The Kid in the Red Jacket (5 page)

“You should have seen me at lunch,” I went on. “I’m not kidding, Gaylord, I would have
paid
somebody—anybody—to eat with me. Well, almost
anybody. I wouldn’t have eaten with that Molly Vera Thompson. You wouldn’t believe what she did to me on …”

“Hey! What’re you talking to that little baby for?”

At first I thought I was hearing things. I wasn’t, though. Molly was standing right in the living room doorway. She had actually come inside without even knocking!

Before I knew it, she bounded over next to me and was trying to tickle Gaylord’s feet.

“Want me to change his diaper?” she asked eagerly. “I bet I know how.”

I frowned. “It’s not polite to just walk into people’s houses.”

Molly didn’t answer. She was too busy trying to pick up Gaylord. I think she was trying to get him into position so she could throw him in the air.

My mother came to the rescue. She brought me in a plate of cookies and took Gaylord back out with her. The cookies were a nice idea, I thought. It reminded me of the TV commercial where this little kid has a hard day and his mother fixes him a bowl of tomato soup.

Molly stood over the cookie plate with her mouth all watery. If I didn’t give her one, she
would probably have drooled right on top of them.

I wanted to tell her to go home. What was wrong with her, anyway? I couldn’t be her friend. The guys at school would think I was a wimp or something. They’d think I was like this kid at my old school, Ronald Dumont.

Ronald Dumont was a sixth-grader. At recess he played horses with the second-graders. He’d put a rope around his waist, and they’d pretend to steer him all over the playground. It was pretty embarrassing. He’d whinny and snort and shake his head like a wild stallion. Most of us stayed away from Ronald Dumont. Once you’ve seen a sixth-grader act like a horse, it’s hard to pick him for your softball team.

Anyway, I knew that’s what would happen if anyone thought I was hanging around with little kids. I’d get this reputation as a weirdo. And if you ask me, I had enough problems without adding that one to the list.

Quickly I turned on the television and tried to pretend that Molly wasn’t there. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw her crawl into my father’s favorite chair.

“Hey! What’re we watchin’?”

Don’t answer
, I commanded myself.
Ignore her
.

Suddenly Molly giggled. Instinctively I knew she was wrinkling up her nose and smiling.

“This is fun! Isn’t it, friend?” she squealed.

Once again I remained silent. I felt her eyes staring at me, but I didn’t look. I just kept watching the TV like she wasn’t there.

“You know what, Howard Jeeper? Your mouth looks grumpy. Do you need a nap? My nonny says when I need a nap, my mouth gets grumpy too. Do you need a—”

“No!” I blurted. “I don’t take naps!” I couldn’t help it. Why couldn’t she stop being so stupid?

“Oh,” she said, still staring. “Then why is your mouth grumpy?”

“It’s not grumpy! I just don’t like it here, okay?”

Molly’s eyes opened wide with surprise. “Ohhhhh. So that’s it. You don’t like it here. Is it ’cause you miss your old house? I did. When I first came here, I missed my old house real bad. My mouth was grumpy practically all the time. It’s not anymore, though. Look! See?”

I made the mistake of looking. She had her face ready for me. She was smiling so wide, you could almost see down her throat.

“Hey! Wait a minute, Howard Jeeper! I got an idea how to make you feel better!” She hopped down from the chair and bounded for the door. “Wait here! I’ll be right back!”

That was it—she was gone just as quickly as she had appeared. It was like a miracle or something.

Wasting no time, I sprung up from the couch, locked the front door, and ran into the kitchen. Mom and Dad were unpacking the last of the boxes.

“Feeling better?” asked my mother. “Molly still in there?”

“Er, ah, no. She left. She might be back, though. So if you hear someone banging on the front door in a minute, don’t answer it, okay?”

My mother stopped unpacking and sat me right down.

“Look, honey,” she began. “I know Molly’s a little hard for you to take. But I met her grandmother today, Howard. And I’m telling you, that poor little girl has been through a very rough year. Her parents split up and neither one seems to want her. She was in a foster home for a while before they released her to her grandmother. And then she had to come here on a plane from Ohio all by herself. She’s beginning to adjust now, and her
grandmother said that she hasn’t stopped talking about her new friend, Howard Jeeper, since she met you. She really needs a friend, Howard. It won’t kill you to be nice to her, will it? Think it over. Will it kill you?”

I waited until Mom’s back was turned and nodded. How did she know? Maybe it would kill me. Maybe after what I’d been through, the strain of being nice could make my heart collapse or something.

Just then there was this mad pounding at the front door. It sounded like Molly was kicking the whole thing in with her foot.

“Hey! What’s going on in there? Let me in!”

You could hear her shouting clear into the kitchen.

I sat back down on the couch while Mom hurried to the door. As soon as it was opened, Molly practically fell right inside.

“Whew! That was a close one!” she exclaimed.

Both her hands were behind her back as she bounded over to the couch.

For the next few seconds she stood in front of me, rocking back and forth on her toes with this stupid grin on her face.

“Guess what I got for you behind my back,
Howard Jeeper! Guess what!”

“A machine gun.”

Molly giggled. “Nope! It’s not a machine gun. It’s … it’s … it’s … 
Madeline!”

Then, before I could stop her, she pulled out the stupidest doll I’d ever seen and sat it right on my lap.

Basically, Madeline looked like she had been through a war. Most of her hair was missing and she had red crayon all over her lips. Also, she was only wearing underpants and a wool scarf.

I got that doll off me as fast as I could. I just picked her right up and sat her on the cushion next to me. By now Molly was sitting in my father’s big chair again, watching Madeline and me on the couch together. I can’t remember when I’ve felt so foolish.

“There!” she said at last. “Do you feel better yet?”

I didn’t get it. Why would I feel better?

“Isn’t Madeline the bestest baby in the whole world? She makes you feel better when you’re missing your old house and stuff. You can borrow her and she’ll keep you company. You’ll see.”

Suddenly Molly stopped talking. And, just for a second, her smile disappeared.

“The lady at my foster home gave her to me,” she added quietly.

It made me feel kind of sad. It really did.

All of a sudden, Bill trotted through the doorway. I guess it was what you’d call good timing. Molly’s face lit right back up.

“Hey! There’s that funny dog again!” she squealed as she scurried over to greet him. She threw her arms around his neck and let him sniff her. She sniffed him back and made a face.

“Hey! Is this smelly guy a watchdog? Does he protect you and stuff?”

I just shrugged.

“Madeline does. She’s a watch doll. Madeline will protect you at night just like she protected me.”

“Protect me from what?” I asked.

“Anything,” she answered simply. “Like if you just sit her on your floor at night while you’re sleeping, nothing will get you. Not even frog heads.”

I wasn’t sure I’d heard her right. Sometimes people say stupid stuff, but it’s just because you didn’t hear them right.

“Er, did you say frog heads?”

“Yup, frog heads. My nonny said they really
weren’t under my bed. She shined a flashlight under there to show me, but the frog heads were hiding then. Frog heads don’t come out till you’re asleep. Then they open their big, wide mouths and wait until your fingers go over the side of your bed. Then they eat them.”

The way that she said it made me sick. Having your fingers eaten off by frog heads makes being tickled by a tree sound like baby stuff.

Right after that Molly’s grandmother called her home for dinner. I wanted her to take her stupid doll with her, but I didn’t know how to ask. When someone’s trying to do something nice, I’ve never figured out how to say “no thanks.” My aunt Emily gave me some purple socks for my birthday, and I actually wrote her a thank-you note for them.

Anyway, that’s why I let Madeline stay. It’s not because I thought she could protect me or anything—I just didn’t know how to send her back.

When I went to bed that night, I took Madeline to my room. I guess I figured that as long as she was spending the night, she might as well do it on my floor. I didn’t expect her to watch out for me, though. I swear.

    6   
On my second day at school, believe it or not, I walked there with Molly Vera Thompson.

I was about halfway down the street when I first heard her.

“Hey! Hey, you! Howard Jeeper! Wait up! It’s Molly Vera Thompson!”

I knew this was going to happen. I just knew it. But even though I had begged and begged for
someone to drive me, both Mom and Dad had refused.

“One reason we bought this house was so that you could walk,” my father informed me. “The exercise will be good for you.”

“Hey, I said! Hold it!” she shouted again.

Two girls walking on the other side of the street started to laugh.

What was I supposed to do? If I didn’t stop, she’d just keep shouting her head off. And if I ran, she’d run after me. Finally, I bent down, pretended to tie my shoe, and waited for her to catch up. The way I figured it, walking to school with a first-grader is bad enough, but being chased by one to school is even worse.

“That was close!” she yelled, running up behind me. “For a minute there I didn’t think you heard me or something!”

Why was she still shouting? I was standing right next to her.

“Shhh!” I ordered. “Not so loud.”

Molly’s voice got quieter as she looked around us. “Why? Is someone listening?”

“Only the whole world.”

Molly just shrugged her shoulders and fell into step as I started walking again. We had only gone
a couple of yards when she wrinkled up her nose and started to giggle.

“This is fun, isn’t it, Howard Jeeper?”

I started walking a little faster.

“Hey! How’s the weather up there?” she called, looking up at me. Then she started laughing like it was the funniest thing anyone had ever said.

I didn’t answer. What was I supposed to say? Cloudy, with a chance of rain?

“Hey!” she persisted. “What’s wrong? Cat got your tongue this morning?” Her legs hurried faster and faster, trying to keep up with me. “That’s what my nonny says to me sometimes. ‘Cat got your tongue, young lady?’ she’ll say. It means that you’re being quiet.”

“Yeah, right,” I responded. I wasn’t paying attention, of course. All I wanted to do was get to school before anyone saw the two of us together.

“Hey! Why are we walking so fast? Are we in a hurry?”

“Nope,” I answered simply. “I always walk this fast. That’s why you probably shouldn’t walk with me. It’s probably not good for a little kid like you.”

“No. It’s okay,” she replied, huffing and puffing beside me. “I like to walk fast. It kind of bobs you
up and down, doesn’t it? See how fast my legs are going?”

Suddenly I started to run. I just didn’t want to be with her anymore, that’s all. I knew she couldn’t catch me. And since I was getting closer to the playground, I couldn’t risk the embarrassment of what she might do when we got there.

This time Molly didn’t even try to keep up. As soon as I started to sprint, she stopped to watch me go.

I didn’t feel guilty, either. Maybe I should have, but I didn’t. Only a few more yards and I would be across the street, heading toward the gate of the playground. Alone. I was just about ready to breathe a sigh of relief when I heard it.

Still on the sidewalk where I left her, Molly had cupped her hands around her mouth like a megaphone and was shouting in the loudest voice I ever heard:
“Hey, Howard Jeeper! Why’re you running? Do you have to go to the potty?”

I wanted to die. I didn’t stop running until I got inside the building. I know the whole playground must have heard. I tried not to look at anyone’s face as I ran, but I could hear people laughing, so I’m sure they heard. They probably even heard on playgrounds in Russia.

The bell hadn’t rung yet when I got to my classroom, but there were already three kids sitting down. One of them was the girl who sits in front of me. She didn’t say hi or anything, but as it turned out, she was the first one in my class to talk to me. After I sat down, she turned around and asked if I would mind getting my big feet off the back of her chair.

“They’re not big,” I answered.

It wasn’t much of a conversation, but when you’re desperate, you appreciate almost anything.

At lunch, I sat by myself again. Only this time I picked a seat next to the wall so I could sort of blend in with the bricks.

As I started to eat I realized that a lot of the guys in my class were sitting at the next table. And since I was blending in with the wall pretty good, I could watch them without being too obvious. The guy I watched the most was this kid named Pete. I guess I was sort of scouting him out to see what kind of friend he’d make. Scouting is what they do in professional sports. It’s a sporty word for spying.

I thought Pete might be someone I could like. I had noticed him on the soccer field. He was pretty
athletic, you could tell that. And he wasn’t a ball hog. Pete was the kid who had passed me the ball right before I took my big shot.

The good thing about Pete was that when my kick didn’t go in, he didn’t start swearing or anything. When you get to be my age, swearing comes pretty easily, especially when someone blows a chance for a goal.

The other kid that I couldn’t help noticing was this guy named Ollie. You could tell that he was the wise-guy type. He was real loud, and he talked a lot, and practically everything that came out of his mouth was a joke. He seemed like the kind of kid that grownups can’t stand but kids sort of admire. The thing is, to be a wise guy in class takes guts. Kids admire guts. Adults don’t. It’s that simple.