Old Enough | Chapter 10

Chapter 10
HERE COMES THE JUDGE

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Neal, Pete and Jaime watched TV while the marshal straightened his cabin. They fed the dogs and walked to the café. On Mondays the CORN bus driver stacks the Reader by the door. CORN means County Options for Rural Needs. Neal never tried to learn this but he's seen it spelled out again and again. The meaning is burned into his brain.

Neal and Pete are the official town carriers for the Reader. They deliver the paper to everyone in Milo for $5 a month which they split after Mariah cashes their check. Today Jaime is coming along to help them and to practice his throwing since he's the new catcher for the Mules. Bud, who's the rural carrier for the Reader, says Jaime's a natural whatever that means; anyhow, he can throw the ball straight to Neal on second base with no bounce and Bud is teaching him how to talk to the pitcher and the rules.

Neal had a Jonagold snagged in his mouth. He probably looked like a squirrel with a hackberry but he needed both hands to pack his paper bag. Pete and Jaime were leaning against the wall and chomping apples with hunks of Aunt Ida's gingerbread. They were ready to leave. Well, sure. They'd started packing while he was still trying to figure how to give Jaime half of what Pete carried and half of what he carried before he realized this meant each of them got one-third and he and Pete got two extras. Okay, so it took him a while. There were 101 papers but he wasn't used to three and he had to mark the delivery sheet. "Why do you have to make everything so hard?" asked Pete.

Neal kept packing and didn't speak. You don't tell your best friend to shut up unless you want to fight and he didn't. He'd lost the last fight with Pete over wingtip shoes which Pete claimed didn't have to be full of holes and the marshal said Pete was right as rain, it's how the leather's cut and sewn and who cares? Anyhow, you can't speak with an apple in your mouth. His mother took the marshal a paper, poured him more coffee, gave him a kiss. It was the same old Monday morning crew. Only Jaime was new.

"You wait. He's going to be mad." Pete meant the marshal and you could see he was glad to predict this reaction, any reaction, he didn't care. Artists don't like things to stay the same. Seriously, they get all excited and hunt for differences or so Mariah claims.

Neal stopped working his onion (that's what the marshall calls your brain) on artists. Yanking the apple from his mouth, he sat flat on the floor and spread open the paper. The article about bones he skipped. It was way too long to read in a hurry. He couldn't run from bones all his life but he'd get to them later. Hey, the writing took up half the front page. Trinity Clark took up the other half with her same black and white picture. Underneath came "MISSING" and underneath came "If you have seen this woman, contact the Salt Lick County Sheriff's Office". At the bottom in the center in big black numbers came the sheriff's phone number. Neal looked at the marshal who was jouncing his legs and pulling his earring. Then he looked at Pete who was watching to see what Neal would do with this development. Hey, hadn't he taken the time earlier to brief Pete and Jaime on the case? Okay, he might not know his next move but he did know Pete was right about one thing. The marshal was mad at what he was reading.

"Dad blast it all to smithereens and back again!" Okay, you might think it's totally weird for an old man who used to be a sailor to talk like this when he gets mad. The deal is right after they met and he bought her the van, Neal's mother told the marshal that she'd rather he didn't swear. He said he'd give it a try and now the two of them have an agreement. Every time he uses profanity, she gets a $50 dollar donation for the First Free Church. She doesn't have to hear him say the swear word either. When he swears, he's on his honor to own up and pay up. "Dad blame, dad gum and dad rat! What jerkhead came up with this hoax of a deal?" Also, the swear word has to be real.

"I don't know but it's rotten journalism! Careless and irresponsible!" Wow! Neal's mother never says anything bad about anybody or anything unless she's very, very mad. Then she goes for it. "By tying information about unidentified remains to Trinity Clark, they suggest there's a murderer on the loose in Milo and we are doing nothing about it. Out of the blue they come up with the Noname Caves as a perfect hideout. Red Noland will be furious. They don't mention the need to address the cemetery seepage problem or the ongoing volunteer work without a solution. The coverage is untruthful and awful and I don't want the business it might bring. I understand about Trinity, I guess, but can't we find a way to tell our story about the reburials? Or am I simply being too emotional? How many bodies have there been now?" she asked the marshal.

Your POD's in your onion where Neal stored the new job. As soon as the papers were delivered, he'd read about bones, murder and Mr. Noland's Noname Caves. He'd mark clues and store evidence in a safe place. He'd do this then. Now he'd watch and listen.

"Fifth one for me," the marshal told Neal's mother. "Don't know the number before me. Jake might. Of course, all the others found on my watch were identified and claimed. Stands to reason the Reader was bound to go off half-cocked about the missing girl or it wouldn't be the Reader. Guess we could try calling the editor. Give her holy what for!"

Neal's mother moved her feet apart, put her hands on her hips, rolled her eyes and asked what possible good this would do since the editor was in Florida for the summer. Aunt Ida said the editor was a nice little gal but the Reader had been known for taking and holding a position ever since 1837. "Come heck or high water," the marshal agreed and Aunt Ida said, "by the rights of all the wronged and all the winged in heaven."

Pete said, "come on, let's go." Neal raised his right hand, crooked his little finger and waggled it back and forth while he counted to fourteen in a signal they'd worked out asking for one more minute. His instincts told him that something big was about to happen and he definitely did not want to miss it. Pete groaned but sat down on the floor and Jaime did too. Hey, when you're new, you do what others do and don't argue.

Trust your instincts, he burned into his onion because right then in walked Delaney with his head hanging down. Home from his cure, this must be his first trip to town.

"Look out there," said Mariah, "or you'll trip and fall over your face." She'd been sitting at a table sorting movies. Until now she hadn't said a word, which was different. She got up and followed Delaney to her private space to see what he wanted. Neal couldn't hear them but Mariah gave Delaney a catalog with stickies in it. She said afterward that he's a complete action fool. Delaney stared at the catalog, then turned and stared through the glass at the marshal and Neal's mother. He looked like he wished he'd never come into Juanita's Travel Stop or been born into the real world. He was wearing shorts and tennies and a red T-shirt patched with sweat. He was brown again from the sun but when he smiled, it was pitiful, like he'd come a day late to the fall harvest banquet.

"Why does he have that mustache?" Pete said in Neal's ear. In your ear is too near.

"Is that guy Delaney?" And in his other ear was Jaime!

"Shh!" Manno! Not even friends know when to be still. Maybe some day they will.

Hey, tou could barely keep track of what was going on even if you were quiet when in charged Mr. Watch with his jumpsuit pockets jingling and his brown eyes wide and wild behind his specs. He jogged over to the marshal's table and clicked his heels. His back must have been behaving and his cold must have been gone but something else totally good must have been happening to him; at least that's how Mr. Watch seemed to Neal.

"Say, did you all see the Reader?" In Milo the postmaster gets the news first. That's just how it is. Mr. Watch helped himself to coffee and gobs of cream and sugar. "I mean, did you?" he asked the cream pitcher before he set it down. "I asked you a question," he told it before he finally left the pitcher alone. Carrying his cup, he hurried to the bar. Once there he stirred with a soupspoon, drank coffee and eyeballed the pickled egg jar.

Okay, Neal needed to survey the room for other possible action before his minute was up. You need to keep track if you can't go back. Delaney strolled over to the marshal's table and read with his hands holding tight to the back of an empty chair. When he finished reading, he returned to Mariah to make his movie selection. But he called out loud and clear over his shoulder. "Marshal," he said, "would you want to go squirrel hunting like grandfather and I used to do? Maybe talk a little? I know a good spot."

"Well, sure," said the marshal, "talk a little, talk a lot."

Everyone was quiet except for Mr. Watch. "Can you beat that?" he asked a barstool.

"Beat what, please, sir?" asked Jaime like Mr. Watch was the teacher in school.

"Shhh!" Neal hissed; "he doesn't talk to newsboys, fool!"

"Beat all," Mr. Watch told Jaime like Neal didn't know diddly.

"Say when to meet and where," the marshal told Delaney; hey, Neal forgot Jaime.

They agreed on Riverside Park in the morning. 8 would be early enough as lazy fox squirrels like to stay in bed. Okay, Neal meant to be there too; he was way excited.

"Fried squirrel," said Mr. Watch. "You all should take some to your great-grandmother." This seemed a nice thing to say but Delaney looked as though he might step on his face again. "Won't he?" Mr. Watch asked his cup. "Answer up!"

"I think that boy needs continuing treatment," said Neal's mother after Delaney left and she was giving the marshal a refill. "In fact, I think he may be more needful than his brother." Mariah told them Delaney had chosen The Passion of Christ. She said she found this an odd choice for him to make. "But perhaps not. You say you're going hunting with him?" she asked the marshal. "And using firearms? Let's see. Tomorrow is the 29th day. Nine minus two equals seven. Have you considered rescheduling?" Okay, Neal could tell that Pete was good for more time the minute Mariah raised her eyebrows, stuck out her hand and turned it over as though she was missing a ring.

"Stop that numerology nonsense, Mariah! This is serious!" You wait forever for your mother to fix a problem but she will come through. This is a true fact. You need to be patient is all and some day it will happen; your mother will deal with it, she will act.

Mr. Watch stood. "Horace Sykeston sure seems on the job with the boys, Will."

"Can't argue with that, Jake, Sykeston does appear to be filling that bill."

"Yes," Mr. Watch said to the cap in his hand. He must have run out of stuff to say which was strange for him. Did he think Neal's mother and sister would stop scrapping if he stayed on his feet and fiddled with his cap long enough? Aunt Ida says one time women fought at his auction and he ran for cover. Pete was grinning and whispering to Jaime. Hey, Neal wasn't worried. He'd seen it before. The fight wasn't real with winning and losing. Their mother decides what's what even though Mariah keeps complaining.

"Horace is tutoring and caring for the one and tutoring, counseling and caring for the other. Can't ask more than that, can you?" Neal was sort of glad to see Mr. Watch's quiet time was over. "Well, can you?" he asked the cap; naturally the cap didn't answer.

Mariah went back to her space. Neal moved for the door. Behind him, Mr. Watch was his old self, talking on and on. "I'd say that hitch in his getalong doesn't slow Horace Sykeston down a bit. He may not have a lick of country smarts and be as thick as the dickens with what we'd rather not know but you all could ask for help if you need it."

"Don't see myself asking Sykeston the time of day. All I got to say."

Okay, why not? Mr. Sykeston is weird but no crazy speed freak according to Neal's sister who used to smoke marijuana and doesn't any more and used to make numbers scary and doesn't any more but always knows certain things for sure. The same way you ask anybody, you could ask Mr. Sykeston for information. True, like the marshal, Neal personally wouldn't want to do this but hey, Neal wasn't in charge of the operation.

Pete was by the door. "We're late," he called as though he was a big route inspector.

Well, too bad because stuff wouldn't quit happening and the way time twists you back and forth isn't Neal's fault. You can invent stuff but when he was born time was already around. Also, you can use stuff but you need to invent stuff, then use it. Jaime followed Pete. Oh, well, maybe some day both of them would pay attention to Neal because in raced Mr. Hooper, all shaky and jabbering and nearly knocking Jaime over on his way out. Naturally Pete came back. "I want to see what this is," he said. Pete's as curious as Neal when someone or thing catches his eye and Mr. Hooper for sure did. The morning was full of interesting clues and news about crimes probably not done by some kid.

"I got a piece of important news for your ears alone, marshal." Mr. Hooper peered at Mr. Watch, Mariah, Aunt Ida and Neal's mother. Then he peered at Neal, Pete and Jaime. "Shoot," he said, "I guess I got no secrets and that's a durn good thing, ain't it? Okay, you all, here's what happened. Last night the Mrs. had one of her spells and left the house. I had to chase out after her. It wasn't really night -- more like 2 in the morning. Now, get this because it's the whole truth as sure as I'm standing here talking to the whole world. I saw a man walking around in the Pride house, big as life. Ayup. And he wasn't in his street clothes either. Plus, he was flapping his gums, marshal. Ayup, he was talking up old storm or I'll eat my hat. Now what you all make of that?"

You could see Mr. Hooper mainly cared about what the marshal had to say but that didn't stop Mr. Watch. He jumped right in. "You all best be sure the judge doesn't have reasons for what you all see. We'll be seeing you all, won't we?" he asked the door handle and turned to leave saying over his shoulder, "that advice is free, Lacy."

The marshal said he'd drive by the Pride house to make sure everything was okay.

"If he can walk and talk, he durn well ought to," said Mr. Hooper; "that's what I say."

"But first," said the marshal, "got to get to the catfish farm before somebody else tells Red this business about the caves."

Nobody knows why the three caves are called Noname or how old they are or how full they really are of Indian ceremonial ornaments, weapons and graves. They line up at the south end of the catfish farm. The middle cave is the only one big enough to get inside. Neal hasn't yet but that day will come. First he has to pass Intermediate II Swimming, which he can't take until he is eleven. You have to do things in order. Also, it has to be the right year because some years the River is high and all three caves are underwater. Plus, you have to get Mr. Noland's permission to visit the caves and he has to be in a good mood or he won't give it to you. Delaney says there are pictures and writing on the walls of the middle cave and a hole for the smoke to escape if you build a fire and a ledge for your sleeping bag. It would be a perfect hideout for a murderer. Okay, when Neal's ready, he's ready. He shot for the door with Pete and Jaime behind him. On the way out he shivered. Sometimes you're glad you have papers to deliver.

"Don't leave without bringing me one of those rags." Naturally his sister had to make him come back now that he was finally getting the show on the road! "You should leave us extras today, given the interest." He tossed her five Readers. There were always extras. She read the front page in a flash and laughed out loud. Then she opened and folded the paper to the Help Wanted section. "Just for the sake of my psyche, I like to contemplate the Monday ads for OTR drivers. Of course, nobody else in the state is hiring. But somehow, in my head on Mondays, I find that kind of freedom inspiring."

Neal's mother had been frowning most of the morning. He wished she'd quit. Manno! Now she held him by the arm to show Mariah she had him; so there, she wasn't alone!

"Neal, Aunt Ida and I will be fine," she said, squeezing tight. "If you need time, take it and go and do where and what you want or is it you don't trust me out of your sight?"

Their mother wouldn't back down and wouldn't let go so naturally Mariah started to sneeze. When she's mad or upset his sister sneezes. So does Aunt Ida. Sometimes they sneeze a dozen times before they stop. Sometimes it's a long time between sneezes; sometimes not. While they wait for the next one, they think very hard about it. If you look at their faces, you can tell there is only one thing on their minds and interruptions are not welcome. If you want them to think about something else, you have to wait until no more sneezes are coming or at least until they think no more sneezes are coming. Mariah sneezed seven times and her sneezes were loud like lion roars. Neal counted. He held up his fists and opened the fingers first on his right hand and then on his left, one by one. His mother wouldn't turn loose so he figured he might as well have some fun.

When his sister finally quit sneezing, she shook her fists at him. "Knock it off, squirt!" she growled. "Of course I trust you," she told their mother. "It's myself I don't trust." She blew her nose and shook her braids. "Carefree and irresponsible, dashing off in a big rig and doing what? Writing or filming or directing or producing while stewing in trivial pursuits such as what you describe as number stupidity? Renting cheap motel rooms with dirty windows and re-reading Blue Highways? Performing daily and nightly in a Tobacco Road drama distanced from any real audience grown tired of waiting? Mother, for me to leave now would be to subject the civilized world to the shoddy impersonation of William Least Heat-Moon by a silly white female with no clue to the true colors of the road who's still bent on pursuing her own mediocre nightmare."

Yikes! Now his sister had big tears in her eyes. "Wait until Neal is 9, mom, or 10. Maybe then I'll know what I want to be when I grow up." Their mother let go so she could hug Mariah and Neal got farther away. "I like it here," said Mariah. She didn't like it all that much was his hunch. If you love your mother, sometimes you have to lie a whole bunch.

"You're lucky we waited for you," said Pete. "What were you doing?"

Neal didn't tell them what kept him because when it's not your fault, why should you? Flinging the paperbag onto the ground he got a stick to use as a pointer in the red dirt and explained why he wanted the three of them to deliver the whole route. Pete argued they should split up but Neal won. Hey, wasn't it his month to be route leader? Jaime had to go along. Here's a true fact. If you're new at a job, you act like you're told to act.

Sticking out his arms he stopped Pete on one side and Jaime on the other. It was kind of automatic. He didn't have to do this. They knew the rules. Ever since the Wednesday in 1972 when Johnny Leopold was killed on his way home from detassling, every kid in Milo knows to look both ways before crossing the tracks. When a new kid like Jaime comes to town, somebody makes sure to tell him. Now the train comes through on Friday afternoons so close to 5 o'clock you can set your watch by the whistle. But you shouldn't tempt fate. Who knows when it might be two minutes early or five days late?

"We can go now," he said, dropping his arms and moving his feet.

"Look, you're not our boss," said Pete.

"Okay." Sometimes when you hear what your friend says, it makes so much sense the only thing to do is agree. Also, you can get in trouble when you do stuff automatically.

For some reason, they had 16 left-overs when the route sheet showed it should be 10. This could be trouble but the leader was worn out with paper delivery. The three of them sat in front of the Sanchez Store and drank lemon-orangeade. Neal read the bones article to Pete and Jaime so they'd be caught up on the news about the case for today.

"Delivering papers is boring," interrupted Pete as though he hadn't been listening. "Not everyone cares about your investigation," he said. He went inside the store and came out with colored chalk and brown paper. He drew the seven people who'd been at the café that morning. He made the adults red and orange, the kids blue and green and the tables and chairs black. Then he took white and smeared it on the paper. Next he took his finger and did whirls and swirls and curls. He used his thumb like a press and the nail like a knife. All the people turned slick and frosted. Pete got bored and folded the paper and stuck it in his pocket for Mariah. She asks him not to fold his drawings and paintings. "Don't wad them up," she tells him, "it's a crime!" But he does it every time.

"So where do we meet tomorrow?" You might as well work on tomorrow's P.O.D. when today is going the wrong way. Actually, if you're smart you stay ahead at least one day. Just to fix the times and places and to make double sure everyone is on the same page.

"You can forget it if you think Jaime and I are horning in on that squirrel hunt," said Pete. "You go squirrel hunting when you're invited. Besides, you heard your sister. It might be dangerous. We are not going and you are on your own totally. Right, Jaime?"

"Doesn't sound smart to me," said Jaime. "Oh, I went to the store and I knocked on the door and the lady said, bum-bum, you been here before," he sang and strutted. He'd heard the marshal in the shower that morning and ever since he'd been singing Hallelujah, I'm a Bum. There are plenty of songs and Jaime should find his own. For a second Neal just had to enjoy memories of the golden days before Jaime came to Milo.

"No problem!" he said. "I'm not afraid of Delaney or the marshal or squirrels or Mariah's dumb numbers. Just don't ask me about it later. If you don't come, you won't learn what happened from me." You want your friends with you all the way, not part way. If they're not, you have only one voice. If you're alone, you have only one choice.

It was a day for fights. Some days are like that. Somehow you get through them. Finally, Pete quit arguing and Jaime quit singing but the main reason Neal decided to make up was the special event arranged for them by Mariah. She'd gotten permission for them to watch Carwash while she supervised and provided parental guidance. His sister is proof you don't have to be a parent to guide. She says the movie is an all-time important history lesson and no one should miss it. Mothers are convinced by stuff like that. Neal wasn't sure he was going to like Carwash but he didn't want to be the one to blow a special event. Anyhow, you can put off fights. It's easy. This is a fact. When they raced to the café and over to the movie side, he won so he got to sit on the futon. Pete and Jaime pretended they were soaping up and hosing down and vacuuming out cars while they bounced to the music. You could watch them or Carwash -- take your pick.

"Don't you feel it?" his sister asked. "No," he said. He didn't ask what she meant. He knew. But what he felt was bored. After Aunt Ida told him she was sorry, he'd asked his mother straight out about tone deaf. She says people have talents in different areas. Well, he knows that. She says it's nothing to worry about so don't. Okay, he won't.

He wandered off to the kitchen. The marshal and Mr. Watch sat together at one end of the round table. Aunt Ida stood at the other end. She whacked raw beefsteak with her sharp butcher knife and whacked again, sliding pieces of meat towards the center of the table and into a pile of sliced onions and mushrooms. "I swan," she said, "and I know this is unladylike to mention but my toenails grow at least a foot a night." Uh-oh, Aunt Ida must have been at her medicine. "Now why is that, do you suppose?" She whacked and smacked and slid meat and the shining heap of food in the center of the table rose.

The marshal and Mr. Watch sort of grinned and looked at each other and then down. They didn't know what to tell Aunt Ida. Neal was glad she hadn't asked him and you know what? He was double glad didn't have to stay in the kitchen and hear more about her giant toenails except that, for some crazy reason, now he was paralyzed and couldn't move his feet. Okay, he crouched quietly by the door to see who would say what next. You do what you can do. There may be times in your heart and soul when you pretend there's more you can do but you do what you can do and that's the truth.

"It must be age but does it happen to men? That's my question. For this old woman, quinsy and heart palpitations are worrisome enough without the added aggravation."

"Well now, Ida," said Mr. Watch, "speaking for myself as usual and no other, ashes to bone. I don't mind admitting I'm the same among friends. Getting ready for the big freeze and waiting to set out roots is how I picture it now, beginnings tied to ends."

Aunt Ida said, "amen." She cut and rubbed garlic on the bottom of the Dutch oven.

"Looks like good deer weather. Too bad the season's not open." Mr. Watch got up from his chair and walked to the only window. "You hear me?" he asked. The window was closed and nobody was out there so of course, nobody answered. He came back to the table and shook his big bald head. "Listen, Will, did you read about the latest accident at the junction with deer, driver and all five passengers dead? Not one but seven fatalities," he said to Neal's old dinosaur he was holding by the tail. Neal used to talk to his dinosaurs when he was a baby. Actually, he didn't care who or what Mr. Watch talked to so long as he talked about something besides giant toenails. Some special agents might be interested but not Neal. Even stories about dead people and dead deer are better. You have to admit some things just aren't good to hear about. Actually, you can see easily why Mrs. Leopold regulates her hearing aid to shut the gross stuff out.

"Been two more accidents since," the marshal said. "Tell you want I've learned. When deer hunting picks up, it benefits the animals and more people than those concerned."

"Here, Neal," said Aunt Ida. She gave him two giant slick brisket bones. Okay, he didn't act crazy or run away yelling. The marshal was watching and gave him a thumb's up which is sort of like a high five except it means go for it. Neal didn't look at what he was carrying and he didn't look away. The marshal opened the back door for him and he headed for the dog pen. He didn't think about bones. He thought about Molly and Rufus who eat regular meals at night but love daytime treats. They each took a bone and settled in the shade to gnaw. Neal wrote his name in the dust with his finger and thought about the fox. Then he thought about tomorrow. Maybe he shouldn't plan to join the marshal and Delaney since he hadn't been invited. But what would he miss? Even if you hear later about something, you miss a lot by not being in the place when it happens. Also, if you're young and a boy, you need time with older boys and men.

Skipping back through Aunt Ida's yard, he saw Miss Valjean but not soon enough to veer off and hide. Look out! She saw him. "Yoo-hoo, Neal" she called, "I'm returning school artwork. Here's yours, I believe. Now, by very, very carefully delivering theirs to Peter and Iris, you can help me. I don't think that Jaime was with us yet, was he?"

"No, ma'am." He went to get the pictures. Kids don't have the right to refuse a job like this. You can fight and get in trouble over doing it but you don't have the right to refuse. Miss Valjean held his arm and told him to be careful. "Especially with Peter's." She acted like he might jump up and down on Pete's picture of the Old Man. It still looked great. In the whole town, only Miss Valjean says Peter. You just have to meet her!

Neal decided to get the worst over with first. Why not? The worst isn't going to go away if you put it off and you feel better when it's done. He placed the digital rabbits on top of the Old Man and headed for Iris's house. Iris and her dad were on their back porch. They were talking and neither of them was working. Neal almost fell over. What was going on? Where had all the work, work, work until you work yourself to death gone?

"We're taking a breather," said Mr. Kelly. He was drinking iced tea in a big frosty glass with a big chunk of lemon. "Care to join us? Iris just made a fresh pitcher and it surely hits the spot. Come on up here and rest your bones, boy, where it's not so blamed hot."

"No, sir, thanks," Neal said and turned to Iris. "Miss Valjean sent you this."

Iris snatched the digital rabbit picture from him and slapped it face down on the table by the kiln in the middle of some doll parts as though she meant to fire the picture too.

"You know, when you say her name, you might as well be talking about Adolph Hitler," Iris said; "oh, you can roll your eyes and look at dad but it's true. That's how you sound. Why are you so hard on her? She can't help her teeth and besides, she has new ones, thanks to our smitten Postmaster. She works her tuckus off for the town when there's no economic future in it. Navot avon yavour lavife, lavittavle mavan, avand navot avin avour lavifetavimes! Why can't you appreciate a woman who does her best for the community every day? Just consider her volunteer time in the school art display."

Wur! Neal thought only his sister knew how he felt about Miss Valjean. It wasn't like he went around blabbing it. For sure he'd never once mentioned Adolph Hitler! If it wasn't for Mr. Kelly, Neal could have boogied and left Iris lying to her stavupavid savelf. But you can't turn your back and take off and leave them behind when grown-ups are being nice. Well, you can but if you think this is such a great idea, you had better think twice.

"You're a misogynist. It's that simple," said Iris.

"Tie down your tongue, gal, and mind your manners!" Mr. Kelly stared at his daughter as though she was a stranger to him. Maybe before he'd been too busy working until he dropped to notice her. Aunt Ida says the Kellys are born like this. Well, now Mr. Kelly knows his daughter and Neal has a new word to look up and they can thank Avaravis.

She took her picture in the house and banged the screen door. Her father rattled the ice cubes in his glass and shook his head. He looked worried. "I don't know what gets into her except she lacks a mother," he said. "Sure you all won't have some tea. I'll get up and get it myself and we'll just sit here and talk, the two of us, just you, boy, and me."

"No, sir, but thank you." Neal walked home slowly, thinking about work and what it can do to people while they do it and when they stop doing it. None of this thinking was in his P.O.D. but he'd finished his own tasks for the day. Hey, he'd done more. That's the deal with daily planning. Set yourself limits or you miss out on other important things.

The movie was over and Pete and Jaime were going home. Pete didn't want his picture but Mariah said his mother would. She said she'd give it to her when she saw her. Neal asked if he could look up an "M" word so his sister lugged the OED to the counter and opened to the beginning of "M". He stood on the stool to see. Don't try to turn big pages if you can't is a smart rule; he turned carefully while Mariah sat on the couch to read.

When he saw what Iris had called him, he yelled, "manno!" without meaning to.

"Manno to you!" Mariah saved her place with her long finger and raised her eyebrows. "Do you mind terribly, bub?" she asked. "Langston Hughes, a very interesting poet and eloquent ex-patriot, had much to tell of urban Missouri before and after emigrating. He made strong points about why Seattle not St. Louis and I'd like to be concentrating."

Neal was not in the mood for his weird sister so soon after Iris. And this doesn't mean he hates women. He loves his mother and Alicia. Okay, also his sister but it's different. He went outside where he peeled a switch and whipped his leg not hard but to show he could. By Aunt Ida's cucumbers, he poked a plant with the switch. The plant was loaded with purple berries that are poisonous to people but birds, squirrels and foxes love pokeberries. If you wonder about all the poison for people in the world, it gets scary.

So does the weather when it rains forever. Have you noticed that if you forget about the weather, that's when the weather does something to make you remember? Maybe that's why old people talk about it all the time. Old people don't like surprises. Actually, neither does Neal but lots of kids -- and not only kids who are artists like Pete -- do. Anyhow, Bud and his grandfather are glad because the corn and soybeans need rain. Neal just hopes the rain will stop falling by Sunday afternoon. The Milo Mules are as ready as they'll ever be and it really would be too bad if their scheduled game with South Noonday is cancelled. Mr. Watch says so long as his back holds up he'll umpire. If not, the marshal says in a pinch he'll call the game wearing Mr. Watch's official attire.

The rain makes you think better. At least it makes Neal think better. It's like your brain gets rinsed and your thoughts clear off. Tomorrow when they go squirrel hunting and have their talk, would the marshal ask Delaney when he'll play ball again? Why hadn't this question been asked on the day they visited the matriarch and first learned of the dumb 10-year plan? Forget the future! The Mules could use Delaney's help here and now. Stiff competition is set to begin. Oh, well, whatever, may the best team win.