A Sliver of Sun Read online

  My heart dropped. Ginger gave a tiny gasp. “But why?” I asked. “You already have us.”

  “That’s exactly why,” she said. “I don’t know much about boys. I never even had a brother. But girls, now I know all about them.”

  Even though Mama’s reasoning made sense, it still left me feeling all twisted up inside. “Well, the rest of us want a boy,” I said. “Even Ben.”

  Mama looked flabbergasted. “You do? He does?”

  “Yep,” Ginger said. “Daddy even said so.”

  And we both turned and waltzed out of the room, leaving Mama with her mouth hanging open, and a half eaten cracker in her hand.

  Ginger and I spent the next week trying to monitor Mama’s diet in whatever way we could, since it would be near impossible once school started. We offered her soda, chips and fattening stuff as often as she’d take them. We waited ‘til her back was turned and dumped extra salt and hot sauce in whatever she cooked. We hid her almonds in a shoebox up in Ginger’s closet, and scattered a whole bag of soybeans out behind the garage. And things worked pretty well until one evening after supper when Mama and Ben went out to sit on the porch swing.

  Ginger and I were washing up dishes when Mama called through the screen door and asked if we’d please bring them out a couple beers.

  Ginger’s eyes got real big. “She can’t drink beer,” she whispered.

  “I know,” I said, my mind racing. “Tell her we’re out.”

  “She’s knows we’re not out, Piper Lee.”

  “You sure?”

  We tiptoed over to the refrigerator and peeked inside. “Told you,” Ginger said. “There’s a whole six pack.”

  “Dump ’em out.”

  She sniffed. “You dump ’em out.”

  “Ginger?” Ben called. “Did ya’ hear your mama?”

  “Uh … coming Daddy.” She gave me a helpless shrug and pulled two beers from the box. But then she gasped, and a wicked smile lit her face.

  Before I had a chance to ask what she was thinking, Ginger started to shake the cans like they were full of salad dressing instead of beer.

  “You’re loony, Ginger. What are you doin?”

  “Hush up,” she said. “It’ll foam over, and Mama won’t get to drink near as much.”

  I slapped a hand over my mouth to stifle a giggle on account of how brilliant it was. I was real sorry I hadn’t thought of it myself.

  “You figure that’s enough?” she whispered.

  I nodded. “Now hurry up for it settles.” I stood there with soapy dish water dripping off my fingertips as Ginger pushed through the screen door. She handed both beers to Mama and then stepped back.

  “Thank you, honey,” Mama said. She passed one to Ben.

  It was impossible to tell who popped their top first, they did it so close together. But in about a second’s time, the scene went from nice and peaceful to crazy as a hurricane. White foam exploded out the cans like flames from a rocket, spraying everything in its path. Ben swore, and Mama screamed as beer spurted in her face and all over the red silk tank top she’d brought home from their honeymoon.

  Mama wiped the mess from her face and jumped up. “Oh, no,” she cried. “My new shirt! Lordy, look at it.”

  “Ginger May,” Ben growled.

  Ginger looked positively stunned, and I could tell she hadn’t expected the beer to perform half as well as it had.

  “S-s-sorry,” she stammered. “I didn’t figure … I mean … I never …”

  Without another word, Ben reached past Mama, grabbed Ginger’s wrist and pulled her down over his knee.

  I skittered back to the sink and plunged my hands in the dishwater, my heart hammering so hard I was afraid it might jump right out my chest. Ben would assume it’d been my idea. He’d come for me next.

  Ginger burst through the door a few seconds later, carrying on like a howler monkey. She made a beeline for her bedroom without even glancing my direction. Chills rolled over me as I peeked out the window at Mama and Ben.

  Ben’s prison guard uniform was splotched with big dark marks, and Mama still stared at her shirt. Her beer can lay on the porch in a puddle of liquid, but Ben’s sat upright at his feet. He picked it up and drank whatever little bit was left.

  “I wonder what in the heavens possessed her to do that.” Mama said.

  “I’ve no idea,” Ben said, “but I don’t expect she’ll do it again.”

  “I better go soak this shirt in some cold water,” Mama said. “I surely hope it doesn’t stain.”

  I could feel Mama’s eyes on me as she came inside, but I busied myself scrubbing a pot, and she passed by without a word. Only then did my heart start to slow down a bit. I finished washing the dishes, and even dried them, though it was Ginger’s job. Then I crept down the hall to her bedroom and peeked inside. She lay on the top bunk, staring up at the ceiling.

  “I dried your dishes for you,” I said.

  “Thanks.”

  “You okay?”

  “Uh, huh.”

  I hesitated a moment longer, then stepped into the room and closed the door. “You did it, y’know? You stopped Mama from drinking the beer.”

  She sniffled. “Wasn’t half worth it.”

  “I know. I was just sayin’ is all. I thought you were really brave.”

  She glanced at me, and I could read the surprise in her eyes. “Oh … well, thanks.”

  “Yeah,” I said, “I’ve never seen a can of beer do that before.”

  “Me neither. I thought it’d just foam some and run over the side.”

  “It was a pretty cool show all right.”

  A smile played on her lips. “Yeah, I guess. But the next time we gotta stop Mama from eatin’ something, it’s your turn.”

  “Our times about up anyway, with school and all.”

  “I know. But maybe the couple weeks we tried will be enough.” Ginger propped herself up on an elbow. “Speaking of school, did you convince Mama to take us shopping tomorrow?”

  “Nothing’s changed,” I said. “She’s still makin’ your daddy take us.”

  Ginger collapsed with a grumble. “I can’t believe it. I’ve been waiting all these years to have a mama to take me school shopping, and I still get stuck with Daddy.”

  I nodded, though I wasn’t sure what I thought of shopping with Ben. It was fun to get new stuff, but clothes shopping was boring. And school shopping was the worst, with the way it signaled the end of summer. But on the other hand, a part of me was full of hope about spending time around Ben without Mama. Maybe he’d talk to me. Maybe it would even be fun.

  The next morning Mama left for the Black-Eyed Pea, and the rest of us headed to town. When Mama and I shopped, we usually strolled through the Darien mall—with a Penny’s and a Marshall’s, and a Books-A-Million—and then finished up at Darby’s ice-cream parlor. But I could tell right away there wasn’t gonna be any strolling with Ben.

  He parked the truck at the Bonanza Center store and scanned the list Mama had written: Backpacks, sneakers, red shorts for PE, three pair of jeans each, and school supplies. He slipped the list back into the chest pocket of his T-shirt. “Don’t see why we can’t find everything right here,” he said.

  There was a couple of other things I needed—like underpants. And even though I knew Ben must have bought stuff like that for Ginger, no man had ever bought it for me, and I’d begged Mama not to make me buy private stuff until she could take me.

  Ben took us to the girls department and told us to find jeans. Then he moved a little ways off and waited, the bill of his cap tipped low like a turtle hiding in its shell.

  Ginger started pawing through the racks of pants, but I stood there for a few seconds feeling lost. I’d never gone shopping without Mama hovering nearby, nixing the stuff I liked. I held up a pair of black skinny jeans, wondering if they were my size.

  “Those are boring,” Ginger said.

  I frowned over at her. “No, they’re not. And who asked you anyway?”
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  “But they don’t have cool decorations or anything.”

  Decorations? What a weenie. “Just worry about yourself,” I said.

  Ginger shook her blond ponytail over her shoulder. “If you wanna’ look like a hillbilly, go ahead.” She held up a pair of jeans. “See, now these are cool.”

  The pants started out dark blue at the top and then faded almost to white at the bottom. Embroidery and beads and all sorts of dumb stuff covered the pockets, and there was a big long slit on one leg that looked like it’d been sliced with a razor. “What do you think about these, Daddy?”

  Ben took a quick look and rolled his eyes. “I’m not payin’ for pants that have holes to start with.”

  Ginger put the jeans back with a huff. “Mama better take us next year,” she mumbled.

  “She will,” I said. But as soon as the words were out, I wondered if they were true. By next year, Mama would have a baby to tote around everywhere. Who wanted to go shopping with a baby? And the year after that, she’d have a toddler to tote around. And the year after that …

  I glanced over my shoulder to see Ben standing there so stiff and uncomfortable, and then back at Ginger, my complete opposite who was now my sister, and it made me realize just how much had changed. A softball sized lump jumped right up into my throat and made me want to be any place besides the Bonanza Center.

  I grabbed three almost identical pairs of jeans and went to try them on. Ten minutes later I was back and ready to look at backpacks. But it took Ginger a month of Sundays to pick out her jeans. When I couldn’t stand it any longer, I edged across the aisle to the book section where Ben was flipping through a car magazine. I stopped a few feet away, hoping he might say something to me. But he didn’t look up, or say anything, and I couldn’t think of anything to say either. I picked out an issue of Aviation Today and looked at all the pictures. Right in the center was a fold out of a bright yellow Piper Super Cub, just like the one Daddy had flown.

  I wanted to ask Ben if he’d buy me the magazine so I could hang the poster by my bed, but it cost $6.95, and I was afraid he’d say no. Finally, Ginger got done and we moved on to the school supply aisle.

  Ben agreed to take us to Darby’s for ice-cream before we headed home, but it didn’t make me feel much better. Maybe it was the disappointing shopping trip, or maybe it was the company, but my favorite butter pecan caramel just didn’t taste as sweet.

  Chapter Six

  I absolutely, positively couldn’t believe it.

  Ginger and I were going to be in the same fifth grade class. I stared at the typed list posted on the outside door of Montgomery Elementary, sure there had to be a mistake. But there were both our names, listed in the classroom of Mrs. Ruth Holloway.

  I glared at Mama. “Thought you said they never put two kids from the same house together.”

  Mama seemed a little taken back. “Well, Piper Lee, I said unlikely. I don’t recall saying never.”

  Ginger was too busy running her finger down the list to pay any attention to us. She gave a shout of joy when she reached the bottom. “Yes! Rowdy’s in my class.”

  “Who’s Rowdy?” Mama asked.

  “My best friend. She’s been in my class every year except for third grade. That was a terrible year.”

  “Rowdy’s a dumb name for a girl,” I said.

  Ginger seemed too pumped up to mind my rudeness. “Her real name’s Ramona, but she always goes by Rowdy.”

  Mama rubbed my neck. “I did some asking around, and I’ve heard Mrs. Holloway is a real good teacher. I think you’ll like her a lot, Piper Lee.”

  My shoulders slumped in defeat, and I edged away from Mama. So much for my one and only reason for wanting to go to school. Now there’d be no break from Ginger. She’d be able to stick her nose in every little thing I did, plus probably best me on grades besides.

  That evening after supper, Ginger hopped around like the Energizer bunny, organizing her backpack and modeling her new clothes for Mama. I took my X-Stream Future glider out behind the house. Something about watching my plane do its graceful swoops and arcs calmed my stomach and brought a little bit of peace … at least till Mama came out to find me.

  “Watch this,” I said. And I threw the plane with a twist that banked it hard to the right before the rushing air sent it soaring to the top of the pecan trees.

  Mama shaded her eyes and tipped her head back. “Wow, honey, that’s a nifty trick.”

  “Yeah, I just learned how to do it the other day.”

  The glider came in for a perfect landing on the edge of the scraggly lawn.

  “So,” Mama said, “know what you’re wearing for your first day tomorrow?”

  I shrugged. “I’ll decide in the morning.”

  “Can you tell me why you’re so against being in the same class as Ginger?”

  I rolled my eyes. “Cause I never get to be alone anymore, Mama. Ginger’s always around bugging me. We shouldn’t have to be together at school too.”

  “Just cause you’re in the same class doesn’t mean you always have to be together. You’ll make your own friends, and then you can do things with them.”

  “But still, bein’ in the same class means we’ll always have the same assignments and stuff.”

  “That’s a bad thing?”

  I picked up my glider and ran a finger over its bright yellow wings. I didn’t know how to explain it to her, but I also knew she wouldn’t let up till I tried. “Yeah, it’s a bad thing, on account of Ginger loves school and gets perfect grades and … and she just thinks she’s smart as a coon.”

  “Sounds like you’re worried about suffering by comparison. Is that it?”

  I bristled. “No … maybe.”

  Mama smiled. “Ginger is smart, Piper Lee. But so are you. Look how great you are at math. You’re just different people is all.”

  “So if Ginger gets an A on something, and I get a C, you won’t care?”

  “Not if you tried your best.”

  “What about Ben?” I asked. But as soon as the words left my mouth I wished I could snatch them back.

  “What about Ben?” Mama said.

  “Nothing.” A blur of motion caught my eye, and I looked across the yard to see Mowgli take a mighty leap and bat a grasshopper clean out of the air. At least he seemed to be happy enough.

  “Did you know that he had to repeat the second grade?”

  I looked at Mama. “Huh?”

  “Ben. He had an awful time learning to read. He never liked school.”

  This was news to me. I didn’t know what to say.

  Mama came over and kissed me on the top of the head. She was wearing the Morning Glory perfume again. I missed her vanilla. “The only one doing any comparing is you, Piper Lee. You ‘member that. Now come in and get your backpack ready. There won’t be much time in the morning.”

  • • •

  Even though I would’ve rather been about any place else, there was one kind of good thing about Montgomery Elementary—it was lots newer than my old school. I realized it as soon as I walked into our classroom. Eighteen desks sat in a semi-circle, the tops smooth and unmarked, with shiny blue plastic chairs attached. And the floor was polished hardwood, not sour-smelling carpet.

  A huge whiteboard covered half of one wall, and big bright posters were scattered all around—posters about how to be a good citizen, the food group pyramid, and the NASA space program. There was a giant world map too, done in shades of blue and green and pink. I’d never seen a map with pink on it before.

  Mrs. Holloway stood with her back to us, writing on the whiteboard. She was tall and willowy and had her hair piled in a big, sloppy bun up top her head. When she turned around I was surprised to see she looked younger than Mama. “Welcome, welcome,” she said, as we all filed in. “Y’all are free to choose your own desks for the moment. Good morning, everyone. Come in, come in.”

  Ginger scurried over and claimed the desk closest to the teacher’s, which I thought made as
much sense as a trying to nail jelly to a tree. Who’d want to sit right smack in front of her like that? I shook my head and headed over to claim the farthest one on the left.

  A chubby girl with little round Harry Potter glasses raced over to Ginger, and the two of them started jumping around and squealing like long lost relatives or something. I figured it had to be Rowdy.

  “Okay, kids, okay, everybody settle down now,” the teacher said right after the bell buzzed. “Please put your backpacks on the floor, not on your desks, and quiet down now.” She waited until the ruckus died to a quiet murmur, then gave us all a big smile. “Welcome to your fifth grade year. I can already tell it’s gonna be a great one just by looking at all your happy, ready-to-learn faces.”

  I took a sideways glance around and tried to figure out what a ready-to-learn face looked like. Most of the kids looked pretty ho-hum to me.

  “My name is Ruth Holloway,” she continued, “but y’all may call me Mrs. H if you’d like.” She perched on the edge of her desk. “I’m going to take attendance and do the seating chart, and then I’ll hand out a folder for each of you. Then in a bit we’ll play a fun get acquainted game.”

  Right then came the loud slap-slap of feet in a hurry, and a boy trotted up to the empty desk closest to mine. I’m not sure if it was because his hair hung in his eyes or because the wood floor was slippery, but he slid at the last minute and fell into his chair. The whole class exploded in laughter. The boy’s face turned the color of Mama’s crimson sunrise nail polish. I looked at his worn sneakers. Either he had jackrabbit feet or his shoes were two sizes too big.

  “Well, hello there,” Mrs. Holloway said. “You must be … ?”

  “Ramsay Tate,” the boy mumbled, sweeping his bangs from his face.

  “Very good. Welcome Ramsay. And I think that’s enough laughing now from the rest of you. Unless there’s anyone here who has never stumbled before.”

  The class quieted and Ramsay’s face gradually faded to a more normal color. I scooped up one of his pencils that had rolled over to my foot and handed it back to him. He gave me a quick little nod before looking back down at his desk.