A Summer of Sundays (27 page)

I nodded and followed her down the stairs.

About fifteen minutes later a horn honked from outside and Mom looked at me again, her eyes filled with the same concern I saw when May went out with her friends for the evening. I pushed away the urge to ask her to stay.

“You sure you’re all right?”

I nodded, enjoying the bit of attention. “Yeah, like I said, I’m just tired. We’ll be fine.”

“All right. Well, we’ll see you when we get back.”

The door opened and in trudged all three of my brothers, shoulders slumped, faces pale, all moaning softly. There was definitely something wrong if CJ wasn’t racing through the door followed by the other two.

“Ooo,
all
of you feel sick?” Mom asked.

CJ groaned and lay down on the steps. “I feel like I’m going to throw up everything all over again.”

Henry grabbed onto Mom’s foot and sank to the ground. Bo fell into my arms. “Sunday, I don’t feel so good.”

I walked him over to the steps where CJ still lay, and then went and disentangled Henry from Mom’s ankle. He reached for her again.

“I think I should stay,” she said, looking down at the boys piled on the steps. “I’ll just go out and tell your dad.”

I lifted Henry onto my hip, something that he hadn’t let me do recently. He lay his head on my shoulder, and I could feel the rumbling of his stomach against my own.
“No, Mom, really. You go out with Dad. I’ll call if something goes wrong. I think they’ll just fall asleep.” But for the first time ever, I hoped they wouldn’t. I needed something to distract me from replaying the day over and over again in my head.

She thought about it, then kissed each of my brothers on the head. “We’ll just go for an hour or so, okay?”

I nodded and the door closed. “So, boys,” I said, turning and hitching Henry up higher on my hip. “Are you okay?”

“I will never eat again,” CJ said. His face was stuffed in his elbow, muffling his voice.

“Yeah,” Bo said. “Me neither.”

“Sure you will. You just need to rest for a bit. Why don’t we go upstairs and you guys can—”

“I can’t move,” CJ moaned again.

I nudged him with my foot. “Come on, CJ. You can’t just sleep on the stairs.”

He groaned.

“Why don’t we all lie down in Mom and Dad’s room and watch a movie? I think that couch pulls out.” Besides family movie nights, Mom and Dad banned the TV every summer, unplugging it from the wall and slipping it into one of the closets, so what I was suggesting was a huge deal.

Henry lifted his head up. “Really?”

I shrugged. “Sure. I can make some popcorn.”

CJ whined. “No. No popcorn.”

“CJ barfed up popcorn,” Bo said.

“Yeah, and cotton candy, and two hot dogs, and French fries with cheese all over them. My throw-up looked like mashed-up oatmeal, and mashed potatoes, and there were chunks of pink stuff floating inside it.”

“Don’t forget the green and yellow stuff, too.”

I felt my own stomach heave. “Gross. Thanks for that description. We’ll have ginger ale. I saw some in the pantry.”

“But what if I throw it up?” Henry moaned.

“You won’t. Ginger ale is what you’re supposed to have when you don’t feel good.”

“Why?”

I shrugged. “Just because. Now, come on.”

I opened the door to Mom and Dad’s room, pushed the couch that was against the window in front of the TV, and set Henry down. CJ fell onto the cushions, resting his head on one of the arms. Bo slouched in the middle.

“I’ll go and get the ginger ale and then we’ll turn on something to watch, okay?”

I returned with four golden, fizzy drinks, saltine crackers, and the phone in case Mom or Dad called. The boys lay where I’d left them, talking about food.

“Eww,” Henry whined. “Could you eat a hot dog with mustard and ketchup and sauerkraut on top?”

The other two moaned.

CJ said, “How about macaroni and cheese?”

“What about a big cinnamon roll with icing dripping off the sides?” Bo said. “Yuck!”

I handed him a glass. “But that’s your favorite.”

He took a sip. “I know. But now I can’t even think about it or I’ll throw up.”

I handed the other two their glasses, the small bubbles rising to the top. “Then why are you guys talking about it?”

CJ sat up. “I don’t know. Just ’cause.”

I rolled my eyes, reached for the remote, and flipped on the TV.

“Will Mom get mad?” Henry asked.

I pressed the
CHANNEL
button until we came to a station that played cartoons all day. “She’ll understand. And we won’t watch too much.”

The couch was cramped, but I grabbed a blanket for each of my brothers and then squeezed myself in between Bo and CJ. Henry, realizing that my lap was unoccupied, crawled up and leaned his head back against my shoulder.

The cartoon was silly, and we found ourselves laughing at all the same parts. But within the hour, when the door to the room opened and Mom walked in, all three of my brothers were fast asleep. CJ and Bo rested their heads on my shoulders, and Henry breathed rhythmically against me. Mom smiled and flicked off the TV.

“They look so sweet piled around you like that. You’d
never be able to tell what a mess they can get themselves into when they wake up.”

I nodded.

My shoulders ached and my right arm and left leg had fallen asleep, but I felt strangely cold and alone when Dad carried them one by one to their beds.

“Thanks, Sunday,” he said, bending down and kissing me on the forehead. “You know it’s still early. I could drive you back to the fair if you’d like. Jude’s there with his mom and Wally.”

I shook my head, stood up, then helped him push the couch back underneath the window. Jude wouldn’t want to see me. “No thanks. I’ll just go upstairs and read.”

As much as I didn’t want to think about what Ben had told me, and the guilt that kept nagging at me, I needed to finish the manuscript and listen to the parts of the tape I had missed.

“If you’re sure, sweetheart.”

I nodded.

“We’ll see you in the morning. Lots to do to get ready for the party.”

Upstairs in my room, I slipped the manuscript out from underneath the mattress and set the tape recorder and tapes beside me on the bed. I started to read but couldn’t concentrate. I kept thinking about the look on Jude’s face when I had yelled at him.

I snuck downstairs, grabbing the phone and phone book. I’d never called Jude before, so I found his mom’s name in the phone book and dialed the number.

I didn’t know what I was going to say, but maybe if I called he’d say something first. Maybe he’d tell me that I was right to call the newspapers. A woman picked up the phone on the third ring. “The Trist residence.”

“Um, hi, Ms. Trist,” I managed to say. “Is Jude there?”

“Yes, may I ask who’s calling?”

“It’s Sunday. Sunday Fowler.”

“Oh hi, Sunday. Just a minute.”

I heard the phone being set down and then two voices talking, though I couldn’t understand them. Then someone picked up the phone again.

“Sunday?” It wasn’t Jude. My heart dropped.

“Yeah?”

“Jude can’t come to the phone. We just got back from the fair and, well … maybe you could try back tomorrow.”

“Oh, okay,” I said. “Thanks. Good-bye.”

“Good-bye.”

The phone clicked and the line went dead. He didn’t want to talk to me. Fine. Whatever. I needed to figure out what I was going to tell the TV stations and the newspapers anyway.

Whether Ben and Jude liked it or not, reporters were
coming all the way to Alma for a story, and I couldn’t just not tell them.

Right?

I sighed, stuffing the guilt away, and then picked up the manuscript to finish reading.

I tried to ignore the last line. I had my proof, and I was going to tell the media about what I’d found.

Why wasn’t I more excited?

Ben might be upset for a little bit, but he would get over everything eventually, and maybe he’d even find that he liked the fame. The town would get a lot more attention—that was good for business—and the library would get publicity, which was good for my dad, my family, and the entire town of Alma.

I yawned and set the tape recorder and manuscript on the floor, then flipped off the light. Actually I was doing everyone a huge favor and sooner or later they’d realize it, too.

Wouldn’t they?

“CJ,
please stop talking about your throw-up,” Mom said the next morning. She flipped over a pancake dotted with chocolate chips.

All the boys had woken early that morning, their appetites and mischief returning as strong as ever. CJ slathered butter on the top of one of his pancakes. “Okay. But it was just so nasty. All those chunks, and the pink—”

“CJ!”

He plugged up his mouth with a large bite.

“Are you feeling okay, Sunday?” Mom asked when I brought my plate over.

My pancake consumption could usually rival CJ’s, but that morning, my stomach anxiously fluttered over my announcement.

“I’m good. Just excited for the party tomorrow.”

“Are you still up for helping me decorate and cook today?”

“Yep.”

Mom looked around as if she were missing someone
or something. “Is Jude coming over?” She looked down at her watch. “He’s usually here by now.”

I shrugged. “I don’t know.” Honestly I had hoped that he would just show up and neither of us would need to say anything. Then everything would just go back to being the way it had been.

I turned away from his empty chair. He wasn’t going to spoil the event that was going to change things for me.

“We have a busy day, so I need all of you to help. Emma’s play is tonight at seven o’clock, and May is going for her driving test after lunch.” Mom ran her fingers through her hair. “I can’t believe this is all falling on the same day. Maybe we should move the party to next week.”

“No!” I said a little too loudly. Mom glanced over at me. “It’s just that we’ve already … we’ve told people that it’s tomorrow. We’ll get it all done. It’s not that much when you really think about it. The decorating and cooking will take the longest, but I know that Ms. Bodnar is bringing food, and so are Muzzy and Papa Gil. And we can do some of the cooking tomorrow before the party.”

Mom sighed and flipped over six more pancakes. “I guess you’re right. And your dad will be done with cleaning the library this morning, so he should be able to help decorate before he has to take May for her test.”

“Why doesn’t she just try for her driver’s license at home? We only have another week here.”

“She thinks that maybe the test will be easier here.”

CJ laughed, splattering orange juice across the tablecloth. “She just wants to fail here instead of back home.”

“CJ, just eat, please,” Mom said. “And Sunday, could you go over to Jude’s house and see if he’d like to come and help? We can use all the hands we can get today.”

“Really. Mom? I—” I stopped when she shot me a desperate look. “I’ll be right back.”

On my way through town, I checked with Ms. Bodnar to see if she was still bringing something. “Of course, sweetie! A friend is going to help me bring my whole setup to the library. Crepes for everyone!”

Muzzy and Papa Gil remembered, too. I saw Papa Gil out riding an old bicycle, Mr. Castor trotting along beside him. “Pies,” Papa Gil said, coming to a halt. Mr. Castor was panting. “She’s making every kind of pie you can imagine. And I thought that since the lawn needs mowing, I’d give rides to kids who want to jump on board.”

“Great. How is Mr. Castor doing?”

“You’re a genius, Sunday Fowler. He’s like a brand-new dog. Hasn’t had enough energy to run away, and he’s getting better about not chewing on everything in sight.”

“Good,” I said, and then started toward Jude’s house.

I had been hoping to find Jude on my way over, but he hadn’t been at the café or anywhere else. I walked up to the door and knocked.

Nothing.

I knocked louder. He woke up just as early as my brothers, so I knew he wasn’t still sleeping.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw a curtain flutter. I knocked again, louder and longer. “Come on, Jude,” I said. “I know you’re in there. My mom needs help.”

Nothing.

I shoved my way through a bush and peered into the window. He was standing by his bedroom door like he was listening, just waiting for me to go away. I rapped on the glass, sending him about a foot into the air. “Come on!” I yelled.

He stared at me for a moment, walked over to the window, stuck out his tongue just like CJ would do, and closed the blinds.