School of Charm (3 page)

Mama and Charlene and Grandma were sitting in chairs, all huddled up together.

“You've only had Charlene in six pageants?” Grandma asked. “We'll have to get Ruthie started soon.”

Worse than dolls. They were talking about pageants. I sat down in a chair and tried not to groan.

Mama picked up Ruthie and she looped her arms around Mama's neck and snuggled into her chest.

“Don't worry about Chip,” Charlene said, crossing her long, thin legs. “I've already told her she's not pageant material. She needs to know so she won't be embarrassed. I look out for her like that, Grandma.” She shrugged like she couldn't help being the best big sister in the world, which was not true no matter how big she smiled when she said it.

Grandma looked at me. I knew she was staring at the pale red birthmark splashed on my cheek. My angel's kiss. That's what Daddy always called it.

I ignored Charlene and watched a toad hop across the bricks in the patio. I would've caught him if we weren't at Grandma's and on our best behavior. I sat on my twitching fingers to be sure. He was a nice big toad.

“Miss Dogwood is
five
weeks away? Oh my, so much to do,” Mama said, fanning herself. But her cheeks glowed that pretty pink color like they used to before Daddy died.

“We can do it,” Grandma said. “It's just what we need. A pageant to keep us busy.”

“I suppose you're right.” Mama sighed and dropped her head back. “It's good to be back south. I just never felt right up north. It's so darn cold, and everything's so fast.”

“Of course you didn't like it. I told you to stay away from that
Yankee
.” Grandma spit the word out.

“Mother . . .”

“What did I expect, though? You never did listen to me,” Grandma said in a low voice.

Mama's mouth tightened. “Yes, well, you didn't . . .” She glanced over at us.

I looked back and forth from Mama to Grandma. There were more secret looks and words bouncing between them than a handful of Super Balls.

Grandma patted the arms on her lawn chair. “This is where you belong, Cecelia. Charlene too. The next Miss Dogwood!” She reached for her drink on the little round table next to her and held it up in a toast. She took a long sip and stared at my scabby legs.

I scratched at my bites. I had dozens of them. I couldn't help it. Mosquitoes loved me. I must have tasted like the marshmallow section of a Sky Bar to them.

Charlene wrapped her arms around her knees and giggled. “If you say so, Grandma. You're the expert. Miss North Carolina 1939! I bet you had all the cute boys chasing you.”

Grandma started coughing on her drink.

Yuck, yuck, yuck. I got up and left the patio. I wasn't going to be part of this pageant. I wouldn't help with one. I wouldn't go to another one. And I wouldn't ever join one. Ever. Mama made me go to Charlene's first pageant, but I had such a hard time sitting still and keeping quiet that she told Daddy to stay home with me the next time. We just had to show up at the end in case Charlene won—which hadn't happened yet. Staying home had been fine with us both. We went fishing instead, and one time I caught a ten-inch bass. We let him go, of course, because of how we respected nature. Daddy was nice like that. He never would have dried up a fish to hang it on the wall.

I wanted to ask Grandma if there were any creeks or ponds around for fishing, but she was too busy talking about the pageant. So I ran across the lawn and poked around Grandma's yard, checking out her flowerbeds. I wondered if I could do some gardening with her, but it didn't look like she spent much time out there. Most everything was wilted or shriveling up. Her grass was turning brown too. I looked for a tree to climb, but the branches were all too high.

Climbing trees is how I got my nickname. I was trying to get a closer look at some neat white flowers on a tree in our front yard a few years ago. They only had four petals, which seemed unusual. I scampered a couple of branches up and reached out to pick a blossom. Then I fell and chipped my two front teeth.

Mama was real upset on the car ride to the dentist even though I wasn't even crying or fussing at all. “You're lucky it was just your teeth,” she said. “Children across America fall out of trees every day and sometimes they break their legs and sometimes the doctors have to cut off those legs!”

“Oh, come on now, Cecelia. There, there,” Daddy said, patting her hand.

Mama scowled at him and pushed his hand away.

But he was right. The dentist fixed my teeth right up.

“See? That chip's gone,” Daddy said. “Those teeth are good as new, Brenda. You be more careful so you don't lose a leg next time.” He winked at Mama. And that's when Daddy started calling me Chip. It didn't even matter that it was a boy's nickname; I was his girl.

Usually being a daddy's girl means he buys you treats and lets you out of chores. But not me. We spent our time in the woods, tracking rabbits and saving baby squirrels that fell out of their nests. Who's got time for hair curlers and high heels like Charlene's when you're busy keeping baby squirrels alive? I couldn't be a pageant girl
and
my daddy's girl even if I wanted to. Besides, Daddy always said I didn't need a pageant to prove I was pretty. He thought I was perfect just being me—Daddy's Girl.

But since Daddy was gone, I didn't know whose girl I was. I slumped against a tree in Grandma's yard, slapping away the mosquitoes. I guess I tasted good to the ones down south too.

Laughter tinkled from the patio like Mama and my sisters had been living with Grandma forever, not just a few hours. I wanted to be part of the fun, too, so I headed back to the patio when Mama called, “Time for bed, Chip. We've had a long day.”

Bedtime already? I trudged up to Grandma's house without that comfy feeling I usually got on the way to my own room.

“Hurry up, Brenda,” Grandma snapped. “We've got a big day tomorrow.”

The sun had just set, but the sky wasn't pitch-black yet. Fireflies flashed in the grass like twinkling lights on a Christmas tree. Then I remembered the date on my calendar for the next day: 7/7/77. I sprinted across the lawn, thinking about all those lucky sevens. That date only comes around once every one hundred years. Something wonderful was sure to happen after so many bad things. Billy and I had been counting down to this day. I wondered what he'd be doing on 7/7/77. Maybe Daddy's sign would come tomorrow. Or Grandma might smile at me more than she frowned.

“Coming!” I skipped the rest of the way up to the house, tugging along a little nugget of hope that things would get better tomorrow. Daddy always said everything looked brighter in the morning. I sure hoped he was right.

chapter three

W
HEN
M
AMA TUCKED ME IN
, I
DECIDED TO GET BRAVE
again. I ran my fingers along the silky strip of material at the top of my blanket. “You didn't tell me why Grandma's so mean. She doesn't like me very much. And she seems mad at you.” I looked up at her.

Mama stood up from my bed. “Chip, she likes you just fine. Now go to sleep.” She squeezed the bridge of her nose. She did that a lot around me.

I crossed my arms on top of the blanket. “Mama . . .” I was nagging again, but I couldn't help it. I had to know.

Mama paused at the door. “It's not you, Chip. Do you know how many housekeepers she's fired? Twenty-two. And that was just in 1955. When we'd go out to dinner, she'd make nine out of ten of the waitresses cry. A few of them quit, even. They never waitressed again and had to go to beauty school.”

“Mama, I'm serious. Why's she like that? Is she just a tough nut to crack?” That was one of Daddy's sayings. He could make anyone smile—grumpy bank tellers, gum-snapping grocery store clerks, and tired waitresses. Mama would tease him and call him a charmer. But the few times he didn't get a grin, he'd wink at me and whisper, “No worries. They're just a tough nut to crack.” Maybe that was Grandma—one tough nut.

I thought Mama might laugh, but she looked up at the ceiling and closed her eyes. “Someday I'll try to explain about Grandma. Some day you might understand how a person can harden up like that. But please, just try to get along with her, Chip.”

“But, Mama, she hates animals, she loves dolls, and she hasn't said one nice thing to me yet. How are we supposed to get along?”

Mama's shoulders slumped. “Just try your best. Can you do that for me? Promise?”

I nodded and let out a long sigh. Mama knew I hated breaking promises. “Yes, Mama. I promise.”

Mama gave me half a smile. “Thanks.” She clicked off the light and left the room. I fell right asleep and dreamed that Grandma turned into a big wooden statue, standing right in the same room with all those dead animals while holding a handful of nuts.

 

E
VEN THOUGH
I
WAS STILL GRUMPY ABOUT LIVING AT
Grandma's in a room full of old fabric and stuffed birds, I jumped out of bed in the morning, remembering it was going to be a special day. Maybe we'd just gotten off to a bad start and things would be easier with Grandma after we'd all had a good night's sleep. It was time to try again, especially since I'd promised Mama.

I pulled my turtle's bowl out of the closet and poked a piece of okra at him that I'd smuggled up from dinner. He blinked and tucked his head in his shell. I set him back in the closet, hidden away behind a box, and walked into the hall. I stopped in front of the off-limits room. A whoosh of excitement shot through me. I'd never had such a big secret staring me in the face. A locked room I was forbidden to enter. What in the world could an old lady have that no one was allowed to see? I was just hiding a little old turtle in my closet, but she had a secret that took up a whole room.

I reached out to try turning the brass doorknob, and then yanked my hand back. Getting caught snooping around definitely wouldn't help Grandma like me more. I shrugged.
Never mind
,
I thought. Maybe another day, because today was the luckiest day of the century, and something much better than a dusty old room was going to turn up, I just knew it. I backed away and skipped down the stairs, imagining what wonderful, lucky, supergood thing was going to happen on 7/7/77.

“Mornin', Chip,” Mama said.

“Eat up. We've got big plans today,” Grandma said.

I smiled at that, and bounced over to the table and sat down. Grandma had small, wooden chairs that forced you to sit up straight, but I didn't mind. I wasn't even upset that a box of Grape-Nuts cereal was sitting where my Froot Loops should be. “So what are we doing today?”

“We're going to town to choose material for Charlene's gown. Why don't you come along and check out Mount Airy?” Mama said.

Charlene looked at me and smiled. “It'll be fun. You can help me pick the color. It has to be just right. I'm thinking turquoise or purple, maybe.”

My mouth dropped open. “That's our big day?” I looked around at their blank faces. “It's July seventh. Seven, seven, seventy-seven! Don't you get it? This will be the luckiest day ever. Something magical should happen today. Not a trip to pick out stupid pageant material.” Something sad was crawling up my throat and I swallowed hard to push it back down.

Charlene's cheeks glowed red. “Brenda! You are so selfish. This could be a magical day—for me!” She pressed her hand against her chest in case I didn't know who she had meant by the word
me
. “If we pick out the right material, I just might win that title.” She clanged her spoon on the bottom of her cereal bowl and shot a mean look my way.

Grandma's lips were puckered; could've been because she was eating a grapefruit, could've been because of my cutoff shorts. She was staring at them. But it was probably because of what I'd said.

“People who rely on magic are usually disappointed,” she said. “There's no such thing. And luck? The only thing lucky about today is a sunny forecast. Come into town with us. You need some proper clothes for the dinner table. You'd look quite nice in a dress, Brenda, and I'll be happy to buy you one.”

“So will you come?” Mama asked. Her eyes looked so hopeful, I felt sad.

But I wasn't going shopping on the luckiest day of the century. I'd rather go back to the dentist and get my teeth fixed again. I'd rather put in two more weeks at school. I'd rather sit next to Joey Booger Beyers at lunch, with his finger right up his nose. “No, thanks. I'd like to explore the woods around here if that's all right with you.”

Grandma opened her mouth, but Mama touched her hand. “Sounds real nice,” Mama said. “I know how you love nature.” Mama stared at me and pushed her eyebrows together like she might cry. “I'm sure once you do some exploring, you'll see this is a fine place to live.” She quickly looked out the window.

Grandma snapped her mouth shut and made that deep humming noise again.

I shoveled down my Grape-Nuts and burst out the back door before anyone could stop me. I ran down the driveway like something was chasing me. Maybe I'd find something lucky outside. Maybe Daddy would come through with my sign. I swung my arms and strode out onto the long empty road without looking back.

Grandma's road was a lot different from ours. There wasn't a ditch filled with wild flowers like we had back in New York. The woods bumped right up to the street, all thick and dark. The morning air wasn't fresh and cool, either. It was already breathing down my neck. And it smelled different, like laundry on someone else's line. The stones on the side of the road were odd colors too. Reddish-brown and round. The ones back home were gray and jagged. My feet felt different stepping on these strange rocks.

I stopped and closed my eyes. Back home I knew what time of the month it was by what was happening outside. The jellied mass of baby catfish eggs hatched in the pond when school ended. Tiger lilies bloomed up and down our road right on my birthday, July 4. Mom would pick a bunch before we went to see the fireworks.

This year we skipped the Fourth. We were so busy getting ready to leave for Grandma's. So me
and
Daddy missed the fireworks for the very first time—on my eleventh birthday—all because he was riding his motorcycle on the road when another man was driving with an empty six-pack of beer in his passenger seat.

I scuffed along Grandma's street as a car slowed down behind me. Charlene leaned out the window in her polka-dot halter top. “You sure you don't want to come? We're stopping for sundaes afterward at Snappy Lunch.” Her new southern accent was even thicker.

Ruthie popped up underneath Charlene and pressed her hands against the window. I could see Mama leaning past Grandma, smiling. They looked like one big happy bunch going into town for a fun time. I thought about jumping in the car to be part of it, but then I remembered where they were going. They'd probably spend hours in the store, feeling every piece of material, and I'd end up outside, leaning against the building counting ants on the sidewalk all by myself.

I stepped back and shoved my hands in my pockets. “No, thanks.”

“Suit yourself,” Grandma said.

“Suit yourself,” Ruthie said from the backseat.

Mama looked away and settled back.

Charlene made a face at me and rolled up the window.

Grandma's big Lincoln Continental roared down the road, sending up a cloud of dust that swirled around me while I stood there. I coughed as the dirt blew past me. After watching the car disappear, I walked on, kicking pebbles until they bounced, bounced, bounced out of sight. There were no creeks to explore, no ponds hiding murky secrets. I didn't know what I was supposed to like about this place. I stopped and frowned. Daddy sure was taking his time showing me a sign. Then again, maybe a sign from heaven would be hard to send. And maybe it would be hard to see. How was I supposed to know it was a sign, anyway?

I thought about it for a moment and decided that when Daddy sent his sign, I'd feel it, 'cause my heart would slide right back into place. I peered up at the sky, hoping the clouds might form a shape to tell me something like a smoke signal would. But it was just pure blue up there with a lonely splotch of sun. Too bad Daddy couldn't stuff a note in a bottle and send it on down.

I walked on some more, shuffling down a little dip in the road, when a noise caught my attention, like someone tapping on a door. My throat tightened.
Tap-tappity-tap
. It was coming from the side of the road.
Tap-tappity-tap.
Same rhythm.
Tap-tappity-tap.
I kept walking and the noise got louder. I bit my lip, wanting to charge into the brush and find out what—or who—was making that sound. Not so easy to do without Billy or Daddy by my side. I fluttered my fingers, waiting for courage to fill me up.

But when I heard it again, I was more curious than scared, so I walked down the slope off the side of the road and made my way through the bushes and little trees, just itching to find out what it was.

Tap-tappity-tap.

Tap-tappity-tap.

I followed the sound until I found it. A branch from a little tree was bobbing, hitting a wooden sign. The weather wasn't breezy or anything, but still the branch was keeping the beat, hitting the sign. Words were painted on it: “Miss Vernie's School of Charm.” Shivers tickled my skin and I rubbed my arms, but the goose bumps didn't go away. Charlene had talked about wanting to go to a charm school to help with her pageants. But weren't charms about magic too? Which kind of school was this?

I ran my fingers along the smooth wood. It was a big sign, and I don't know how I'd missed it in the first place. The words were faded, and it was crawling with honeysuckle and sweet peas. The two
o
's in the word
school
stared at me like that stuffed owl in my room, just waiting to see what I'd do.

I crossed my arms and tapped my foot. Well, I'd found a sign. Was this Daddy being funny up in heaven? This was not the kind of sign I was looking for and he knew it. No, this wasn't my message from Daddy, but still, it was interesting. Maybe even more interesting than Grandma's off-limits room. My insides felt like a hopping, fluttering baby bird trying to leap out of its nest.

I peered past the sign and spotted a long shady driveway. Chimes tinkled far away. Goose bumps stung my arms again, but I started walking up the driveway. My stomach tightened with each step. I walked a lot slower than I would've if Billy had been by my side. He would've made it feel like a great adventure.

At the end of the driveway everything turned bright with color, like when Dorothy enters Oz. I saw a big house, as blue as a robin's egg, but it was dark and quiet inside. I didn't see a charm school sign, so I walked around back.

A woman stood with a silver watering can, sprinkling a great big plant. I didn't know what kind of plant it was because I didn't know the plants down south or when the flowers bloomed or the birds hatched or anything. But this plant was pretty with big cream-colored flowers. The biggest I'd ever seen.

She looked up at me, and her smile opened like a morning glory. “Hello there,” she said, just like she'd been expecting me. She kept on watering, the drops spilling out like bits of crystal.

I looked around for another building, but all I saw was the house. “Excuse me, is this the charm school?” I was nibbling on my thumbnail again, even though I'd chewed most of it off on the car ride down.

“It most certainly is.” She picked a dead leaf off the plant and stepped back to look at it. She turned to me. “Dinnerplate dahlias.”