A Sliver of Sun (10 page)

Ben towered over me, his hands on his hips. “All right, let’s hear your side of it.”

My heart jumped into my throat, and I leaned back on my hands to put as much distance between us as I could. “My side … of what?”

“Why’d you give Ginger that bruise on her arm?”

I felt like I’d got punched in the stomach, hard. “W-what?”

Ben’s jaw tightened. “I’m not in the mood for games, Piper Lee. Ginger said you did it, and I wanna know why.”

I blinked, too stunned to answer. His words didn’t even make sense. “Did what?” I finally asked.

Ben breathed out so deep it was a rumble in his chest. He put a hand around the back of Ginger’s neck and steered her up next to him. He raised the sleeve of her T-shirt. “This.”

All I could do was stare at Ginger’s arm. The red welt was starting to turn raised and puffy.

“I told him it was an accident,” Ginger said, her words spilling out in a rush. “That you didn’t mean it.”

I shook my head. “But I never …”

“I don’t care if you meant to or not,” Ben interrupted. “Just yesterday I told you girls to knock off the kicking and hair pulling. You ‘member that?”

“Yes, sir,” I said, and it amazed me to finally understand what was going on. Ginger was so desperate to keep Angela out of the picture, she’d blamed it on me. I couldn’t believe she’d stoop that low. Tears rushed to my eyes.

Ben let go of Ginger’s shirt, and she stepped behind him again. “Sorry,” she mouthed.

I stared at the fierce look on Ben’s face and felt helpless as a kitten facing a lion. No matter what I said, it would be Ginger’s word against mine. Trying to prove my innocence would just make me look like a weaseling little liar. But Ben was clearly waiting for me to say … something.

I ran a hand across my eyes and tried to swallow my tears. “I dunno. I’m sorry,” I mumbled.

Ben leaned back from the trampoline. He looked back and forth between us. “We’ll deal with this tonight when your mama gets home. Now both of ya’ get inside and get your homework done.”

Ginger and I sat across from each other at the kitchen table. There was a million things I wanted to say to her, but I couldn’t say any of it on account of Ben was only a few feet away, cleaning up the kitchen. And he was being none too quiet about it either. He was using a lot more force than needed to put away dishes and close cabinets and slide drawers, and the extra noise rattled my already rattled nerves.

As soon as my math was finished, I shoved my book in my backpack and escaped down the hall to the bedroom. I paced the room, too fired up to know what to do with myself. I figured Ginger would avoid me as long as she could, so I was real surprised when she cracked open the door and peeked in a few minutes later. Then she leaped into the bedroom and shut the door real quick, like she was hoping to contain the explosion she knew was coming.

I stopped my pacing long enough to try and decide what words to hurl at her first. But before I could open my mouth she ducked her head like a scolded pup. “I’m real sorry, Piper Lee. Real sorry.”

I stomped my foot. “You’re sorry! That’s all you got to say? What is wrong with you?”

Her face crumpled, and tears started down her cheeks. “I
had
to. I didn’t know how else to keep Daddy from finding out about Angela.”

“Who cares?” I hissed. “He
should
find out. How could you blame me, you fat toad!”

Ginger slithered her way down the door to the wood floor and buried her face against her knees.

I rolled my eyes at the ceiling and let my breath out in a whoosh. I still wasn’t used to seeing Ginger act like such a whiny pushover, and I didn’t know how to react. It left me feeling all jittery and unsure, like nothing was how it ought to be. “How’d your daddy find out about your stupid arm anyway?”

“I bumped into the refrigerator.”

If I hadn’t been so all fire worked up I might’ve laughed. “And … it made you holler or what?”

“Yeah. It really hurt. And I told him it was nothing, but he didn’t believe me.”

I recalled how she’d flinched when Ben put his arm around her, and it wasn’t hard to believe seeing her react twice could’ve got his curiosity up. “So why didn’t you just tell him some kid at school did it? Why’d you have to blame me?”

“I did say ‘some kid at school’, but he asked me who, and when I didn’t say, he asked me if you did it.”

I felt stabbed to the heart. ‘Course he’d assume I did it. Who else? I was trouble making Piper Lee. The evil step kid he had to put up with on account of Mama. I started to cry. I couldn’t help it. “Thanks,” I choked out. “Thanks for making him hate me even more.”

Ginger looked completely bamboozled. “What are you talkin’ about, Piper Lee? Daddy don’t hate you.”

I suddenly felt more exhausted than angry. I edged over to my bunk and fell across it. “Yeah, he does. He was mad at me all summer for the trouble I caused helping you find your mama. And then the ladder scratched up his Mustang, and then he was mad at me for fighting with you, and … and now this.”

“You really think that?”

I brushed my hand across my face. “Quit changing the subject,” I snapped. “We were talking about you lying, ‘member?”

“I told you sorry. What else do ya’ want me to do?”

I sat up and took a trembly breath. “What I want you to do, is march out there right this very second and tell your daddy the truth about Angela, and about where you got that bruise, and about everything that’s been goin’ on.”

“I can’t!”

I jumped up and started across the bedroom. “Dandy,” I said. “Then I’ll do it.”

Ginger’s eyes got all big and wild-looking again. She grabbed my hand. “No, Piper Lee. You can’t … please! I’ll do anything else you want. I swear.”

I gritted my teeth. I couldn’t believe how hard it was to fight with somebody who acted so frantic. But even as my heart pounded away, my mind took off in a whole new direction—a direction that made me wonder if there just might be a way to make this whole mess work out in my favor. “Oka-a-a-a-ay,” I said. “Then you have to agree to let me help you with Angela.”

Ginger froze. “Help me how?”

“We’ll teach her a lesson about the right way to do stuff, about how things are done here in the South.”

“How are we gonna do that?”

“I dunno. I need a little time to think. But you have to agree, or I’m telling.”

Ginger dropped my hand, and several heartbeats passed as we squared off. I kept my face real stormy looking in case she had any doubts I was serious. I really had no clue how to teach Angela a lesson. I only knew that if I could pull it off, if I could save Ginger from a bully, then I’d come out a hero. Everyone would be impressed—Mama, Mrs. Holloway, even Ben … ‘specially Ben. How could he not like me if I rescued Ginger?

“So what’s it gonna be?” I demanded. “Are you in, or am I gonna talk to your daddy?”

Ginger pressed her lips together and thrust her chin forward. “Okay,” she said. “I’m in.”

I spent the rest of that afternoon thinking on the best way to handle Angela. I figured if it was a book report she wanted, then that’s what she’d get. But not any old run of the mill book report—a book report to remember.

“Has she read any of
Huckleberry Finn
?” I asked, as Ginger and I washed up the chili bowls after supper.

“Don’t think so. She never pays any attention when we’re in reading groups.”

“Then write everything in her book report the opposite of what’s really in the story. She won’t know till it’s too late, and Mrs. Holloway gives her an F on it.”

“But then how do I keep her from beating me up?”

“That’s when you tell Mrs. Holloway what’s been goin’ on. You’ll get praised for being honest and all that, and Angela will be the one to get in trouble. She’ll probably get kicked out of school or something.”

Ginger sniffed. “Yeah, sure she will … after she beats me up.”

I was glad Mama didn’t come home until nine-thirty that night. Ben sent us to bed at nine, so we were spared from having to talk about what I’d supposedly done to Ginger. But the next morning at breakfast, Mama pulled up Ginger’s sleeve to look at her arm, which, of course, now looked fat and purpley. She sucked in a breath. “Piper Lee! Honestly! Why would you do that?”

I scooped up a spoonful of cereal, as my eyes bored into Ginger.

“I t-tripped her,” Ginger said.

“What’s that?” Mama asked.

Ginger bobbed her head. “I tripped her,” she repeated. “We were arguing about somethin’ at school, and I got mad and tripped her, and then she hit me.”

“Yeah,” I quickly agreed. “And we decided not to say anything on account of it was both our faults.”

Mama put her fingertips to her forehead. “I swear, sometimes you girls act more like boys. At any rate, there’ll be no TV and no trampoline for now.”

I bit back irritation. I didn’t give a hank about TV, but I did care about the trampoline. “For how long?” I asked.

“Ten days.”

Ginger groaned. “Ten days!”

Mama raised her eyebrows. “If you’re smart you won’t complain. Unless you want what your daddy had in mind.”

Ginger and I looked at each other, and I decided I’d rather talk about something else. “Mama,” I said. “How’d your dinner go last night?”

“Big parties aren’t my favorite,” she said, reaching for a banana. “But the extra pay is mighty nice.” She turned to throw the banana peel away, and I realized with a jolt that she was looking pregnant. I wasn’t sure if her stomach had popped out overnight, or if I’d been trying not to notice, but her favorite blue striped T-shirt wasn’t loose anymore. “How far along are you now?” I asked.

She smiled, like she was pleased by my question. “Nearly nineteen weeks.”

I tried to calculate in my mind. “So, that means in less than five months you’ll have the baby?”

“About that. Unless it comes early like you did.”

“I was early?”

“Three weeks.”

A twinge of sadness poked me from somewhere deep inside. If I couldn’t convince Ben to like me before the baby came, it likely wouldn’t ever happen. And if the kid was anything like me, I only had four months to do it.

G
inger and I started working on the book report that Saturday morning. Since we weren’t allowed on the trampoline, we spread a blanket under the shade of a big cypress in the front yard.
Huckleberry Finn
was kinda hard to follow, but Ginger was a good reader, and it was fun listening to Huck’s crazy adventures. I jotted down notes while she read so that we could put them together into a fake report for Angela.

Every time Ginger saw me scribbling, she’d stop reading and look up with a suspicious look. “What are you writing now?”

“I just changed the setting from St. Petersburg, Missouri, to St. Peters, Mississippi. And I wrote that Huck was adopted by his Grandma Douglas instead of the Widow Douglas.”

Ginger nodded. “Okay. Just don’t get crazy, or Angela will figure stuff out.”

So I tried not to get crazy, but once in a while I cracked myself up anyhow. One time I busted out laughing, and Ginger put the book down and gave me a sharp look. “What’s so funny about Huck killing a pig to fake his own death? I think it’s awful.”

“I know. I just changed the pig to a rooster is all.”

Ginger rolled her eyes. “Y’know, I’m not gonna use everything you write down.”

“Fine. Just keep going, would ya’? I’ve got my own book to be read.”

“This was
your
idea, Piper Lee.”

“Hush up and read.”

The screen door screeched open just then, and I glanced over to see Ben crossing the porch. Just the sight of him sent a ripple of nerves circling through my stomach. I only had today and tomorrow to ask about Ramsay’s daddy. And I was hovering right around zero on the courage scale.

Ben walked past looking a little wary, like he thought it odd to see us calmly sitting together on a blanket instead of fighting each other. He headed toward the garage, but then came to a halt and wrinkled up his nose. He took a few steps off to the side, and sniffed the air, then took a few steps closer to the garage before finally disappearing behind it.

No more than ten seconds passed before he gave a shout. “What the … oh, man!”

Ginger snorted and stifled a giggle. “What’s wrong with him?”

I shook my head. “Acted like he smelled something funny.”

Ben stepped back into view, his face all scrunched up. He jerked his thumb toward the garage. “You girls have any idea how a bunch of soybeans ended up back here?”

My breath caught.

“Soybeans?” Ginger echoed, managing to keep a straight face for only a few seconds before her lips started wiggling and she collapsed into a fit of giggles.

And as soon as she started to laugh, so did I, on account of we were caught dead to rights and there was really nothing else to do.

Ben came toward us with narrowed eyes. “What the … I’ve been smelling something for the past week. Now it stinks like a dirty armpit back there.”

His description made us laugh all the harder, and I grabbed my belly.

“S-sorry, Daddy,” Ginger gasped. “We were just trying to make sure Mama has a boy.”

Ben stopped next to our blanket and stared at us like we were half-baked. “Huh?”

“If you eat soy, you’re more likely to have a girl. Same with spinach, and nuts and cream.”

“And beer,” I added helpfully. “But if you eat stuff like meat and bananas and cereal, you’re more likely to have a boy.”

Ben’s eyebrows shot up. “Where’d you come up with a cockamamie idea like that?”

“It’s been proven,” Ginger said. “We read it one of Mama’s magazines.”

A smile quivered across Ben’s lips, then he threw back his head and hooted loud and long.

It was a relief to hear him laugh, but it offended me a bit too. “We can show you the article,” I said.

It took a bit for Ben to calm down enough to be able to talk, but then he said, “I’d love to see that article, Piper Lee. But I can tell ya’ right now, anything that might affect the sex of a baby has to be done
before
you get pregnant. Once you do, the decision’s been made.”

I glanced at Ginger. I could tell she wasn’t sure either. I wondered if that’s what the article meant by
around the time of conception
. But then I remembered exactly what we were talking about and didn’t wanna ask.