Yard War (11 page)

Now, whenever I saw a neighbor, I wondered if they had called about Dee.

When Dee finished his mulching chore, I told him the guys couldn't come over today, and we oughta go in the backyard and see if that snake was still down by the creek. I told him I really wanted to see it again, which was sort of a lie and sort of not. He said he hoped we didn't see it, because he hated snakes, but he wasn't afraid to go down there. We walked the whole length of the creek on my side and then on Mr. Pinky's side and didn't see anything but a school of minnows. After a while the pancakes wore off, and we started getting hungry. Then I had an idea.

Papaw had told me that if I found an upstanding Negro who was hungry and wanted to eat in the Golliwog, he would buy him lunch. I didn't know where Papaw was more likely to be on a Saturday afternoon than the country club.

“I know where we can get some real good food,” I told Dee.

I thought it was better not to tell him exactly where we were going. I just said we could ride our bikes there and it would be fun. He wanted to go into the kitchen and ask his mama to fix him a ham sandwich first. I told him that would defeat the whole purpose of the trip. He said he'd go if it wasn't too far, but he was hungry.

Mama and Daddy weren't home, which was a good thing, because they would have told me I was pushing too hard at everybody's limits, like I do. I could explain it to them later; I just had to get past Willie Jane. I told her we wanted to ride bikes and we would stay on the right side of the road with the traffic and use hand signals and be very careful, and we wouldn't be gone long—which was all true, depending on how long “long” is. She was loading the washing machine and said, “Okay, but hurry back.”

I hadn't ever ridden my bike all the way to the club before, but all we had to do was pedal up to Old Canton, take a left, and keep going. It wasn't until we got out to the shed that I remembered there were only two bikes and one of them was Farish's. It was small and pinkish with pink and red and white plastic streamers coming out of both ends of the handlebar. I didn't know what else to do but play Rock, Paper, Scissors. Dee won, and I called for best two out of
three. Dee won again, and I had to rethink the whole plan.

What if some of the guys saw me riding this thing? What if Coach Montgomery saw? He'd find a reason to paddle me every day from here to June. Did I want this bad enough to be pinky boy with streamers all the way down Old Canton Road? I almost told Dee we oughta forget the whole thing. Then I thought about all those mean people who called up and complained about us playing football together and I hopped on Farish's bike.

We had to ride single file on the edge of the street and sometimes in the dirt along the edge. A couple of cars blew their horns at us. One guy yelled, “Get off the road!” I think it was about us slowing down traffic more than anything, but I bet they were wondering what a white kid and a colored kid were doing riding bikes together. When we got to Shipley Do-Nuts, Dee wanted to rest for a minute in the parking lot.

“You said it wasn't that far,” he said. “I'm starvin'.”

“We're more than halfway there,” I told him, hoping that was true. “It would take longer to go back than it would to keep going, and we wouldn't have gotten any food.”

“We can get a donut right here.”

“You got some money to get a donut?”

“I ain't got no money.”

“Me neither. Where I'm taking you, we don't need
any money. We can eat all we want and I just have to sign a ticket.”

“What kind of a restaurant doesn't take money?”

“It's not a restaurant, it's a club.”

“What kind of club?”

“The kind that has the best cheeseburgers in town. Come on.”

We rode past the shopping center and the big church and blocks of houses with shingles that all look alike and then it was fields and we started going uphill. I knew we were getting close. After a while, my lungs were burning like they do on the last lap in gym class when it would feel so good to stop. But I never do stop, no matter how much it hurts. If I'm going to play split end next year, I have to show Coach I can run all day. I'd rather be last than stop. But it was a lot of uphill, and I had to stand up on the bike to keep going. I looked back at Dee and he was standing up, too.

“We're almost there!” I shouted over the cars. I was breathing so hard it was hard to talk at all. “It's…gonna be up on the right.”

“Well, it needs to hurry up and be there,” shouted Dee.

Finally, there it was, the big country club sign. We had to lay our bikes down and rest. My legs were killing me, but what hurt worse was how wrong I had been about this ride being easy. It had been too far, too full of cars, too uphill. How could the real ride
turn out so different from the one in my head? I knew I should tell Dee I was sorry for being that wrong, but I could barely admit it to myself.

Luckily, the road that curves around to the main entrance was all downhill. We took the left side of the entrance drive and leaned our bikes against the front of the Teen Wing. I walked Dee to the main entrance. He was looking around at the marble sidewalks, picture windows, fountains, and flowers.

“Looks like some kind of king lives here,” he said. “I can't go in this place.”

“Why not?”

“You know why not.”

I knew, all right. But I pretended I didn't, because I wanted to prove that nothing terrible would happen and every redneck who didn't like it could go jump in a water hazard. If I could find Papaw, everything would be all right.

“You
are
hungry, aren't you?”

“I'm starvin'.”

“Well, my family belongs to this club, my papaw was one of the people who started it, and I say you can go in there.”

He still didn't want to.

“Dee, we rode all this way. You know you want a cheeseburger.”

He shook his head and shrugged his shoulders.

I pushed open the big door and pulled him in after
me. We walked down the long entrance hall into the giant lobby, and there were a bunch of ladies playing cards. Everything was loud and flowery. A sign said it was a bridge tournament. They looked up one at a time and stopped talking and kept looking.

I waved to Mama's friend Mrs. Weatherly and smiled and said “Hey.” She made a face like her chair was uncomfortable and kind of raised her hand, but it must have been too heavy for her to wave it. I was hoping some of those ladies were the ones who had called Mama and complained about Dee. “Take a look at how much I care what you think!”—that's what I wanted to say to all of them.

Their voices started up behind us when we cut down the stairs: “What in the world is Trip Westbrook doin', walkin' around in the lobby with that boy?” “Is he the child of somebody who works here?” “Unacceptable.” “I'm going to call Virginia the minute I get home.”

Kids' voices were pouring out of the Golliwog into the hall. I told Dee to wait there while I checked around for Papaw.

“Trip, I don't need to be standing here by myself. You heard those women. We need to get outta here.” He looked pretty nervous.

I told him I would be right back and not to worry. Papaw wasn't in the locker room, so I stuck my head into the 19th Hole. I didn't really expect to see him
there because they serve liquor. He was probably out on the golf course.

I told Dee to wait just one more second while I went into the Golliwog to see what was going on. A bunch of little kids wearing cone hats were jumping around, laughing and hollering, blowing noisemakers. There was a three-layer chocolate cake I could smell from the door on the center table and a giant
HAPPY BIRTHDAY
sign strung across the ceiling. I didn't know any of the moms, but I'd seen them around. They were screaming louder than the kids, trying to get them to calm down because it was time for cake and ice cream. The Dentons were having lunch by the picture window.

Shelby came out with a tray full of ice cream and started setting bowls down for all the kids. I was glad to see him. He would take care of us.

“Hey, Shelby!”

“Hey there, Mr. Trip.”

“Looks like they got you pretty busy today.”

“Lord, yes.”

He was too busy to stop, so I walked with him as far as the door the waiters come out of.

“Y'all aren't closed for this birthday party, are ya?”

“We open.”

“So I can get a cheeseburger?”

“Go sit down over there, I'll be over directly.”

“Can my friend have one, too?”

Shelby smiled and frowned at the same time, like he didn't know why I would ask such a question.

“Course he can!”

They were singing “Happy Birthday” when I pulled Dee into the room. Their voices kind of trailed off when we walked in and sat down. The mom at the table next to us made everybody get up and herded them to the other side of the room. She looked over her shoulder at us like we had a contagious rash. The Dentons got up and left. I didn't care. Shelby would be on our side. He would be glad to see a colored boy eating in the Golliwog for a change. I might ask him to join us when he was through working.

It was a lot quieter now. The little kids looked at us a second and went back to their cake. But the moms kept looking and whispering to each other.

“This isn't such a good idea,” Dee said.

“Just ignore them,” I told him. “They don't know anything.”

Shelby came out with more ice cream, and all the kids started trying to grab it off the tray and the moms had to forget about us and yell at the kids. When Shelby saw who my friend was, his head jerked back. He finished with the ice cream, set down his tray, and straightened up his tall back and came to our table.

I thought he might say it was high time his people ate there, or at least smile and ask what we wanted
to drink. But he wasn't smiling. He was looking concerned. Very concerned.

“This is my friend Dee,” I said.

“Hello, Dee,” Shelby said.

“Hey, Mr. Shelby,” said Dee, looking at the carpet.

“Wait a minute,” I said, “y'all know each other? This is great!”

“Dee, does your mama know about this?”

“No, sir.”

Shelby leaned down to Dee and said, in a voice as gentle as a doctor's, “Son, you know you can't be in here.”

Dee looked down and didn't say anything.

“We'd like two cheeseburgers and log fries, please,” I said. “What do you want to drink, Dee?”

Shelby acted like he hadn't heard me.

“Y'all need to run on, Mr. Trip.”

“What? Why?”

He just looked at me. Then he said, “I'm gonna have to get Mr. Lonnie,” and turned around and left.

“It's gonna be okay,” I told Dee.

“No it's not. Mr. Shelby is an elder in my church. Mama's gonna kill me.”

Mr. Lonnie hustled out to our table like a fat baseball player trying to get onto the field. I knew what he was about to say, and I had not pedaled a bike all the way to the Golliwog to hear it. If I could find
Papaw, he'd tell Mr. Lonnie to hustle right back to the kitchen.

“Boys, the dining room is closed for a private party. Y'all are gonna have to eat lunch someplace else today.” His voice was sharp and proud of itself.

“Come on.” Dee was standing up.

“Sit down, Dee. Shelby said y'all were open.” I said it pretty loud. The moms and cone hats stopped talking and stared at us.

“Well, Shelby was wrong. Let's go.”

Mr. Lonnie tried to pull my chair away from the table, but I grabbed the seat and wouldn't budge. I felt that monster getting into me. I was mad enough to do something crazy, something like make a scene at the club. Dee was shaking his head at me. I looked at him and Mr. Lonnie and turned to everybody and said,

“This is my guest. His name is Dee. And we would like some cheeseburgers!”

One of the moms I didn't know said, “Let the boys have lunch, Lonnie. What's the big deal?” The other moms frowned at her.

Mr. Lonnie leaned over me and said in a voice only I was supposed to hear, “Son, if you and your little colored friend don't get outta here right now, you're gonna be in big trouble, you hear me?”

I've been taught all my life to be respectful to grown-ups, and I knew I was not being respectful now.
I stood up and stretched my face to where I could look him real good in the eye.

“Just tell me why,” I said.

“Out!”

“Tell me why!”

He turned red and started yelling.

When I turned back around, Dee was gone. I ran after him so fast, I accidentally knocked Mr. Lonnie against the wall. The moms gasped and chattered. Mr. Lonnie was still yelling when I cleared the top of the stairs.

Dee was already sitting on his bike.

“I'm really sorry,” I told him. “I didn't know it would be like that.”

“Why didn't you know?” He said the words in slow motion.

He walked his wheels over the curb and took off. Riding single file with all that traffic made it hard to talk, and he didn't want to talk anyway. It was a long trip back.

I figured everything would be okay between us as soon as we got something to eat and he felt better and would listen to me. He would understand that I was trying to do something good. He got way ahead of me toward the end. When I turned onto Oak Lane Drive, he was already dropping the bike. When I got to the kitchen, he was sitting at the table with a big bowl of macaroni and cheese and didn't look up
when I came in. I didn't want to talk about it with Willie Jane around. We couldn't talk much anyway; we about had our faces in the bowls. When we were through with that bowlful, we ate another one. Dee had three.

He didn't have to leave for another couple of hours, so I said we oughta go out back and throw the football. I was holding my breath and hoping he wouldn't say, “Why don't we throw it out front?” He just said okay.