Chapters 17 & 18

Herons take flight when alarmed . . . and resort to cryptic camouflage when in danger.

– Living Birds of the World by E. Thomas Gilliard

 

 

Chapter Seventeen

 

“Emma June Johnson  where have you been?” Mama asked in a harsh tone when I opened the door. Busted.

I rehearsed my excuse, walking home from the Lakeside late. But what I didn’t figure on was how low down, snake-rotten I was gonna feel watching Mama’s panic-stricken eyes.

“Working . . . on my Social Studies project,” I stammered, faltering, and nearly giving myself away. “It’s due in nine days.”

I’d convinced myself that that part was true. Then, I swollered a big ol’ knot in my throat, and lied, careful not to look Mama in the eye.

“I walked home from the library.”

“The library!” Mama shouted, dropping the spoon she was stirring her ice tea with, and making a sticky mess on the floor. But it wasn’t nothing, compared to the mess I was in!

“That’s way down on 6^th street. It ain’t safe walking all the way downtown by yourself. Pretty girl like you. Well, . . . there’s no telling the mess of trouble you could have been in, girl! Why, there’s bad people out there with evil thoughts. Do you understand?” Mama screamed, her lips quivering.

“Yes ’m,” I said lowering my head, keeping my thoughts private, and ashamed that I had rattled Mama up so.

But there was more to come to rattle Mama up. I just didn’t realize it at the time.

My stomach tightened.

“You’re grounded. No leaving the apartment. No phone calls,” Mama said, mad as a pig.

“No fair!” I argued. “You said you wanted me to raise my Social Studies grade. Well, that’s what I was doing!”

Judging by Mama pinched-tight face, she wasn’t backing down a freckle’s worth.

“If you need a library trip, Emma June, I’ll take you in the car after work,” Mama said sternly. “You’re lucky nothing happened.”

I pouted, upset.

“Anyway, what’s your project on?”

“Pearl Harbor. It’s real interesting,” I said, wanting desperately to turn things around.         Mama’s frown lines soften a bit.

“It was a surprise attack like 9/11. Japan attacked our Navy at Pearl Harbor. Ain’t that something, going against the powerful U.S.A.?”

“Don’t ever walk downtown again alone. Or you’ll be the one surprise attacked! Here?” Mama said opening up her mail. Suddenly her face turned ashen.

“What is it Mama?”

“A certified letter.”

“What’s it say,” I said, feeling a sudden stab of anxiety in my gut, watching the blood drain out of Mama’s face. Her voice quivered as she read:

“In the state of Alabama when a paternity is in dispute, the court may order a genetic test (a deoxyribonucleic acid test) to be performed by a . . .”

Mama was stumbling through them big words, looking like she was gonna pass out. Then she exploded.

“OHHH!!!!! THAT RICK EVERETT!!!!! Mama stormed. Paternity test. Of course, he’s the father! I ain’t no fan-foot, hussy. Only stupid for falling for the likes of him.”

“What’s that mean, Mama?”

“It means your Daddy ain’t sure he’s the daddy. And we might have to go to Alabama to prove it. But don’t you worry your pretty little head off, I’ll talk to Mr. Pratt.”

Woody was right. My Daddy was trying to be in my life. It’s like that war Woody was talking about. Only I wasn’t sure whose side I was on. Or who’d win. I only knew I was beginning to feel like the battleground, Pearl Harbor, and them battleships.

Sunk!

 

 

 

 

                                                           

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

It was difficult to see herons in the marshes from the ground, so I resorted to using an airplane.

                                                –The Great Blue Heron/ Robert Butler

                                                           

 

Chapter Eighteen

December 7^th – Pearl Harbor Day – Victoria Vanguard came strutting in, puffed up like an air-fluffed peacock, carrying a model of the island of Oahu, the size of a whole city block. Pea gravel, I hated the girl! So did Gabrielle. (Especially, since she couldn’t get her darn Hawaiian volcano to erupt.) At lunchtime, we plotted how we was gonna pop the air out of her feathers.

“No way, she made it by herself!” I fussed to Gabrielle in the cafeteria.

We was seething over Victoria’s authentic Hawaiian scene: huts, battery-powered American P-40 fighter planes, and B-17 bombers lined up neatly in rows on an airfield, ready to take off from her “little” runway. All perfectly labeled! Top it off, she had models of them battleships Woody was talking about all lined up in “Battleship Row.” I wanted to puke.

“Yeah, her father probably had the material flown in from Hawaii special for her project,” Gabrielle said, turning palm-tree green with envy gawking at it.

“Chiggers, her chest’s done pumped up to a 40 D,” I said maliciously loud, hoping the whole dang cafeteria heard me.

Me and Gabrielle had us a good laugh over the thought of Victoria’s flat little chest swelled up like an air bag. Then we got serious.

“Ain’t much time,” I whispered into Gabrielle’s ear. “We have to ground her cute, little bombers before lunchtime’s over. But first, we’ve got to get past Mr. Redding, the P.E. teacher, who was on lunch duty.”

“Right! Dream on. Nobody accomplishes that,” Gabrielle grumbled, still sour from her flopped volcano.

“Victoria Vanguard ain’t the worse problem I got,” I confessed. “Mama gets calls late at night. What if it’s her lawyer?”

“No silly, don’t you get it? Your Mama has a new boyfriend.”

“But who? She don’t date no one,” I said confused.

“No one that you know about.”

Maybe Gabrielle was onto something. Was this another one of Mama’s secrets? I wondered.

“How are we getting by Mr. Redding?” Gabrielle asked, bringing me back to the problem on hand.

“I’ve got an idea,” I said.

Then I motioned for her to follow me.

“Mr. Redding, I have a . . . female-related problem. And . . . well, Gabrielle is gonna help me solve my problem,” I said batting my eyelashes, pleading.

Mr. Redding’s face flushed red and motioned us on.

“Jeepers! You’re good,” Gabrielle giggled as we scurried down the hall.

“Well sugar, you done taught me all I know with them ‘Plan A’s and B’s,” I said in a voice that sounded way too much like Mama.

In the classroom, Gabrielle started chickening out after I told her to remove the batteries from Victoria’s planes.

“Mrs.Stankowski’s going to kill us if we do that,” Gabrielle hedged. “I don’t think it’s right.”

“Trust me, she ain’t gonna find out. She’s holed up in that teacher’s lounge until the very last minute. Oh, never mind! I’ll do it. You just guard the door.”

“I can do that,” Gabrielle said in a shaky voice.

“Dang! The batteries are already out.”

“Now what, bird brain?” Gabrielle snickered.

“Empty your purse. Ain’t you got something in there we can use to ground those planes?” I asked.

The way I figured, sabotaging her project was the only chance I had of getting an “A.” Gabrielle dumped the contents of her purse all over Josh Kingsolver’s desk, knocking some of Josh’s stuff onto the floor.

“Josh is gonna be as mad as a pig on ice with his tail frozen, when he sees this mess!”

Gabriele tinkle-laughed, nervously.

“Comb, lipstick, nail polish, tissues . . . gum!” Gabrielle said out loud.

We both looked at each other.

“Gum! That’s it!” I said waving a stick of gum in the air. “We’re gonna gum up them airplane rudders. Ground those suckers!” I shouted triumphantly.

After lunch, Gabrielle and I passed notes back and forth. Giggling. Anticipating the surprised expression on Victoria’s face. That alone was worth lying to Mr.Redding. Like I figured, Josh Kingsolver was mad as a pig. What I didn’t figure on was him intercepting my last note, and taking it straight up to Mrs. Stankowski’s desk with a big, fat smirk on his face. He was onto us. My “A” was history! My stomach caved in. Then I settled down and started thinking positive. With a little luck, my note might get lost on Mrs.Stankowski’s messy desk.

The teacher was going alphabetically on the projects, which meant poor Gabrielle Gabbert was up fourth after Billy Angel, Jennifer Babcock, and Clarrissa Combs. Me and Josh Kingsolver landed smack dab in the middle. Followed by Katie Simpson’s World War II recipes from her “Victory Garden”. And of course, the grand finale was Victoria Vanguard. Billy brought in a big stack of plastic army men which didn’t impress nobody. But Jennifer had a neat, ocean-colored salt and flour map of Hawaii. Clarrissa played a tape of World War II borrowed from the library. Judging by the frown on Mrs.Stankowski’s face, it ain’t dazzling her none. Poor Gabrielle was pitiful, trying to get that volcano to erupt. Right before my turn, Josh hung up a time line that wrapped around the classroom, went down the hall, and ended up at the gym. Or so it seemed. After the smug look Josh give me when he stood up, I was hoping that the “thing” would suddenly breathe life and become a long, strangling python. No such luck! The teacher was glowing. Lord, it was sickening!

“Emma June Johnson,” Mrs.Stankowski called out.

My turn! I was paralyzed from fear walking up to the front of the classroom. And felt like Josh’s “python” had squeezed them words right out of me. Deep breaths. In and out, I commanded my limp body.

“I volunteer in the woodshop at The Lakeside Nursing Home and my new friend, Woody – who is a World War II veteran – granted me this interview,” I heard myself trying to impress the class with them fancy words. That is, until I heard the sound of my voice, rattling fast forward like a chipmunk. At that moment I realized, I had given myself away. Mrs.Stankowski was going to figure it out. Shaking, I could hardly read my interview questions and Woody’s answers. When I’d finished, I sat down depressed. So much so, I couldn’t eat nothin’ from Katie’s “Victory Garden”. Besides, turnips wasn’t exactly my idea of a scrumptious snack. In fact, it was making me sick. At last Victoria stood up ready to reenact the bombing of Pearl Harbor. I held my breath; glanced over at Gabrielle. She had her fingers crossed. Suddenly rudders, propellers, and other airplane pieces darted aimlessly, spinning out of control across the classroom, tangling in girls’ hair. Wild screams and shrieks, followed by riots and stampedes, erupted in the classroom. Kids was out of their seats, out of control, and throwing propellers every which way. Victoria was in tears. Me and Gabrielle was laughing like hyenas, holding our sides.

“Everyone, back to your seat!” Mrs.Stankowski screamed over and over. Then her eyes zoomed, faster than them plane pieces had flown, at me.

I give Josh my best evil-eye stare. Of course, he was enjoying the revenge. So I yelled, “Josh Kingsolver is a nerdy tattletale!”

The rest of the afternoon, I worried about Mrs. Stankowski calling me and Gabrielle up to her desk. Worse, what if she puts two and two together, and figures out that ”Woody’s wife” is right next door to her mother; and then tells Mama! It was just a matter of time.

Time was up.

We was all lined up for the bus, when it happened. She pulled only me off to the side, not Gabrielle.

“Emma, I would have given you an “A+.” That’s such a lovely thing volunteering and interviewing a veteran. But what you did to Victoria was wrong. Instead I have to give you an ‘F’. Does your mother know that you go to the Lakeside? What do you have to say for yourself?”

I started bawling. Then screamed,“No fair. Victoria’s daddy done it for her! It ain’t fair some kids got a daddy. And some don’t!” I cried eleven years worth of tears and hurt dripping down my cheeks. Embarrassed, I ran out as fast as I could to catch the bus. I planned to escape to the Lakeside, soon as Rhonda, the bus driver, cranked open that door.