I think on this for a minute.
“Well,” I say out loud, but in my head I have no idea how I’ll finish this sentence. Then it comes to me. “I know! I’ll go to the bathroom right when I get to school ‘cause that’s when the janitor cleans them and leaves the doors open for them to air out! I’ll click that thingy in the middle of the doorknob that keeps it from locking when it closes and that way I’ll be able to slip in when you tell me he’s coming!”
Now, that’s a darn good plan, if you ask me. Foolproof. Emma and Forsyth look like they’re thinking the same thing. They’re both smiling like cats that ate canaries.
“Okay, then how’re we going to get everyone in there so they can see him after he falls in?”
I’m thinking again. How come I’ve got to come up with the whole dang thing?
“How ‘bout we count to ten so we’re sure he’s falling in and we tell anyone who’s around us in the hall that there’s a bag of free candy in the boys’ washroom.” Emma shouts this out she’s so excited. “Everyone loves candy. Especially when it’s free!”
That’s my little sister for you. She always comes through in the clutch.
“That’s it, then,” I say as Forsyth falls back on her bed of daisies. “Don’t forget to bring the Crisco in tomorrow morning,” I remind her.
“I won’t.” She smiles up at the ceiling. “This time tomorrow Sonny Parker’ll be the laughingstock of the whole entire school.”
Emma stands up and stretches her arms up over her head—after leaning back on them for so long I expect they’re stiff. “We better go on home before Richard gets to five.”
“You asleep, yet?” Emma whispers, knowing full well there’s no way I’m sleeping.
“No.”
“You reckon it’ll work for real?”
“It cain’t not,” I say, but inside my head I’ve been thinking it over and now I’m not so sure.
“What if he doesn’t have to go to the bathroom?” she asks.
“He’s got to go sometime,” I say. “Besides, say he doesn’t go after second period. We just scoot the plan up and do it after fourth.”
“You think?”
“It’s foolproof.”
“You’re right,” she yawns. “It’s foolproof.”
I don’t remember sleeping, but I must have because the next thing I know Momma’s calling up to us from the landing. “Rise and shine!” She sounds like she’s in a good mood, but we won’t know for sure till we get downstairs and see what’s waiting for us in the kitchen. When the cereal bowls are already out on the counter we’re home free. Sometimes, though, she says, “You got arms to reach up, don’tcha?” And other times she’s not there at all … still sleeping. Sure enough it’s a breakfast-bowl-on-the-counter morning. Phee-you. One less thing to think about today.
We ride the bus to school and there isn’t much to say about that except that Patty Lettigo (who everyone calls Patty Let-Me-Go and then runs away like she’s holding on to them too tight for real) glares at us when we walk up the aisle to the back of the bus where there’s an open two-seater. Patty Lettigo always glares. It’s her job or something.
My stomach’s in knots. Emma’s clutching her books close to her chest even after she sits down so I’m betting she’s as nervous as I am.
“Remember,” I whisper to her with my hand up to her ear just in case anyone can hear over the loud bus engine, “get the bag of Crisco from Forsyth the minute you see her at your locker and then pass it to me when I come by after homeroom.”
“Okay, okay, stop reminding me,” she hisses at me.
“I’m just saying.”
“I got it.”
But after we pass three farms and the second flashing stoplight she leans over and whispers in my ear. “Where’re we meeting up again after?”
“Jeez! We’ve been over this a million times! At the end of the hall that leads to the gym. You’re going to be the signal girl.”
“Right,” she nods, remembering. “Got it.”
“You sure?”
“Yes. Sure as manure.”
I smile, thinking about how I told her that Daddy always used to say that to me. He’d rhyme the words and it made me laugh every time.
The bus lurches to the curb right in front of our school, squeaky brakes and smelly fumes. Emma hits my arm and I look to where she’s looking and sure enough it’s Sonny at the bike stand, pulling his books out of the trap that’s fixed over his back wheel.
“Here we go,” I say to no one in particular, and we head in through the front doors just in time for the first bell.
“Bye,” she calls to me, which is weird ‘cause we never say goodbye to each other at school—we just sort of walk away. But in a nice way. Yep. She’s nervous all right.
Homeroom drags by so slowly now it’s me who can feel her hair grow. Miss Fullman calls attendance and everyone’s got to add their funny little thing they say back instead of “here” like boring old me. Mary Sellers: “Is the best!” (everyone laughs—she changes this every day). Liam Naughton: “Yell-oh!” (laughs). Darryl Becksdale: “Who?” (not so many laughs, but still better than “here”). The list goes slowly while Miss Fullman gives everyone the evil eye and says, “People. That’s enough now, people,” and waits for the laughter to die down before she calls the next one on the list.
The second bell rings almost as loud as my heart is beating. It just occurred to me that this whole thing is riding on me. I cain’t chicken out now. I just cain’t. Forsyth would never speak to me again.
First period goes by even slower than homeroom did, but the good thing is we’re right on track. Forsyth passed a slab of Crisco wrapped in plastic to Emma, who gave it to me just like we planned. Now I’m sitting here in second period with Crisco grease in the space between the snap and zipper of my pants and my stomach. I wore a looser shirt than I normally wear for this exact reason. Planning ahead works every time.
Bzzzzzzz. Second period is over and as we file out of the room I bump into two desks because I’m concentrating on my heart, which is beating in my chest like a bird flapping its wings against a cage, trying to get free. Oh, Lord, please help me carry this out.
Out in the hallway in front of the gym Forsyth is standing in front of the boys’ washroom like she should be but I cain’t see Emma over the heads of the other kids in the hallway. I didn’t think about how tough it’d be to see her in the crowd! Oh, God. Oh, God. Emma? Where are you?
And then she appears—standing in between Betsy Rut-ledge and Collie McGrath, talking
