William's Midsummer Dreams Read online

  Here I am again, and there’s still a long time to wait until June. Yesterday my favorite teacher—at least my favorite one here in Gold Beach—assigned everyone to recite something from Shakespeare. How about that for a coincidence? And talk about easy! While the rest of the class was going to the library and trying to find something not too hard to memorize, all I had to do was say, and kind of act out, one of the speeches I’ve been practicing for six months. The one where Puck is talking to King Oberon and he says,

  “Captain of our fairy band,

  Helena is here at hand;

  And the youth, mistook by me,

  Pleading for a lover’s fee.

  Shall we their fond pageant see?

  LORD, what fools these mortals be.”

  I think Mrs. Peters was kind of shocked when I threw up my hands and said LORD that way, but it was Shakespeare, wasn’t it? Anyway, the class liked it.

  Living in Gold Beach with Aunt Fiona was turning out to be even better than William had ever imagined it could be. And most of the time, at least during the day, William managed to almost forget about what being a Baggett had been like. But sometimes in dreams, or even wide awake in the middle of a dark, still night, it all came back. Not in real, clear-cut scenes, but more like some kind of a ghost story where dark floating shadows would appear and only gradually begin to look and sound like something or someone from his Baggett-haunted past. And William would have to tell himself over and over again that it was over, done with, and the Baggetts were never coming after him again. And most of the time he believed it.

  Finally it was June 1, and time to really begin making plans for the summer. William had been saving up money all year by doing odd jobs around the neighborhood. He wanted to have enough to pay for his bus ticket from Reedly to Crownfield, and to use for spending money, when he was too busy being a professional actor to get out and earn any. So he, once again, had a Getaway Fund something like the one he’d kept in his attic hideout back at the Baggetts’. Only this time it didn’t have to be a carefully hidden secret.

  At last the school year ended, William graduated from the eighth grade, and it was almost time to pack. Miss Scott had written to say that she would pick him up at the Crownfield bus station on June 16, and he could ride the rest of the way to Mannsville with her. He could hardly wait. Talking to Miss Scott on the trip would be great. He would tell her about how he’d already memorized all of Puck’s speeches and figured out all kinds of acting business to do while he recited, like she’d had him do when he was Ariel. Maybe she’d even want him to recite for her.

  So everything was okay except Jancy was still having gloomy spells, without ever being willing to level with William about it. It wasn’t like her. Jancy had always come right out and told him what she thought, like when she decided it was time for them to run away, but now she was obviously worried about something she wouldn’t talk about. When he came right out and asked her, she would only shrug and say, “Don’t worry about it.” But sometimes he did.

  Two or three times when he tried to get her to talk about it, she just shook her head and walked off. Once he even grabbed her wrist so she couldn’t get away, and said, “Gee, Jancy. I’ll bet you’re still worrying about the Baggetts showing up again. You know what? I am too, at least I still have nightmares about it. Is that it? Do you have nightmares too?”

  All Jancy did was shake her head and say no. But then she shrugged and added, “Not exactly.”

  CHAPTER

  5

  On the morning of June 16, William woke up before the alarm went off, jumped out of bed, dressed hurriedly, and carried his loaded suitcase downstairs. Very heavily loaded—what with all his clothes and shoes, as well as his journal and his five-pound copy of Shakespeare’s Complete Works. Parking the suitcase near the back door, he had the table all set before Aunt Fiona appeared, looking tousled and half-awake. Smiling sleepily, she said, “I thought I heard someone down here. You might think something important was going to be happening today.”

  “You think so?” William grinned. “I don’t see why. Don’t I always beat everyone downstairs?” Which wasn’t exactly true. He looked at his new wristwatch, the one that Aunt Fiona had given him for an eighth-grade graduation present. “Maybe I better go help Jancy with the little kids. Okay?” Without waiting for an answer, he raced up the stairs and seconds later was lifting a half-awake Buddy out of bed and walking him toward the bathroom.

  Halfway there, Buddy shook him off. “Turn me loose,” he said. “You don’t suppose to push me to the baffroom anymore. I go all by myself now.”

  True enough. The days when William had to walk a dead-to-the-world Buddy to the bathroom, or risk an accident that would get them both slapped around, were long gone. And now, a soon-to-be-five Buddy was fiercely proud of the fact that he was no longer a bed wetter. So William let him go on alone and went back to the kitchen, where Jancy and Trixie soon joined them. It wasn’t quite eight o’clock when they all piled into Aunt Fiona’s old Dodge and were off to the bus stop in Reedly.

  Actually, as William had tried to point out, it wasn’t really necessary for them all to go. Trixie and Buddy, with Jancy there to keep an eye on them, would be fine for the short time it would take for Aunt Fiona to drive the few miles to the Reedly bus stop and back. But of course the little kids wanted to go, and it was Jancy who made sure it happened. She was the one who insisted that they all should get up early and go to Reedly to see William off on the Greyhound bus. William didn’t see why, but what with Jancy being in such a touchy mood, he’d decided not to argue about it.

  He did wonder why, though. Particularly that morning, when it became apparent that Jancy was in one of her strange glum-faced moods. But it wasn’t until they reached the bus stop that William was able to pull her aside and ask her what was wrong. “You really don’t know?” She shook her head and shrugged. “Maybe I’ll write you about it,” she said, and then, “Maybe I’ll have to.”

  Meanwhile Trixie and Buddy were having a good time looking around and remembering how they had waited there for a ride to Gold Beach, almost a year before, when they were still runaways. A different man was at the desk, but when Trixie asked him if the man with the rumble seat still worked there, he said, “You must mean Joe Fisher. Sure, Joe still works here, but he’s on the afternoon shift. And he still drives that old Model A now and then, when he can get it to run.”

  Trixie and Buddy were still chatting with the bus station guy, telling him how much they’d liked riding in the rumble seat, when the Greyhound bus pulled up to the curb. After a lot of hugging and kissing, William was off on his way to Crownfield, looking out the window to where Trixie and Buddy were jumping up and down and waving with both hands, and Jancy was standing there staring—glumly.

  Just as it had before, the almost one-hundred-mile trip between Reedly and Crownfield seemed to take forever, but for a very different reason. A year ago it had been a tense and nerve-jangling ride for William and Jancy too. Back then they’d been running away to Aunt Fiona’s, without knowing whether she would welcome them, or tell them to get out and get lost. And then too, there had been that guy on the bus whom William had recognized as one of Rudy Baggett’s crummy gang, who probably would—and sure enough did—tell Big Ed where and when he’d seen them. So that long bus ride had been stretched out by tension and worry. But this time the long trip, with its lunch stop in Summerford, seemed to be taking forever simply because William was so eager and anxious for … well, you might say, for the show to begin. The show in which he was going to have the chance to be a real actor in a professional production that would last most of the summer and be seen by thousands of people.

  The hours crawled by endlessly, but finally the bus lurched and shuddered into the station in downtown Crownfield, and, with his nose pressed to the window, William looked out and saw … not Miss Scott, but Clarice Ogden.

  Quickly moving back out of sight, William told himself he should have expected it. After a
ll, Miss Scott had written to say that Clarice was staying with her for the summer while her folks were away, so of course she, too, would be going to Mannsville. But for some reason it hadn’t occurred to him that she might be riding down with them. And now, looking out of the bus window and seeing her standing there looking so familiar—and yet so strangely different—was startling. The difference surprised him most—how much she seemed to have changed in such a short time. After all, it was just last summer when she had hidden the runaway Baggetts in her basement.

  Scrunching down to where he’d be harder to see from the sidewalk, he peeked out again. Her hair had changed, for one thing—now it was sleeked down and flipped up at the edges. And also her mouth. Bigger and a lot redder, too. Lipstick, maybe? But what else was new? Her shape, perhaps? Not that she hadn’t had one when he knew her before. But it looked different now. In what way? The word that came to William’s mind was “female.”

  William knew quite a lot about the whole sex thing. Anyone would who had grown up around a bunch of loudmouthed Baggetts, one of whose favorite topics of conversation, next to driving and drinking, was sexy stuff. But Baggett sex talk always seemed to be about “dames” or “babes”—or a few other terms, none of which he had ever connected with the Clarice he’d known back there in the Ogdens’ basement. This Clarice was something else again, and it was kind of a shock. And then, when he’d managed to pull himself together and climb down off the bus, and she caught sight of him, there was an even more shocking moment, when it looked like she was going to throw her arms around him.

  Almost, but not quite. After she’d rushed forward with her arms spread out—and stopped just in time—he managed to say, “Hey. I almost didn’t recognize you.” And then added, stupidly, “You look—great. Uh—that is—I mean different.”

  He winced, realizing it sounded like he meant she hadn’t looked great before, but fortunately, she didn’t seem to take it that way. She stared at him rather coolly for a moment and then said, “You don’t. Look different, I mean. At least not much.”

  To his growing embarrassment, she stood back and surveyed him even more thoroughly. “Maybe a little taller, but still skinny.” Then she added, nodding, “That’s good, I guess, for being Puck, anyway. Puck probably should look kind of”—long pause while she looked him up and down again—“kind of—not exactly human?” She grinned. “Yeah, that’s you, I guess.”

  He was still trying to decide how to answer when Miss Scott appeared, in a plain gray dress that might seem like a housedress on someone else, but on her, managed to look kind of dramatic. Patting him on the shoulder, she said, “So here you are, William. So good to see my Ariel again.”

  “You too.” William gulped, hoping his wide grin said only how glad he was to see her, without giving away how much of it was relief that she’d appeared just in time to keep him from saying something else stupid to Clarice.

  Next came the problem of trying to cram his suitcase into the trunk of Miss Scott’s shiny green Oldsmobile along with a whole lot of other suitcases, and giving up and putting it on the backseat. William had started to climb in beside his suitcase when Clarice patted the front seat beside where she was sitting and said, “Why don’t you sit up here too? So we can talk.”

  But Miss Scott came to the rescue again. This time by saying, “Oh, I think not. It will be too hot in the valley to be comfortable with all of us packed into the front seat. We can hear William fine from back there.” She gave him one of her special smiles. “As I recall, he knows how to project.”

  So the long trip to Mannsville started with William riding in the backseat alone, except for his suitcase, and waiting for Clarice to stop talking long enough for him to ask Miss Scott some important questions. Or at least “project” them in her direction, and hope Clarice would shut up long enough to let Miss Scott answer.

  CHAPTER

  6

  The trip from Crownfield to Mannsville took more than three hours, so there was a lot of time to talk. At least a lot of time for Clarice to talk, while William and Miss Scott did a lot of listening. Twisted around so that her chin rested on the back of the front seat, Clarice stared at William and said things like, “Why were you so surprised to see me at the bus stop, William? You sure looked surprised.” Then, without waiting for an answer, “Didn’t you know Julia would be taking us both to Mannsville today? You should have known. My folks left for Chicago last Wednesday, so I’ve already been staying with Julia for quite a while.”

  And then to Miss Scott, who seemed to be trying to get a word in edgewise, “Yes, yes. I know. I’ll remember to call you Miss Scott when we get there, but William already knows my parents have known you forever, and I’ve always called you Julia.”

  She went on then for a long time about how she’d stayed with Julia before when her folks were traveling, and how she’d had to be quiet about that when she was in one of Julia’s classes because the other kids might think she was getting special treatment. “So it won’t be hard for me to remember to call you Miss Scott,” Clarice went on. “The only hard part this year was packing—because of this whole Mannsville thing. Always before, if I forgot something we could just drive over to my house and get it, but we can’t do that this year, so I had to be sure to remember to pack all sorts of important stuff.” A brief pause while Clarice’s eyes suddenly opened wide—and then narrowed to a sneaky slit. “Didn’t you have to bring a lot of important stuff, William?”

  Remembering all the suitcases in the trunk, William could believe that Clarice had brought “a lot of important stuff.”

  “What important stuff did you have to remember to bring?” Clarice was insisting.

  “Nothing much,” he managed and then took the opportunity to try to sneak in a question. “Miss Scott,” he started, but once again Clarice interrupted. Rolling her eyes in a strange way, she repeated, “Really, didn’t you have some special stuff to bring?” More eye rolls, and then, “I mean, I’ll bet you had a lot of books and things like that to bring along? I mean, stuff like, well, like that big Shakespeare book of yours and—and maybe a binder to keep important notes in? Or maybe a journal?”

  So that’s it, William thought. He was beginning to guess what she was driving at.

  Turning to Miss Scott, Clarice went on, “Did you know William’s been writing a journal ever since you had us start one in seventh grade? I’ll bet he’s planning to write one this summer.” She nodded slowly and significantly. “Especially this summer, I’ll bet.”

  She paused long enough to send another meaningful eye flick in William’s direction. He got the picture. The picture of a mysterious birthday present with nothing to tell who sent it. At the time he’d pretty much guessed, even though he’d tried not to. But now he knew for sure. And he also knew, or at least strongly suspected, that it wasn’t the last time he was going to hear about it. Keeping his eyes wide open in an “I can’t imagine what you’re talking about” stare, he tried not to consider the fact that Clarice had guessed he would use the fancy new binder for a journal.

  Telling himself that it didn’t really matter whether she’d sent him the binder or not, he managed to change the subject by sneaking in one of the questions he’d been wanting to ask. The one about how come Mannsville College happened to have such an important Shakespeare festival.

  “The festival has been held at Mannsville for at least twenty years, during the school’s summer vacation,” Miss Scott answered. “It’s very well known. The college has a large auditorium, with a fine proscenium stage. People come from all over the state to see the plays. Quite often some of the principal roles are played by professional actors, even some quite famous ones.”

  “Oh really?” Clarice squealed. “I didn’t know that. You mean, like real movie stars? That’s so exciting. Even stars like Jimmy Stewart and Bette Davis? But don’t they have to pay them tons of money?”

  Miss Scott laughed. “More often it’s people whose experience has been on the stage rather than in
the movies. And of course the professionals do get paid. But every year a few of the minor roles are given to talented beginners who aren’t paid, except for being allowed to stay in one of the campus dormitories and eat at the cafeteria. I guess the feeling is that such people are already greatly rewarded by having a chance to have a wonderful foot-in-the-door acting experience.” Catching William’s eye in the rearview mirror, Miss Scott smiled at him, as she went on, “To play even a small role in a Mannsville production is considered an important step on the way to a stage career.”

  “Oh really?” Clarice asked. “But what happens if William and I don’t get roles? What happens to people who come to audition and don’t get a part?”

  William had worried about that. Leaning forward, he listened anxiously as Miss Scott answered. “Well, that could happen. Some people who come to audition don’t get chosen for a role. But in your case, Clarice, since you’re staying with me this summer and I’m on the staff, you’ll be allowed to stay in one of the dorms, even if you don’t get a part. People on the staff are allowed to bring dependents. In that case you probably could sign up to do some backstage work, if you want to.

  “And as for you, William, right at first there may be people in your dorm who’ve come to audition, and will be leaving soon if they don’t get a role. But I really don’t think you have to worry. I’m to be involved in the auditions, and knowing your experience and ability as well as I do, I feel quite sure you’ll get the part of Puck.”

  “Will other people be trying out for Puck?” William asked.

  “I think two others have signed up to audition for the role,” Miss Scott said. “But from what I hear, they won’t be much competition.”

  That was a relief. Leaning back in the seat, William shut his eyes and let his imagination bring up exciting, slightly scary scenes of what it might be like, auditioning for a part in a real theater. He pictured himself on an empty stage reciting lines, while a whole bunch of important-looking people watched him closely and wrote things in notebooks. It was a scene he’d imagined before but not in such a vivid and immediate way. It was scary, all right, but it did help to remember how, when he started acting the role of Ariel, he’d been scared at first, but then he’d learned how to forget who he really was. How he’d been able to forget that a Willy Baggett had ever existed, and just let the personality of magical Ariel take over.