gave any film to that newspaper, Sam," he said. "Besides, I never took a shot like that." He said he took close-ups of students, but there were no wide-angle photographs of crowds. He sounded calm and sure, and even though I believed him, I didn't want to.
"So how did the newspaper get those pictures?"
"I think there was a guy from the school," Perry said. "But he never said who he was with."
"We believe you, Perry," my mother said.
"They threw trash all over our yard," I said.
"I know, I know," he said. "I'm here to help."
"You don't have to, Perry, really," my mother said. "I don't want to make you late for work."
"This is bad," I said. "Miss Jenkins won't like this one bit." I realized then that I was thinking of both my school and my mother's. Who in their right mind would ever ask me to the dance now? Perry had brought nothing but trouble into both our lives. I waited, looking from Perry to my mother, the three of us just standing there, breathing.
The phone rang again and I left my mother with Perry to answer it. "What is it now?" I screamed into the receiver.
"Hi, sweetie. This is Mary Alice's mom. Is your mom there?"
"Oh, I'm so sorry, Mrs. McLemore," I said. "Let me get her."
When I ran to the front door again, my mother and Perry separated, as though they had been caught doing something.
"Mom, you have a phone call." My mother went to her room to pick up the other phone.
I listened to them talk from the kitchen phone while I watched Perry outside sweeping the walk. "I know this is a difficult time," Mrs. McLemore said, as though someone in our family had just died. "But maybe we can help." Mrs. McLemore wanted to know if we could come over for dinner in a week or so. I gently replaced the receiver and ran into my mother's room, nodding over and over, doing a silent clap as soon as she accepted the invitation.
***
When I sat down for lunch in the cafeteria at school, everyone stood up and left. Everyone had seen my mother in the paper.
Why did we have to eat with anyone anyway?
I tried to convince myself. Who'd made that rule? I didn't have anything to say to Mary Alice or her friends anyway. I looked around and saw Ears sitting alone, staring off and out the window. I sat across from him. He stared while I opened up my parchment paper.
"Don't you have a lunch?"
He said no. He said his father lost his job. "He joined a union. People don't like unions here. They think they're Communist. My dad's from Mississippi. He's no Russian."
"My dad's from here, too." I gave Ears half my peanut butter and banana sandwich. Then we took our minds off being hungry, reading out loud to each other from a comic book about superheroes.
After lunch we had a free period, so Ears and I stayed on the blacktop. There were still cicada shells everywhere, in the grass, and up and down tree trunks. A few were in the midst of coming out of their shells in slow motion, and it looked obscene, like you were seeing them doing something private.
"It's a K-2 sky," I said.
"What's that mean?"
"You use a K-2 yellow filter on your camera to darken the sky and bring out the clouds," I said. "Makes a better photograph. That's what my mom's friend Perry says."
Ears just nodded. "It looks cemetery out here to me."
"You mean sad?"
"That's what I said," Ears whispered to me. "Reminds me of something out of the Bible." Ears was a lot like my cousin Tine. He made me miss her.
"Which part?" I asked.
He shrugged. "That part when God gets mad?"
After that weekend the light changed altogether. Shadows crossed everything: the lawns, the houses, and the trees. In the afternoon, as I walked home from school, I marveled at how the sun lit up the tops of trees while all the undergrowth hovered in a green-black range. At home, Willa Mae and I threw open all the windows to let the cool inside.
***
A week after my mother's picture appeared in the paper, a week of eating lunch every day with Ears, a week of me just standing around outside or in
"So how did the newspaper get those pictures?"
"I think there was a guy from the school," Perry said. "But he never said who he was with."
"We believe you, Perry," my mother said.
"They threw trash all over our yard," I said.
"I know, I know," he said. "I'm here to help."
"You don't have to, Perry, really," my mother said. "I don't want to make you late for work."
"This is bad," I said. "Miss Jenkins won't like this one bit." I realized then that I was thinking of both my school and my mother's. Who in their right mind would ever ask me to the dance now? Perry had brought nothing but trouble into both our lives. I waited, looking from Perry to my mother, the three of us just standing there, breathing.
The phone rang again and I left my mother with Perry to answer it. "What is it now?" I screamed into the receiver.
"Hi, sweetie. This is Mary Alice's mom. Is your mom there?"
"Oh, I'm so sorry, Mrs. McLemore," I said. "Let me get her."
When I ran to the front door again, my mother and Perry separated, as though they had been caught doing something.
"Mom, you have a phone call." My mother went to her room to pick up the other phone.
I listened to them talk from the kitchen phone while I watched Perry outside sweeping the walk. "I know this is a difficult time," Mrs. McLemore said, as though someone in our family had just died. "But maybe we can help." Mrs. McLemore wanted to know if we could come over for dinner in a week or so. I gently replaced the receiver and ran into my mother's room, nodding over and over, doing a silent clap as soon as she accepted the invitation.
***
When I sat down for lunch in the cafeteria at school, everyone stood up and left. Everyone had seen my mother in the paper.
Why did we have to eat with anyone anyway?
I tried to convince myself. Who'd made that rule? I didn't have anything to say to Mary Alice or her friends anyway. I looked around and saw Ears sitting alone, staring off and out the window. I sat across from him. He stared while I opened up my parchment paper.
"Don't you have a lunch?"
He said no. He said his father lost his job. "He joined a union. People don't like unions here. They think they're Communist. My dad's from Mississippi. He's no Russian."
"My dad's from here, too." I gave Ears half my peanut butter and banana sandwich. Then we took our minds off being hungry, reading out loud to each other from a comic book about superheroes.
After lunch we had a free period, so Ears and I stayed on the blacktop. There were still cicada shells everywhere, in the grass, and up and down tree trunks. A few were in the midst of coming out of their shells in slow motion, and it looked obscene, like you were seeing them doing something private.
"It's a K-2 sky," I said.
"What's that mean?"
"You use a K-2 yellow filter on your camera to darken the sky and bring out the clouds," I said. "Makes a better photograph. That's what my mom's friend Perry says."
Ears just nodded. "It looks cemetery out here to me."
"You mean sad?"
"That's what I said," Ears whispered to me. "Reminds me of something out of the Bible." Ears was a lot like my cousin Tine. He made me miss her.
"Which part?" I asked.
He shrugged. "That part when God gets mad?"
After that weekend the light changed altogether. Shadows crossed everything: the lawns, the houses, and the trees. In the afternoon, as I walked home from school, I marveled at how the sun lit up the tops of trees while all the undergrowth hovered in a green-black range. At home, Willa Mae and I threw open all the windows to let the cool inside.
***
A week after my mother's picture appeared in the paper, a week of eating lunch every day with Ears, a week of me just standing around outside or in
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