Iggie's House (6 page)

“Yeah,” Glenn said.

“Why can't they ever be honest?” Winnie muttered.

“Who knows!” Herbie said. “Who can figure out parents.”

Winnie stood up and brushed off her shorts. “Well, we can't just sit here all day. What do you guys want to do?”

“How 'bout the park?” Tina asked.

“Too crowded on Saturdays,” Winnie answered.

“We could take Woozie out for a walk,” Herbie suggested.

“Say! I know … Iggie's tree house,” Winnie said. “Have you guys discovered it yet?”

“What tree house? Where is it?” Tina asked.

“In your yard, silly. Come on … follow me.” Winnie and Tina ran into the backyard. Glenn and Herbie followed slowly. The tree house was practically invisible among all the leaves of Iggie's tall trees. “Iggie's father built it for us last summer. All by himself, except for me and Iggie. We helped him,” Winnie said, pointing it out.

“Do you have binoculars?”

“What's binoculars?” Tina asked.

“Binoculars are what you look through to see things far away. It makes everything look close. Right, Glenn?” Herbie asked, turning to his brother.

“Right, Herbie. But I don't think we have any,” Glenn said.

“Okay. Wait here and I'll go get mine,” Winnie told them, running off toward her house. She was in and out in about two and a half minutes. Just long enough to dash up the stairs, take her binoculars lovingly from the dresser drawer, where she kept them hidden under her pajamas, and fly back down the stairs and out the kitchen door with them. When she got back she sniffed in the delicious smell of Iggie's mom's flowers. They were all in bloom. She hoped Mrs. Garber would take good care of them.

“Hello down there,” Glenn sang out.

Winnie looked up. Herbie and Glenn were already in Iggie's tree house. Winnie felt kind of funny about it. It used to be her's and Iggie's special place. But she guessed Iggie wouldn't mind. Probably her father was busy building her a new tree house in Tokyo. If they had trees there!

“Where's Tina?” Winnie asked the boys, as she climbed up the rope ladder to the wooden planks that made up the floor of the tree house.

“She went inside for a minute, with our Dad,” Herbie said. “He's off on Saturdays. Isn't your father?”

“No. Saturday's a big day for hardware stores.” Winnie said. She never thought much about Mr. Garber. She had only seen him once. That day she was spying on them when they moved in.

“Well, here's my binoculars,” Winnie announced. “Want to see?”

Herbie took them and held them up to his eyes. He moved them around and handed them back disgustedly. “Some fun. All I see are tree tops and leaves.”

“Oh Herbie,” Winnie laughed. “You're not looking in the right places. Here Glenn, have a turn.”

Glenn put the binoculars to his eyes. He moved them around and adjusted the focus. “Boy! These are really powerful!”

“I know it.” Winnie agreed. “Iggie gave them to me for my birthday last year. They used to belong to her uncle who's in the Marines. Here, give them to me a minute and I'll show you something.” Glenn handed them to her. Winnie stood up and waved her free hand around, while holding the binoculars in the other. “Points of interest up and down Grove Street are …” she announced in a deep and dramatic voice.

“Number one: The man who lives behind here and three doors down. I forget his name, but he mows his lawn in a red bathing suit every week. On Thursdays, I think. And he's real fat and his belly jumps all around when he pushes the mower. He's not out today … too bad!

“Number two: Pay attention please, Herbie Garber.” Herbie took his fingers out of his mouth and looked at Winnie, who then continued her speech.

“Three doors down and on the right. Mrs. Axel's yard. Completely fenced in. Nobody knows what Mrs. Axel does all day in her fenced-in yard but me and Iggie. You want to know? Well, she sunbathes in there. Sunbathes and talks on the phone. She's got this outside phone connection and she gabs, gabs, gabs all day long. You know what she wears? A towel! That's it. Just a towel and the telephone. That's Mrs. Axel!”

Winnie turned and faced the other way. She
pointed with one hand as she peered through the binoculars. “Number three: Billy Mesler. One and a half years old. We just discovered him this summer. He climbs out of his playpen which is in the middle of his yard. He crawls into the flower beds and eats. He eats flowers, dirt and stones. Sometimes all three at once. Mrs. Mesler comes outside screaming when she discovers Billy is out of his playpen. She finds him eating dirt and stuff and then she starts to cry. She picks him up, washes out his mouth, puts him back into his pen and pretty soon the whole thing starts over again.”

“You sure do know a lot about what goes on around here!” Glenn said.

“Yes, I sure do!” Winnie agreed.

The back door slammed and Tina and Woozie came out. “Hello down there,” Winnie called to them.

“Hi Winnie,” Tina answered. “Come on down here for a second. I want to show you something.”

Winnie handed her binoculars to Glenn, instructing both boys to be very careful with them, but to holler if they saw anything special. She climbed down the rope ladder and ran over to Tina and Woozie who were still standing by the back door. She bent down to scratch Woozie behind the ears but backed away. “Yick! What's the matter with him. He smells funny and his fur's all sticky!”

“That's what I wanted to show you. It's this stuff called
No-Shed
. Daddy got a bottle of it for Woozie 'cause his fur is shedding all over the house already and we've only had him one day! So I rubbed it all over him. And now look—he's a mess! What do you think?”

“I think you're right. He's a mess. You better ask your father about him,” Winnie suggested.

Tina yelled into the house. “Daddy, could you come out for a second?”

“What is it now Tina?” a deep voice called up from the basement.

“It's Woozie, Daddy. I think he needs you!” Tina hollered.

Winnie heard heavy steps coming up from the cellar. Then Mr. Garber appeared, looking both hot and tired.

“Daddy, this is Winnie, from down the street,” Tina said, still staring at her dog.

“Hello Winnie,” Mr. Garber said, glancing from Winnie's face to Woozie's sticky fur.

“Hi Mr. Garber,” Winnie answered as Tina's dad bent down to inspect Woozie.

“Whatever happened to him?” Mr. Garber asked, looking up at Tina, from where he kneeled beside the dog.

“Oh Daddy!” Tina sniffled. “I wanted to help take care of him so I rubbed the whole bottle of
No-Shed
on his fur. To make him stop shedding Daddy. So Mom wouldn't be mad at him for messing up the house.”

Mr. Garber sat down on the back stoop, threw his head back and laughed. He laughed deep and loud. Winnie and Tina looked at each other. If there was a joke they didn't know what it was. “What's so funny Daddy?” Tina finally asked.

“Tina, come over here,” her father said in between laughs. She sat down on her father's lap. “Tina, you don't rub
No-Shed
on his fur. You put a teaspoon of it into his drinking water each day.”

“Oh Daddy!” Tina wailed. “Did I hurt him? Will Woozie die?”

“I'm sure he'll recover Tina. He'll need a good bath and then he'll be fine. But next time you want to help,
please
ask first, okay?”

“Okay, Daddy.” Tina hugged her father.

“Hey down there,” Herbie called. “Something's up. Germs, Incorporated is carrying some kind of sign and heading our way. Have a look, Glenn.”

“Yeah, here she comes—marching down the street. And Clarice is right behind her. Just skipping along. I can see them real good. Mrs. Germs is wearing a red hat with cherries on top of it.”

“I can't read the sign—she's got it turned the wrong way,” Herbie announced, without bothering
to look through the binoculars. “Come on,” he called, “let's go see!”

Both boys scurried down the rope ladder from the tree house and joined Winnie and Tina, who were already hiding behind one of the big evergreen bushes. Mrs. Landon was hammering the sign into the lawn with her shoe. The cherries were dangling from her red hat and Clarice stood by, sucking a lollypop. Mrs. Landon stood back to admire her work, brushed off her hands, put her shoe back on and continued marching down the street. Clarice followed like an obedient little lamb.

Winnie, Tina and the boys ran down to have a look. Mr. Garber came around to the front just as Herbie picked up a stone and hurled it at the sign. “I HATE HER!” he screamed. “I hate her, I hate her, I hate her! She doesn't even know us. She's never even talked to us! I wish I was back in Detroit where everybody's black!” Herbie ran sobbing toward the house.

Glenn read the sign in a hoarse and whispery voice, as if he needed to say it out loud to believe that it was real.

GO BACK WHERE YOU BELONG. WE DON'T WANT YOUR KIND AROUND HERE!!!!!

Mr. Garber grabbed the sign, yanked it out of
the ground and broke it in half over his knee. Winnie felt her cheeks burning. She was shaking all over. “We're not all like that,” she heard a small voice say. “We're not … we're not … we're not.” She realized the voice was her own and that she was crying. She turned and fled, tears streaming down her face.

Winnie opened her eyes and looked around. For a second she was not quite sure where she was. Then she remembered runing home from the Garbers. She remembered the way she had burst through the back door of her house and how her mother had chased her up the stairs, two at a time. She knew that now she was sprawled out on her bed and that no one had taken the time to fold back the blue quilted spread. Her mother was bending over her and there was a cold, wet washcloth on her forehead. Winnie rolled her eyes from side to side.

“Thank heavens, Winnie!” Mrs. Barringer sighed. “Can you tell me what hurts?”

“Everything hurts,” Winnie moaned.

The expression of relief left Mrs. Barringer's
face. She got up off the bed. “I'm going to call the doctor,” she announced, “and I'll be right back.”

Winnie reached out and caught her mother's arm. “Don't leave Mom. Please stay here,” she whimpered.

“It will only take a minute, Winnie.”

But Winnie sat up and shouted, “I don't want him Mom. I don't need any doctor. I'm not sick like that!” She put her head back down on the pillow and moaned again.

“Are you sure you're not sick Winnie?” Mrs. Barringer sat down on the bed beside her, feeling her forehead.

“No, I am not sick!” Winnie insisted.

“Well then, what happened? You came into the house screaming and crying. Something must have happened. Let's talk about it.”

Winnie sat up again. “Do you know what she did Mom? Do you know?” she asked breathlessly. “She put a sign in their grass. A SIGN! Can you imagine! She's the most horrible person that ever lived! And I hate her!” Winnie flopped backwards and stared up at the ceiling.

“What are you talking about?” Mrs. Barringer asked, shaking her head. “I haven't any idea. You're not making sense.” She handed Winnie a tissue. “Here, blow your nose and let's start over again.”

Winnie sat up. She blew her nose hard, took a deep breath, and blurted out the whole dreadful story. When she had finished, her mother studied her face for a moment without speaking. Then Mrs. Barringer sighed and said, “What an awful thing to do.” She put the washcloth back on Winnie's forehead, and brushed some loose strands of hair off her face. “But I certainly am relieved to find out there's nothing wrong with you. You had me worried Winnie!”

Winnie jumped back up. “Nothing wrong? How can you say that! Everything is wrong. EVERYTHING! Didn't you hear what I just said? I ran away when I read the sign. I ran away Mom. I didn't even say anything. I just ran. They'll probably hate me now. I could just die!”

Mrs. Barringer laughed softly. “Oh Winnie! You're being ridiculous. I think you're making too much out of the whole thing. Why should they hate you?”

Winnie looked straight into her mother's eyes. “Why should they hate me?” she asked. “That's easy. I'll tell you why. Because I'm white!”

“Winifred! You are not thinking. Mrs. Landon is one person. You are another! No one is going to hate you for running away!” Mrs. Barringer insisted.

“But Mom … maybe they'll think we're all like Mrs. Landon. She hates the Garbers and she
doesn't even know them! So maybe the Garbers will think we're all the same! We've got to prove it to them Mom.”

“Prove what, Winnie?” Mrs. Barringer asked.

“Prove that we're not all like Mrs. Landon!” Winnie said, throwing her hands up into the air.

“Winnie!” Mom sighed, annoyed. “You're carrying this thing too far. You're devoting all your time and energy to the Garber cause. You've got to learn to think things through. You're always jumping into new situations with both feet, before you know what you're jumping into!”

“But Mom …” Winnie began.

“Just a minute. Just one minute, please. I'm not through yet,” Mrs. Barringer said. “Do I have to remind you that last year you started the Freedom for Turtles Club? And as President you went around ringing all the doorbells on Grove Street, telling people how wrong it was to keep little turtles cooped up inside a house. Well, do you remember that Winnie?”

Winnie felt her cheeks redden. “Oh Mom! I was only ten then. And anyway, it's true about turtles. They should be free to walk around outside.”

“But my point is that it's still the same thing. You're jumping into something that you know nothing about.” Mrs. Barringer shook a finger at her daughter.