Betti on the High Wire (18 page)

Last of all, I sprinkled my jar of dirt—all the way from the circus camp—over my home.

It wasn’t much, it didn’t look exactly like the circus camp, but it was the best I could do.

I could practically see Auntie Moo sleeping next to the fire. I could see the leftover kids napping in the lion cage, crunched into the corner as usual.

At the circus camp I didn’t have to show anybody how I walked on my line into the sky. The leftover kids knew I was a star. In my stories I never tripped and never fell.

That was when my Big Mouth stories were very, very important and no one ever laughed.

I could practically hear George’s voice before we left for America. “How does it end, Babo? The story? About the beautiful circus girl?” And I answered, “Well, she had to leave. But then she had good luck, and she came back again ...”

It seemed like a hundred years ago.

I could still watch over my circus camp. Well, at least a little. I could make sure that they were still happy, that there were no soldiers in the woods. I could make sure that nothing was falling from the sky.

I climbed the Buckworths’ tallest tree.

I sang back at the red birds on a branch. I watched squirrels chew on nuts and drop them on Rooney’s head. I reached my hand up, trying to touch my mama, the tallest woman in the world. And I watched over my circus camp. My mama was watching over the circus camp too. I was sure of it.

“Betti!”

Mr. Buckworth was calling for me inside the house. I saw Mrs. Buckworth look out the window of my yellow room. I barely heard Lucy say, “Mom, where did she GO?”

The Buckworths never would have found me if it hadn’t been for Puddles. Puddles sat at the bottom of the tree and howled and howled until Mr. Buckworth came outside.

“What are you doing up there, little tiger?” Mr. Buckworth tilted his head up and scratched it. His copper coin hair shined in the sun and a few nuts fell next to his feet. “Betti?” he called up into the tree. “How’d you get up there?”

I called down softly, “I am the brave one.”

AUNTIE MOO TAUGHT me the difference between natural disasters and people disasters. Nature is much more powerful than people. There isn’t much anyone can do to stop a natural disaster. But people disasters? Well, Auntie Moo said that those happen when very foolish people make very foolish mistakes.

The Summer Six’s disaster was enormous. And it tilted to one side. It looked like a freaky foreign monster had dropped out of the sky and straight onto the play yard of Betsy Ross Elementary School.

Ms. Stacy had shown us a picture of some foreign “volkaynoo” in a book about science. Then she had lined up bowls and spoons, a whole bunch of balloons, a few bags of flour, and a stack of newspapers on a wooden table. She said that we were going to make a much better volcano than the picture in the science book.

So ours grew and grew until it was at least ten times bigger.

I was glad that I got to make a volcano at Day Camp. After two days of sitting home with sprained Lucy, and watching Big Mouth TV stories, I was ready to go back. I’d read Auntie Moo’s letter all sorts of times and she said that I had to try very hard in America. I had to teach something and learn something every day. Well, I’d learned enough already. Now, before I ran away, I needed to teach the Summer Five important lessons about my country, and my circus, and me.

After lunch Ms. Stacy said we had to paint the ugly volcano. “Paint your dreams, Summer Six. Maybe it’s something you want to be someday ... a career. It’s good to dream big, Summer Six,” she said. “The world is your oyster.”

I had no idea why Ms. Stacy thought the world was an oyster, but Timmy told Ms. Stacy that he hated oysters. Slimy.

Sam mumbled under her breath, “I hate this artsy flaky learning stuff.” She blew an enormous blue bubble that popped in her face and got stuck in her hair.

“What is a car ear?” I whispered to Timmy.

“It’s a job,” he answered, and wiped his nose on his shirt.

My dream was easy. I dreamed about the circus. It was going to be my Car Ear. Of course.

Then I saw Mayda walking through the play yard of Betsy Ross Elementary. I looked for Nanny too, walking slowly in her slipper shoes, but Mayda was alone. Her back was hunched over and her nose was practically stuffed inside her book. She tripped over something, but she didn’t care. She moved her crooked pink glasses up on her nose and looked around at the day campers in circles.

Mayda didn’t sit on her regular bench. She timidly sat on the grass, close to the Summer Six, and stared up at the clouds.

It took the Summer Six all afternoon to paint the huge volcano, which wasn’t even dry from the morning. It became a mess of bright and dark colors all mixed together with ugly white goo. Definitely not like the volcano in the book.

As I painted, I kept bugging out my bad eye at Bobby Ray to make him really scared.

All of us were completely quiet when Ms. Stacy asked us each to say something about our paintings.

“Well, my dream is to be an ambulance driver,” Timmy started, pointing at a painted heart with a happy face on the volcano. “I am thankful because the ambulance driver saved my grandpa when his heart had an attack.”

“Who attacked it? Aliens?” hooted Jerry.

“No,” answered Timmy. “I don’t know why it got attacked.”

Bobby Ray painted a fish on a hook. He wanted to be a fisherman because he liked sitting in a boat all day and drinking Coke. The fish’s eyes stared off like it was looking at something very important somewhere else. It is very sad to be a fish.

Tabitha painted a big blob with glasses. She dreamed of being a lawyer so she could be really tough like the people on TV, and Jerry wanted to be a big oval ball. He dreamed of being a football player, he said, which is probably why he painted a ball that looked like a big fat foot.

When it was Sam’s turn she announced, “I would like to be a rock singer. In a rock band.”

“You?” said Jerry. Bobby Ray and he burst out laughing.

Sam had painted a picture of a tall person with tall spiky purple hair and colorful clothes. “I have a song,” Sam told us, “that I wrote myself.” She cleared her throat and suddenly ... started to sing. I didn’t understand why anyone would want to be a rock, but Sam’s singing was very screechy.

Then it was my turn because I was the only one left. I was all ready to teach the Summer Five important lessons about my country and me, but I was sweating and my hands were shaking.

“I paint pictures,” I said softly, “of my ... car ear.”

I pointed to the very top of the volcano.

Sam stopped chewing her gum long enough to ask: “What is it?”

Timmy squinted. “Is it a dog?”

“It is ... a very tall fork. I mean, woman. In the world. With tail,” I squeaked. I had also painted a purple elephant, and a lion wearing roller skates, and a snake lady holding all sorts of lucky squiggly snakes.

“Weird,” said Bobby Ray.

“Betti, do you want to work at the zoo?” asked Ms. Stacy, looking awfully confused.

“No,” I started slowly. I had also painted a soldier who probably looked like a zoo man, but I didn’t want Ms. Stacy to put me in the zoo. “I want to be in the circus. Again. I was in the circus. Before. Before it burned.”

The Summer Five stared.

So out of nowhere I added: “And that is where my eye got broken.” I pointed at my fish eye.

Timmy gulped. “In the circus? How?”

“What happened?” gasped Tabitha with her mouth wide open.

Suddenly, I was very interesting. My words tumbled out in a mish-mash of gobbledygook. “Well ... I walk on a ... a line ... up in the sky.”

“The high wire?” asked Timmy, spitting out of his wire teeth and squinting his eyes.

“Yes. High Wire.” I didn’t know what a high wire was, but I was sure I must’ve walked on it. I went on: “My mama stands at one end of high wire. She is the tallest woman. In a whole world. With a tail.”

“WHAT?” hooted Jerry. “No way.”

“And my dad... he is green.” I didn’t know the words for bumpy or alligator so I sort of pinched at my body. “He stands down at bottom.” I pointed at the ground. “To catch me. If I fall.”

“Totally freaky,” exclaimed Bobby Ray.

“The people watch me. They pay banana. And they go like this.” I clapped for effect. “But one night Snake Lady, named Sister Baroo, falls asleep. Her snakes ran away. And one of her snakes crawled up ... up into the sky ... on my high wire.

“The snake”—I puffed up my chest, my arms rose up—“its head came to my face, like this. SSSSSSS.” I hissed at the Summer Five and they all scooted back on the grass. “Sister Baroo say, ‘That snake is magic! It will give you good luck. Or bad luck. It is hard to say.’ And then ... the snake takes tongue ...” I stuck out my tongue and wagged it around for effect. “... and eats my eye.”

“Gross.” Tabitha looked like she was going to be sick.

“Boy,” said Ms. Stacy. “Wow.”

“My eye is broken.” I shook my head sadly and bugged out my bad eye.

“Sounds like bad luck to me,” mumbled Bobby Ray.

I shrugged. “But people love me. ‘We love you,’they say. And they love my bad eye.”

“Where are they then?” asked Sam, scratching at her hair. “That Sister Baroo snake lady? And your mom and dad?”

I took a deep breath. “They are lost. Maybe mermaids. They sing. With ghosts. And they look ... for me. But I am not a toast. I mean, a ghost.”

Bobby Ray had a little smile on his face. “That seriously doesn’t make any sense.”

And that’s when the mean boys started laughing like crazy.

I looked around for George in the clusters of campers. He was far across the play yard making sand blobs. He kept looking up to watch the second graders climb the enormous funny-colored things coming out of the ground. They were swinging like monkeys with their arms. Even though George couldn’t swing because of his lost arm, he didn’t care. I could hear him giggling as if it was the best day of his life. Which just figured.

I looked over at Mayda too. She’d been listening very carefully to my story, I could tell. Her nose was out of her book and her eyes were wide open, watching everything.

After Ms. Stacy hushed up the mean boys, Timmy asked, “When do we get to make lava come out of the volcano, Ms. Stacy?”

“Right now, Timmy. I’ll be right back, kids. Sit quietly please.” Ms. Stacy ran off to get lava supplies.

I had no idea what lava was, but I definitely wanted to see it.

Suddenly out of stupid Bobby Ray’s mouth came, “I’m a starrrr. In the circussss.”

I moved my lips but no words came out.

“And that’s where I broke my eye!” Jerry pretended to poke his finger in his eye. He fell over backward and rolled around on the grass. “The snakes! They ATE it!”

I pretended that my ears were out of order.

“It’s a good thing my mama and dad are coming any day...”

And then I’d had it.

“They ARE coming to get me!” I shouted as loud as I could. I gave Bobby Ray and Jerry the meanest scariest look my bad eye could give. “I AM IN THE CIRCUS! You do not understand ANYTHING.”

Suddenly ... our huge volcano exploded! My Big Mouth made our balloons pop one by one, which made our volcano cave into one big pile of crusty mush.

“Whoa,” said Tabitha.

“Seriously freaky,” said Bobby Ray.

“Ew,” said Timmy.

“Oh my goodness,” said Ms. Stacy, who’d come jogging back when she heard me screaming. She slapped her hand to her forehead.

Sam took the wad of gum out of her mouth and stuck it on the mess of goo.

“I hate this art project flaky stuff,” she said, picking globs of white volcano out of her pointy hair.

I looked over and saw Mayda laughing on the grass, at least a little. So I laughed a little too.

Our volcano lay in a huge flat, floury, popped balloon-ey heap all over the wooden table. Maybe this was the lava. No one had anything to say—no Big Mouth words—as we all stared at it. I thought it’d probably be stuck there forever. At least maybe the Summer Five learned one thing from my important lessons:

This was definitely a people disaster.

I STOMPED ACROSS the play yard in a straight line. I was practicing for the circus. I was going to practice all night. Those mean boys didn’t know anything.

“Babo! Babo!”

Even in America George was about the slowest runner in the whole world. His new backpack bounced up and down like a sack of potatoes.

“You want ... swimming poo?” George tilted his head and his eyes stared into space. He was trying to think of the right words. “Play with we? My horse. For KOOKEY. And swim?”

My feet teetered. “I do not want a swimming poo or a horse, George. And I cannot play with you because I have to think about my car ear.” I rubbed my watery eyes dry.

George ducked his head as a ball flew through the air and nearly took off his big ear. “Car ear? What is car ear?” He put his finger on my wet cheek. “What’s the matter, Babo?”

“America is horrible. Stupid. Crazy.” I put my nose in the air and held my arms out. My hands were curled as pretty as possible. “I want to go home. To—”

“To our circus camp,” George said softly. “I know, Babo. You always do.”

“I’ve thought and thought about it. I’ve tried to be bad and the Buckworths still love me. So I’ve decided that we have to run away. Any day now. We have to try to run back to the big bird plane, and back to Big Uncle’s taxi, and back home.”

George was quiet. Finally he said, “But ... I already have a home, Babo. I don’t want to go back there.” He looked back at the play yard. “I like it here.”

I stepped off my high wire line. I put my arm around George and made him sit down next to me on the grass. “What about the circus? When it comes back again?”