Prairie Evers (13 page)

BATTLESHIP

I went to Ivy’s
after school one day when Mama was going to be late getting home from the Arts Center and Daddy had gone to see a man about buying some honeybees.

“My mom probably won’t be home even though she said she would be,” Ivy told me as we walked to her house. “She almost never is since George came along. And George doesn’t like kids. I can tell that if he could get rid of me, he would. Him and my mom both.”

She looked very bitter. I said, “Oh, I don’t think so, Ivy. I think your mama’s just excited about being in love.”

I said that, but I wasn’t sure I believed it.

When we got in the house, we went to her room and played Battleship. It’s hard to play right—that game is not new and Ivy doesn’t have all the ships or pegs to go into them to sink them anymore. But it was her favorite, so that’s what we played. After a while, the front door slammed. I didn’t think much of it, but Ivy altered. There was a different feeling in the air, that electric feeling of a storm coming on.

There was the sound of a chair shoved across the floor and then the bang of dishes slamming in the sink. Then Ivy’s mama came to the bedroom door and flung it open. Ivy scrambled up from where we sat and was halfway to the door as her mama was yelling about the dishes not being done and the house being all sorts of a mess and Ivy having me over to play when she had chores to do.

Ivy said, “All you care about is George.”

“I’m the adult here, I’ll do as I like. George makes me happy, and I guess I deserve a little happiness.”

“He doesn’t even like me.”

“Well, he likes me, and that’s what counts. Nobody’s liked me like this since—” For the first time since I’d met her, I felt a stab of sorrow for Ivy’s mama.
Since your father died
was what she was going to say.

Time stopped. It was like we were on the tip-top of a triangle.
I wondered what Ivy might say. You couldn’t blame her if she lit into her mama. She might say, “You shot him. I saw you. How could you do that? To him or to me? Everything’s wrong and always will be and it’s all your fault.”

But after a long moment, Ivy just said, “Do the dishes and clean up the house your own self. I’m always the one cleaning. I bet George wouldn’t like you if he knew how sloppy you were. He’ll find out the truth about you, just wait. He won’t like you anymore then.”

Ivy’s mama slapped Ivy’s cheek.

I jumped.

Ivy’s eyes filled with tears.

Mrs. Blake looked as shocked as I felt. Her hand reached out as if to smooth over the slapped place on Ivy’s face. But then she drew back. “Ivy, you are grounded,” she said. “Prairie, get your things. I’ll drive you home.”

EAVESDROPPING

I went to
the Miss New Paltz Diner alone after school a few days later while Mama was shopping. Ivy couldn’t go because her mama had not taken it back about being grounded.

The group of gossiping ladies was there again, drinking their coffee. Anne Oliver gave me a disgruntled look, but I didn’t give her any kind of look at all. I climbed up on my stool and ordered my malt from Lolly, and listened to them go on and on. It wasn’t very interesting at first, but then Anne Oliver said, “That Tracy Blake is a piece of bad
business. She doesn’t pay five minutes’ attention to that girl of hers.”

Another lady said, “You know what happened back in Poughkeepsie. Those people, I’ll tell you what. I’ll be glad to see the last of them.”

The soft-voiced lady named Erma said, “None of it’s the child’s fault.”

“Blood will tell,” Anne Oliver answered in a warning tone.

The quiet lady said, “Nonsense. That girl is as nice as can be, I met her when I worked as an aide in the library. Someone did something right. Probably her aunt Connie. She was a decent woman. And maybe even her mother and dad, some ways. We don’t know.”

“Oh, please!” Anne Oliver said. “That is just carrying kindness too far. The woman shot her own husband.”

“I know,” Erma said sadly. “But we were never in her shoes.”

“Well, I’m
certainly
glad I wasn’t in his shoes,” Anne Oliver said pertly, and for once I had to agree with her.

“She is not a happy woman,” Erma said.

Another voice said, “Could’ve fooled me. She’s marrying that guy from Poughkeepsie and moving over there. She told me so herself when I ran into her at the supermarket the other day. She was talking a mile a minute about it, and believe me, I never asked. You won’t be seeing them around here anymore.”

“Good riddance,” Anne Oliver said. “And mark my words, that child hasn’t got a snowball’s chance.”

She sounded so sure of herself, I couldn’t help but believe her. All of a sudden I knew that Ivy was doomed. Terrible things were always going to happen to her, and neither one of us would be able to do anything about it.

I hightailed it out of there then. I went and found Mama at the grocery store and pestered her to hurry up and finish her shopping, and as soon as we got home I pulled out my notebook and wrote to Grammy and told her everything I had heard and everything I feared.

I also spilled it all to Mama and Daddy at supper. I decided four heads were better than one and I dearly hoped they would think of a solution, for George doesn’t like children and Ivy’s mama is no better, maybe worse.

PLANS A, B AND C

Mama and Daddy
listened close and said they would not mind having Ivy come live with us. But Daddy said, “It’s not so easy. Folks don’t just give their kids away.”

“They might. Mrs. Blake and George don’t like Ivy.”

Mama and Daddy looked troubled but Mama assured me, “It just is not that simple. I don’t think it’s that Mrs. Blake doesn’t care for Ivy. I just don’t think she’s very good at it. She’s all mixed up, chicklet. She doesn’t really care for herself, is more what it is.”

“Well, that doesn’t do Ivy any good.”

Mama sighed and Daddy lit up a cigarette, which he mostly never did in the house. I went over and poked his leg, and he patted my head. It was the same as ever—me nagging, him putting me off. But then after a second he did stub his cigarette out in the ashtray. I looked at him real surprised and he smiled kind of crooked and sad at me.

Later on I was in my bed but not yet asleep and I could hear them talking down in the living room. I heard Mama’s voice murmur something real low and Daddy said, “She’s a nice girl, but you know I’m right. Even a woman like Tracy Blake is not going to just let her daughter stay with us permanent.”

Mama said something I couldn’t make out again, and Daddy said, “Of course she’s no trouble. It’s her mama I’m thinking of.”

Mama spoke for a while. I made out Ivy’s name, and Daddy said something with a more hopeful note in his voice. Right about then I drifted off to sleep. I knew they didn’t have an answer yet, but I could rest assured they were studying on it.

Plan A was writing to Grammy. Plan B was to get Mama and Daddy thinking. Plan C was to figure out something my own self, but I felt somewhat puny about the chance of that happening.

HUMAN NATURE

Ivy’s mama
didn’t unground her for two weeks. The situation was desperate. Ivy and I put our heads together at school but we didn’t know what to do. It was true. George had asked Mrs. Blake to marry him and she said yes.

They were moving to Poughkeepsie in a month and a half, and nobody ever asked Ivy what she thought or might like. Her mama and George never even said, “I know you will not want to leave your friend Prairie and your school, but I am sure it will work out all right in the end. Don’t worry, dear.”

To my mind that was the least they could do.

Grammy wrote back straightaway when she received that letter I wrote asking for help. What she said was this: