without you.”

  Coach Peeler laughed, but he didn’t look happy. He slowly climbed out of the water and sat on the seat. He’d barely settled when Isaac hurled another ball, dunking him again. He disappeared under the beige water, his Zollicoffer High hat floating along on the waves. He finally stood, waist deep in the water.

  “That all you got?” he called.

  “Get back in the chair!” Isaac roared.

  Isaac pulled his arm back, ready to throw, when suddenly the ball was grabbed from his hand. He spun around, looking ready to fight, but it was Mr. Coleman, Isaac’s daddy. He put his hand on Isaac’s shoulder and spoke to him in a low voice. Isaac nodded, stiffly as if his neck hurt to move, while his dad continued talking.

  The crowd stayed, watching, until finally Isaac smiled grimly and put his arm around Daniella, breaking the tension. The three of them walked, head high, off the midway without a backward glance.

  “What, you done already?” Coach Peeler called to their backs. “I was just getting cooled off.”

  A few people laughed, already dispersing.

  “Whew,” said Patty. “I thought we were about to see a major fight!”

  “I’m glad that’s over,” I said. I ran my hands through my hair, surprised to find them shaking.

  “Did you see that ball?” Benzer asked. “It had to be going ninety miles an hour. I’d love to be that good.”

  “It’s a good thing Isaac’s daddy showed up,” Patty said.

  “Speaking of daddies,” Bertie said, looking at me, “yours is going to whip us like a rented mule if we’re not at that Ferris wheel in two minutes.”

  “May I have a ride home?” Franklin asked. “I don’t want to wake my grandmother, and Tracy might not remember me for hours.”

  If ever, I thought. But I just nodded and started down the midway.

  On the way home,
Mama found a radio station and began singing. Her sculpture, A Bird in the Hand, had won second place in the three-dimensional art category. I didn’t point out that there were only four entries, and two of those were from fifth graders.

  We pulled up to Franklin’s house, with its neat front porch and glossy black shutters. Even the landscaping was perfect, with a large water fountain in the middle of the yard. It was the opposite of my house, with its peeling paint and rickety handrails.

  Franklin waved good-bye and turned to walk up the brick stairway. For some reason, watching him go into that dark house all alone made me sad.

  I watched the countryside speed by the window as we drove home. There were no streetlights, and the inky-black sky was full of bright stars. I knew from science class that even though their light was just now reaching us, some of them were already dead. We just lived too far away to know any better. That had always bothered me. Maybe everything was just a glimmer of what used to be. What if my house, my old life, was already gone and I just didn’t know it yet? I couldn’t see anything to do but wait.

  From the diary of Louise Duncan Mayhew

  April 1862

  Father received news today of a horrifying nature. A two day battle at Shiloh has resulted in thousands dead. Cousin Olivia and I have spent the day weeping as we are sure there are old friends on both sides among them.

  “I have a plan.”

  Franklin and Benzer were throwing pebbles at an empty coffee can behind the church. We had a fifteen-minute break between Sunday school and the sermon, so we’d headed to the shady area on the back side of the property. An old outhouse still stood at the edge of the dark woods, a creepy contrast to the pretty church. Most of the kids preferred to hang out near the parking lot, so we had the back to ourselves.

  “Forget it,” Patty said. She was perched on a cinder block, her scrawny knees touching, with a small pink Bible holding her skirt down. I tried not to look at her orange knees and ankles.

  “You haven’t even heard it!” exclaimed Franklin. He threw a handful of pebbles toward the can, missing with all but one.

  “Whatever. I’m sure it involves me digging around the Mayhew yard, and I’ve had all of that I can stand.”

  Benzer kicked the coffee can, spilling pebbles. “What is it, Lou? They’ll be calling us into church soon.”

  I scooted next to Patty, each of us with a small square of block to sit on. Mama had insisted on buying me two new dresses so I didn’t have to worry about embarrassing myself. I tucked the hem between my knees.

  “Okay, we have to find the gold, but we don’t know where to look.”

  “Duh,” Patty said. “Finding it would be a whole lot easier if we did.”

  I ignored her. “It came to me at the Dairy Barn. We’ve got to get the library book from George Neely. Think about it; he’s everywhere we turn—at the Wilson auction and the museum—and he has the book we need. I went to ask Mrs. Hall when it was due back, and she said it was on loan ‘indefinitely.’ It must be important.”

  “Do you think he’s after the gold too?” Benzer asked.

  “He knows about it, so why wouldn’t he look for it?”

  “What do you suggest?” asked Franklin. “Following him around or something similar?”

  “No, he’d notice us for sure, but we do need to get that book.”

  I picked up a stick and started drawing in the dust. “Bertie said he was staying at the Cornucopia Bed-and-Breakfast, right?”

  Benzer and Franklin knelt down beside me. “Yeah, so?”

  I drew an X on a square. “That’s the B and B. On the right is the parking lot, and on the left …” I drew a big circle.

  “That’s the antique store,” Benzer said.

  “Right, and who works there part-time?”

  Patty snapped her gum. “My mama. What does that have to do with anything?”

  I smiled. “There’s a side door leading out to the courtyard that the two businesses share. All we have to do is steal Aunt Sophie’s keys and sneak into George Neely’s room to get the book!”

  There was a three-second pause, then they all burst into laughter.

  “What?” I asked, miffed. “It could totally work. Daddy and I were up on the second floor of the inn last spring, picking up an old radiator. That’s where the rooms are. All we have to do is climb up to the deck from the courtyard.”

  Franklin shook his head. “You want to break into George Neely’s room and steal his book?”

  “It’s not his book, remember? It’s the library’s. And stealing is wrong. I just want to borrow it to make copies. Then we’ll drop it into the library drop box.”

  “And how do you plan on getting into his room?” Franklin asked.

  “That’s where you come in. You already sound like you’re forty years old; you’ll use the store’s phone to call the front desk and ask for George Neely. We’ll be on the deck to see which room he comes out of. Nobody’s going to lock the door just to run down to the front desk.”

  “Won’t they just transfer the call to his room?” Patty asked.

  I shook my head. “This is the Cornucopia, not a fancy hotel. They don’t have phones in the rooms.”

  “So then we go in, grab the book, and shimmy back down to the courtyard?” Benzer asked.

  “Pretty slick, huh?” I said.

  They looked at each other, nobody speaking.

  “C’mon, y’all. If we don’t find that gold soon, someone will. Either George Neely or Pete Winningham—and I’ll lose my house.”

  “But, Lou,” Benzer said, “we don’t even know that the book is important. It might not have any information that matters.”

  I frowned. “Then why is he keeping it? I’ve looked at every book the library has, and I’ve been through Bertie’s stash twice. None of them mention a battle near my house or the gold. The book Neely’s got might be a long shot, but it’s our best chance.”

  Patty wrapped a curl around her finger. “What happened to giving up? I thought you were done with all of this.”

  “I know, but seeing Isaac the other night, and what he’s going through”—I hesitated—“well, if he can keep fighting, so can I.”

  Patty nodded. “Okay, I’m in.”

  Benzer shrugged. “It’s worth a shot.”

  I looked at Franklin. “C’mon, Franklin. We can’t do it without you. You’re the only one that can keep him talking on the phone while we search.”

  “I don’t know, Lou. What if we’re caught? What if I get kicked out of Boy Scouts? It could jeopardize the whole list!”

  “For crying out loud, Franklin,” Patty said. “I’m stealing my mama’s keys, and Lou and Benzer are trespassing. You’re just calling him. No one ever lost the governor’s race from making a prank phone call!”

  One of the teenagers came around the corner. “Church is starting. You guys better come in.”

  “Franklin?”

  “All right. When?”

  “This weekend, while everyone is playing bridge.”

  “Fine. But just so you know, my whole future depends on this!”

  I sighed. “Mine too, Franklin. Mine too.”

  Once church was over, we spilled down the steps into the sunshine. Patty bounded over to her dad’s truck. It was his weekend, and they were going to see a movie.

  “Hey, Benzer. Are you riding with us?” Tracy Kimmel asked. She was leaning against the church railing, holding a Bible with a cover that said Bible Babe.

  “Uh, no, not today. We have to give Lou a ride home.”

  Have to? Gee, sorry to be such a pain, I thought. I glared at them both, but neither one was looking at me.

  “But thanks for asking, Tracy.”

  “No problem. Let’s go, Franklin. I’ve got things to do.” She turned on her gold high heel and stalked across the parking lot to her Jeep. Franklin waved as they pulled out onto the highway, barely missing Benzer’s parents’ car.

  “Boy, is she …” Benzer’s voice trailed
off.

  “A butt?” I offered, helpfully.

  He laughed. “I was going to say hot.”

  “Explains why I feel like throwing up when she’s around. Heat stroke!”

  Bertie and my parents were standing in the front yard looking up at the oak tree when Benzer’s parents dropped me off.

  “Hey,” I said. “What are y’all doing?”

  Daddy put one hand on my shoulder and used the other to point upward. “Do you see that branch right about the porch line? Look at how the leaves are turning brown.”

  I nodded. “So?”

  “So remember what I said about staying off of it until I can have someone check it out.”

  Mama put a hand on her back. “Oooh, I’m feeling this pregnancy today. Lou, come help me put lunch on the table.”

  “Sure thing.”

  “Why don’t you just leave it, Lily? Lou and I will make everyone plates, and we can sit outside for a change,” Bertie said.

  “It’s too hot for that. But I will lie down for a minute.” Mama went into the parlor, and I followed Bertie into the kitchen to get the food together.

  “Let’s eat in the dining room; it’s cooler.”

  I grabbed some napkins and silverware and made four places. Then I filled four glasses with ice and set a pitcher of tea in the middle of the table. “Ready!”

  Bertie, still bursting to tell all the gossip she’d heard at the fair, talked nonstop for thirty minutes. When she finally slowed down to catch her breath, Daddy turned to me.

  “A friend of mine is coming by tomorrow. Everyone else is busy, so I’ll need you to stay home and show him around, okay?”

  I narrowed my eyes. “What’s he looking for?”

  Daddy shot a quick glance at Mama. “He’s an appraiser. It’s no big deal, just a property tax issue he’s helping me with.”

  “Really?” I said. “I’ll be here. I wasn’t planning on going anywhere.”

  I sipped my tea and listened as my parents talked. Other than looking tired, they seemed fine. I wondered how many lies they’d tell, how long they’d leave me in the dark before someone thought to tell me about it. I could feel the anger bubbling inside.

  “Lou?”

  Bertie was staring at me. “Yes?”