A Teeny Bit of Trouble (28 page)

I tucked it into my bra and moved back into the hall. I lifted a small Persian rug. Nothing. So far, so good. I’d found clues on the mural and a key beneath the fur. I peered up the stairwell. Did those bedrooms have rugs? No, keep looking downstairs.

“Ready or not, here I come,” I yelled.

More laughter swirled down as I passed through a living room. Chandeliers, curvy French tables. Oil paintings. But no rug. That seemed odd. Wouldn’t a manse have Persian carpets? Maybe a few sisals?

Sir and I climbed the back staircase and turned into a frilly bedroom. Lilac walls, pink silk curtains, and a plush white carpet. Sir looked at the closet and wagged his tail.

“Come on, Sir,” I said. They’re not hiding in there.”

More giggles.

I shut the door behind me. Sir and I checked the other bedrooms. Each one had the same thick white carpet on the floor. At the end of the hall, we turned into a storage room. It was piled with boxes and doodads. Everything was so dusty, I was afraid it would set off my asthma.

A few rag rugs were scattered over an unfinished floor. I moved around the room, lifting the rugs. All I found were dust bunnies. I’d literally worked myself into a corner, and I needed to think a minute. I perched on the edge of an old Windsor rocker. The chair scooted backward a few inches.

Sir trotted past me, toward a window that overlooked the front yard. “We’ve checked all the rooms,” I told him. “Guess Miss Emma was mistaken. Barb didn’t have any rugs to hide her papers, did she?”

The bulldog didn’t answer. I leaned back in the chair, and it listed to the right. I rocked again, and the chair jerked. I got up. Now I saw the problem. The rocker was caught on the edge of a thick flotaki rug. I scooted the chair aside and pulled back the rug.

A flutter of white.

My pulse slammed against the top of my head. I lifted a page and recognized Barb’s curvy handwriting.
Coop and I broke up last night at the drive-in.

I slid the papers into my deep pocket, my breath coming in sharp, painful bursts. “Come on, Sir.”

He wouldn’t leave the window. His paws were spread on the sill, and he growled under his breath. I glanced past him and my lungs flattened. A Mercedes was parked in front of the house. Norris got out and walked to my truck.

I glanced down at my bulging pocket. I had a sudden vision of Norris dragging me into a bedroom. My stomach lurched. I dragged Sir away from the window and stepped into the hall.

Stop it, Teeny. Norris won’t attack in front of a child posse. I had a perfectly good reason to be here. If he asked, I’d say, I’m babysitting. And he would answer, Gollum-like,
What’s do you have in your pocketeses, Precious?

Sir and I ran into the hall, veered into the lilac bedroom, and flung open the closet door. Alex grinned up at me.

“Where’s Emerson?” I asked.

“Hiding.”

I walked back into the hall. “Game over, Emerson,” I called in a Mary Poppins voice.

Silence.

“She ran outside,” Alex said. “She always hides in the gardenia bushes.”

A sick feeling threaded from my stomach to my throat. So the Philpots had gardenias? Somehow I managed to get Sir down the stairs and out the French door. Alex bobbed at my elbow.

“Where’s the gardenias?” I asked.

“This way.” Alex pushed open the iron gate and darted to a bush. I had a clear view of the street. The Mercedes was empty. So was the front lawn. Where was Emerson? Where was Norris?

I smelled a waxy sweetness. I moved to a cluster of bushes, all of them sprinkled with white flowers. Emerson wasn’t there. I turned to Alex. “Does she have another hiding spot?”

“She might. Want me to yell for her?”

“No, no. Let’s play another game. Have you heard of ‘Where’s Waldo?’”

He nodded.

“Let’s play ‘Where’s Uncle Norris’? You know him, right? He’s Emerson’s uncle?”

Alex nodded again.

“Listen carefully,” I said. “Run around the house. If you don’t see Norris in the front yard, yell, ‘Clear.’ Can you do that?”

He nodded. Then he sprinted around the gardenias. Sir tried to follow him, and I snatched his leash, my hand shaking. A drop of sweat hit my knee and rolled onto his head.

“Clear!” Alex yelled.

I gripped Sir’s leash with both hands and crept out of the bushes. Norris stepped around the house and blocked my path. He looked me up and down. His gaze stopped on my pocket.

“Nith of you to thop by, Teeny.”

My pulse ba-doomed in my ears. “I’m babysitting.”

Alex crept forward. “Lady, I didn’t mess up,” he said. “He wasn’t in the yard. He was on the front porch.”

Sir lunged at Norris’s pant leg. I pulled him back.

“He bites,” I said.

“Then he thould be put down,” Norris said.

Acid burned the back of my tongue. Norris’s eyes were the size of jumbo eggs, the lids stitched with tiny bird-like veins.

“Why were you thneaking around my houth?” he asked.

“We were playing a game called ‘Where’s Uncle Norris,’” Alex said.

I cringed.

Norris smiled. “Why were you looking for me?”

“What? No, I don’t—”

A raptor claw seized my arm. He towed me toward the Mercedes. “Let me go,” I yelled.

“Thut up and get in my car.”

“I’m not going anywhere with you.” I slung off the claw. “You freak.”

Norris punched me in the mouth. The blow knocked me to the ground. I lay on the grass, too dazed to move, my mouth filling with the taste of copper pennies.

A shadow fell over the grass. “Get up,” Norris’s disembodied voice said.

I shook my head.

“Were you thpying on me?”

I ran my tongue over my lip. It felt huge. “I wathn’t thpying.”

“Bitch.” He snatched my arm. “Come with me.”

I sat up, gingerly touching my mouth. Emerson ran into the yard. “Don’t you hurt, Teeny,” she yelled.

Norris ignored her and grabbed my arm. Sir dove into my lap, his fur bristling, and glared up at Norris.

“I’ll kill that thupid mutt.”

Footsteps pounded in the grass. Emerson dropped to her knees beside me. “Teeny, your lip.”

“She was thnooping.” Norris stepped back. “I’m taking her to the police.”

Emerson and Alex helped me to my feet. Nothing felt broken, but my mouth throbbed. She glanced back at Norris. “Why’d you hit her? You big popeyed ape.”

“I didn’t hit her, I juth tapped her.”

“I saw you.” Emerson shook her fist. “Norris, you’re a conehead. An ostrich’s eye is bigger than your brain.”

“Thut up.”

“You could fit an ostrich in your forehead.” She spat. “Alex, run inside and call 911.”

“I touched my lip. It hurt worse than a bee sting, but it was swelling. Ice. I needed ice.

“I’m okay,” I said. “Really.”

But I wasn’t okay. I’d tricked children, stolen a key and diary pages, and I’d gotten slugged by a pervert. I couldn’t leave these innocent babes with him.

Norris walked alongside us. “Go into the houth, children. I need to talk to Teeny.”

Emerson ran to the flower bed, grabbed handfuls of black mulch, and threw them into Norris’s eyes. He staggered backward, fingers clawing air.

“Drive to the police station, Teeny!” Emerson yelled. “Go, or he’ll hurt you again!”

“I won’t leave you,” I said.

“I can handle him.” She dug her small hands into the mulch again and pelted Norris.

A green Cadillac lurched to a stop behind the Mercedes. The door opened, and Helen flew out like a white swan, her head bobbing on her long neck. Her hair was damp at the roots, feathered at the tips. She flung off her sunglasses, looking from Norris to me, then she ducked back into the car and pulled out her tennis racquet.

“Norris, damn you,” she cried. “Did you hit that woman?”

He rubbed his eyes. “Yeth, but—”

“Are you insane? Two neighbors have called me! You attacked a woman in front of witnesses.” She sprinted across the grass and slammed the racket against his ear.

Whap. Whap. Whap.

“Mama, no.” He yelped. “Pleath.”

“Quit sniveling!”

Whap, whap, whap.

Norris wrenched away from her grasp and ran around the house. Emerson and Alex grabbed more mulch and chased him. Helen walked over to me, swinging that racquet. The skin around her eyes had turned white.

“Miss Templeton, I am so sorry. I didn’t raise Norris to hurt women. Please don’t have him arrested. He’s going to a clinic in Arizona next week. But they won’t take him if he’s got pending assault charges. You need to leave before the police get here. I’ll pay your medical bills. I’ll do anything.”

“Just be kind to Emerson,” I said.

“Is that all?”

“Isn’t that enough?”

In the distance, I heard a splash, followed by a loud, lisping voice that beseeched Helen to save him from Emerson’s wrath.

I staggered to the truck. Helen helped me put Sir inside. I got into the front seat, flipped down the visor, and looked at the mirror. No broken teeth. But an upper incisor felt loose. My lip was so big, a chickadee could mistake it for a perch.

I drove to the corner and turned right. I wouldn’t feel safe at the farm, not now. But when Red and Irene saw my lip, I’d have to tell them what I’d done, that I’d burgled the Philpots’ house, and they’d tell Coop.

I drove to the library, the only place I’d felt safe as a child, and angled into a shady parking slot. I pulled the diary out of my pocket.

And read things that changed my life.

twenty-six

Barbara Browning Philpot’s Diary

June 2

Coop and I broke up last night at the drive-in. All because of a green worm. It crawled real fast like it was doing push-ups all the way down his sleeve. I couldn’t drag my eyes away from that worm. Up and down up and down. One minute I was in love with Coop and the next I hated him and I was gagging. How could he not know what was crawling on him? I couldn’t love somebody that ignorant. But where had the worm come from? A tree or out of his body?

June 10

My friend Linnea said that Coop and Teeny Templeton went to the lake. Gag me with a spoon. That didn’t take long, did it? I just wonder if that worm came from Teeny’s peach farm. Maybe he’s been seeing her behind my back. I hate her and I hate Coop. I hope he drives his Mustang off the bridge and I hope Teeny is with him and I hope they suffer the way I’ve suffered.

June 19

I wasted four precious years of my precious life on a boy who attracts worms. He was just the water boy in high school and didn’t even play football. I was Miss Everything. I am destined for greatness. If I was Catholic, I’d pray to the patron saint of bad boyfriends because Coop was super bad.

June 21

Tonight I helped Father put together a Big Ben puzzle and I don’t even like the British. I hid five pieces under the rug. I’m not sorry I hid them and I’m not sorry I broke up with Coop.

June 29

Teeny and Coop went to a pool party at his house. I would like to cook her in a soup pot and feed her to the O’Malleys. They would all want my recipe. Teeny isn’t the only one who can cook. If someone reads my diary they will see my brilliance and know that I am bound for greatness. Even Hollywood. Even with the lack of commas my diary will make a good movie.

July 1

Coop is still dating the peach bitch. I have been thinking of ways to kill her. I could push a shish kebab skewer up her nose and her brains would leak out but I don’t like blood.

I might stop keeping a diary because it’s a time suck.

July 31

Today I didn’t think about Coop. I went shopping with Linnea and every outfit I put on looked so cool. I should be on a soap opera or a TV game show. I wouldn’t mind a job like Vanna White. I could spin the wheel for a show called I Want To Buy A Consonant.

August 2

Coop won’t return my phone calls and I don’t know why because he’s always worshipped me. Is he screwing Teeny? Maybe I should have screwed him. Maybe I still can. But how can I get him alone?

August 8

Today is Coop’s 19th birthday. I called his house and his mama answered and she made Coop talk to me. I told him I’d had a flat tire and I was afraid a rape/strangler would snatch me. I wasn’t lying. I am very beautiful and men follow me down the street and I just ignore them.

When Coop showed up to fix my tire, I laid on top of him and I wasn’t wearing panties and that was the end of Teeny Templeton.

August 28

Coop left for college today. He’s going to Chapel Hill, NC. I cried and cried and ruined my mascara. I thought I might go blind. I’m not cut out for a long-distance romance. I’m cut out for marriage and a membership in the Bonaventure Country Club. I’m beautiful and smart and glamorous. I’m the daughter of two professors and you don’t see me in college. I’ll let Coop take care of me.

September 18

Coop came home last weekend and tried to break up with me. I cried and he weakened. Linnea says he’s dating a cute cum dumpster at Chapel Hill but he denied it so I did some new things to him and he shut up and went back to North Carolina.

October 31

Coop was home for the Bonaventure Halloween parade and we watched it with his parents on Oglethorpe Square. Teeny walked by. Coop smiled and she smiled back. I pretended to be sick and made Coop take me home. Mother and Daddy were still at the parade so I took off my clothes but Coop pushed me away and said, I don’t love you, Barb. It’s over.

I’m too upset to write another word. I might commit suicide if I can find a way that doesn’t involve blood or pain.

November 2

I drove to Lester Philpot’s new drugstore today and asked if he had anything for a headache and he gave me an illegal pill. He broke the law just to relieve my pain. Now that is impressive. I let him kiss me. If he gives me more pills I’ll give him more than a kiss. Maybe.

November 4

I went back to Lester’s for more pills and he asked me out to dinner. He has a big forehead and big eyes and I bet the rest of him is big too. For our date I’m going to wear a black angora dress and high heels and a push-up bra. Coop will be so jealous when he hears I’m dating a pharmacist.