The Lions of Little Rock (26 page)

54

SPEAKING UP

I explained my plan to Mother and Daddy over dinner. I didn't think they would like it much, but at least they listened. “She's right about one thing,” said Daddy when I was done. “Something does need to be done about Red.”

“Mrs. Dalton isn't a bad woman,” Mother agreed. “Perhaps it wouldn't hurt to talk to her.”

“Maybe we should call the police again,” suggested Daddy.

Mother shook her head. “I had Miss Winthrop check our files. Of the police officers who live in our district, twenty-three signed CROSS's petition. Only six signed STOP's. But if we all went to talk to the Daltons together . . .”

Daddy nodded. “It's worth a try.”

So twenty minutes later, my parents and I were knocking on JT's front door. A colored man wearing a butler's uniform answered the door. “We were hoping to pay a call on Mr. and Mrs. Dalton,” said Mother. “Are they at home?”

The man nodded and ushered us inside. I still had the black feather. It was bent and crumpled, and now that Liz wasn't talking to me, I wasn't sure it had any magic anymore. But it made me feel better as the man led us down the hall and out onto the back porch.

Mr. Dalton was holding a drink and reading the paper. JT and Red were on the lawn, tossing a football back and forth. Mrs. Dalton sat in the corner, sipping an iced tea and reading a book. JT dropped the football when he saw us.

“Mr. Nisbett,” Mr. Dalton said, “what did we do to gain the pleasure of this visit?” His voice made it clear it was anything but a pleasure.

“Mr. Dalton,” said Daddy, “I'm not sure you were aware of recent events involving your son, Raymond Edward Dalton.”

I'd always wondered where Red got his nickname, since he didn't have red hair. It was silly when parents gave their kids names that had initials that spelled words, like Daisy Ursula Montgomery or Peter Ivan Galveston or . . . No. I wouldn't drift off. I was going to listen. Listen to every word, until it was time to do my part. And then I would talk.

“The police were already here this morning,” said Mr. Dalton. “Again.”

We all turned to look at Red, but he stood still, as calm as can be. It was JT who looked afraid. I wondered, for the first time, what it would be like to have an older brother like Red. Someone you loved, because they were your own flesh and blood, but someone who was nasty too. Sometimes even horrible to you.

And I remembered how, when JT was in the third grade, he fell out of his tree house and broke his leg. At least that's what they said. But I remember being surprised, because it was a nice tree house, with walls all around the top. If you were clumsy, maybe you could fall out, but JT wasn't clumsy. If your brother was mad at you, though, it'd be really easy to push you out.

JT had been in the hospital a long time. Mother even took Sally and me to see him. I was nervous, because even then, JT was something of a golden boy, the alpha lion of the pack. Sally chattered a blue streak. I put a vase of daffodils from our garden in the window.

Everyone said the doctor did a fabulous job and that his leg healed perfectly, but that wasn't true. After a long day of school, sometimes, maybe if it was about to rain, JT had a slight limp. Once last year, coming off the football field, I saw him rubbing his hip when he thought no one was watching. Everyone assumed he wanted to be just like his brother, but what if he didn't? What if he'd rather be someone else?

“The police came to talk to my son,” repeated Mr. Dalton, pulling me out of my own thoughts again. “And they accused him of throwing a bomb through a poor Negro's front window. Now, I assured them my son would never waste his time on such a prank, and seeing as how there was no evidence anyway, the good officer agreed and apologized for wasting our time.

“So what I'm wondering is, why are you all here to bring this up again?”

The father would be no help.

“Our daughter was trapped in the trunk of your son's car, while she was removing the dynamite Red had stored there.” Mother's voice was calm and clear, but her hands were shaking.

“My son never stored dynamite in the truck of his car,” said Mr. Dalton. “Though he did recently have the lock broken off. Had to get a new one installed. I don't suppose your daughter would know anything about that?”

I counted 2, 3, 5, and said, “Yes, I do.”

For the first time, Mr. Dalton looked surprised.

“I broke it off with a letter opener,” I continued. “I'll pay for the lock, but I'd like the opener back.”

Mrs. Dalton looked up from her book. JT almost smiled. Red had absolutely no reaction at all.

“Thought you were mute,” said Mr. Dalton.

“No, sir,” I said. “But as I said, I left the opener in the trunk, and I'd like it back.”

“Well, that's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard. Get out of here. All of you! And if I ever hear one word about this again, I'll have you arrested for slander.”

Mrs. Dalton stirred her tall iced tea. I thought of the time we'd spent together stuffing envelopes. I waited for her to say something, but she didn't.

The butler held the door open for my father. “Out!” Mr. Dalton barked again. I began to see why Red had turned out the way he had.

I looked over at JT. “Please,” I whispered.

JT held my gaze for a long time, then went over to his mother and touched her arm. “Mama,” he said, “Marlee is a square, but she's not a liar.”

Red turned as red as his name.

Mrs. Dalton reached up and ran her fingertips across her scar.

“Go!” said Mr. Dalton.

Mother took my arm and started to lead me off.

“No,” said Mrs. Dalton. She rose from her seat, clutching JT's hand.

“What?” snapped Mr. Dalton.

“I'd like to see if this girl is telling the truth.”

“Why?” asked Mr. Dalton.

“It's a simple matter to check.” Mrs. Dalton's voice was growing stronger. “Let's go look in the trunk of Red's car. If there is a letter opener in there, I'll believe her story. If not, you can call the police.”

Red shrugged, and I suddenly had the awful feeling that he'd already found the letter opener and thrown it away. But maybe he had only found the handle. Maybe the blade was still there.

Mr. Dalton sighed. “Fine, let's go settle this once and for all. But afterwards, you have one minute to get off my property before I call the police.”

So we marched back through the house and out to the car in the driveway. Mr. Dalton glanced at Red, and he unlocked the trunk without protest. We all crowded around to look inside.

There was nothing there.

Mrs. Dalton sighed in relief. Red grinned. Mr. Dalton just crossed his arms. “Satisfied?” he snapped.

I wasn't. I knew it had been Red. And before anyone could stop me, I jumped back into the trunk.

“Get your crazy daughter out of my . . .”

Daddy held the lid open so I wouldn't get trapped. I bent down and pulled back the lining of the trunk. There, in a crack in the side, something silver flashed. I reached in and pulled out a slip of metal. Daddy helped me out of the trunk, and I held it up.

Mr. Dalton clenched his teeth. “Red, what is the meaning of this?”

“It's just a piece of metal,” said Red, with a shrug. “I don't know where it came from.”

I turned the metal so they could all see my name, engraved in the blade, shining yellow in the setting sun.

Red lunged at me, trying to grab it away, but his own father held him back. Red broke free and spat on the ground.

Mr. Dalton's face was bright red. “What the hell were you thinking?”

“I didn't know they were going to be there!” snapped Red. “I was only after the colored girl. I saw her go into that house and thought that was where she lived. You said yourself she deserved—”

“Shut up!” roared Mr. Dalton. “Get in the house before—”

“No,” said Red. His bangs fell into his eyes, and he pouted. It made him look about five years old.

“I'm still bigger than you, boy,” said Mr. Dalton. “And there's a switch in the back closet I'm not afraid to use.”

Red's eyes blazed with hatred, but he turned and slunk into the house. Mr. Dalton followed him without even glancing at the rest of us.

Mother, Daddy, JT, Mrs. Dalton and I were left standing awkwardly on the sidewalk. Finally, Daddy cleared his throat. “I'm afraid we're going to have to call the police.”

Mrs. Dalton nodded. “I know.”

JT was staring at the ground. I walked over to him. “You okay, JT?” He looked as shocked as I'd felt after the bombing.

“No,” he said. “I never really thought he'd do it.”

I took his hand and held it for a moment.

“Come on, Marlee,” said Mother. “It's time to go.”

55

THE LAST DAYS OF SCHOOL

We were silent most of the way home. I didn't mind. After seeing JT's parents, his father so angry and vicious and his mother as passive as a wallflower, my family's little spats seemed like a child's game. Daddy was just turning onto our street when he said, “We need to talk about your punishment.”

“I'd say she deserves to be grounded until the end of the school year,” said Mother.

“That's fair,” I admitted. Actually, that was more than fair. The end of the year was only two weeks away. I'd expected worse.

“Marlee,” said Daddy, “taking the dynamite from Red was reckless and impulsive.”

I nodded.

“But it was awfully brave too.” He almost sounded proud of me.

“Marlee listens to lions,” said Mother, and Daddy didn't even ask what she meant. I guess somehow he knew.

I tried calling Liz again the next morning, but her number had been disconnected. Even though I knew it wasn't fair of me, I suddenly hated Liz's mother.

On the last day of school, JT came up to me while I was cleaning out my locker. “Red's gone,” he said.

I nodded. I wasn't sure what to say.

“There wasn't enough evidence to charge him with a crime,” JT explained, “but my father made him join the army. He's only seventeen, so my dad had to sign an extra form, but he's gone.”

“I'm sorry,” I said.

“No,” said JT. “I'm glad. Things are a lot better at home. Mother's not having so many headaches and—” He stopped. “But I miss him too. Isn't that stupid?”

I shook my head.

“Anyway,” said JT, “I told Mr. Harding I'd been cheating in math and I should probably repeat his class next year. I didn't want to tell him you were the one helping me and get you in trouble, but—”

“It's okay, JT. He already knew.”

JT shook his head. “With Red gone, I'm trying to make a fresh start. Do things the right way, you know? But admitting when you've done something wrong . . .” He shivered. “It makes my skin crawl. How do you stand it?”

I shrugged. “You sleep better at night.”

“Well, that would be nice.” JT gave me a funny look. “You don't want to go to the movies with me sometime, do you, Marlee?”

There it was. JT finally asking me on a real date. After all this time. “No, JT,” I said as gently as I could. “I don't think so.”

“Okay,” he said. “No hard feelings.”

“Good.” And I meant it.

“Hey, do you think Sally'd say yes if I asked her?”

I smiled. “I think she'd love it.”

Sure enough, by lunchtime Sally was over the moon. I never knew you could talk about a two-sentence conversation
(Want to go to the movies sometime? Sure!)
for twenty minutes. Nora and I glanced at each other. She rolled her eyes, and I tried not to giggle. I'd never really gotten to know Nora. I'd always thought of her as Sally's sidekick, never as being her own person too.

Little Jimmy sat down at our table, and I thought about what Liz had said to me on the phone. About us needing other friends. Ones we were allowed to see. “Hey, Jimmy,” I said, “you going to the pool this summer?”

“Yes.”

My stomach gave me a funny little lurch. Never thought I'd be asking
him
out. “Maybe I'll see you there?”

“That'd be great,” he said. “We could jump off the high dive.”

“Sure,” I said automatically. Then I wanted to kick myself. I didn't want to jump off the high dive.

“Great,” said Little Jimmy.

The bell rang and he started to walk off. I was stupid and dumb and never learned and . . . and one step at a time. If I didn't know what to do, I should factor the equation. “Jimmy!”

He stopped and turned.

“Actually”—I counted 2, 3, 5—“I don't like the high dive.”

“Oh,” he said. “How about I buy you a Coke from the snack bar instead?”

“That'd be nice.”

He nodded and walked off. And it was funny, because Little Jimmy hadn't grown a bit, but now when I looked at him, he seemed kind of cute. I wasn't thinking about getting married or having kids or anything like that at all. Just about sharing a Coke with a friend on a hot summer day.

Maybe Liz was right after all.