Authors: Peter Hedges
Scotty said excitedly, “He’s here!”
“Already?” Joan said.
She watched as her children put on their coats and mittens. Claire explained that they didn’t want to keep their dad waiting.
(7)
February was a busy month at Clover Hills Elementary. Mrs. Mansfield’s fourth grade class built a miniature volcano out of papier-mâché and chicken wire. The multipurpose room was filled with second, third, and fourth graders, and Keith Hoyt and Bob Fowler, big, lumpy boys who lived near Scotty, gave a speech about the nature of volcanos, how they are formed, how they can erupt at any time.
Scotty found this interesting.
Mrs. Mansfield lit the match for them that caused their miniature volcano to belch; then a black, fizzy lavalike foam poured out. For fifteen seconds nothing had been so magnificent, but then it was over and Mrs. Boyden and the other teachers were nudging their students to stand and march single file back to their respective classrooms.
In Scotty’s class Mrs. Boyden began to introduce the concept of fractions. She had many drawings of sliced-up pies to help illustrate.
That Friday, Leann Callahan’s father (who delivered milk for Anderson Erickson Dairy) came to school. He poured milk and other ingredients into a glass bottle. Scotty and his classmates took turns shaking it, and soon the contents had solidified. “I made butter,” Scotty would later brag to the Judge.
Because of below-freezing temperatures and the occasional snowfall, PE was always indoors and consisted primarily of games of dodge ball in the multipurpose room. Scotty excelled at dodge ball.
In Art class, the students brought empty cereal boxes, which
they began to decorate with red, pink, and white construction paper. Using scissors, they cut paper hearts of varying sizes and pasted them on. The Valentine boxes were hung in anticipation of February 14. Mrs. Boyden sent a note home with each student explaining that Valentines were to be distributed on the twelfth, as the fourteenth was a Sunday. She also suggested that minimal candy should be given as gifts. During rest time, when the students closed their eyes and laid their heads down on their desks, she moved about the room, leaving a candy heart on each desk. Each heart had a message stamped on it. Scotty’s was “Be Mine.”
Mrs. Burns, the music teacher, wheeled her metal cart full of instruments (rhythm stick, drums, bells) into Mrs. Boyden’s classroom. She had done this twice a week since the New Year. And for most of February, she would teach the students patriotic songs.
“Boys and girls, why do we honor Abraham Lincoln?”
No hands went into the air.
Mrs. Burns continued, “Abraham Lincoln freed the slaves and saved the country and if he hadn’t, we wouldn’t be Americans.”
Big whoop, Scotty thought.
“Today we will sing patriotic songs. As a way of saying thank you to Abraham Lincoln, whose birthday is today.” Then Mrs. Burns led the class in singing “The Star-Spangled Banner,” “Yankee Doodle Dandy,” and, finally, “America the Beautiful.”
She had a technique where she would sing a phrase and then her students would repeat. That was the way to learn. So when she sang “Oh beautiful for spacious skies,” the kids dutifully repeated.
“For amber waves of grain.” This, too, they echoed.
“For purple mountain majesties…”
Scotty stopped. He looked over to where Carole was sitting. She had continued to sing with the others. Had she forgotten her painting? He felt heat in his face as he yelled to her, but the singing drowned out his shouts. And by the time the room quieted, Scotty had darted down the aisle and out of the classroom. With her face in the songbook, Mrs. Burns saw only a blur run past. She walked quickly to the door and looked down the hall where she saw Scotty Ocean run past the first grade classrooms, past kindergarten, past the principal’s office, and turn toward the teachers’ lounge.
When he pushed open the door, Scotty entered a cloud of smoke. Several teachers sat with cigarettes—Mrs. Mansfield of fourth grade, Mrs. Pfeifer of fifth, and Mr. Shelton, the PE teacher, all turned toward Scotty and glared.
Mrs. Boyden stubbed out her cigarette with great force, started to speak when Scotty Ocean stuck out his arm. “Be quiet,” he seemed to say. Mrs. Boyden exhaled and Scotty fought coughing. She spoke with impatience. “You’re not allowed in here…”
But with his voice, high in pitch, Scotty Ocean interrupted. He said two words, and two words only.
Mrs. Boyden reached for Scotty. He spoke again, this time with fuller voice. He spoke the same two words.
She got hold of his arm, pinched his skin, but he struggled free and took to the halls of Clover Hills Elementary. Mr. Shelton, the PE teacher, took after him. But Scotty Ocean was not to be stopped. He shouted, “Purple mountains! Purple mountains! Purple mountains!”
***
The next day when Scotty entered the classroom, the seating arrangement had been changed. The desks had been placed in a giant U. Scotty’s desk was now closest to Mrs. Boyden, and the whole first day of the new seating arrangement Scotty sat wishing the desks could move back to their original positions. He loved his old spot, watching the day’s proceedings as if they were the television, but now—with the dubious placement of his desk practically flush against Mrs. Boyden’s, he was the featured attraction.
For a few days Scotty would be the talk of the second grade.
(8)
Everybody behaved well for Mrs. Boyden the day Bev Fowler returned to class. No one talked out of turn and the moment of silence after the Pledge of Allegiance seemed particularly long. Even Bev did not know how popular she was about to become.
The week before, Bev Fowler’s mom had died in the parking lot of Dahl’s grocery store.
Carole Staley told a group of boys including Scotty that Bev had been sent in to buy a package of hamburger buns. When she came out of Dahl’s, she found her mother slumped over the steering wheel, the car horn blaring. “She pulled her mother off the wheel and felt the limpness.”
No one moved as Carole told the sequence of events.
That night, during dinner, the Judge explained the medical reasons. “Some people,” he said, “a very small number of people, have what’s called an aneurysm. Doctors have no way
of knowing if a person has one. Some aneurysms, such as Mrs. Fowler’s, are on the brain.” And then he said, as if it were good news, “She died instantly. No pain. No warning, of course, but at least there was no pain.”
None of the children was eating. Appetites had been lost.
“But you must understand—aneurysms are very rare.” The Judge used a toothpick to dislodge a chunk of meat from between his teeth. “If I was a betting man, I’d put my money that none of you would have an aneurysm.” His children still didn’t move. Finally the Judge said, “Maggie, could you pass the salt.”
***
On Bev’s second day back, Scotty studied her from ten feet. He stood by the textured globe. (It was too cold to play outside, so recess was indoors.) Bev watched Ruth Rethman and Leann Callahan play ticktacktoe. Bev crossed one leg over the other as she stood. She had yet to smile.
“She touched her dead mother,” Tom Conway whispered.
“Yeah,” said Scotty.
“We know someone who touched a dead person.”
“Yeah,” said Scotty again, forgetting for a moment that Tom Conway’s family kept a dead puppy frozen in their freezer.
Scotty envied Bev Fowler. His mother had only left, and leaving did not pull the same weight as dying.
***
That night before sleep, he imagined Joan’s death. It would have to be worse than Mrs. Fowler’s. Anything less would be a letdown for his friends. Anything less and they’d say, “Too bad but look at what Bev Fowler had to go through.”
(9)
On television, many of the mothers on Scotty’s favorite shows were dead.
On
My Three Sons
, Chip and Ernie had no mother. They had Uncle Charlie, of course, who did many of the motherly chores. And even though Fred MacMurray was dating Ernie’s teacher (they would marry that March), she would never be a real mother.
On
The Courtship of Eddie’s Father
, Eddie had no mother. He had Mrs. Livingston, a Japanese maid, and his father, a funny and kind and kite-flying father.
On
Family Affair
, Buffy and Jody had Uncle Bill and Mr. French—no mother, though.
Bonanza
was the most motherless of shows. In fact, all three of Ben Cartwright’s boys had different mothers, all dead. But they had Hop Sing, their trusted Chinese cook.
TV provided the necessary evidence. Not only was it possible to survive without a mother; it seemed to improve your chances of having your own TV show.
Scotty wanted to tell Bev Fowler what he had figured out. Maybe it would make her smile or at least feel not so bad. But Bev always had her many friends around her, and he could never get close enough.
(10)
“School is canceled,” the Judge told his children. “You’re snowed out.”
The Judge drove the Dodge through the storm. His snow tires helped him handle rough roads. He had mounds of paperwork to sort through at the courthouse. Claire was put in charge, and in her usual crack-the-whip style, she had both Maggie and Scotty shoveling immediately after
Captain Kangaroo
. The snow was heavy and wet. Scotty worked on the sidewalk and cut a path. Maggie and Claire only did one half of the driveway because only one car would be coming and going.
The afternoon was given over to building snowmen and snow forts.
Later in the day, while outside, Scotty broke off a small tree branch, and when he saw a row of jagged icicles hanging from a neighbor’s gutter, he ran the stick along breaking each at its base, causing missiles of ice to pierce the snow below. He took the largest icicle and licked it like an ice cream bar. He walked nonchalantly with it in one hand. Finally, Scotty had a weapon, and even grenade-toting Tom Conway (who was carving out a fort in a drift on the side of his house) knew to keep his distance.
The Crows had a Toro snowblower and Andrew was allowed to operate it. Their driveway and sidewalks were spotless, reminding Scotty of the snow cleaner that the Cat in the Hat used.
A snowball hurtled through the air just missing Scotty’s head. It splattered on the garage door.
Andrew stood in his snowsuit. Bright orange stripes of reflector tape were sewn onto the legs and arms so that at night he would glow.
Scotty hurried inside.
That night as the family watched TV, the doorbell rang. Scotty opened the door and felt the cold from winter squeezing past the storm door. He rubbed an eye opening in the frosted glass and peeking out saw Andrew Crow standing on the porch.
“I’ve come to collect,” Andrew shouted.
Andrew Crow had become the paper boy for the neighborhood, delivering the
Des Moines Register
six mornings a week, Monday through Saturday.
His cheeks red and eyes glazed from the cold, he stood hoping Scotty would ask him in.
But Scotty didn’t. Instead he disappeared from view and ran circles around the coffee table, shouting, “It’s him! It’s him!”
Claire got up from the sofa where she had been stretched out, poked her head around the corner, and, upon seeing Andrew Crow, made a gagging sound.
The Judge gave Scotty the amount owed in exact change. And Scotty returned to the vestibule. “There you go,” Scotty said, dropping the last coin into Andrew’s glove.
And Andrew looked up at Scotty and had an idea.
***
Andrew Crow waited outside while Scotty asked the Judge. The Judge told Scotty to show Andrew inside. The Judge sat on the living room sofa, a large bowl of popcorn sitting in his lap.
Mannix
blared on the TV.
“Hello, Andrew,” the Judge said.
“Hello, sir.”
“Scotty tells me you want to hire him to help you.”
Andrew had never thought about hiring. He wondered if Scotty might like to tag along. It would be fun to have someone to talk to.
“Scotty’s curious about what his wages will be.”
Scotty stopped breathing. He wasn’t curious. He didn’t care about wages.
Andrew had never considered paying Scotty. He saw giving him the opportunity to help him, if anything, to be a privilege, and certainly not a job.
But the Judge was firm and Andrew quickly agreed to seventy-five cents for helping. His first offer had been a quarter but the Judge said a quarter was out of the question.
Scotty couldn’t believe it. Not only would he get to hang out with Andrew; he would get to walk around the streets when everybody was asleep, and he would be making money, too.
Life had a way of surprising.
(11)
“Maggie? Is that you, Maggie?”
Scotty wondered, When would his voice change? When would he sound like a man?
“Claire?”
Scotty held the receiver and spoke in his lowest voice. “No, it’s Scotty.”
“Oh,” she said. “Hello, little love.”
He knew his mother’s voice. And he knew she was forcing the happy tone on the phone.
“Scotty, you there?”
Scotty mumbled something in response.
“What was that, sweetheart?”
He said nothing. He could hear her inhale on a cigarette. After a silence, Joan asked for Scotty to call the Judge to the phone.
“He’s not home.”
“What was that, honey?”
“He’s not
home.
”
“Of course he is—”
“No.”
The Judge had taken Maggie to dance class and dropped Claire off at the library.
“He left you at home all by yourself?”
“Yes.”
“Oh.”
“I’m seven, Mom. Seven can handle this.”
“Of course.”
He was right, seven could. For seven handled helping with the laundry. Seven handled matching socks and shining the Judge’s shoes and dressing himself every morning. Seven managed.
“Could you write your father a note?”
Scotty mumbled an “Okay.”
“Get paper and pencil.”
Scotty set the phone down and pulled open drawer after drawer. He easily found a small pad of paper, but no pencil or pen.
“No pencil.”
“Scotty, hurry please.”