hurried to the window to see what my brother had done this time.
Brody’s car was gone, and I couldn’t see more than the bed of Tommy’s truck from either window, so I raced downstairs.
Tommy, red-faced from running, reached into the opened window and grabbed the keys. “Damn it, Boohoo, you could have smashed my truck, and you, both!” He yanked the door open and pulled Boohoo out of the front seat, as Aunt Verdella charged into the yard.
“Don’t yell at him like that, Tommy,” I snapped, to which he told me that
somebody
had better start yelling at him. “What he did was dangerous!” Tommy had genuine fear in his eyes, and I closed my mouth and swallowed the rest of the rant that was about to come.
“I wasn’t gonna drive it,” Boohoo said. “I was just gonna move it so I could get Hoppy.” He looked at Aunt Verdella, then pointed under the truck. “Hoppy’s under there and Tommy drives bad.”
We were all talking at once then. Tommy lecturing Boohoo—and defending his driving—me tattling to Aunt Verdella about what he’d done to Jo’s gown, and Aunt Verdellacalling to Boohoo, who had slipped underneath the truck to find the toad.
When Boohoo came out, he was clutching Hoppy without mercy and grinning. That is, until he saw our faces. “I just wanted to get my toad,” he said.
“Oh, Boohoo,” Aunt Verdella said, still huffing from her hop over. “I know you don’t mean to be naughty, but … well honey, you go back home now,” she said. “And up to your room and stay there for a half an hour until you figure out what you did wrong.”
“One hour!” I snapped, because I was still shaking, even though I knew full well that Aunt Verdella would let him out in ten minutes if he cried, which he was already doing.
After Aunt Verdella marched Boohoo back to her house, Tommy left, and I trudged back upstairs to stare at the ruined gown. Then—partially because I dreaded telling Linda what happened, and partially because I was determined to get at least
something
accomplished by the end of the day—I flipped on Simon & Garfunkel and sat down to finish the whole bridesmaid’s dress.
It was about twenty minutes after the truck fiasco when I felt someone in the room. I turned, and there he was. Boohoo. Standing in the doorway. “What are you doing over here? You’re supposed to be in your room. I heard Aunt Verdella yell at you a few seconds ago, now get back there. You have to listen when—”
“She wasn’t yellin’ at
me
,” he said. “She was yellin’ at
you
.”
“Boohoo, please. Go. I’ll come get you when I’m done here.” I didn’t look him straight in the face, because I’d calmed down and knew that if he looked sad, I’d be pampering him every bit as much as Aunt Verdella.
“She was,” he said. “Because somebody’s here.” He mumbleda name, but his chin was tucked as he struggled to tuck the line of yarn dangling from his pocket back in.
“
Vinny?
I don’t know any Vinny,” I said.
I reached over to the stereo, lowering the volume, just as he was saying, “No.
Winnie
—not Vinnie. Winnie. Like Winnie the Pooh.”
My body went taut, and my heart started thumping in my ears. I put my hand over my chest, just like Aunt Verdella always did. “Winnalee? Was that the name, Boohoo?
Winnalee?
”
“I dunno. But she’s peeing and Aunt Verdella is crying.”
I hurried to the window and leaned into it so fast that I bumped my forehead on the glass.
There was a van in the driveway, painted with wild psychedelic colors and shapes I couldn’t make out except for the purple peace symbol on the roof.
Aunt Verdella was in the middle of her yard, one hand over her heart and the other working as though she was trying to scoop me from my house. She stopped and ran-hopped to the front steps, her arms flailing, then ran back to the center of the yard to gesture again. Back and forth she went, her arms scooping, clutching her chest, her mouth, the sides of her
Brody’s car was gone, and I couldn’t see more than the bed of Tommy’s truck from either window, so I raced downstairs.
Tommy, red-faced from running, reached into the opened window and grabbed the keys. “Damn it, Boohoo, you could have smashed my truck, and you, both!” He yanked the door open and pulled Boohoo out of the front seat, as Aunt Verdella charged into the yard.
“Don’t yell at him like that, Tommy,” I snapped, to which he told me that
somebody
had better start yelling at him. “What he did was dangerous!” Tommy had genuine fear in his eyes, and I closed my mouth and swallowed the rest of the rant that was about to come.
“I wasn’t gonna drive it,” Boohoo said. “I was just gonna move it so I could get Hoppy.” He looked at Aunt Verdella, then pointed under the truck. “Hoppy’s under there and Tommy drives bad.”
We were all talking at once then. Tommy lecturing Boohoo—and defending his driving—me tattling to Aunt Verdella about what he’d done to Jo’s gown, and Aunt Verdellacalling to Boohoo, who had slipped underneath the truck to find the toad.
When Boohoo came out, he was clutching Hoppy without mercy and grinning. That is, until he saw our faces. “I just wanted to get my toad,” he said.
“Oh, Boohoo,” Aunt Verdella said, still huffing from her hop over. “I know you don’t mean to be naughty, but … well honey, you go back home now,” she said. “And up to your room and stay there for a half an hour until you figure out what you did wrong.”
“One hour!” I snapped, because I was still shaking, even though I knew full well that Aunt Verdella would let him out in ten minutes if he cried, which he was already doing.
After Aunt Verdella marched Boohoo back to her house, Tommy left, and I trudged back upstairs to stare at the ruined gown. Then—partially because I dreaded telling Linda what happened, and partially because I was determined to get at least
something
accomplished by the end of the day—I flipped on Simon & Garfunkel and sat down to finish the whole bridesmaid’s dress.
It was about twenty minutes after the truck fiasco when I felt someone in the room. I turned, and there he was. Boohoo. Standing in the doorway. “What are you doing over here? You’re supposed to be in your room. I heard Aunt Verdella yell at you a few seconds ago, now get back there. You have to listen when—”
“She wasn’t yellin’ at
me
,” he said. “She was yellin’ at
you
.”
“Boohoo, please. Go. I’ll come get you when I’m done here.” I didn’t look him straight in the face, because I’d calmed down and knew that if he looked sad, I’d be pampering him every bit as much as Aunt Verdella.
“She was,” he said. “Because somebody’s here.” He mumbleda name, but his chin was tucked as he struggled to tuck the line of yarn dangling from his pocket back in.
“
Vinny?
I don’t know any Vinny,” I said.
I reached over to the stereo, lowering the volume, just as he was saying, “No.
Winnie
—not Vinnie. Winnie. Like Winnie the Pooh.”
My body went taut, and my heart started thumping in my ears. I put my hand over my chest, just like Aunt Verdella always did. “Winnalee? Was that the name, Boohoo?
Winnalee?
”
“I dunno. But she’s peeing and Aunt Verdella is crying.”
I hurried to the window and leaned into it so fast that I bumped my forehead on the glass.
There was a van in the driveway, painted with wild psychedelic colors and shapes I couldn’t make out except for the purple peace symbol on the roof.
Aunt Verdella was in the middle of her yard, one hand over her heart and the other working as though she was trying to scoop me from my house. She stopped and ran-hopped to the front steps, her arms flailing, then ran back to the center of the yard to gesture again. Back and forth she went, her arms scooping, clutching her chest, her mouth, the sides of her
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