Starring Sally J. Freedman as Herself (2 page)

“Oh, honey … I’m sorry,” Mom said. “I should have listened.” She wiped Sally’s mouth with a Kleenex. “Don’t cry.… it’s all right …”

“I didn’t mess myself up,” Sally said, sniffling. “See … I was really careful, wasn’t I?”

“Yes, you were.”

“I knew you wouldn’t want me to get it on my dress.”

“That’s right … it’s just as easy to be careful …”

They went back to the rooming house and Mom
took Sally’s temperature. It was 103°. She put Sally to bed, gave her some ginger ale to sip and lay a cold, wet washcloth on her forehead. “If only I had listened when you first told me you weren’t feeling well … I was so excited myself … I …” She kissed Sally’s cheek. “Try and get to sleep … tomorrow we’ll go to the doctor …” Mom pulled a chair up to Sally’s cot and sat beside her. Sally closed her eyes and listened to the sounds outside. Cheering, horns tooting, singing … laughter … sounds of the celebration. Slowly, she drifted off to sleep.

Sally had a scab on her knee from falling off her bicycle last week. It itched. She scratched the area around it, knowing that the scab wasn’t ready to come off yet. She was sitting on the high-backed chair near the fireplace and her feet didn’t quite reach the floor. She wished they would.

“Little pitchers have big ears,” Uncle Jack said, with a nod in her direction. On the far side of the livingroom Mom, Ma Fanny, Aunt Bette and Uncle Jack were huddled together. They spoke in hushed voices so that Sally could make out only a few words.

“God forbid … keep your fingers crossed … never should have gone there …”

They were talking about Douglas. Something had happened to him. Sally wasn’t exactly sure what, but Daddy was at the hospital now, with Douglas, and Mom was waiting impatiently for the phone to ring, with news about him.

Sally ran her hands along the arms of the chair. It
was covered in pink and green flowered material, shiny and almost new. The whole livingroom was pink and green although Mom didn’t say
pink
. She said
rose-beige
. It was a beautiful room, soft and peaceful. Sally loved it. She wished they used it every day and not just on special occasions.

One Sunday her father built a fire in the brick fireplace and he and Sally and Douglas sat around on the floor reading the funnies. But Mom said it made a mess. So they’d had no more log fires. On either side of the fireplace bookcases climbed to the ceiling and between them, and over the fireplace, was a large mirror, reflecting the rest of the room.

Something had to be very wrong with Douglas. Otherwise why were they sitting in the livingroom tonight?

“Stop picking, Sally …” Mom said. “You’ll only make it worse.”

Sally took her hand away from her knee. She twirled a strand of hair around her finger and yawned.

“Why don’t you go up to bed?” Mom asked. “Look how tired you are.”

“I’m not tired.”

“Don’t give me a hard time,” Mom snapped. “Just go on up …”

Aunt Bette touched Mom’s shoulder, then walked over to Sally. “Come on,” she said. “I’ll keep you company while you get ready.”

They went upstairs to Sally’s room. Aunt Bette flopped across the bed. She was Mom’s younger sister. She taught fourth grade and sometimes she brought marbles to Sally and Douglas, marbles that had wound up in her Treasure Chest because someone in her class had been fooling around with them instead of paying attention. And once a marble found its way into Aunt Bette’s Treasure Chest the owner could kiss it goodbye. That’s why Douglas and Sally had such great marble collections. Sally’s favorite was clear green all over.

“Mom’s mad at me,” Sally said, “and I didn’t do anything.”

“She’s not mad,” Aunt Bette said. “She’s worried about Douglas, that’s all.”

“She acted mad … she didn’t have to holler.”

“Try to understand.”

“What’s the matter with Douglas, anyway?”

“He’s had an accident.”

Sally knew that. She’d been outside tossing her pink Spalding ball against the side of the house when two boys carried Douglas to the back door. There’d been a big commotion then and Sally was sure of just one thing. Douglas was crying. She’d been surprised about that.

“They were playing in Union Woods,” Aunt Bette said, “and Douglas tried to jump across the brook but he lost his balance and fell and when he did he dislocated his elbow.”

“We’re not supposed to play in Union Woods,” Sally said. There was a strange man who hung out in there. Last month the principal of Sally’s school had sent a notice to each classroom, warning the kids not to go into Union Woods anymore. That afternoon Sally had asked Douglas, “Do you know about the strange man in Union Woods?” and Douglas had answered, “Sure.”

“What kind of strange man is he?” Sally said.

“What do you mean?” Douglas asked.

“Is he a murderer or a kidnapper or what?”

“He’s just strange,” Douglas told her.

“What does that mean?”

“You know …”

“No, I don’t!”

“Well … he’s kind of crazy,” Douglas said.

“Oh, crazy.” Sally thought about that for a minute. “Crazy how?”

“In general,” Douglas said.

“What does that mean?”

“I don’t have time to explain now … I’m busy …” and before Sally could ask another question Douglas had run downstairs to his basement workshop and shut the door.

Sally supposed Douglas and his friends weren’t afraid to go into Union Woods because they were older. They were thirteen and went to junior high. “Is it bad to dislocate your elbow?” Sally asked Aunt Bette.

“It’s like breaking your arm … he’ll have a cast when he comes home from the hospital.”

“Like Suzanne Beardsley?”

“I don’t know her.”

“She’s in my class. She broke her wrist taking out the milk bottles and she had a cast for two months and we all signed our names on it.”

“I’m sure Douglas will let you sign your name on his cast too. Now brush your teeth and hop into bed. It’s past ten.”

“Can I listen to my radio?”

“Okay … but just for a little while.”

Sally got ready for bed. Her mother came up to kiss her goodnight. “I didn’t mean to scold you,” she said. “It’s just that …”

“I know,” Sally said, “you’re worried about Douglas.”

“Well, yes … waiting is very hard. I should have gone to the hospital too.”

“Will Douglas be home soon?”

“I hope so. Daddy’s going to call as soon as his arm is reset.”

“Reset?”

“Yes … to get the elbow back in place.”

“Oh.”

“Good night … sleep tight.” Mom bent over to kiss her cheek and Sally could smell the pot roast they’d had for dinner on her hands.

“Night, Mom.”

Sally closed her eyes but she couldn’t fall asleep. Even her radio didn’t help, so after a while she reached over and turned it off. Then she arranged her covers in just the right way, with both her hands tucked inside, and she closed her eyes again, but still, sleep wouldn’t come. So she made up a story inside her head.

Sally Meets the Stranger

Sally is walking in Union Woods, picking flowers and humming a tune. She is wearing a long, yellow organdy dress and a picture hat to match. Her hair is blowing in the breeze. Suddenly, she is aware of someone following her. She spins around and comes face to face with the strange man. He has a long, shaggy gray beard and a foolish smile on his face. Saliva trickles out of the corners of his mouth. His clothes are tattered and his bare feet are crusted with dirt.

Oh!
Sally exclaims and she drops her flowers. The strange man makes terrible noises and Sally tries to run but finds that she can’t. Her feet won’t move. The strange man comes closer and closer. Sally takes off her hat and swats his face with it but since it is made of organdy it doesn’t do any good. He scoops her up and carries her deep into Union Woods.

You’re going to be very sorry!
Sally tells him, as he prepares to tie her to a tree. He answers,
Ugr harmph vilda phud
, then laughs as he winds the rope tighter and tighter around Sally’s small body.

But he is
so
strange he forgets to tie the two ends of the rope together and as soon as he goes back to his hut Sally wiggles free and runs. She doesn’t stop until she reaches police headquarters, where she tells her story to the Chief of Police himself. Then she leads him and two of his assistants to the strange man’s hut. The strange man is captured at last! Never again will he be able to tie a girl to a tree.

The Chief of Police is so impressed that he makes Sally his number one detective, specializing in strange cases. A Hollywood producer decides to make a movie of Sally’s story. But he can’t find the right ten-year-old girl to play the lead. He decides he must have Sally herself and that is how Sally gets to be not only a famous detective but also a movie star.

Sometime that night Douglas came home from the hospital. Sally woke to her parent’s voices. Mom cried, “His clothes are wet … my God, Arnold, he’s soaked right through.”

“From the brook,” Daddy said. “He fell into the brook … remember?”

“But the hospital …” Mom said, “how could they have left him in these wet clothes for so long … he’ll get pneumonia or something … I knew I should have gone too.”

Douglas didn’t get pneumonia, he got nephritis, a kidney infection. He was very sick and had to stay in bed. Nobody could prove it came from being wet for such a long time but Sally knew that’s what her mother was thinking.

Ma Fanny moved into the spare room to help Mom take care of Douglas. And Aunt Bette came over every day after school. She made charts and taped them to the wall in his room. One to keep track of his medicines, another to record his temperature, and a third, showing how many glasses of water he drank each day. If they added up to a quart or more Mom pasted a gold star on that chart at night. Every Thursday afternoon a lab technician would arrive to take some blood from Douglas’s arm. Sally wasn’t allowed to watch, although she wanted to very much.

Nobody worried about Douglas missing school because he was a genius. He’d skipped third grade which made him the youngest student in eighth.
When he was ten he’d built a radio by himself. There wasn’t anything he couldn’t fix or make from scratch. Still, Sally was glad she wasn’t a genius too because Daddy and Mom were never satisfied with Douglas’s report card. He didn’t get all A’s or even all B’s like Sally. And his teachers always said the same thing about him. “Douglas does not work up to his full potential.”

The weather was hot and sticky that May. After school Sally and her best friend, Christine, played together.

“Why can’t I see Douglas?” Christine asked Sally.

“Because my mother doesn’t want him to get any new germs.”

“I don’t have any new germs and besides, I don’t want to touch him or anything … I just want to see him.”

“Maybe next week … I’m not allowed in there myself.”

“Does he look awful?”

“Sort of …”

“Did you sign his cast?”

“Not yet … I just told you I’m not allowed to get that close … but when I do sign it I’m going to draw a
Kilroy Was Here
picture with my name across the brick wall.”

“Let’s play Cowgirl today,” Christine said. “I’m sick of Detective.”

“But we played Cowgirl yesterday and besides,
I’ve got this really great detective story ready …” Sally said. “We’re after this murderer who cuts people up and stuffs the pieces into brown lunch bags … he leaves the bags all over town and the people are really scared … this is no ordinary murderer … this guy is dangerous.”

“Why do you always get to make up the story?” Christine asked.

“Because I’m good at it,” Sally said. “I’ll be in charge of the case and you can be my assistant …”

“You were in charge yesterday,” Christine said.

“That was different … that was Cowgirl …”

“I’ll only play if we can be partners,” Christine said.

“Okay … we’re partners.”

“Good.”

For a while Douglas seemed to be getting better and they made plans to rent a house at Bradley Beach for the summer. Then he got sick all over again and they cancelled their vacation. Mom and Daddy and Ma Fanny spoke in whispers and Sally began to wonder if Douglas might die. If he did she’d be an only child. She could have his bicycle. It was bigger than hers. But then she’d have to learn to ride a boy’s bike.