Read It's a Little Haywire Online
Authors: Elle Strauss
Tags: #social issues, #friendships, #homelessness, #middle grade, #people and places, #paranormal fantasy fiction, #boys and men
It's a Little Haywire (9 page)
“It would be nice.”
I hate how he didn’t say I had to,
because then I couldn’t complain and nag to get out of it. But,
Gramps has been really nice to me this summer, and if it makes him
happy, I suppose it won’t kill me to go one time.
“You wanna go, Mikala?”
Her gaze falls to her dirty sneakers. “I
don’t have no nice clothes.”
“That doesn’t matter. Right Gramps?
Jesus doesn’t care about what you wear? I mean, he went around
wearing a sheet all the time. What you got is better than a sheet,
Mikala.”
“He’s right, dear,” Gramps says. “It
matters what’s on the inside of a man...or girl, not on the
outside.”
I worry for a minute that she’ll say no
and I’ll have to go alone, but then she answers, “Okay, I’ll
go.”
The next morning I put on my grubbiest
clothes. I feel protective of Mikala and if anyone is going to
judge her, well, they can judge me too.
Gramps starts his 1971, forest green
Pontiac sedan. It’s the longest, bulkiest car I’ve ever seen and
the only one Gramps has ever owned. My Dad keeps teasing Gramps
that his car better be in his will with Dad’s name on it. It’s in
mint condition, so Dad keeps saying, and Gramps treats it like it’s
his baby.
Actually, it’s worth going to church
just to ride in it.
We pick up Mrs. Pershishnick and it’s a
little weird seeing her sit in the seat Gran used to always sit in,
but I don’t dwell on it.
Mikala is in the back seat beside me,
hanging on to the door handle like she never drove in a car
before.
“You okay?” I whisper.
She nods. She’s wearing her faded dress,
but it’s clean, and sandals on her feet. Her hair is washed and it
looks like she brushed it ‘til it shined.
We have to drive over the bridge and my
heart jumps as I remember Mr. Joseph and how he stood on the wrong
side of the rail. Out the window I see the bottom of the ravine and
it makes me feel a little sick.
At the church we pile out of the Pontiac
and I’m surprised by all the people there. Not just old folks, but
people my parents’ ages, teenagers and lots of little kids too.
They’re wearing whatever they want to from what I can tell. Blue
jeans, dresses, suit jacket, shorts—it doesn’t seem to matter.
Turns out Mikala and I had worried for nothing.
A band plays some music, a guitar and
bass and drum and everything. I don’t remember that from Gramps’
old church. Then another guy announces some things including Sunday
School classes for kids our age. I look at Mikala and she sharply
shakes her head. We’re both too shy to go off with a bunch of new
kids so I tell Gramps that we’ll stay with him and Mrs.
Pershishnik.
The pastor starts preaching and this is
where I plan to zone out and make up my own stories in my head.
Which I do. But I tune back in time to hear the pastor read this
from the Bible: “...for the worker deserves his wages.”
For the worker deserves
his wages
. Then I hear Mr. Joseph’s voice,
I don’t need no charity.
“Mikala,” I lean over and whisper in her
ear. “We have to try again.”
“What?”
“The soup line. We have to try again,
only this time I know what we need to do.”
We still have lots of soup and buns, and
Gramps and Mrs. Pershishnick agreed to warm it all up for our
second try, after we tell them our new strategy. Mikala and I write
up more posters but this time they don’t say Free Soup. They say
this:
Charlie True needs help
with his big garden. Soup and buns in exchange for
labor
.
We replace all the old posters with new
ones, and then, before we go back to Gramps’, we stop by the
alley.
“Mr. Red!” I see him first. His bushy
fiery head peeks out of his tent.
“Owen True.”
“Is Mr. Joseph here?” When I don’t see
him at first, I feel a surge of prickly fear, scared that Mr.
Joseph might have gone back to the bridge. But then he walks around
the corner. I let out a relieved breath.
“Oh, good, um, I just wanted to let you
know that Gramps needs help. He keeps planting this humongous
garden and it’s just more than he can handle. Even with my help.” I
feel myself talking too fast and pause. Speaking more slowly, I
say, “He can’t pay for help in money but he has lots of food.
Really good soup. Can you come?”
They don’t say anything. My eyes
dart to Mikala and hers are wide with hope.
Please say you’ll come.
Finally Mr. Red speaks. “We’ll think
about it, how’s that?”
“We’ve done our best,” Mikala says later
as we wait in Gramps’ yard. I turn on the hose and slurp from
it.
“Crickets, Owen True, what more can a
person do?”
I offer her the hose and she takes it. I
know she’s right but I can’t help but feel anxious. I reach out to
scrub Daisy’s neck and wish I were her. No worries. No
disappointments. Just sleep all the time. Food and water delivered
daily. Such a lucky dog.
Mikala pokes me in the side with her
pointy finger. “Look!”
Two blocks away down Maple Avenue are
the shapes of two men walking. One with a pony tail and droopy
shoulders and the other with flaming red hair.
“They came.” Now that I can see them, I
don’t know what to do with myself. I jump up and run over to where
Gramps and Mrs. Pershishnick are drinking tea in the shade.
“Gramps, they’re coming. What do we do
now?”
Gramps and Mrs. Pershishnick get up and
take over. They know exactly how to act.
“Welcome, gentlemen,” Gramps says.
They shake hands and then Gramps shows them the rows that need
weeding. I do my part and weed a row along with them. I feel good.
Especially seeing Mr. Joseph alive and well. He works hard and as
time goes on, his shoulders straighten out and he holds his head up
higher. I’m bubbling with happiness. It
does
feel good to do good!
Afterwards all six of us sit at the
picnic table for a meal of soup and buns. And when Gramps finishes
giving thanks, we say “Amen”, and this time I don’t skip out.
We chat like it’s just a normal day. And
for the first time I see Mr. Joseph smile.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Owen True – The Thankful
NEW PEOPLE CAME EVERY DAY after
that. Joe from the garage, Don Chan and his wife, Mikala’s mom and
sisters. Even Mayor Sanderson. Plus quite a few people I didn’t
know. Soon
Mr. Joseph
was
showing them what rows needed tending.
And on Friday, a column of dust follows
a silver BMW driving slowly down Maple Avenue.
“Dad!”
“Hey, Owen,” he says after he gets out.
He gives me a sideways hug and rubs his knuckles on my head.
“You’ve grown!”
“Well, it’s been nearly a month.”
“It has, and I sure missed you.”
“I missed you too, Dad.”
And a weird thing happens in my chest.
It gets all tight and...sad. Because I have to say good bye to all
my new friends.
Dad takes in all the activity in the
garden. So I tell him about my idea and how Gramps’ garden is
helping the people of Hayward with the recession. I don’t tell him
about the angels. Not yet.
His eyebrows move up and down and he
nods his head. “I’m impressed, Owen. Nicely done.”
All that sadness poofs away and is
replaced by pride. A good kind. Dad is proud of me.
That night I say good-bye to Mikala.
“It’s been a great summer, Owen True,”
she says, a little sob escaping her lips. “Because of you.”
“I would’ve died a thousand boring
deaths, if it weren’t for you, Mikala.”
We both kick at the ground with our toes
and I shove my fists deep in my pockets.
Then Mikala throws her arms around me,
nearly knocking me off balance. “Let’s not go the whole year
without talkin’, okay?”
So, since Mikala doesn’t have a
computer, we agree to write each other the old fashioned way. With
paper and pens, envelopes and stamps.
Saying goodbye to Gramps isn’t any
easier, and I find my own little sob creeping up my throat.
“Gramps?” I throw myself into his tall
body. “I’ll miss you.”
“I’ll miss you too, big guy.”
Dad has all my things loaded up. “Time
to go, Owen.”
I never thought I’d ever feel sad to
leave Haywire. Oh heck.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Owen True – The Winner
I AM HOME IN THE CONDO living with Mom
and Arthur. They are always joking and teasing each other and me,
and it’s good to have them back. I’m in seventh grade now in my
private school which my mom drives me to everyday. When I go up the
steps in my crisp uniform, I can’t help but think of Mikala taking
the bus over the bridge into Edson to school.
And wondering what she’s wearing. I sent
Gramps my allowance and told him to get Mrs. Pershishnick to go buy
Mikala new clothes for school, but not to tell her they’re from me.
Just leave them anonymously on her front steps.
Gramps calls to give me updates. Mayor
Sanderson let them move the soup kitchen into the old church
building. Mr. Red has family in Canada and moved there to work. Mr.
Joseph is living with Gramps now. He’s fixing up the house,
painting it inside and out and doing other things in exchange for a
room. Gramps says it gets too cold in Hayward to sleep outside in
the winter.
Mikala writes me letters. Her last one
is folded and tucked into my pocket. I’m still smiling when I think
about what she wrote.
Owen True,
I wrote a story and
entered the contest, and crickets if I didn’t go and win! You read
that right, Owen True! I wrote a story about a rich boy who came to
a poor town and who saw angels and saved a little girl’s life and
then a man’s life, and started a soup line and became a lonely
girl’s best friend.
Owen True, I’m comin’
to Seattle!
The End.
Find Elle Strauss on-line!
Acknowledgements
As always, writing a book takes the help
of many people, more than I can list here. I want to thank my
daughter Tasia Strauss for her amazing illustrations, my son Joel
Strauss for writing those Germany letters when he was ten--Owen
True sounds a lot like that little boy!
Thanks to my parents for always
believing and supporting me and to my dad for always having a song
to sing.
A shout out goes to all my early
readers, Lori, Laurel, Caroline, Nicole, Tasia--thanks for your
careful guidance. Also to my very supportive husband, Norm, my
other sons, Levi and Jordan, my faithful friends, and to my
wonderful on-line community of writers.
A special gratitude goes to you, my
reader. I hope you were inspired by Owen’s story.
And forever I’m thankful to Jesus for
being my friend.
Charlie True’s Playlist
(Cy Coben)1960
Kitty Wells
A White Sports
Coat and a Pink Carnation
Marty Robbins
Charles E. Calhoun
Perry Como
