The Watsons Go to Birmingham--1963 Read online

  “Seems to me like you got a real bad memory. Who you think took all that stuff off your little behind all these years? What goes around goes around.”

  I was surprised he’d said anything, since Byron thought it was cool not to answer stuff when someone younger than you said it. But he wasn’t being completely nice. While I was talking he kept moving around me so if I wanted to look at him sideways I’d have to move too. It must have looked like we were doing some kind of square dance with me moving around like one foot was nailed to the porch.

  “Yeah, but I didn’t cry and whine.”

  Byron kept circling me and put his hand behind his ear. “What? I know you didn’t say what I think you said. You were the cryingest little clown there ever was.”

  With Byron walking around me like that we must have looked like we were in the Wild West and I was a wagon train and Byron was the Indians circling, waiting to attack.

  Byron changed directions and started going around the other way, and I acted like my other foot was nailed to the porch and started following him sideways that way.

  I knew there wasn’t much point saying a whole bunch more to him, so I said mostly to myself, “Man, I hate listening to Joey whining when I take all that junk off her at school.”

  “Well, listen here,” he said, “I’ma help you out.”

  I know it’s kind of stupid to think that someone who’s teasing you by going around in circles is going to help you out but I said anyway, “How?”

  He kept going round and round me. I bet we looked like the solar system, with me being the sun and Byron being the orbiting Earth.

  “I’ll talk to Joey. You know, kinda put her mind at ease.”

  This didn’t sound too good, and I got sick of By teasing me so I let the Earth orbit by itself.

  Joey finally came out and the three of us walked toward the bus stop.

  Byron started right in. “Baby Sis, I know you don’t like wearing all them clothes, right?”

  “Right, Byron, they get too hot!”

  “Yeah, I’m hip, but you know there’s a good reason why you gotta have all that stuff on.”

  “Why? Only me and Kenny wear this much junk.”

  “Yeah, but what you don’t know is that Momma’s only doing what’s right, there’s something she don’t want you two to know yet, but I know you some real mature kids so I’ma tell you anyway.”

  “O.K., tell us.”

  I wanted to know too. Even though I was in fourth grade I fell for a lot of the stuff Byron came up with. He made everything seem real interesting and important.

  “All right, but when Momma finally do tell you guys this stuff you gotta act like you surprised, deal?”

  Both me and Joey said, “Deal!”

  Byron looked around to make sure no one was listening, then said, “Have you ever noticed early in the morning some of the time you wake up and hear garbage trucks?”

  “Yeah.”

  “And have you noticed how when you get up and go to school you almost never see them trucks?”

  “Yeah.”

  “And have you ever noticed how when you do see one of them trucks it got a real big door in the back of it that opens and shuts so you can’t see what’s inside?”

  “Yeah.”

  “And have you noticed how that door is too big for even the biggest garbage can in the world?”

  “Yeah.”

  “And Joey, did you notice how Momma got kind of nervous and didn’t answer your question about not seeing people being frozed up on the street?”

  “Yeah.”

  Byron looked around and made us get real close to him.

  “O.K., now this is the part you gonna have to look surprised at when Momma tells you about it, but before I tell you you gonna have to practice acting surprised so I don’t get in trouble for letting you know, O.K.?”

  “Yeah!”

  “Kenny, you first.”

  I made my eyes get real big and threw my mouth open.

  “Not bad, but try it with some sound.”

  I made my eyes get real big, threw my mouth open and said, “What the …?”

  “Perfect. Baby Sis, your turn.”

  Joey did exactly what I did.

  “That’s good, but I think we need some action. Do all that stuff and throw your arms up like you just heard some real shocking stuff.”

  We did.

  “Cool, now do it together, three times. Go.”

  Me and Joey did it three times, then Byron said, “Listen real careful.” He looked around to make sure the coast was clear. “There’s a good reason Momma makes you all wear all them clothes, and it’s got to do with them big doors on the back of the garbage trucks, dig?”

  Me and Joey nodded our heads the best we could with all of those clothes on.

  “You see, some of them trucks ain’t real garbage trucks at all. Joey, you was right, every cold morning like this the streets is full of dead, froze people. Some of the time they freeze so quick they don’t even fall down, they just stand there froze solid!”

  Joey was believing every word. I wasn’t too sure.

  “But you notice that not everybody gets froze like that, it’s just them folks from down South who got that thin, down-home blood who freeze so quick. And you know Momma ain’t from Flint, she grew up in Alabama and that means half of y’all’s blood is real thin, so Momma’s worried that one morning it’s gonna be cold enough to freeze you all.

  “That’s where them fake garbage trucks come in. Every morning they go round picking the froze folks off the street, and they need them big doors because someone who got froze don’t bend in the middle and they wouldn’t fit in no regular ambulance.”

  Joey looked like she was hypnotized. Her mouth was open and her eyes were bugging.

  “But both of you gotta swear never, ever to try and look in the back of one of them trucks. I did it once and I’ma tell you, there ain’t nothin’ more horrible than seein’ hundreds of dead, froze-up Southern folks crammed up inside a garbage truck. It’s a sight that I’ma carry to my grave with me. So Joey, don’t be cryin’ and whinin’ when you put all them clothes on, it would break my heart to see my own family froze solid so’s they got throwed in one them fake garbage trucks.”

  Joey started crying.

  Byron told me, “Give my regards to Clark, Poindexter,” and left me there to wipe Joetta’s tears. I’ve got to admit, Joey didn’t do any more whining when she had to get into her winter clothes.

  ———

  The only good thing about Momma being afraid of the cold was that we were the only kids at Clark who got to wear real leather gloves.

  Most of the other kids had to wear cheap plastic mittens that would start to crack up after two or three snowball fights or one real cold day. Some of them had to wear socks on their hands and some of them just had to scrunch their arms up in the sleeves of their jackets. But Momma made sure we got real leather gloves with real rabbit’s fur on the inside of them, and I’m not bragging, but we got to go through two pairs a year each!

  At the end of every winter Momma and Dad would go downtown to Montgomery Ward’s when gloves were going on sale and buy six pairs for us kids. The only problem with having two pairs of gloves was that if you lost one pair you had to wear the next pair kindergarten-style. That meant Momma would run a string through the sleeves of your coat and tie two safety pins on the ends of the string, then she’d pin your gloves to the string and it was impossible to lose the gloves because every time you took them off they’d just hang from your coat.

  I pulled a trick on Momma to help Rufus. For a while I shared my first pair of gloves with him. I’d keep the right hand glove and he’d keep the left hand one, that way we both could get in snowball fights and, instead of Rufus scrunching both of his hands up in his sleeves, I’d scrunch one of mine and he’d scrunch one of his. This was O.K. for a while but then I figured that if I told Momma I’d lost my first pair she’d give me the second one and me and Ruf
us each would have a full pair of gloves.

  It worked! Momma put the second pair on my coat kindergarten-style and warned me, “This is the last one, Kenny, after this you won’t have anything for the rest of the year so be very careful.” I just about broke out laughing when she held me by the arms and looked right in my eyes and said, “Do you know what frostbite will do to you?”

  “Yes, Momma.” I looked sad on the outside but on the inside I was feeling great. I gave Rufus the right hand glove and everything was fine, for about a week.

  That’s when my second pair of gloves, kindergarten string, safety pins and all, disappeared out of the closet at school.

  Rufus had to let me borrow one of my old gloves back and we were back to scrunching one hand each up in our coat sleeves, but since Rufus was now the official owner of the gloves he got to keep the right hand one and I had to wear the left hand one.

  Two days later Larry Dunn stopped wearing socks on his hands and started wearing a pair of real leather gloves with real rabbit fur on the inside of them. The only difference between my old gloves and Larry’s new ones was that mine had been brown and Larry’s were black.

  Me and Rufus found this out when Larry ran up behind us and said, “This is Friday, y’all, time to do the laundry. Who’s gonna be first? Country Corn Flake? Cockeye Kenny?”

  He didn’t wait for us to make up our minds and grabbed me first. He said to Rufus, “If you run away during Cockeye’s wash I’ma hunt you down and hurt you bad, boy. This ain’t gonna take but a minute so just stick around.” Rufus stood there looking worried.

  Larry wasn’t like other bullies; he wasn’t happy taking a handful of snow and smashing it in your face and running off. Larry gave what he called Maytag Washes.

  With a Maytag Wash you had to go through all of the different cycles that a washing machine did, and even though when Larry gave you a Maytag all of the cycles were exactly the same, each part had a different name and the wash wasn’t done until you went through the final spin and had snow in every part of your face.

  Ever since Larry got these new leather gloves he was giving Super Maytag Washes because he could grind a whole lot more snow in your face for a whole lot longer since his hands weren’t getting as cold.

  Larry was tearing me up, I was crying even before the first rinse cycle was done and he finally let me go. After he washed Rufus up we started walking home and Rufus said, “Man, he stole your gloves.”

  Who didn’t know this? But you couldn’t prove it, and besides, my old gloves were brown and Larry’s new ones were black. “Uh-uh, mine were brown,” I said.

  Rufus dug a chunk of snow out of his jacket and said, “Look!”

  The snow was covered with black, so was all of the snow I pulled out of my outer coat. Larry Dunn had stolen my gloves, then painted them black with shoe polish!

  I didn’t know what to do. Sooner or later Momma was going to notice I only had one glove, and ever since I’d found out that half of my blood was that thin Southern kind I’d started wondering if frostbite really could do some damage to my hands. I couldn’t help myself, I sat on the curb and sniffled a couple of times, and finally cried. Rufus knew this was some real embarrassing stuff so he sat down beside me, looked the other way and acted like he didn’t see me crying.

  That’s how come we didn’t see By and Buphead walk up on us, I was too busy looking down trying not to be too obvious about crying and Rufus was too busy pretending he didn’t notice that I was.

  “What you cryin’ about, punk?”

  I made the mistake of telling Byron about my gloves and Larry Dunn.

  “Where’s he at?”

  “Washing kids’ faces over by the school.”

  “Come on.”

  Me and Rufus followed By and Buphead over to Clark. Larry Dunn was giving a Super Maytag to a fifth-grader. Byron interrupted the final rinse cycle and said, “Lemme see them gloves.”

  Larry Dunn said, “I ain’t.”

  By snatched Larry Dunn’s windbreaker with one hand, then touched his own mouth with his other hand.

  “Buphead, I thought for sure when I got up this morning that my lips was working fine, and now when I feel ’em like this they still seem like they movin’ just right. But if they working fine, how come this little fool ain’t doing what I told him to do?”

  Buphead shrugged and said, “Maybe the boy’s ears is bad.”

  “Maybe. Maybe I’ma have to use deaf-people language to talk to him. Maybe I’ma have to talk to him like that woman in The Miracle Worker.”

  All the Weird Watsons had seen that show together and the way they talked to deaf people in that movie wasn’t anything like the way Byron was talking to Larry Dunn. Byron’s style of deaf-language was just to yell real loud and slap the side of Larry’s head after each word.

  “Lemme!” Whack! “See!” Whack! “Them!” Whack! “Gloves!” Whack! “Young!” Whack! “Fool!” Whack-whackwhack!

  This had to be killing Larry Dunn.

  Larry didn’t cry or anything, he just stared at By and said, “I ain’t.”

  He talked real tough but he didn’t do a thing when Byron snatched the gloves off of his hands.

  The palms of the gloves were brown and the backs were black. Byron threw me the gloves. “Here, Kenny.”

  “Thanks, By.” That would have been fine with me but Byron wasn’t through.

  “Come here, Kenny.”

  I went and stood where Byron still had the neck of Larry Dunn’s skinny little windbreaker wadded up in his fist.

  “Pop him,” Byron said.

  I gave Larry Dunn a slap on the arm.

  “I’ma only tell you one more time. Pop him.”

  I hit Larry a little harder. I hoped he’d bend over and act like I’d killed him but he stood there trying to look cool.

  Byron kept his word and only told me that one time, then when I didn’t hit Larry hard enough, By punched me in the stomach. Hard! I didn’t even feel it because I had all those sweaters and jackets and coats on, but I had more sense than Larry, I acted like I’d been popped by Sugar Ray Robinson and staggered around, then fell on my knees holding my stomach. I said, “Uggggh …”

  A little crowd of kids started bunching up around us and Byron decided it was time to put on a show.

  I don’t know why bullies always have such a good sense of humor, but they do. Unless you were the one who was in the machine, you’d probably think that Larry Dunn’s Maytag Washes were pretty funny. And unless it was your jacket that was balled up in Byron’s fist with a crowd of kids bunching up, you’d have to say he was pretty funny too.

  I knew Byron wasn’t trying to help me anymore. He was just being mean.

  “Well, well, well, Mr. Dunn,” By said. “Today’s your lucky day!”

  By dragged Larry over to the chain-link fence that went all the way around Clark.

  “You wanna know why you so lucky today?”

  Larry Dunn didn’t say anything so Byron grabbed his hair and jerked his head up and down a couple of times. “I guess that means yes.”

  The crowd of kids was getting bigger and bigger and was loving this. Not because they wanted to see Larry Dunn get jacked up, but because they wanted to see anybody get it, they’d have been just as happy if it was me or Rufus or someone else.

  “Well, today’s your lucky day ’cause I’m about to make a new movie and guess what, you gonna be the star!”

  Byron jerked Larry’s arms over his head three times. Larry Dunn was really tough! Not only because he wasn’t crying when By was going to mess him up, but also because when Byron jerked his arms over his head like that we all could see that Larry’s skinny little windbreaker was ripped under both arms and Larry just had on a T-shirt underneath it. You’d have to be pretty tough to stand around giving people Maytags on a day as cold as this with those skimpy clothes on!

  “Hmmm, I guess that means you real excited about bein’ in my flick. Yeah,” By said, “but I got some even better news
for you.”

  By lifted Larry up in the air and threw him. Larry landed on his butt.

  Someone shouted, “Look at them shoes!” The crowd cracked up.

  Larry Dunn’s tennis shoes had holes in the bottoms and he’d put pieces of a cardboard box in them to cover the holes.

  Byron snatched him back to his feet.

  “Look at that, you so excited ’bout being in my movie that you jumping for joy! Don’t you even want to know what the flick’s about?”

  Larry’s head got jerked up and down again.

  “O.K., it’s called The Great Carp Escape.”

  I hated watching this. Byron was the only person in the world who could make you feel sorry for someone as mean as Larry Dunn.

  The Great Carp Escape was about a carp that was trying to get out of a net in the Flint River. The stupid fish would run into the net, get knocked down, then get back up and run into the net all over again.

  Since he was the star, Larry Dunn had to play the carp and the fence around Clark was the net. The director of the movie, Byron, didn’t like the way the scene was going and made the carp redo it over and over again.

  “Let’s see a little more fins this time, carp,” Byron would say, then throw Larry into the fence. Since tennis shoes don’t have a lot of grip on the ice, Larry would go into the fence hard and couldn’t control what part of him hit first. I knew it really had to hurt to catch yourself on that cold fence with nothing on your hands, not even socks, but Larry Dunn was real, real tough, he had a bloody nose and still didn’t cry.

  I wished I hadn’t told Byron about what happened, I wished I just could have gone the rest of the year with one glove. I couldn’t stand to see how the movie was going to end, so me and Rufus left.

  I could hear the jink-jink sound of that carp hitting the net and the screams and laughs of the audience from half a block away.

  5. Nazi Parachutes Attack America and Get Shot Down over the Flint River by Captain Byron Watson and His Flamethrower of Death