Iggie's House (9 page)

Mrs. Landon raised her voice. “Well then, I'll wait!”

Winnie could tell that Mrs. Landon was not about to leave so she went back into the dining room and announced the arrival of Germs, Incorporated.

“I guess our cherry tarts will have to wait,” Mr. Barringer said, as they went to the front hall to greet Mrs. Landon. She wasn't there. She had already seated herself comfortably in the living room.

“Well, did you tell them, Winifred?” Mrs. Landon asked, turning on the smile.

“Tell us what?” Mrs. Barringer looked at Winnie.

“I don't know Mom,” Winnie said.

“What you were doing at the pool!” Mrs. Landon said sharply.

Mr. and Mrs. Barringer looked at their daughter.

Winnie said nothing.

“Well, if you don't tell them, I will! About your questionnaire,” Mrs. Landon said.

“Oh that!” Winnie said weakly. “No, I didn't tell them about it. Not yet.”

“Will somebody please tell
me
what is going on around here!” Mrs. Barringer demanded.

“I guess I'll have to be the one to tell you,” Mrs. Landon began, before Winnie had a chance to say a word. “Your daughter—this child standing right here—”
she stood up and started to tap Winnie on the head with her handbag but Winnie ducked and moved away. “Your daughter brought a questionnaire to the pool today. And … and … she asked
me
to fill it out. Can you imagine!” Winnie had the feeling that Mrs. Landon was about to explode.

“What kind of questionnaire, Winnie?” Mr. Barringer asked.

“Wait a second and I'll get it Dad,” Winnie said, dashing up the stairs.

She took the paper carefully out of her red pocketbook and smoothed it out. It had only one signature on it. Mr. Berger's. She carried it downstairs and presented it to her father, glancing sideways at Germs, Incorporated. She really wanted to stick out her tongue but her parents were watching.

Winnie's dad read the questionnaire, smiled and handed it to his wife. She read it and put it down on the coffee table, but did not smile.

“Well, she's not your child, Dorothy,” Mr. Barringer said firmly, “and we don't need any help or advice in handling her. As for this questionnaire … I don't see any difference between it and your petition. Except of course you represent different opinions. But Winnie is as much entitled to an opinion as you are.”

Winnie could hardly believe her ears. He was on
her side! Her father was on her side! He didn't like Mrs. Landon any more than she did!

“Well … well.…” Mrs. Landon fumed, her face turning purple. “I have news for you, Paul Barringer, that may make you change your mind. It just so happens that late this afternoon we had a real estate representative pay us a visit. He's going to do us a favor and buy our house. Of course we won't get as much as we should—because of THEM—but we feel fortunate in being able to get rid of it at any price. Now this gentleman is going to be calling on all of Grove Street very soon, offering to buy your homes quickly, while there is still time. And if you're smart you'll sell fast. Just as we did. Sell fast and get out of this neighborhood before it's too late! Before
they
take over!”

Mr. Barringer banged his fist on the top of the piano so hard that he shattered an ash tray and knocked over a vase. Water dripped onto the carpet but no one made a move to clean it up. Winnie thought her dad was going to lose control of himself. She had never seen him so mad. She didn't quite understand everything that Mrs. Landon was talking about but she got the general idea. The Landons were moving! She was glad to hear it.

Her father was shouting. “We'll have no Block-Busting on this street. No real estate agent's going to
tell me I'd better sell my house. Not now and not ever! I WON'T HAVE IT! Nobody is going to scare me into selling because of the Garbers. Nobody!”

“Fine,” Mrs. Landon shouted back. “I hope you and THEM will be very happy together.”

“Why do you hate them so?” Winnie asked, joining in. “You don't even know the Garbers! So how can you hate them?”

“I don't have to know them!” Mrs. Landon screamed. “They're different … they're …”

“They are not,” Winnie yelled, interrupting Mrs. Landon. “They even use the same kind of peanut butter. That's how different they are!”

There was absolute silence. The three grownups simply stared at her. Winnie wanted to grab Mrs. Landon and shake her. Then Mr. Barringer walked quickly to the front door and opened it. “Good night, Dorothy.”

Mrs. Landon stomped out of the house. Winnie threw her arms around her father. “Oh Daddy! I'm so proud of you!”

“Look Winnie—I'm still not exactly sure about my feelings. I want you to understand that. But I'll tell you this. I'm going to organize a block meeting. Nobody else on this street is going to be pressured into selling his home. Not if I have anything to say about it. Now let's have those cherry tarts.”

Winnie hadn't thought about her mother until now. When she looked over she saw her mother shaking. Her face was ashen. She frightened Winnie. “Mom?” Winnie said. “Mom? What's the matter?”

Mrs. Barringer covered her mouth with her hands and ran from the room.

Yick! She wasn't in the mood. She'd finish it in the morning.

Winnie didn't sleep well that night. She was angry at her mother for behaving the way she did. Just like Herbie Garber! And furious that nobody got to eat any cherry tarts because of that awful Mrs. Landon.

The next morning when Winnie got up the house was perfectly still. No morning noises at all, even though the clock on her dresser said ten after nine. Then Winnie remembered it was Sunday. That was the trouble with summer. One day was just like another. It was hard to keep track of which was which. She dressed slowly and crept downstairs to the kitchen where she discovered her father, his nose buried in the Sunday papers. “Where's Mom?” Winnie asked.

“Sleeping,” her father replied.

“Oh. She okay?”

“She will be. Just a little upset. Nothing to worry about.”

“Oh.”

“Your mother wants to move.”

“But Daddy—we're not going to, are we? Last night you said …”

Her father interrupted her. “Sometimes people think more clearly in the morning.”

It was her mother's fault. She'd gotten to him all right. Probably with one of those whispering campaigns. Everything her father stood up for last night was gone this morning. Vanished!
Poof!
Just like that!

Well, if they were going to move they were going to be in for a big surprise, because she wasn't going with them. She'd leave town … run away! She'd run to Iggie in Tokyo. At least Iggie's folks would understand. They'd take care of her. They'd never make her go back! And it wouldn't be hard. She'd hide on a ship. Hitch a ride to New York and then hide on a ship. She read about people who did that all the time. The only problem would be how to find Iggie once she got to Tokyo. Of course she had the address. All she'd have to do was find somebody who spoke English. Somebody to give her directions
to Iggie's new house. Once she was there she'd never see her folks again. Maybe Matthew would join her. Yes, that was a good idea. She'd wait until Tuesday when Matthew came home from camp then they'd go together.

“Winnie! Why are you staring into space like that?” Mr. Barringer asked.

“What? Me? Oh, nothing!” Winnie poured pineapple juice from a can into a glass. “I think I'll make some plans if it's okay with you.”

“Fine. Go ahead. No need to hang around here,” her father answered.

She swallowed her juice in one gulp and walked out to the hall where she picked up the phone. Without dunking, Winnie started to dial Iggie's number. Of course it would have been changed! She called information and asked for GARBER … a new listing on Grove Street. She jotted down the number on the milk bill, which was lying face up on the telephone table.

She couldn't leave town without explaining it to them. Then Herbie would
really
have something to talk about! How she ran off when the going got rough. She'd show him. She'd show that Herbie Garber! She'd plan a day to remember.

The Garbers' phone rang twice before a gruff voice answered. “Hello … hello …”

Winnie hung up. She hadn't expected Herbie to answer. She waited a minute, then dialed a second time. “Hello … hello …” Herbie again.

Finally Winnie managed to say, “Hello Herbie. This is Winnie. May I please speak to Glenn?”

Silence on the other end. “Uh … Herbie …” Winnie continued. “Are you there?”

“Yeah. I'm here.”

“Well, may I
please
speak to Glenn?”

“Just a second.”

“Hello?” It was Glenn's voice.

“Hi. It's me … Winnie.”

“I know.”

“Oh. Well, it's a nice day and I was wondering what you were doing.”

“Don't know.”

“Oh.”

“Why were you wondering?”

“Well, I thought we could do something together.”

“Like what?”

“Maybe a picnic.”

“Your house?”

“No, in the park.”

“I thought you said the park's too crowded on weekends.”

“Too crowded for ball … not to eat.”

“Just you and me?” Glenn asked.

“No, everybody.”

“Even Herbie?”

“Sure.”

“Just a second.” Winnie heard a lot of muffled voices in the background. Then Glenn said, “Okay, we'll go.”

“Good!” Winnie was pleased. “Come over here as soon as you can. And Glenn, I'll bring everything we'll need for the picnic. Bye.”

She hung up and raced back to the kitchen. Her father was gone. She slapped some peanut butter on eight slices of bread and carefully cut the sandwiches in half. She stepped back to admire her work. Yick! Whenever she cut with a knife it looked like she'd done the job with a dull scissors. The peanut butter sandwiches were no exception. She wrapped each sandwich in Saran, took an unopened box of chocolate-chip cookies from the pantry shelf, threw in a few napkins and put everything into a big brown paper bag. They could buy soda and ice cream at the stand in the park and if the Garbers had no money with them … well, Winnie would just treat them. She had plenty of allowance saved up.

She searched frantically for the picnic blanket but she couldn't find it upstairs or down. No use asking her father, who was in the den. Daddy never knew where anything was around the house. Instead,
she pulled the blanket from her own bed, rolled it up, carried it downstairs, grabbed the brown bag of lunch and announced, “Daddy, I'm going to the park for a picnic. Just tell Mom I'll be home later this afternoon. Okay?”

“Fine. Bye,” Mr. Barringer said without looking up. Winnie packed the red wagon with the blanket and lunch. She was outside and ready when the Garbers arrived. She couldn't look at Herbie. She'd never slapped anyone in the face in her whole life. She wondered if she should apologize, or what! But Herbie deserved that slap. He really did … so why apologize? She wasn't the one who started it. She'd do what her mother did after a fight with her father. Pretend it hadn't happened. Just act natural. “Hi,” Winnie said.

Tina and Glenn answered, but Herbie was busy kicking a stone down the street.

“Let's go,” Winnie said, pulling the wagon.

When they turned off Grove Street and onto Sherbrooke Road Winnie couldn't stand the suspense any longer. “Well, are you moving?” she asked Glenn.

“Nope.”

“How come? What happened?”

“You've never seen our father when he's made up his mind about something!” Glenn said.

Herbie gave his stone a big kick, then turned
around to face the others. He pretended to be his father. He shook his finger at them and growled. “I've worked for years to get this job and I'm not giving it up now!”

“That's what he yelled at my mother,” Tina whispered to Winnie.

Herbie continued his act. “Grow up honey! You've got to grow up and face life! Running away isn't the answer.”

“That started my mother on a crying jag that lasted all night,” Glenn added.

“But this morning she came down and gave us breakfast. She sniffled a lot but she didn't cry once,” Tina reported.

“Man! Will I be glad when school starts. Anything to get out of that house!” Herbie kicked his stone.

“The Landons are moving,” Winnie said, quietly.

“No kidding?” Glenn looked at her.

“Good riddance!” Herbie hollered. “Good riddance to the Germ family!”

“Mrs. Landon wants my folks to sell our house too.”

They stopped walking. Winnie sat down on the edge of the wagon. Herbie, Tina and Glenn gathered around her.

“And?” Glenn asked.

“Well, I don't know yet,” Winnie confessed.

Herbie bent over, picked up his stone and threw it. “Maybe we can start a nice little ghetto right on Grove Street. That's what it's all about, isn't it? Get out before
we
take over?”

“Look, I don't want to get into another fight,” Winnie explained. “I just wanted to tell you that if my folks move away I'm not going with them.”

“Where you going to live? In Iggie's tree house?” Herbie laughed.

“Very funny! I'm going to Tokyo. To live with Iggie's family.”

“Oh, just like that! That's just great!” Herbie laughed at her again.

“Herbie, if you'd stop being so impossible for a minute …”

“Come on, Winnie!” Glenn said. “Going to Tokyo isn't exactly a practical idea.”