Tea Cups & Tiger Claws (15 page)

“Does it have swizzle sticks?”

“No…silly, it’s not that kind—”

“
Alright, I’ll do it. As soon as the adoption goes through and we get the kid in school, I’ll set it up.”

Abigail sighed and shook her head.

“What now?” asked Dorthea. “You can’t even wait that long?”

Dorthea had been cornered by a mouse.

~~~

Twelve
year old Sarah Evans sat in the back of Aunt Dorthea’s blue Cadillac and watched her nervous mother, who sat in the front passenger’s seat, as she mumbled and poked her hands in and out of the big gift bag that rested on her lap. Mother had been talking about this meeting for a long time. She wanted to give Ermel a hug, and hold her hand, and tell her that she loved her. Sometimes she cried when she talked about it. Sarah felt nervous too. People took advantage of her mother. Strong and pushy people. Mean and Sneaky people. People like Aunt Dorthea.

Her mother had told her not to say bad things about
Aunt Dorthea, but that didn’t stop her from thinking them.

The car pulled into a dirt lot and up to a
n old looking wooden building. It didn’t look like a house. It looked like a shed, like the maintenance shed at Sunny Slope Manor, where the gardeners kept their equipment.

“Looks even better up close, don’t you think?” said Aunt Dorthea.

Her mother sat up straight and cleared her throat. Cousin Veronica, who shared the backseat with Sarah, scooted close and grabbed her arm.

“And you’re sure she knows we’re visiting?” asked Sarah’s mother, for the tenth time.

“It’s all been arranged
,” said Aunt Dorthea.

“Nine in the morning on a Saturday just seems like a strange time for a social call,” said
Sarah’s mother. Then she turned toward the back seat and said, “Now remember girls, it’s not polite to stare…and don’t make a face if she offers you something strange to eat. Just say ‘yes, thank you’ or ‘no, thank you.’ And don’t be afraid if she gives you a hug.”

“My mother said there are rats and lizards in there and I might catch a disease,” said Veronica.

“Well, then, you’ll catch it while doing an act of kindness and those kinds of diseases are no bother at all,” said Sarah’s mother.

“And I’m not supposed to call her ‘Grandma’ either, or go near the outhouses.”

“That’s fine, dear.”

The girls clung to each other and stayed behind
the grown-ups as the group walked toward the shack. Aunt Dorthea led the way, but before she got to the porch, the door opened and a skinny, shriveled lady poked out her head. Everyone stopped in their tracks.

She had a long cigarette hanging from her mouth, but it didn’t look like a mouth because it didn’t have any teeth in it. It looked like a bowl of mush
. Her short hair stuck up in bunches, like clumps of withered corn stalks, and it made her look like she had bald spots.

“What do you want?” she asked, squinting suspiciously at Dorthea through the smoke.

“I don’t want anything, but this is Abigail, your daughter, and she wants to meet you.”

“I’m so sorry Ermel…uh Mrs. Ermel…I mean Mrs. Railer…
maybe you’d prefer that we come back later….”

“Abigail?
The one that run off with the butcher?” asked Ermel.

“Yes,” said Dorthea.

“Don’t look much like her sister.”

“That’s just the way she dresses.
”

“And who are those there,” asked Ermel, nodding at
Sarah and Veronica.

“The big one is
Sarah, Abigail’s daughter, and the little one is Veronica, Judith’s daughter.”

Ermel stared for
a moment, took the cigarette from her mouth, and said, “Veronica Newfield?”

“Yes Ermel.”

“Wait here,” she said. The door slammed and everybody heard Ermel’s feet pound on the wooden floor as she ran through the house. Then they heard a hissing whisper pass through the walls like there were no walls at all. “Wake up Clyde! Wake up! You gotta get in the other room! Quick like! And don’t come out ‘til I say so! And shove some of that mess in there with you. Hurry!”

“Oh, I don’t know
,” said Sarah’s mother. “Maybe we should come back later. She’s not ready to meet us…which is understandable…I think…since it was very sudden.”

“She’s happy to see you. Can’t you tell? That’s why she’s running
around like a little piglet. She just didn’t get herself ready in time, that’s all,” said Aunt Dorthea, who had a smile on her face, not a polite smile, but a smile that wanted to turn into a laugh because something was funny. Then she said, “You just watch, when that door opens again, she’ll have her teeth put in, and will be wearing a black and white satin dress with a big bow hanging to the right of the neckline. And watch out for the giant hat because it will knock you over if you’re not careful.”

Veronica giggled
.

A few minutes later, after more whispering
inside the house, and some thumps and thuds and the sound of dishes clanking together, Ermel pulled open the door and stood in the opening. She had teeth, a black and white dress, and a big hat with a feather in it.

“Nice dress, Ermel. Is it new?” said Dorthea.

“You’re darn tootin’ it’s a nice dress! My best one, ‘cause it ain’t every day that a lady gets to meet her dear grandchild for the first time!” said Ermel.

“Don’t you mean ‘grandchildren’? I brought two of them
you know, and Abigail, too.”

“That’s fine. They can all come in. I got room.
But first I’m gonna say hello to the little one. Come over here honey and give your grandma a big hug and see if she don’t got something special for you.” Ermel held outstretched arms to Veronica. Sarah gave her cousin a nudge and Veronica walked slowly up the single porch step, where Ermel wrapped her up and pulled her into the house.

For a second nobody else moved
, until Aunt Dorthea, still smiling, looked at Sarah’s mother and said, “You’re the one who wanted to meet her. It’s not going to happen with you standing out here.”

Sarah
’s mother didn’t hold Ermel’s hand that day, and she didn’t say ‘I love you.’ They barely said two words to each other because Ermel didn’t have any interest in it. It made Sarah sad to see that happen to her mother, but, in her eleven year-old way, she understood. People said the Railers were different. And scary. Even Aunt Judith told stories about them—when she wanted to scare Veronica back into line. Sarah didn’t believe all the stories, but she believed some of them. And now she’d seen for herself. Ermel didn’t care about her lost daughter. She didn’t even care enough to pretend. Sarah understood, and, deep down inside, she knew her mother would understand too, after she got over the hurt.

What
Sarah didn’t understand, though, was how a person could call herself a sister and a friend and then lie the way Dorthea had lied to her mother. She hadn’t arranged a meeting that day with Ermel. And then she lied and said she had. If she’d kept her word, then Ermel might’ve been prepared, she might’ve put on a little show to cover up her coldness. Her mother might’ve been let down easy.

When the sad party had ended, with everyone back in the car,
Sarah glared at her aunt and wanted desperately to tell her off. If she had said one wrong word, or had made one of the jokes that only she laughed at, then Sarah would’ve shared a few choice words of her own and she didn’t care if she got sent to her room for a year.

But then
, with the car still parked at Yucky D, something unexpected happened and Sarah didn’t have to worry about it at all.

“Turn off the engine
, Dorthea. I need to tell you something,” said Sarah’s mom.

Dorthea looked surprised.
She turned the key and the inside of the car became very quiet.

“You lied to me
, Dorthea. And you laughed about it. I know you think I’m a weakling who cries and prays and goes to church. That’s fine. Sometimes I wish I could be strong, like you and Judith, but I never want to be like someone who is hurtful, like you have been hurtful to me today.”

Veronica looked at
Sarah with big, surprised eyes. Sarah looked straight ahead, at her mother, and felt proud to be her daughter. 

Cousins

Veronica Newfield, a mere third grader, ruled the lower grades at Tisdale Academy. Her word had the power to move Miss Bubbly Sunshine from the top of the popularity list to the bottom, or, if it suited her, to move Miss Awkward Freckleface from the bottom to the top. She chose the fads, chose the slang, and rated all new students—and had a good time doing it.

In mid school year
1963, Veronica gave a particular new student an especially bad rating, if for no other reason than the way he looked. Instead of the bangs most boys had started wearing, he greased back his black hair the old-fashioned way, which, when combined with a sickly complexion and dark circles under his eyes, made him look like a victim from a Dracula movie. He covered his skinny body in a white short sleeved shirt, which looked suspiciously like a girl’s blouse, and baggy shorts. To complete the picture, he wore red suspenders. When the teacher, Mrs. Maynard, introduced him to the class, he didn’t smile or nod or wave or say hi. He stood and stared like a corpse.

After
the introduction, Mad-Dog-Maynard (Mrs. Maynard’s nickname) escorted the new boy to an empty desk in back, by the fish tank, and pointed to the spelling words on the chalkboard. He pulled out a notebook and started writing, like the other kids.

A few minutes later, with pencil in hand,
Veronica got up without asking. Mad-Dog sat at her desk and pretended not to notice. Veronica took the long way to the pencil sharpener, behind the new kid’s desk, where she peeked over his shoulder at his notebook. On the page opposite the spelling words, which he’d quickly written down, she saw little pictures of guns and cannons and missiles, all quite real looking. Just then he happened to be drawing a bullet covered in blood. She made a face behind his back, which caused some snickering. After sharpening her pencil she returned to her seat. A minute later she returned to the sharpener, and this time she made a big, ugly scribble on his drawing. When he looked up she said, “Hello Zombie Boy.” The class erupted in laughter. He looked down and drew more blood on the bullet.

Veronica had
given her verdict.

At recess
Zombie Boy went with the kids out to the playground. Veronica and her specially selected crowd of girlfriends followed at a distance. As the kickball and three-flies-up players went to the fields on the left, and the tetherballers and hopschotchers went straight ahead to the blacktop, he went with the marble shooters to the short stone wall that divided the two sides. Kids from other classes had already staked out their spots, where they drew circles in the dirt at the base of the wall and shot their marbles. They stared as he passed by. By the time the kids from his class had taken their spots, he ended up at the end of the wall, by himself. Before sitting down, he pulled a black felt bag from his pocket. Two nearby boys looked up from their game to check out the fancy bag. When he opened the bag and poured out his marbles, they got up and came over for a closer look.

Veronica didn’t think anything about it—dorky kids attract attention, especially new ones—but
then four other kids crowded around and pointed at something on the ground. One of them hollered to his fifth grade friend, who also came over, followed by two fifth grade girls. Veronica decided to look for herself. When she got there she saw the black bag on the ground, along with some marbles, and another small black bag, which seemed to be the reason for all the interest. “So why don’t you open it then?” she heard someone say.

“’Cause,” said the dork.

“What’s in it?”

“I already told ya. It’s my special marble.”

“What’s so special about it?”

“Just is.”

“Yeah, if it’s so special why do you hide it in a bag?”

“’Cause.”

“It’s probably a big goat turd, that’s why.”

The
kids laughed.

He picked up the little
bag, loosened the pull top, and let a large marble roll into his open hand. He held it up and let it sparkle in the sunlight. “It’s a real polliwog in the middle. You can see a little drop of blood by his foot,” he said.

The kids oohed and aahed and said, “Lemme see! Lemme See!”

Pinned against the wall by a half circle of bug-eyed kids, he slowly passed Polly, as he called it, before their eyes from one end to the other. As he did, the oohs and aahs continued.

Scotty Draible,
a second grader who always had a runny nose, pushed up close to the dork and said, “I’ll play you keepsies for it.”

“I don’t play keepsies for this one.”

“C’mon, don’t be a scaredy-cat.”

“
Nope.”

“Will you swap for it?”

“Maybe. If you got something good.”

The stupid kids empt
ied their pockets right then and there. They offered a pocketknife, a yo-yo, dirty licorice, four pieces of Bazooka, three wadded up dollar bills, and eighty-four cents—plus a bunch of cat’s-eyes, steelies, peewees, and other marbles. He said no to every offer.

When recess
ended, with the kids back in class, the new reject happily drew his weird pictures while everyone else gabbed about his neato marble. He’d turned from being Zombie Boy to the new kid who might trade his far-out marble if you have something good enough. Veronica had made it very clear how she felt and now everyone was ignoring her.

Later on, w
hen the lunch bell rang, Mad-Dog dismissed the girls first. As they passed through the coat room, Veronica slipped her hand into Jeremy Slanger’s coat pocket, pulled out his slingshot, and tucked it under her arm. When the dork showed up at the wall, with his Superman lunch pail, he found Veronica waiting for him. She told the crowd that had followed to flake off. When everyone had left, she let him peek at the slingshot. His eyes got big and they made the swap without saying two words.

Veronica didn’t waste a single second after that. It isn’t
every day that you get to watch the meanest kid in class beat up a skinny little dork. She quickly found Jeremy and whispered into his ear.

Unfortunately, as Veronica later realized, she hadn’t counted on the fact that grade school lunch period overlapped junior high
lunch period by ten minutes, which meant that Cousin Sarah had seen everything.

Before the fight had barely started
, with kids from all directions still running to join the crowd that hoped to see a black eye or a bloody lip, Sarah pushed through to the middle and saw Zombie Boy on his back. He covered his face with his hands and rolled from side to side as Jeremy sat on his chest and pounded away. Sarah grabbed Jeremy by the back of his collar and yanked him away. He jumped up, turned around, and looked like he wanted to punch someone. Then he saw Sarah and nothing happened. That’s the way it went with Sarah. She got good grades, answered all the questions, and acted like a goody-goody. And the kids still liked her. Especially the boys. So Jeremy stood there with his hands in his pockets and said, “He stole something from me.”

She helped the little runt to his feet. He had a dirty face and his hair had come unglued
—which almost made him look like a human being instead of a laboratory freak.

“Are you ok, Ernest?” she asked, and Veronica wondered how
Sarah knew his name. He nodded and straightened his shirt which had lost some buttons and had rotated half way around his scrawny body. Then he snapped his dorky suspenders back into place.

“Look at you,” s
aid Sarah. “You’re not even crying. You’re a brave little guy, aren’t you?”

He looked up at his savior
and smiled. The kids laughed and patted him on the back. “Jeremy Slanger,” said Sarah, “you’re in big trouble. Mrs. Appleton is going to send you to Mr. Hovey for fighting.”

“Then
she better send him too ‘cause he stole something from me.”

“I
didn’t steal anything!” said Zombie Boy.

“Yes you did! You stole this
!” He held up the sling shot and the kids gasped.

“I didn’t steal it. I traded for it, fair and square.”

“I never traded with you. You’re a liar!”

“
Not with you. I traded with her.” He pointed into the crowd, which started to part along the line of his arm, but fortunately for Veronica, Eagle Eye Appleton showed up just in time and the semi-circle reformed.

Eagle Eye
, the playground supervisor, easily spotted an infraction from a hundred yards away, but, since she was older than a dinosaur and had a bad leg, she never got anywhere very fast. Most of the time she just blew her whistle like a maniac and shook her bony finger. If you made her limp over, then you got into double trouble.

“Jeremy Slanger I warned you! I told you if
I ever saw that sling shot again you’d be heading straight to the principal. Now you start marching young man!”

“I didn’t bring it out here, he did,”
said Jeremy, pointing to the new kid.

“Tell it to Mr. Hovey. He can write it down with all your other excuses,” said Mrs. Appleton.

“But it’s true, Mrs. Appleton, Jeremy didn’t do it.” The crowd cracked open to reveal Veronica, smiling sweetly like a Sunday school valedictorian. “He brought it by accident and left it in his coat pocket because he didn’t want to get in trouble. I saw that boy there steal it from the coat room.”

The kids whispered to each other and
looked up at old Eagle Eye, who now found herself in a bit of a fix. Everyone knew Jeremy Slanger ran wild like a forest fire. He’d have been the first to admit it, followed by his parents, and every teacher in school. When he walked through the door of the school office, the secretary never bothered to ask what he wanted; she just pointed to the chair next to Mr. Hovey’s door. Old Eagle Eye knew all about Jeremy Slanger, but she also knew not to contradict Veronica Newfield. If you liked your job at Tisdale, you didn’t do things like that.

“Thank you Veronica,” she said. “Do you have anything to add Jeremy?”

Realizing that he now had things going his way, he said, “I plead not guilty, your honor.” 

The kids laughed.

Eagle Eye turned to Zombie Boy. “Young man, stealing is not tolerated at Tisdale Academy. I’m sorry but I have to send you to the office.”

“But I swear I didn’t
—”

“I don’t think he stole it
, Mrs. Appleton,” said Sarah, as she stepped next to the boy. “I think someone else stole it and then traded it to him.”

“I don’t know
Sarah. Veronica says that isn’t what happened,” said Eagle Eye.

“That is to
o what happened, and she’s the one who traded with me. That one right there!” said the dork as he pointed at Veronica.

“You’re a liar,” shouted Veronica.

“I’m sure it wasn’t Veronica, young man. You must be confused,” said Eagle Eye.

“What did you trade her?” asked
Sarah.

“My special marble.”

Sarah stared at Veronica in that way, like a strict nanny, and Veronica got an uneasy feeling.

“Let me see your hand
, Veronica,” said Sarah.

Veronica opened the palm of her left hand.

“The other one.”

“No! And you can’t make me.”

“Mr. Hovey can, when I tell him that you stole something.”

And she’d do it too
, Veronica knew it for sure. She brought her arm forward, opened her palm, and smiled as the marble fell into Sarah’s hand. “Ha-ha, you can’t even take a joke. And it’s an ugly marble anyway,” said Veronica.

The
n the bell rang, Eagle Eye blew her whistle like a maniac, and everyone scattered. Sarah gave the marble to Zombie Boy while he smiled at her like a dork. Miss Goody-Goody had another secret admirer.

That’s the day Veronica started hating Ernest. And she especially hat
ed him just a few weeks later when a rumor went around that he was her cousin.

~~~

Ernest knew how to draw other things besides missiles and cannons. One time, back in Ohio at the Boy’s Home, he drew a spear with a lady’s bloody head on the end of it, and he got sent to Father McMullen. That’s what he did there. He drew and thought about things. Why do bats hang upside down? How do fleas go poop? Why do kids get picked on and dumped into the stinky trash cans behind the kitchen? Sometimes he thought about the last time he saw his mother. She said she’d come back for him after she found a job and a place to live, but she never did. Maybe he’d caused too much trouble, and that’s why she never came back. He thought about that sometimes.

One day
Father McMullen told him that God was his mother and his father too, and a kid could do a whole lot worse than that. The other boys said that meant that he’d been officially dumped and made a ward of the State, and that he’d never have a real mother again, unless some dumb sucker adopted him.

Boys older than five or six
didn’t get adopted, though, except for the ones who looked like sweet angels who never farted or played with their weeners. The others had no chance, unless they somehow learned to look like that too, so they stood in front of the big bathroom mirror, with folded hands, and practiced smiling, and making big innocent eyes. And the younger ones like Ernest, who was eight years old, listened to the older ones who’d actually been sent into Father McMullen’s office to get looked over by mothers and fathers. They said you had to go in there with a clean face and combed hair, and you had to sit still like a rock, and look happy. That way the dumb suckers might think you’d turned out normal and didn’t need to go to the shrink to get your brain fixed. And then, if you made it to the part where the mother kneeled down and asked what you thought about moving to Cincinnati, or Toledo, or Timbuktu, the worst thing you could do was jump up and down and get excited. You had to sit and think about it for a while, and then say, “But if I go with you, who will feed Barney, my pet bluebird?” Then the mother melted and scooped you up like a puppy dog. They said it worked every time.