On the Road to Mr. Mineo's (6 page)

Amos snored.

The crickets chirped.

The gingham curtains blew gently in the breeze.

Ethel's heart sank. Where was the little brown dog?

The clock over the mantel in the dining room ticked away the minutes.

Ethel's disappointment began to grow.

Then, just as she was about to give up and go back to bed, the dog appeared at the edge of the weed-filled lot next door and trotted toward the barn. He wriggled under the fence around the old pigsty and through the open door of the barn.

Ethel held her breath, hoping the dog wouldn't bark and wake Amos up.

From the dark shadows of the barn came one little yip.

Two little yips.

Three little yips.

Then silence.

Amos stirred in the bed, grumbling and snorting, but he didn't wake up.

Ethel smiled.

She knew the dog was eating ground beef and gravy from the pie tin beneath the ladder to the hayloft.

And the one-legged pigeon was sleeping peacefully in the deserted barn-owl nest in the rafters.

 

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Wormy Lives Here

That night, Levi spray-painted W
ORMY
L
IVES
H
ERE
on the wooden fence beside Gerald's driveway.

Crooked red letters with paint running down and ending with drops on the sidewalk.

Gerald was sure it was Levi who had done it.

Who else would do such a thing?

Nobody.

Gerald's mother had gone out the next morning and painted over it, but the words still showed through, pale pink on the white fence.

W
ORMY
L
IVES
H
ERE

Gerald stayed inside all morning eating ham and pickle sandwiches.

He ate three of them.

He could see Stella up on the garage roof. He heard her call him, but he didn't go out.

She came to the door three times and his mother told her he was sick. Gerald knew that Stella wouldn't believe that.

He peeked out of the kitchen window. Stella was sitting on the concrete bench under the hickory-nut tree.

Gerald heaved a sigh.

Stella was very stubborn. She would sit there for a long time.

He finished the last bite of his ham and pickle sandwich and went outside.

When Stella asked him what was wrong, he told her about the pink letters on the fence.

W
ORMY
L
IVES
H
ERE

Stella stomped around to the other side of the fence, trampling the ivy and scaring Gerald's gray-faced dog under the porch. She picked up a hickory nut and hurled it at the fence. Then she stomped back into the yard and plopped down on the bench.

“Levi's so mean,” she said. “We've got to find that pigeon before he does, okay?”

Gerald wanted to say,
No.

He wanted to say,
I don't want anything to do with Levi and his scabby-kneed, germ-infested friends.

But instead he said, “Okay.”

He said it very quietly.

But Stella heard it.

And the next thing Gerald knew, he was following Stella up the side of Waxhaw Lane toward town.

 

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

Edsel's Hunk of Junk

Luther hung a sign on the door of the restaurant.

G
ONE
F
ISHING

Then he tossed his fishing rod into the back of Edsel's white delivery van and climbed into the front seat.

Edsel turned the key.

Whirrrrrrr clunk clunk

Edsel looked at Luther.

Luther looked at Edsel.

Edsel turned the key again.

Whirrrrrrr clunk clunk

Edsel banged his fist on the steering wheel and said a cuss word. Then he flopped his head back against the seat, pulled his baseball cap over his face, and muttered, “I hate this hunk of junk.”

His neck grew redder by the minute.

Luther muttered, “Dang it.”

Edsel cracked his knuckles, threw his cap onto the floor of the truck, and said another cuss word.

He turned the key one more time.

Whirrrrrrr clunk clunk

Two red lights on the dashboard blinked on.

Edsel let out a big groaning sigh. “I can't deal with this right now,” he said.

While Luther and Edsel sat in angry silence in the van, Stella and Gerald ran by.

A short time later, Levi and C.J. and Jiggs rode their skateboards up the sidewalk on the other side of the street.

“Let's go eat,” Edsel said.

Luther took his fishing rod out of the back of the van, and he and Edsel went inside the restaurant to eat pork lo mein. While they sat on the barstools at the chipped formica counter, Mutt Raynard loped by, whistling.

Edsel mumbled something about those crazy Raynards.

When a little brown dog trotted by, Luther tossed a piece of pork out onto the sidewalk. The dog gobbled it up, then hurried off toward the alley.

And while Luther and Edsel were sitting glumly at the counter in the restaurant, a one-legged pigeon hopped through the open back doors of Edsel's white delivery van and pecked happily at the scraps of wilting cabbage spilling through the holes of a cardboard box.

 

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

Gerald Snaps and Mutt Snoops

Stella and Gerald walked.

And walked.

And walked.

They walked up one side of Main Street and down the other.

Twice.

They walked up and down the alleys behind the shops, looking in Dumpsters and under parked cars.

Stella was feeling discouraged. “Are you even
looking
?” she snapped at Gerald.

“For the millionth time, Stella,
yes
!” he snapped back.

Stella was surprised.

Gerald never snapped.

They were heading back up Main Street when a familiar voice called from across the street.

“Hey, Wormy!”

Stella clenched her fists and glared over at Levi on the other side of the street. “Shut up!” she hollered.

“Okay, Mrs. Wormy,” Levi called.

C.J. and Jiggs roared with delight.

“Just ignore them,” she said to Gerald, tossing her curls out of her eyes with a flip of her chin. “Let's go back to your house.”

So Stella and Gerald headed back toward Waxhaw Lane, with Levi and C.J. and Jiggs trotting along behind them, chanting “Mr. and Mrs. Wormy” and laughing up a storm.

As they walked, Stella scanned the trees and telephone wires overhead, hoping to see the one-legged pigeon. Every now and then she glared over her shoulder at Levi and C.J. and Jiggs. “Just ignore them,” she whispered to Gerald, who seemed to droop lower and lower until Stella thought he might sink right down through the sidewalk.

Just as they rounded the corner onto Waxhaw Lane, Stella stopped dead in her tracks.

Mutt Raynard was doing something sneaky.

Tiptoeing along the sidewalk in front of Gerald's house.

Peering over the top of the fence.

Craning his neck to look onto the garage roof.

“Hey!” Stella yelled.

Mutt didn't jump like she'd hoped he would.

He didn't blush and look wide-eyed like she'd hoped he would.

He turned a cool gaze her way.

Stella raced toward Gerald's house.

Levi and C.J. and Jiggs raced toward Gerald's house.

Gerald trudged stoop-shouldered and heavy-footed toward his house.

They all gathered in the driveway beside the fence with the pale pink words.

W
ORMY
L
IVES
H
ERE

Stella jammed her fists into her waist and glared at Mutt. “What're you doing snooping around here?”

“Who says I'm snooping?” He tossed a piece of gravel from hand to hand.

“I do.”

“So?”

“So you're not allowed here.”

“Says who?”

Stella looked at Gerald.

Gerald looked at his sneakers.

Levi stepped in front of Stella and put his face up close to hers. “You're not the boss of the world, Mrs. Wormy.”

Stella pushed him aside and stomped over to Mutt. “You're looking for that pigeon.”

Mutt kept that cool-as-a-cucumber look and said, “What pigeon?”

“That one-legged pigeon.”

Mutt glanced at Levi. “There ain't no such thing as a one-legged pigeon.”

Stella jabbed both thumbs toward her chest. “That pigeon is
mine
. You keep your crazy ole hands off of him and get out of Gerald's driveway.” Then she tossed her head, chin in the air, and marched up the driveway toward the garage, calling over her shoulder, “Come on, Gerald.”

 

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

Gone Fishing

When Luther and Edsel finished their pork lo mein, Edsel said, “Let's go take a look at that hunk of junk.”

They went outside and Edsel opened the hood of the white delivery van. They peered down at the engine.

Luther checked the oil.

Edsel wiggled the spark plugs.

Luther examined the fan belt.

Edsel fiddled with the duct tape on the radiator. “Hmmm,” he said.

Luther took his baseball cap off, scratched his head, and put his cap back on.

Edsel fished a greasy wrench out from under the front seat of the truck and tightened some bolts. He tapped the end of the wrench on a few things under the hood.

Tap

Tap

Tap

He banged the end of the wrench on a few things under the hood.

Bang

Bang

Bang

“Give her a try,” he told Luther.

Luther climbed into the driver's seat and turned the key.

The engine whirred and clanked …

… and then started.

Dark gray smoke puffed out of the tailpipe.

“Give her some gas!” Edsel called from under the hood.

Luther revved the engine. Rumbles and rattles echoed up Main Street. Puffs of smoke floated over the awning of the restaurant.

Edsel let out a whoop. “Let's go!” he hollered.

So Luther ran to get his fishing rod and tossed it into the back of the van. He slammed the doors and climbed into the front next to Edsel.

The white delivery van rumbled up Main Street toward the lake, with smoke pouring out of the tailpipe and a one-legged pigeon nestled contentedly inside.

 

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

The Boy Who Cried Wolf

Mutt jogged along the side of the road toward home, studying the cloudless sky, the rooftops of the houses, the tops of the dogwood trees. If Stella or Levi caught that pigeon, he would never be able to prove that he had been telling the truth.

A one-legged pigeon
had
landed on his head. He
wasn't
lying.

Maybe he should go to his spot at the lake in case the pigeon came back.

Or maybe he should go farther up the road past the bait shop.

Grasshoppers sprang out of the dry weeds as Mutt hurried by, his sneakers slapping on the pavement. The sun burned down on the asphalt road, leaving little bubbles of gooey melted tar here and there.

When he got to the Ropers' small brick house, he slowed to a walk. His T-shirt was damp with sweat. His hair stuck to the back of his neck.

Maybe he wouldn't go to his fishing spot after all. He studied the sky, searching.

Hoping.

But he didn't see the one-legged pigeon.

Just as he was nearing the long dirt driveway that led to his family's cluster of houses, a white delivery van drove by, clanking and rattling and leaving puffs of dark gray smoke hovering in the still summer air behind it.

Luther and Edsel.

Mutt kicked a rock on the edge of the road, sending it tumbling into the weeds.

Luther and Edsel fished all the time and lately they had been going to Mutt's favorite spot.

Mutt hated that.

One time he dragged a big rotting log across the dirt road that led to his spot, but Edsel had just driven his van around it.

Maybe he would go tell them he knew a better spot, way over on the other side of the lake.

*   *   *

When Mutt got home, his mother was mad as fire.

“Where have you been?” she hollered.

“Fishing,” Mutt said.

His mother thumped him on the side of the head and said, “Don't lie to me.”

Mutt glanced out the window and saw all his dirty-faced cousins playing in the yard.

“Hallie Pearson seen you in town with Levi and them other troublemakers,” his mother said, her fists jammed into her waist and her eyes narrowed in that mad way of hers.

“I was looking for that one-legged pigeon I told y'all about,” Mutt said.

His mother flapped a dish towel at him. “Get on out yonder and help your daddy with the lawn mower like you're supposed to.”

Mutt stomped out the door and clomped down the steps and brushed past his cousins on his way to the garage out back. He pretended he didn't see them hopping around the yard on one foot and flapping their arms like wings. He pretended he didn't hear them calling out “Hey, Mutt, there's a one-legged pigeon on your head!” while they laughed and tossed gravel at him.

Mutt shook his fist at them before he went into the garage. He would show them. He was going to catch that pigeon no matter what.

 

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

Mr. Mineo Mused and Tossed Pork Rinds

Mr. Mineo sat in a canvas camp chair in front of the bait shop, eating pork rinds. Every now and then, he tossed one down to Ernie and sighed. He hadn't been feeling like himself lately.

Normally, he felt happy and content.

He had so many reasons to feel happy and content.

He lived in a nice trailer by the lake.