Violet Raines Almost Got Struck by Lightning (6 page)

“How much farther is this place?” Melissa is right behind Eddie on the footpath, Lottie behind her, and me last. That's how I like it— everything in front of me so's I can see what's going on. She brushes her arm. “I feel like bugs are all over me.”

The real Melissa was a little fairy who lived in a forest; I learned that when we studied Greek mythology in school last year. Well, this Melissa don't know anything about being in the woods. Her parents must have forgot that part of their studies. But then I remember the Greek Melissa got turned into a worm and then a queen bee, so I guess her parents got it right after all.

“You shouldn't be scared of bugs,” I say.
Since
you are one!

“Oh, please,” she says without turning around. “You probably still catch lightning bugs.”

As a matter of fact, I do. “Scorpion!” I shout.

“Aaah!”
Melissa screams and stumbles backward into Lottie.

I walk up and pick up a twig. “Oops, my mistake.” I toss the twig to the side and stand behind Eddie so's they can't see my smiling face.

Lottie chuckles. Well, I'm glad to see she ain't lost her sense of humor. I have to hang on to Eddie's shoulders, that's how hard it is to hold in my laughter.

“Violet,” he says, quiet and low like he's correcting me. But I see his cheeks working into a smile.

Melissa glances at me and Eddie and a shadow crosses her face so quick I almost miss it. I've seen that expression on her face before, like she's filing information.

We start walking again. “Don't worry,” Lottie tells Melissa. “There's nothing in here to hurt you.”

“Coral snakes,” I say. “Brown violin spiders.”

“Alligators,” Eddie adds.

This is too much for Melissa. She stamps her feet into position and halts. “That isn't true.” She looks at Lottie. “Right?”

Lottie raises her eyebrows and shrugs like she's apologizing for the woods.

Melissa's eyes dart around the trees and then she fixes them on me. “I think you're right, Lottie. Nothing in here can hurt me.” She tosses her head and starts walking again.

The hard ground we been walking on becomes muck as we get closer to the cave. I see Melissa's heels sink, but she don't complain. I have to give her credit on that, much as I hate to.

We're walking level with the river now. Cypress knees stick up out of the ground, some about two feet tall. I remember reading that gnomes were legendary creatures, probably based on cypress knees. I can see how that happened—the knees are all gnarly and misshapen, and they stand in groups. Like right now, they're all facing the river, silent, like they're waiting for us to leave so's they can continue their magical lives.

We get up to the cave, which is really a huge, old cypress tree that's hollowed out with a split big enough to squeeze into. The roots reach down around you and the top closes up over your head. Once, we got six kids in there.

Melissa scrunches up her face. “This is it?” She looks around at us. “I thought you meant a real cave. This is just a tree.”

“You ever been inside a tree before?” I ask.

“I'm not going in there,” she says. “It's probably filled with bugs and spiders.”

I snort. “You're scared!” I step closer to the tree. “Well, I'm not.” Just as I'm about to push forward, Melissa squeezes past me and into the tree. I stick my face up to the opening to see how she likes it. She pulls her shoulders in and her arms are clamped to her sides.

She shudders. “Move, move! I have to get out!”

I move aside and she ducks and squeezes out, shuddering all the way down to her feet. She laughs at herself. “I felt like a snake was going to drop on me!” She ain't even embarrassed, just being truthful. “It's dirty in there.”

“It
is
kind of dirty,” Lottie says, squeezing in. “But kind of cool, too.”

There's plenty of room for me, so I slip through sideways. It really is like being inside a cave. It's so dark, I can't hardly see anything, but once me and Eddie came with flashlights and we saw that the top part is charred. Maybe someone lived in this tree and had campfires. Gaps at the bottom let a little light in and you can see through to the river. Sometimes, when the wind blows, it makes a sound like you hear when you put a seashell up to your ear.

Flecks of bark hang in Lottie's hair when we step out.

“I wonder if any criminals used this as a hideaway,” I say as I pick the bark out of Lottie's hair.

“Where would they sleep?” Melissa asks.

Good point. Even I wouldn't lie down in that mud. Still, it could be a hiding place for gold or treasure. It could be a secret thinking place.

“Should we go now?” Melissa's already heading back the way we came.

“Want to see the bridge?” Lottie asks.

Melissa shakes her head. “I'm kind of itchy.”

Lottie looks at me. “Should we go now?”

I shrug and step back into the cave. I'm not ready to leave it yet. I like the way the breeze sounds in here and how I can see the river through the bottom.

Eddie steps in beside me. I can barely make out his face. Our shoulders brush as he jostles in.

I bend down and point through one of the gaps. “Doesn't it seem like you can see clearer from here?”

Eddie crouches beside me. “Makes it seem secret.”

Melissa bends in the doorway. She smirks. Raising one eyebrow, she says, “What are you two
doing
in here?”

We're standing alone in a tree. Heat flushes my face. I squeeze out of the tree, leaving Eddie by himself. My lips curl into a snarl when I look at her. “Nothing.”

Melissa makes her voice smooth as syrup. “Are you sure?”

“Shut up,” Eddie says, brushing himself off as he comes out of the cave.

Melissa turns. “Whatever,” she says, walking past us to Lottie. Melissa hums quiet, but the kind of quiet humming that's meant for other people to hear. I recognize the tune instantly:
“K-I-S-S-I-N-G;
first comes love, then comes marriage . . .”

Heat deepens in my face. I cross my arms and press my lips together. I stomp down the path and don't even stop when Lottie shouts, “Violet, wait!” I especially don't stop when Eddie yells it.

13

I'm sitting in my pew, third row on the right, same as always. I don't see Eddie, and Lottie's not here yet, but Momma and I are always early on account of her being part of the choir. Before we left the house, I looked at
Today's Word
; it was
vicissitude.
This word has too many
S
s and sounds like a snake hissing. It means change. I didn't like it. I threw
vicissitude
out.

“Violet!” Tootsie runs down the aisle and climbs onto my lap. The choir members and musicians are warming up, so the sanctuary is filled with lots of different tunes. Service is fixing to start.

Lottie files into the pew, followed by the rest of her family. “Hey, Violet.”

“New shirt?” My eyes run over the sequins. “I like it,” I say. “It's sparkly.”

“Isn't it pretty? Do you really like it?” She's about to say something else, but the choir bursts into song and we jump to our feet.

When the singing is over, Lottie gets real fidgety, looking around and glancing at her watch. The pastor is talking about how when Jesus chose his disciples, he gave some of them new names, like Peter, whose name used to be Simon. He gave them new names because they were now new people. I've heard this part before, so for the third time, I crane my neck to see what Lottie's craning her neck for.

I pass Lottie a note.
What's so interesting back
there?

Just want to see if Melissa's here,
she writes back. I huff and slip the paper into my Bible. Is that all? Just looking for old gooseneck Melissa?

I sit forward and try to concentrate on the sermon. Then all the people to my right start shifting or standing and I look down to see Melissa coming down the row. Could she sit at the end of the pew? Could she sit in the back of the church? No, she's got to work her way to us because, God Almighty, she is a princess. Her parents sit in the row behind us. Lord, these people have a habit of disturbing the spirit.

Then I see Melissa's shirt, sequined and sparkly—the same one as Lottie's. My back curls into a tight whip as I lean and stare at her.

“Excuse me,” she whispers as she tries to pass me. I roll my eyes, then shift my legs, but only a little.

Melissa shakes her head and waits. I don't look at her; I don't move. Don't even think you're sitting between me and Lottie. But then Lottie's family moves down, and Melissa squeezes past me and sits between Lottie and Tootsie. Tootsie beams.

I hope it ain't a sin to be mad in church.

I try to stare straight ahead, but the corner of my eye is picking up all the sparkliness that's happening to my left. Even the diamond chip in Lottie's watch twinkles with light.

I pull the notepaper from my Bible and scribble furiously.
Why is she wearing your shirt?

Her mom bought them at the mall. Mine
was free.

I think she added the last part to make me feel better, like she got the shirt by accident. I pout my lips and slam back against the pew.

Now Melissa hands her a note. Without turning my head, I slide my eyes over the words. Her cursive letters swirl over the paper:
You look
great!
Well sure, of course she would think so; they both got on the same shirt. Then I'm hit like a bolt of lightning—she wants to be twins with Lottie.

My body tightens. I clench my teeth. Lottie smiles at her and writes something back. I can't see it.

I scribble my own note and push it into her right hand.
What's she writing about?

Nothing,
she writes back.
Just stuff about her shirt.

On her left comes Melissa's note. I lean over to get a better view:
You have a really good shape! Did
you talk to your mom about
—

“Violet!” Lottie snaps and turns the note over. She looks mad.

Something's going on. Why won't she let me see? I pretend to sit back in the pew, but I use my slow-moving statue skills to spy.

Lottie writes something quick. All I've managed to see is:
and what if she says no?

“Who says ‘no'?” I whisper in her ear.

“Violet!” Lottie says, then clamps her hand over her mouth. Her mom leans forward and frowns at her. Lottie slips the note to Melissa, shifts over to me, and goes, “It's nothing, okay?”

I lean my head toward her. “It's something, or you wouldn't be hiding it.”

We sit there, all three of us, facing forward for a minute. Then Melissa slips another note into Lottie's hand. Despite my best efforts, I can't see the words.

I touch Lottie's arm. “Is it about me?” I whisper.

“No! Violet, please.” Her eyes plead with me. Is this the privacy she was talking about? From me? My lips press together.

Lottie starts to write again. Melissa takes the paper from her, scribbles, then hands it back. Lottie cups it with her hands and reads it between her fingers. My Lord, what could be so important? I'm tired of this mysterious note. I try to snatch it. Lottie whips the note away from me, and then her mom stretches across Tootsie and Melissa and grips her arm. In a low voice, she says to Lottie, “Stop, or I'll pass my own note across your bottom.”

Tears fill Lottie's eyes and pink creeps up her neck and into her face. She slides the note into her Bible and doesn't look at anyone for the rest of the service.

Neither do I, 'cause I'm thinking about how to get ahold of that note, but service lets out before I can develop a plan. If I changed my name today, it would be Suspicious Violet or Mad Violet. Well, maybe not Mad Violet, because sometimes “mad” means crazy, so I'd have to think twice about that. But I only have to think once about Lottie's new name: Benedict Arnold.

14

Yesterday, I was boiling hot mad in church when Melissa and Lottie were passing notes back and forth and Lottie wouldn't even tell me what they were talking about. When church was over, I grabbed Momma off that platform and said, “Come on, let's go.” I barely even looked at Lottie when we left.

But later, after Momma and I had gotten a good ways down the road, the Townsends' truck roared by. Mr. Townsend honked the horn and the girls leaned out and shouted, “Violet! Violet!” Lottie hung out the window and waved. “See you in a few!”

Well, my heart swelled up and I waved back and watched their truck tear down their driveway, spinning out a cloud of dust.

“Going to the fish fry?” Momma asked.

“Yep.” 'Course I was. I couldn't be mad anymore, not after the whole Townsend family practically fell out of the truck to make sure I was coming.

“I think I may take a nap, then,” Momma said, as if this wasn't the same conversation we had every Sunday.

After she lay down, I got myself ready and ran over to Lottie's.

“Where's Melissa?” I asked Lottie soon as I walked through her back door. Figured I better prepare myself.

Lottie raised her eyebrows and handed me a paring knife for the lemons. “I think Melissa's done with fish fries.”

“That's too bad,” I said. I didn't mean it, of course, but it seemed like the right thing to say. I made a clean slice through a lemon and it squirted me on the cheek.

“Yep,” Lottie said. “Just you and me.”

I couldn't help but smile even though I'd just stuck a lemon in my mouth.

So things are right back to normal today. Lottie and I are in her kitchen making crusts for apple pies. I'm pressing out a perfect pastry circle. This is a chore I like, pushing the rolling pin like a steamroller across the dough. I stretch the dough till it's almost breaking. Then I poke two holes in the top half for eyes and a bunch of holes, snowman-style, for a smile.