Swear to Howdy (2 page)

I put out my finger to prove I was good for his trust, and after he'd nicked it we put our fingers together and let the blood mix.

“You're a true friend, Rusty,” he told me. “A true friend.”

Then we took that crappie to Joey's house and fried it to a crisp. I didn't want any of it—couldn't seem to shake the thought of where it'd been—but Joey seemed to like it fine.

Ate the whole thing right up.

Joey's family and mine were alike in a lot of ways. Both our dads worked at the paper mill, both our mamas were helpers at schools—Mrs. Banks helped out at the nursery school where Joey's baby sister went; mine was a teacher's aide at the high school where my sister went.

Not that Sissy was too happy to have Mama there. She took up sassing shortly after we moved, and was all the time saying how mortifying it was to be under Mama's microscope. “I feel like a ladybug with my wings pinned flat,” she'd tell her.

Mama'd just smile, then plant a kiss on the back of Sissy's curly head and say, “All bugs should be so lucky, Jenna Mae.”

Sissy's sass came straight from next door, if you ask me. Straight from the mouth of Amanda Jane, who was Joey's older sister.

Amanda Jane was the same age as Sissy, and there wasn't a whole lot of difference between the two. Every bone in Jenna Mae's body was one hundred percent annoyable, just the same as Amanda Jane's.

The one place Sissy'd cut some slack was with her name. You could call her Jenna Mae, or Jenna, or Jenny, or Sissy Didn't seem to matter to her.

But Amanda Jane? Boy! She'd fuss about every little thing
and
her name. You had to call her A-man-da-Jane, or she'd bite your head clean off.

The two of them would hang together for hours, fixing their hair and nails and smearing on makeup, gossiping about kids at the high school. Joey and me'd put our ears to the wall when we were bored, but we'd end up even more bored and quit. Girls think the dumbest things are worth wasting time over.

But all of that just gave Joey and me more reason to be friends. To escape them, we'd go exploring places I would never have gone alone—across the river, back along deer paths, or even just into town. Didn't really matter, 'cause Joey turned everything into an adventure. Shoot, that boy knew how to have more fun with
mud
than most folks have with store-bought stuff. Like one time during a frog-stranglin' rain while the rest of the world was huddling indoors, Joey took me sliding down the riverbank on trash can lids. He broke the lid handles clean off, and we went
flying
. It was the wildest time ever, and we stayed out until we were soaked to the bone and covered in mud.

Mama had a lot to say about me trackin' in mud— even though I'd stripped down best I could before coming in the house. And of course Amanda Jane and Sissy
turned up their noses and told me I was dumber'n a post. Didn't spoil my mood, though. Sissy and Amanda Jane were always turning up their noses. It was something I was used to.

Or so I thought! Come baseball season, I discovered I was not immune. Sissy and Amanda Jane made Diamond Dolls, and that was the end. They thought they were the hottest things to hit Lost River since summer. They dressed up in little uniforms, wearing concession stand trays around their necks at the games. Shoot, all they were doing was selling peanuts and popcorn and Cokes, but from the way they strutted around the bleachers and around the diamond between innings you could tell they thought they were Miss America, or something.

Mrs. Banks was mighty proud of Amanda Jane, but Mama took it more in stride. “You do look cute, Jenna Mae, but I'd sure like to see you
play
something instead.”

“I don't need muscles like a mountain man, Mama. It's not at
trac
tive.”

Mama'd give Sissy a kiss on the cheek, Dad would tell her she was getting too big for her britches, and I'd just lay low, wondering what
was
attractive about that goofy striped hat and those matching shoes Diamond Dolls had to wear. Uglier than a bucket of armpits is what they were.

Then Mama decided we ought to go watch games, just to be supportive. Of what, I never really figured out. But we'd go and watch the ball game, without even caring
who was playing against Sissy's school. We'd just swelter in the sun while Mama'd wave money in the air and buy popcorn. Ten bags she'd go through in a game, with Cokes to match, giving it away to everyone who'd take it. She'd always flag down Sissy, too. Sissy couldn't exactly
ignore
her, but she'd hand over the order, huffing and sighing like it was the world's biggest bother, and then not even say “Thank you, ma'am” like Diamond Dolls are required.

And on the drive home, Mama would always be real complimentary about the popcorn and how it was salted just right, and how the Cokes were still full of bubbles— not flat the way some Diamond Dolls let theirs get. Dad would frown at Sissy in the backseat staring out one window, and then at Amanda Jane staring out the other. And he'd say, “You girls should be more grateful to your mamas for the support you get.”

Sissy would keep right on starin' out the window, and Amanda Jane would snap, “Why, my mama ain't even here!” while I'd cringe between the two of them, feeling nailed to a fence post.

Then Mama'd pat Dad's knee and say, “Well!” and start up with some other happy topic like the weather.

After we'd been to a bunch of boring games, I asked Mama, “Can Joey come?” and right off she said, “Sure. Why not.” So him and A-man-da-Jane piled into the car with the rest of us, and off we went to the ballfield.

Only the whole way over Amanda Jane and Sissy were
complete cats to us. We didn't like being stuck in the middle any more'n they liked us being there, but they hissed and snarled and jabbed our ankles with their Diamond Doll sneakers—real sly, so no one in the front seat could tell what was going on.

I couldn't exactly tattle, 'cause Joey was right there putting up with it like it was nothing, but by the time we parked I was spitting mad.

“I
hate
them Diamond Dogs!” I whispered to Joey on the walk over.

“Easy, brother,” he whispered back. “Them that lives by the nettle, dies by it, too.”

“Huh?”

“We'll get 'em back.”

“How?”

“Don't know yet, Rusty-boy, but we'll figure some thing.”

That something happened in the third inning. Mama'd flagged Sissy down about six times already and was starting to give away popcorn and Cokes when Joey snapped his fingers and whispered, “I
got
it.”

“What?”

He cocked his head. “Let's go.”

So I told Mama and Dad we'd be walking around for a bit, then followed Joey out of the bleachers and around back behind the scorekeepers' tower. “Whatcha cooked up?” I asked him.

“Simple,” he whispered. “You been watchin' 'em, right?”

“Who?”

“Them Diamond Dolls!”

“Uh, sorta …”

“Well, look. They carry all that stuff around their necks, right?”

“Sure …”

“Have you noticed how they carry their
own
drinks, too?”

“What do you mean?”

“To keep from dehydratin' in the sun! They got their own cup they keep sipping from right on the tray with the others.”

“They drink from the same one every time?”

“Rusty-boy, come on! They're not gonna go and get lipstick on someone else's cup. They'd get fired!”

“Yeah, right, of course.”

“So here's the plan—we'll catch us a couple of beetles or something, and when Jenna Mae and Amanda Jane take a break—”

“When's that gonna be?”

“How should I know? They gotta pee sometime, don't they?”

“Yeah, but—”

“And they can't lug those things into the rest rooms with 'em, right?”

“Right, but—”

“So we'll just wait until they take a break, then slip a bug or two into their Cokes.”

“But—”

“Trust me, Rusty! It'll work great. They'll be drinking along, getting down to ice, and then they'll see 'em— black and crawly and dead, or maybe still creepin' around! Then they'll freak and probably send all the Cokes and popcorn flyin'. It'll be spectacular!”

My head wasn't too keen on the idea, but my ankles were all for it. So we started hunting for bugs, turning over rocks and checking under trash bins. And boy! We found some great ones. So many that we started trading up, ditching little ones for bigger ones.

Joey decided he'd get a napkin to keep them all tied up in, and pretty soon the napkin was plumped way out with bugs. So I asked him, “Why so many, Joey? We only really need two, right?”

“Yeah, but … I figure more'n one per cup is good insurance. What if they swallow one whole and never even know it's there? That'd be a whole lot of bother for nothing.”

I looked in the napkin, thinking there were only about two you could swallow down whole, but I didn't say anything. I just nodded.

Then Joey grabbed my shoulder and said, “Quick, back here!”

So we hid around the tower and watched as Sissy and Amanda Jane peeled off their trays and put them on the ground by the side of the concession booth. And when they headed for the rest rooms, Joey snorted and said,
“Lucky for us those two do every little thing together. You stand guard, I'll plant the bugs. Let's go!”

So we raced over, and I stood facing out, making the best body screen I could while Joey planted the bugs. And when we heard a rest room door start to squeak open, we streaked off quicker than cats from a hose.

“Is it gonna work?” I asked when we were safe.

“I don't know! They were clingin' to the ice. They wouldn't go
down.
”

“But Coke'll kill 'em, won't it? I heard it kills about anything. Then they'll drop, right?”

“They'd better!”

We hurried back to where Mama and Dad were sitting, then smiled at them real big and asked, “What's the score?”

“Score?” Mama asked me, then turned to Dad. “Jimmy? You know the score?”

“Eight-zip.”

“We're losing?” Mama asked.

“We always lose, Deb.” He turned to her and shook his head. “Can you explain to me again why we come to these games?”

“To be sup
por
tive,” Mama told him, then whispered, “and to help Jenna through this phase she's goin' through.” She looked high and low a minute, then flagged a bill in the air at Sissy, who was coming up the steps.

Sissy rolled her eyes but came over. Only this time she actually
said
something. “Daddy,” she whined, “how much Coke you gonna let her drink? Ain't you worried she'll drown?”

“Watch your tongue, Jenna Mae,” he told her. “And while you're watchin' it, make it two.”

“You want another one, too?”

“Yes, ma'am,” he said with a frown. Then he looked at me. “How about you and Joey?”

Now I was about to say, “Sure,” 'cause all that bug huntin' had worked up a wicked thirst. But then I noticed Joey's eyes, big as baseballs, his head shaking in his collar like a rattler's tail. So I said, “Uh, no sir. No, thank you.”

And while Sissy's handing the Cokes over to Mama and Dad, Joey's face is all frantic, trying to tell me some thing.

“What?” I whispered.

He just kept on twitching at the face.

“
What?
” I asked again, only then it clicked. He hadn't put bugs in just Sissy and Amanda Jane's drinks. He'd put them in
all
the cups on their trays.

My eyes shot back and forth. From my parents to my sister. From my parents to my sister. And when I was sure no one was looking, I mouthed, “Bugs?”

He nodded.

When Sissy took off, I whispered, “
Why?
”

“Didn't want 'em to go to waste!”

I turned to Mama. She was sipping from her Coke. So was Dad. I whipped back around to Joey. “What are we gonna
do
?”

He shrugged and gave me a loopy grin. “They're not
poison
…”

My heart was beating double time. I watched Mama take a sip. Then another. And another. Dad, too.

I tried looking in the cup. Nothing on top. I thought about swatting at a phony gnat and knocking the cup out of Mama's hand. Thought about standing up and falling over, creatin' some sort of diversion or some thing.

But before I could figure out what to do, Dad spit into his hand and said, “There's a confounded
bug
in my drink!”

Mama said, “Oh, Jimmy. A little bug never hurt any thing,” but then she saw the shell and soggy legs and said, “Eeeew.”

Dad leaned forward and poured the Coke out between the bleacher slats, real slow and steady. And when he was down to just ice he showed Mama the cup. “I told you she didn't want us here.”

I looked, too. Two more bugs.

“Jenna wouldn't do such a thing … !” Mama said.

He took her Coke and drained it off between the slats, then handed it to her without a word.

“Oh!” Mama said, staring at the bugs in her cup. “Why … I can't
imagine
—”

Dad stood up and handed Mama the car keys. “You can stay if you want. I'm walking home.”

“But, Jimmy—”

“I've had it with her, Deb, and I'm afraid of what I might say if I see her again before I cool off.”

Mama let the keys drop in her hands and watched Dad storm down the bleachers and out of the park. And she did a lot of blinking at the bugs in her cup but didn't utter one word.

Finally, she got up and said, “I think we should be getting home, Russell.”

“Uh … Joey and me'll just walk.”

“You sure?” she asked, real distracted.

“Uh-huh. We want to watch the game.”

“All right, then. If you're sure.”

The minute she was gone, we took off on foot. And we were almost out of the park when the screaming started. Folks in the bleachers were freaking out and spilling stuff everywhere, and Sissy and Amanda Jane were running around all over the place.

I don't know how many folks actually swallowed bugs, and how many only
found
them, but I do know that that was the last day Sissy and Amanda Jane got to be Diamond Dolls. They got fired on the spot, 'cause according to their adviser, the condition of their Cokes was inexcusable.