good. I’ll leave it up to you.”
“But you gotta stay here and live with us.”
“I can’t do that. Could you run away and leave your family?”
“No, ’cause my family’s not mean to me.”
“Parts of my family aren’t mean either. That’s why I have to go back.”
“Make them come here.”
Tears stung his eyes. “You just don’t understand anything , do you? Go to sleep, you little apple-throwing monkey.”
He left the room, flicking the light switch on the faded rose-papered wall. She lay in the darkness, wrestling with her conscience and her sorrow. Mama and Daddy said family matters were private, that the family was somethingto be proud of—to fight for. And that meant holding the truth close to your heart and keeping your head up when stupid girls in kindergarten teased you.
So she never told anyone how ashamed and angry their teasing made her.
But Artemas needed to know he wasn’t alone.
She scooted out of bed and tiptoed through the house, into the living room, where he lay on the couch in the darkness with one of Grandma’s quilts over him and a pillow jammed under his head. Lily crept to his side, sat down cross-legged in the floor, and poked him on the shoulder.
“Go back to bed, for God’s sake,” he muttered.
Tears slid down her face. In a small, choked voice she said, “Don’t feel sad, Artemas. At kindergarten they call me Monster Head, because I’m so big. I bet it’ll be even worse in first grade.”
He turned on his side. She could feel him looking at her. “They just wish they were like you.” His voice was soft, friendly.
She sniffed in surprise. “Why?”
“Because you’re a MacKenzie, and MacKenzies are special.”
That was too easy. She persisted. “And a boy in Sunday School said Daddy is … is a cripple . And that Mama is … a nobody , because she was poor and nobody wanted her when she was little.” She bowed her head, tears falling freely on the undershirt wadded in her lap. “I hit him with a rock.”
Artemas gave her a kind little shove on the shoulder, to get her attention. “Listen to me. Don’t ever let anybody make you feel bad. I wish my mother and father were just like yours.”
She stared at him, her tears evaporating. “You do?”
“I do.” He tugged lightly on a strand of her hair. “We’ll make everybody sorry they made us feel bad, won’t we?”
“Yeah!”
“And as long as we know what’s right, it doesn’t matter what anybody else thinks, does it?”
“No!” This was startling. He understood . Nobody else would ever understand better. Lily crossed her arms on the couch and pillowed her head on them, close to his side. He draped his arm around her shoulders, awkwardly at first, then relaxing. She gave a peaceful little sigh, and was asleep within a minute.
Mr. MacKenzie cranked the truck and sat in the driver’s seat, waiting. He wasn’t one for long good-byes, he said. Neither was Artemas.
“Here’s my address at school,” he said, drawing a slip of paper from his knapsack and handing it to Mrs. MacKenzie. “I thought, maybe, sometimes—”
“We’ll write to you,” Mrs. MacKenzie answered softly.
Lily, still wearing her nightshirt, whimpered, ran forward, and threw her arms around his knees. Looking up at him, she cried, “I want you to stay!”
Shaken, he dropped to his heels and gripped her shoulders. “I can’t stay, and I can’t come back. When you’re as old as I am, you’ll understand.”
“Why did you come if you won’t stay?” she insisted, tears sliding between the freckles on her round cheeks.
“Because I promised. Now, be a big girl and behave.”
“I love you!” She wiggled out of his grip and put her arms around his neck. Mortified, he sat rigidly still. Then, awkwardly, he put his arms around her for a quick squeeze. “Good-bye, Lily,” he said against her hair. “I love you too. Remember what I said last night. And if you ever need help, you write and tell me.
“But you gotta stay here and live with us.”
“I can’t do that. Could you run away and leave your family?”
“No, ’cause my family’s not mean to me.”
“Parts of my family aren’t mean either. That’s why I have to go back.”
“Make them come here.”
Tears stung his eyes. “You just don’t understand anything , do you? Go to sleep, you little apple-throwing monkey.”
He left the room, flicking the light switch on the faded rose-papered wall. She lay in the darkness, wrestling with her conscience and her sorrow. Mama and Daddy said family matters were private, that the family was somethingto be proud of—to fight for. And that meant holding the truth close to your heart and keeping your head up when stupid girls in kindergarten teased you.
So she never told anyone how ashamed and angry their teasing made her.
But Artemas needed to know he wasn’t alone.
She scooted out of bed and tiptoed through the house, into the living room, where he lay on the couch in the darkness with one of Grandma’s quilts over him and a pillow jammed under his head. Lily crept to his side, sat down cross-legged in the floor, and poked him on the shoulder.
“Go back to bed, for God’s sake,” he muttered.
Tears slid down her face. In a small, choked voice she said, “Don’t feel sad, Artemas. At kindergarten they call me Monster Head, because I’m so big. I bet it’ll be even worse in first grade.”
He turned on his side. She could feel him looking at her. “They just wish they were like you.” His voice was soft, friendly.
She sniffed in surprise. “Why?”
“Because you’re a MacKenzie, and MacKenzies are special.”
That was too easy. She persisted. “And a boy in Sunday School said Daddy is … is a cripple . And that Mama is … a nobody , because she was poor and nobody wanted her when she was little.” She bowed her head, tears falling freely on the undershirt wadded in her lap. “I hit him with a rock.”
Artemas gave her a kind little shove on the shoulder, to get her attention. “Listen to me. Don’t ever let anybody make you feel bad. I wish my mother and father were just like yours.”
She stared at him, her tears evaporating. “You do?”
“I do.” He tugged lightly on a strand of her hair. “We’ll make everybody sorry they made us feel bad, won’t we?”
“Yeah!”
“And as long as we know what’s right, it doesn’t matter what anybody else thinks, does it?”
“No!” This was startling. He understood . Nobody else would ever understand better. Lily crossed her arms on the couch and pillowed her head on them, close to his side. He draped his arm around her shoulders, awkwardly at first, then relaxing. She gave a peaceful little sigh, and was asleep within a minute.
Mr. MacKenzie cranked the truck and sat in the driver’s seat, waiting. He wasn’t one for long good-byes, he said. Neither was Artemas.
“Here’s my address at school,” he said, drawing a slip of paper from his knapsack and handing it to Mrs. MacKenzie. “I thought, maybe, sometimes—”
“We’ll write to you,” Mrs. MacKenzie answered softly.
Lily, still wearing her nightshirt, whimpered, ran forward, and threw her arms around his knees. Looking up at him, she cried, “I want you to stay!”
Shaken, he dropped to his heels and gripped her shoulders. “I can’t stay, and I can’t come back. When you’re as old as I am, you’ll understand.”
“Why did you come if you won’t stay?” she insisted, tears sliding between the freckles on her round cheeks.
“Because I promised. Now, be a big girl and behave.”
“I love you!” She wiggled out of his grip and put her arms around his neck. Mortified, he sat rigidly still. Then, awkwardly, he put his arms around her for a quick squeeze. “Good-bye, Lily,” he said against her hair. “I love you too. Remember what I said last night. And if you ever need help, you write and tell me.
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