The Pinballs (11 page)

“Yes,” Thomas J said, “August seventh.”

Then she and Thomas J went out the door.

The remaining
Benson twin, Thomas, died on Monday, and it was decided that Thomas J should have a haircut before going to the funeral. In the barbershop he felt his first sadness about her death.

He had climbed up into the chair, excited at his first real haircut, and the barber had looked at him and said, “Who's been hacking at your hair, Son?” in an uncomplimentary way.

As soon as the barber said that, Thomas J had been once again on the Benson farm with the twins clipping away at his head as if it were a bush. He had closed his eyes, lost in unhappiness.

“There!” the twins would cry. They always finished at the same time. He never knew what he would look like till he got to the bathroom mirror.

The barber had brushed him off and said, “Now, you're a real nice-looking young man, if I do say so myself.”

Thomas J had opened his eyes. Looking at the neatly trimmed boy in the mirror—the two halves the same at last—he had felt his sorrow draining from him.

Now, seated beside Mr. Mason in the car, he felt only pleasure in an outing with Mr. Mason.

“Mr. Mason?”

“What?”

Thomas J paused.

“What is it, Thomas J?”

Thomas J wanted to bring up some problem so that Mr. Mason would say “I know how you feel, Thomas J, because the same thing happened to me. Let me tell you about it.” Only Thomas J couldn't think of a problem.

“Oh, nothing,” he said. He looked out the window. He saw the reflection of his own face, neatly framed in the new haircut.

“Did I ever tell you about the time my daddy took me to Bear Rocks and I got lost?”

Thomas J turned to him, his face bright. “No.”

“Well, one time—I was just about your age—and my daddy got the idea that we should …”

Thomas J and Mr. Mason stood looking at the Benson twin in her coffin. She was wearing her good black dress and her cameo pin, the same outfit her sister had worn. Thomas J was glad about that.

Mr. Mason put one hand on Thomas J's shoulder. “You know, Thomas J, they thought they were doing you a kindness when they took you in. You should always remember that.”

Thomas J looked up at Mr. Mason. “They
were
doing me a kindness.”

Mr. Mason nodded. “I'm sure they thought so.”

Thomas J looked back at the Benson twin. Now, dead at age eighty-eight, she actually resembled the president for whom she had been named. “I'll remember,” Thomas J said.

“Well, Thomas J is off to another funeral,” Carlie said as she settled on the foot of Harvey's hospital bed. “It's a good thing they weren't triplets.”

Harvey was lying with the head of his bed rolled up. “How's my dog?” Every time he mentioned his dog, he felt good. He had even told his father when he came for a visit. “I have a dog now,” he'd said, looking right into his father's eyes. All his father had said was “That's all right.”

“Oh, your dog's fine,” Carlie said. “He went on the paper two times yesterday. You know, Harvey, you're beginning to look like yourself again.”

“Too bad I can't look like somebody else, huh?”

“No, I like the way you look. Hey, wait a minute, I've got an idea. Comb your hair down in bangs.”

“No.”

“But I think you'd look good in bangs, and then push your glasses up on top of your head, Hollywood style.”

“I can't see without my glasses.”

“Well, I'll tell you how you look. Come on.”

There was a pause while Harvey brushed his hair over his forehead. “Now put your glasses on your head.” Carlie looked at him with her head to one side. “Harvey,” she said.

“What?”

“Put your glasses back on your face and your hair back on your head.”

With a faint smile he brushed back his hair and put on his glasses.

“And one other thing, Harvey.”

“What?”

“Promise me you won't ever try to look like anybody but yourself again.”

Harvey smiled. “I promise.”

Carlie and
Thomas J were sitting on the steps of the elementary school building. The puppy was lying at their feet, resting from the walk. A fly landed on him and he twitched his ear to shake it off. The fly walked onto his forehead. The puppy raised his head and snapped at the fly. He watched as it flew away. Then he went back to sleep.

Carlie looked at Thomas J. “Thomas J, this is where you'll go to school at the end of the month,” she said.

“In this building?” He looked around.

“Yeah, Harvey and me will go over on Oak Street. Harvey swears he can help me pass math, but I don't know.”

“I'll be glad to go to this school.”

“I'd like to go to nurse's school. The last school I went to was mostly made up of snobs. If you didn't have a certain kind of shoes or a certain kind of clothes—which I never had—nobody would speak to you.”

They sat in silence for a moment. Thomas J was still looking back in admiration at his school. Carlie reached out and rocked the puppy with her bare feet.

“You know, Thomas J,” she said, “wouldn't it be nice if we could get to our brains with an eraser?”

“What?” He looked at her, puzzled. “Did you say eraser?”

“Yeah. I just mean that there are things I don't like to remember—oh, like times people snubbed me at school—times people made me feel bad—and if I could just erase those things, Thomas J, I'd be a lot happier. Wouldn't you like to have a brain as perfect as a melon—no bad spots at all?”

“I don't have enough to remember,” Thomas J said.

Carlie looked at him. “Can't you remember your mother at all?”

“No—well, sometimes when I see a woman who is kind of fat—no, not fat, just kind of . . .”

“Plump?”

“No, just the kind of woman who looks like, well, if you climbed up in her lap, well, you would be very comfortable.”

“Oh.”

“So every time I see a woman like that and she has on a flowered dress, well, it makes me want to go over and stand beside her.”

“You probably had a mother who had a comfortable lap and wore flowered dresses.”

“Yes.” It was a sigh.

Carlie was still looking at him. “I could make you up a mother, Thomas J,” she said, “like I made you up a birthday.”

Thomas J hesitated. He was tempted. In his mind the picture of the woman in the flowered dress sharpened. He could almost see her. Then abruptly he shook his head.

“But I wouldn't mind,” Carlie went on.

“I know, but I have a real mother,” he said, “somewhere.”

“Me too, somewhere,” Carlie said. “Only she couldn't care less.”

Thomas J looked at her in surprise. He said, “I can imagine somebody not wanting me, but I can't imagine anybody not wanting you.”

She looked at him. “Thomas J, that was a real nice thing for you to say.”

“Thank you.” A small smile came over his face.

“Anyway, Thomas J, when you get older you can find your mother. Being pinballs is just a stage we're going through and—”

He squinted at her. “I don't know what pinballs are.”

“You never played a pinball machine? Well, I'll take you to this place in town I know and we'll play.” She looked up abruptly. “No, I take that back, Thomas J.”

“About me finding my mother?” he asked, startled.

“No, I really think you can do that.”

“About us playing pinballs?”

“No, about us being pinballs. That's what I was wrong about. You'll see what I'm talking about when you play the game. We are not pinballs.” She grinned. “Don't ever let anybody call you a pinball, Thomas J.”

“I don't know what you're talking about.”

“Oh, nothing. It's just that pinballs can't help what happens to them and you and me can. See, when I first came here, all I thought about was running away, only I never did it.” She looked at Thomas J. “I know that doesn't sound like much, but it was me deciding something about my life. And now I have decided that when I go to this new school, I'm really going to try. And you, you're really going to try too, aren't you?”

He nodded.

“And as long as we are trying, Thomas J, we are not pinballs.”

They looked at each other. The fly had started bothering the puppy again, and he snapped at it. He got to his feet and looked around for something to chew. He tumbled over Carlie's feet and grabbed Thomas J's sock. He began to tug.

Carlie stood up. “It's time to go.”

“Yes,” Thomas J said. He unhooked the puppy's teeth from his sock and got to his feet. “Let's go home.”

BETSY BYARS
is the author of the Newbery Medal–winning
SUMMER OF THE SWANS
, as well as
GOODBYE, CHICKEN LITTLE
and
THE TWO-THOUSAND-POUND GOLDFISH
.

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The Pinballs

Copyright © 1977 by Betsy Byars

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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Byars, Betsy Cromer.

The pinballs.

   p. cm.

“A Harper Trophy Book”

Summary: Three lonely foster children learn to care about themselves and each other.

[1. Foster home care—Fiction. 2. Friendship—Fiction.] I. title.

ISBN 0-06-020918-6 (lib.bdg.) — ISBN 0-06-440198-7 (pbk.)

EPub Edition © JUNE 2012 ISBN 9780062239440

First Harper Trophy edition, 1987