The Planet of Junior Brown (16 page)

“Man-o-man!” Buddy said, “we going to have ourselves a party!”

“Help yourselves,” Mr. Pool said. “You can't walk out of here until everybody else is long gone.”

Junior dropped his suitcase on the floor, flung off his raincoat and sweater and attacked the food. Buddy was hungry too, but what he wanted most was something hot to drink. He was beginning to believe that cold, like inches, was a part of his growing. He had even said so earlier to Doum Malach. Old Doum had told him this story. “We are deeply opposed to cold,” Doum had told him. “That's why the white folks turn it on us about every six months.”

Remembering, Buddy had to smile. Doum was crazy but his was a good kind of crazy that tried to protect you. He hadn't even mentioned to Buddy the fact that Buddy had used him in a lie to Mr. Rountree.

For a moment Buddy thought fondly of Doum. Then, eagerly, he took up a thermos and found the chocolate steaming. It burned his mouth but he gulped it down all the same, as though he'd never tasted anything quite like it.

“Oh, man,” Buddy said, “that's precious stuff.” He wiped his mouth. With the thermos in hand, he turned to Junior. Junior had all but eaten one ham sandwich and had started on a hard-boiled egg. Junior had taken the other thermos of chocolate.

“Wait up for me,” Buddy told him. “You going to eat it all before I get to sit down good.”

“Shuh,” Junior said, not unkindly. Junior couldn't be too unkind even to Buddy when he was eating.

Chewing on a sandwich, Buddy thought to ask Mr. Pool, “How come you brought so much stuff?”

Mr. Pool was busy with a long rectangle of a box about a foot square and maybe five feet long. He had stuffed the bottom of the box with crumpled newspaper. Now he gently shoved the sun in. Their solar system was in the process of coming down. Mr. Pool had attached a forty-watt bulb on a cord to Junior's chair to give himself enough light to work by.

Without knowing it they had all braced themselves for this coming apart of worlds. Now Buddy and Junior could see it happening and not lose heart. The food was a big help, a comfort. Mr. Pool had known it would be.

“I figured I'd bring enough to eat for today, of course,” Mr. Pool said, “and maybe have some left over for tomorrow. But from the looks of things I'm going to have to start over buying the first thing Saturday morning.”

“You mean for us to stay here?” Buddy asked him.

“I don't know even yet,” Mr. Pool told him. “I'm packing up everything, though. I'll have this box filled tonight. After that, I don't know. We'll be ready to stay or ready to go.”

“Go, more better than likely,” Buddy said.

“But where?” Mr. Pool asked him.

“I got the whole day to worry over it,” Buddy said. He glanced at Junior. Still eating, Junior hadn't told Buddy one thing about what he was planning to do. He had come out of his house way early this morning all dressed up and with that suitcase banging his leg. Buddy hadn't bothered to ask Junior what was in the case. It was Friday. Junior had nothing else in his hands. He knew Junior's Fake Book, at least, was inside the suitcase. And Junior must have taken whatever else a body would think to want when they were running from home. Junior was wearing those sharp clothes of his all at the same time.

“You going to burn up in all that,” Buddy had told him, knowing how Junior couldn't stand to wear so much clothing.

“Give you my sweater to wear,” Junior had told him, “maybe even my raincoat. But first, let's get us on out of here.”

They'd gone quickly in the morning light; the cold sun had been behind them, eyeing them without heat. Even then, Buddy hadn't asked Junior if he'd told his mother about coming to school.

That's why Junior cut out early, Buddy thought. Junior didn't tell her and he ain't going to be around when she finds out.

Mr. Pool spent a good while packing and unpacking one or two plastic planets to see how he could arrange them to fit in the box in the least amount of space.

“You shouldn't put them in first,” Buddy told him.

“I know that, son,” Pool said, “I just am figuring. The tracks have got to be straightened and put in first. Then the rods and cords, but that's going to take me more time than I can give this here morning.”

Mr. Pool had to go out and see to the school.

“You want the light on?” Buddy asked Junior after Mr. Pool had gone. With the light on there was no way for them to avoid looking at the broken-down system.

“No,” Junior said.

Buddy turned off the light bulb. Leaping darkness closed in on them. Junior was full and comfortable in the dark. He felt warm but not hot. He bunched up his raincoat for a pillow and stretched out on the floor. “Buddy?”

“Yea,” Buddy said.

“Come take my sweater.”

“Oh, man!” Buddy said. He removed his jacket and fumbled through the dark for Junior's sweater. When he had hold of it, he just felt it for a minute. It felt like the softest wool in the world. Buddy eased himself into it.

“I hate to rub up on this floor with it,” Buddy said. He thought to spread out his jacket. Then, he placed himself carefully on the jacket so that Junior's sweater never touched the floor.

So it was that the day passed for Buddy and Junior. They slept a while there on the floor. They awoke, they ate again and later they talked quietly with Mr. Pool. No one found them out.

7

JUNIOR,” BUDDY WHISPERED,
“what is going on?”

“Shhhh!” It was Miss Peebs.

The moment Buddy walked inside Miss Peebs' house, he knew all his years in the street hadn't prepared him for such a place.

On all sides in this great, long hallway were mountains of shrouded things. White, giant monsters pressed in on Buddy in the dim, mad place, as he walked a narrow tightrope of a path. He brought up the rear. Junior was in front of him. The crazy woman led the way.

Buddy thought of turning around and just going to the foyer and out the front door. He dared not look behind him. There were those dead, giant things even in back of him. He felt the hair all over him tickle and seem to rise.

You could die here. Some big things would come out from behind the dead giants and carve a hole in you. Or she might do it when you had your mind on those giants coming to life.

The moment she opened the door, Buddy knew Miss Peebs was crazy. He had taken one look at the silk, all-black get-up she wore, her pits of burning eyes, and he knew her mind was lost behind the deadly yellow of her face.

With no light, the shrouded place of the giants was creepy and shaded gray. Miss Peebs had covered the piles of furniture in the hall with muslin dust covers. Buddy kept his hands taut at his sides. He didn't look left or right but braced his body for any attack. Buddy had only his nerve to fight with; he knew it would never do.

Miss Peebs opened a door off the hallway. They went in to a living room where there was a ceiling light burning. Noise came screaming at them from raised windows. Noise knocked into tier upon tier of piled things—chests and bureaus, chairs and bookcases.

Dust choked Buddy and noise bit at the dust settling on his skin. The only silence anywhere was a comfortable sofa with soft pillows. There was a monster but it had no shroud. It was a great dark roundness with teeth and black, shredded gums.

Actually, Miss Peebs' piano was a pool of beauty. Buddy had been so ready for giants, he hadn't seen it for what it was. It was just a long and lovely piano. It was a perfect thing in the room.

Buddy stared around with his mouth open at the piles and piles of stuff with no space for questions or even answers. His eyes paused at something by the windows. It was the one place in the room that was covered by a white shroud. Square and flat under its coverlet, it was a separate, gleaming patch of white amidst chaos, like moonlight on a battlefield.

Buddy walked over to the couch and sat stiff and straight on the edge of it. Junior was standing on the path just beyond the couch, with Buddy on one side and the piano on the other. Miss Peebs was in front of him, standing sideways on the path.

Junior had been so relieved to find Miss Peebs' piano in one piece. But then, he'd noticed the same shrouded place Buddy had seen. Fear rose in him. Wave upon wave of fear for the piano's safety made him shudder. The white, shrouded patch was like a bed, like a pen, to keep something confined.

“He's here,” Miss Peebs said to Junior.

“I know,” Junior said, “I can feel him.”

He was shaking. His bulk seemed to sag at the knees. He was sweating all over his arms and back.

“Junior, I've got to get around you and to the piano,” Miss Peebs said.

Junior stepped aside. Miss Peebs slid by him and sat down at the piano. At once, she began playing an atonal music.

“He knows you're here but you've got to see,” she said. She looked at Junior and then at Buddy.

Buddy saw terror in Miss Peebs' eyes. Energy surrounded her like a magnetic field. Every molecule, every pore of her, was jiggling a hundred times too fast. He'd never seen anything like the power that came from her. And seeing her sheer strength, Buddy believed Miss Peebs could pick up that piano and throw it at him, if she'd wanted to.

What's going on? he thought. What do they want?

Junior was creeping along the main path of the room, away from the piano and couch.

Buddy thought, He's going to close the windows so the noise won't be so loud.

With the music Miss Peebs played all around him, the noise from outside seemed even louder to Buddy. A moment more of so much sound and he knew he would have to cover his ears.

Junior stopped on the path directly in front of that patch of white, like a hospital bed with nothing at all in it but cleanliness.

The piano was still. “You will do it.” It was Miss Peebs.

Junior leaned over close to the patch and lifted the cover. The movement was like someone peeling back gauze to expose a wound.

Buddy couldn't see what Junior was doing but he saw the coverlet move; he knew the moment Junior peered inside. Instantly Junior's arms swept upward and out, like wings hit by sudden wind.

Buddy saw Junior leap back, as though something had hurled him away. Junior fell against a precarious hill of furniture at the side of the path. The furniture crashed to the floor. Off balance, Junior landed on top of some of it, with some of it thudding down on him.

Buddy jumped up and was pulling drawers and tables off Junior without even thinking. He flung the mess aside. A whole lot of rings rolled around on the floor. Buddy counted about six topless jars of Vicks salve where they had fallen.

Miss Peebs was behind Buddy. She reached for a Vicks jar. Unmindful that the salve was crusted with time and dust, she dug in for a finger full and swallowed the mess neatly in a single gulp. Again she dug her finger in and coated her neck with it. All this done in an absent-minded motion.

“Are you sick or something?” Buddy heard himself saying to her. Vicks vapor burned hot, then cold through his nostrils. He was so calm, he had not even paused in his urge to get Junior out from under the fallen furniture.

“You're full of dust,” he said to Junior. He pulled Junior to his feet and then brushed Junior's clothing off as best he could.

“What's going on—this is crazy,” Buddy said. Junior was holding on to him. He had one arm tightly around Buddy's neck. The other, he wrapped around Buddy's arm in a grip like a vise.

“Man?” Buddy said. Buddy saw that Junior had the terror, the energy, too. “Man?” he repeated.

Junior couldn't say anything. It was Miss Peebs who spoke from behind Buddy.

“It's that Junior has seen him. We both have seen him,” she said.

Buddy pried Junior's hand from his arm, one finger at a time. With both arms free, he worked at getting Junior's arm from around his neck. He hadn't noticed until now but the pressure on his throat was unbearable. Buddy knocked his fist into Junior's armpit with most of his force. Only then did Junior relax his hold long enough for Buddy to break free.

“God Almighty!” Buddy said. Junior came toward him again. This time Buddy was ready for him. He shoved Junior back toward Miss Peebs before Junior could reach him.

Junior and Miss Peebs stood like they were frozen there on the path, with Miss Peebs leaning around Junior to see and Junior with his head thrown back, his hands poised in midair.

Buddy turned around toward the windows. He studied that square patch of white that had so terrified Junior. He stepped over some furniture—rugs wrapped around a wood screen of some kind—and was lifting and folding back the white coverlet in one motion.

Buddy stood absolutely still. He was a statue made from ebony, his head down below his shoulders, with his hands holding the coverlet up and away from where he was looking. Buddy moved his head just enough to look back toward Junior and Miss Peebs.

They stared at Buddy with awful pleading and fear in their eyes. Yet their faces burned at him with relief at having him know at last.

“I have kept this to myself for so long,” Miss Peebs said.

When Buddy spoke, his voice came from deep within his stillness. “I understand,” he said.

“I just wanted you to see him,” Junior said.

“It'll be all right,” Buddy told him.

“Because I got to take him out of here right now,” Junior said. “So you go on out and wait for me while I get him out. I just want you to be there in case I need you.”

Miss Peebs: “Oh, Junior, would you do that for me? No, you can't do it. He's sick, he won't go.”

“No, Junior,” Buddy said, but neither Junior nor Miss Peebs was listening to him.

“He'll go,” Junior told Miss Peebs. “He's been tooling with you, he ain't that sick. I can take him.”

“No, Junior,” Buddy said. “Oh, man, don't”