Wire Mesh Mothers (39 page)

Suddenly, the camper windows blew out at nearly the very same moment, like a firework set on a timer by a master technician. Firemen in full uniform were off their vehicle, scurrying like yellow jackets, hooking a hose to the hydrant at the side of the drive.

Kate dropped to her knees. The police officer yanked her back up. One officer snatched up the revolver Tony had tossed, then said to Kate, “You looking for a kid? She’s under there.” He pointed beneath the
woodie
wagon and shook his head. “Bob, get that kid out from under there. You’re better with children than I am.”

Bob, a young officer with a neatly starched uniform, coaxed Mistie out from under the wagon. She was clutching a handful of dead grass and staring at the ground.

“What’s your name?” Bob asked her. But she didn’t say a word.

She was put into a separate cruiser from Kate. And they were driven away from the fire and the neighbors and the burning camper trailer and its cinder block step.

T
hey got to ride home in an airplane. Mistie had never been in an airplane before. It wasn’t really big but the seats were soft and there was a window to look out at the clouds. Mistie had on a new dress, one a police lady had given her back before they’d flown out of Texas. It was pink and frilly, and Mistie knew that Tessa didn’t have a dress that pretty. It was a dress that Mistie could wear in a pageant if her Mama let her be in a pageant.

The teacher had handcuffs on. She sat across the aisle from Mistie on her own soft seat and watched out the window. Beside her was the policewoman who had given Mistie the pretty dress.

Not long after the plane took off, one lady came up the aisle and asked Mistie what she’d like to have to eat. Mistie shrugged. She said, “Are you going to put us in jail? Valerie had a bad liver.”

“Honey, children don’t go to jail,” said the lady. Mistie was glad. The lady gave her a hamburger with pickles, French fries, a big Coke with a straw, and some banana pudding. Mistie took off the pickles and put them in the little pocket on the back of the seat in front of her.

“Mistie,” said the teacher after Mistie was done eating.

“Don’t talk,” said the policewoman beside her.

“I have to tell Mistie something.”

“You aren’t supposed to talk to her. You’re in deep trouble, lady. I’d keep my mouth shut.”

“I want to tell her I know I won’t be a teacher anymore,” said the teacher. “But I’ll tell them everything I know. I’ll make them hear me tell the truth. Too many kids are growing up without good mothers. Without good fathers. It’s the doom of our society.”

The police lady said, “Be quiet or I’ll have to gag you.”

“I want to tell Mistie that it can be made right. I’ll do everything I can to make it right.”

“Bob!” called the police lady. “I need a gag down here!”

The teacher turned and smiled at Mistie. She didn’t look scared. She looked happy. She looked like Princess
Silverlace
when the bad knights had been banished from the kingdom and the good music was playing at the end of the show.

Mistie smiled back.