Bombshells, page 7
The boy stops dead still and stares at me. “Mama. There’s a nigger.”
The mama grabs his arm and drags him back toward the open front door, lookin’ over her shoulder at me. “Don’t use that word. She’s a nice colored lady, probably going to clean somebody’s house. Get back in here so I can fix that cowlick.”
’Course, I smile and keep walking with my head high. Words is words, like they say.
Words is words.
I still got a block to go to get to the Adams’ house. Now, what was I thinking about? Oh, yeah. Wondering if Mellie is excited about starting her new school. Last week, she seemed a little nervous.
Now, she’s a smart girl, that Mellie. Once she got to know me, she wasn’t very shy about things, either. Last week, they were pestering me to tell them stories while I was ironing. So I told them the story of my old slave granny who ran away up North, but hated it so much, she came back home when she could.
Mellie, she’s so smart and sensitive, she asked me how I felt about that. Nobody ever asks me how I feel about anything much. I had to think for a few minutes how to put it in words. Finally I said, I didn’t like it much, but what could I do about it? What could my Granny do about it?
Mellie sat up straight and said, “I don’t know, but I would do something about it.”
I had to say, “Melanie Adams, you’re a good girl, and a smart girl, too. I know you gonna look around and see what’s wrong and try your hardest to make it right. A body can’t ask for more than that.”
The poor thing looked like she had the whole world on her shoulders. She’s too young to be thinking she’s got such burdens. There will be plenty of cares and woes for her to carry later on in her life, sure enough.
NORAH
“Birdie, please. Just stand still for two seconds.” I swear this girl is going to drive me insane. To provoke me, Birdie starts hopping, first on one leg, then on the other. Calmly, I set the red hairbrush on the back of the toilet. What I want to do is flush the damn thing. “Okay, have it your way. You can do your own hair.”
Birdie places her palms on the sink and pushes up so that her feet dangle an inch off the floor. Smiling at her reflection in the mirror, she says, “My hair is just the way I like it, Mama. It’s free!” She shrieks and runs from the bathroom waving her arms in the air.
I hear Melanie muttering in her bedroom. Taking a deep breath, I stand in the doorway of the bedroom she shares with Birdie. The sight of her at the dresser in her crisp white blouse and plaid skirt takes my breath away.
My God, she’s almost grown.
Her little breasts push against her shirt, a gentle curve in contrast to her ramrod straight back. The skirt’s waistband nips her waist and the pleats flare over her hips. Her legs are beautiful—smooth and tanned, shaped like an athlete’s.
Tears sting my eyes, but I blink them away. She already thinks this pregnancy is making me crazy. Maybe it is.
Mellie tugs her blue brush through the glossy, extravagant waves the permanent gave her dark, straight hair. “You look beautiful, sweetheart.”
She drops the brush to the dresser and turns to face me with a hand on her tummy. “I feel sick, Mama.”
“Got a few butterflies this morning?”
“Feels like a whole herd.” She frowns and rubs her hand in a circle at her waistband. “Do butterflies travel in herds?”
Smiling, I pull her into a hug. “I don’t know. But I do know you’ll be fine.”
She rests her head on my shoulder for a few seconds and I wonder how soon she’ll decide that she doesn’t need my hugs anymore. Kissing the top of her head, I assure her again. “Sweetie, you’ll be fine.”
The doorbell rings and Birdie yells, “I’ll get it.”
Mellie pulls out of my embrace. “What time is it?”
“Early still. That’s probably Flossie.” We both walk into the living room as Birdie lets Flossie in the front door.
“Good mornin’, good mornin’. Don’t you girls look pretty as a picture? Ready for school?” With a big smile, Flossie removes the prim little straw hat she’s wearing over her slicked back hair.
Melanie responds with a shrug. Birdie with a bounce, shouting, “I don’t want to go to school ever, ever, ever!”
“Birdie, calm down,” I say. “You’re going to wear yourself out before the day even starts.”
Mellie snorts. “Mama, you know she never tires out.”
“That’s true.” I sigh. “Let’s get pictures of you both, Birdie’s first day of first grade and your first day of junior high. Now, where is the camera? I got it out last night.”
Birdie runs to the buffet in the dining room. “Mama, here it is.” Grabbing the camera’s strap, Birdie careens around the table and heads back toward the front door.
I hold my breath as the camera swings wildly in her wake. “Slow down, Birdie. Be careful with that.” As she passes me, I grab her and catch Clay’s Argus C-9 before it whacks into the end table. If this camera ends up broken, we won’t be able to replace it. I don’t even want to think about how disappointed Clay would be.
Me, too. There’d be no way to take photographs of the new baby.
Glancing at the clock on the kitchen wall, I realize we don’t have much time before Mellie has to leave. “Come on, girls, let’s go outside. Bring your lunch box, Birdie, and Mellie don’t forget your notebook and purse. You’ve got your lunch money in your wallet, right?”
“Yes, ma’am. You already asked me that three times.”
“Well, just make sure.”
The girls get their things and file through the door Flossie holds open for them. “Why don’t I take a picture of all three of you together, Miz Adams? That would be a nice one.”
“Okay, thanks Flossie. We’ll do that first.” I’m glad I put on something decent this morning, though I hadn’t thought of having my picture made. I just hadn’t wanted Birdie’s teacher to think I was a sloppy mother. You never know how first impressions affect the way a teacher treats a pupil.
Outside, I tell the girls to pose so I can set the focus and get the dials where Clay told me to put them. I just hope these pictures come out. “Flossie, all you have to do is push this button. Make sure you hold the camera still until it finishes clicking.”
"Yes’m. I think I can do that.”
The girls and I line up in front of the bushy green azaleas we always use as a backdrop for outdoor photos. The cloudless blue sky is crisscrossed with the white trails left by the Navy jets. The sun is high and bright, making the reds and greens in Mellie’s plaid skirt look like woven jewels. Birdie’s pink-checked dress looks like strawberry ice cream: cool and sweet in a shiny white bowl. But the real beauty is in their faces, their skin glowing with health and youth.
Oh heck, those tears are welling up in my eyes again. I swipe at my cheeks, pretending to fix my hair.
Flossie studies the buttons on the camera. “Everybody say cheese when I get to three.” Squinting one eye closed, she aims the camera our way. “One, two, three. Cheese!”
MELANIE
The day I’ve dreaded all summer has finally arrived. Here I am, standing in my front yard, forcing a smile on my face while first Flossie and then Mama snap picture after picture of Birdie and me. Birdie keeps sticking her tongue out, so Mama tells her to move. “Birdie, stand by Flossie so I can take Melanie’s picture. She has to leave in a few minutes.”
Thank goodness this will be over soon.
Flossie has her hands on Birdie’s shoulders, like she’s keeping her from floating up like a balloon. Flossie smiles at me. “Oh, that’s a nice one, Miss Mellie. Real nice.”
Mama studies the camera like she thinks she can see the photograph inside. I wish Daddy had bought a Polaroid Instant camera instead of the big one he got. But he said the thirty-five millimeter can shoot slide film, and they’ll last longer than the Polaroid photos.
I don’t know, but at least with Polaroids you can see them right away and don’t have to have a slide projector or a hand-held viewer. Right now, we don’t own either one of those.
Hmm. I might never have to look at these snapshots I don’t want to have made.
“Okay, Sweetie. I guess we’re finished.” She turns to Flossie, “Do you really think that was a good one?”
“Yes’m. She was smilin’ real pretty.”
Mama holds out her arms to me. “Well, give me a kiss, and go pick up Stephanie.” The camera dangles from the strap around her neck so that it sits right on top of her belly. She lifts it away and wraps her arm around me.
I kiss her cheek and say, “I love you, Mama.”
“I love you, Sweetie. Have a nice day, now.”
“I’ll try. Bye, Birdie. Bye, Flossie. I’ll see you this afternoon.”
Flossie smiles and waves. “I’ll be waiting to hear somethin’ good.”
“Bye, Mellie!” Birdie shouts.
Before I get to the end of the driveway, Birdie is beside me. She tugs on my skirt to make me stop. Looking up at me with big, scared eyes she says, “I don’t know what to do. Tell me what to do.”
“Don’t be scared.” I lean over and hug her. “You’ll like first grade. You’ll make new friends, and I bet you have a nice teacher.”
“But I don’t know what to do without you to show me.” Birdie looks like she’s about to cry. “You always show me what to do.”
Boy, does that surprise me. I never realized Birdie paid any attention to me at all. But I guess she does. Suddenly I feel older, and even responsible for how she behaves today. I stand up straight and adjust my notebook and purse on my hip. With my other hand, I give Birdie’s hand a squeeze. “Here’s the secret, Birdie. Just keep still and quiet, and do what the teacher says to do.”
“Okay. I’ll try to be good like you. Bye.”
At least I don’t have to face the first day of school alone, like Birdie. At seven forty-five, I knock on Stephanie’s door.
“Hi, Mel.” Cherie, Stephanie’s sister, opens the door and stuffs her hands into the pockets of her pink chenille bathrobe. She yells for Stephanie, then looks at me as she cocks her head to the side, making the rollers in her blonde hair click against each other. “Nice hair-do.” She sniffs. “Toni?”
I wait just inside the doorway, wondering how bad my hair really smells. I tug one of the curls under my nose. I can’t smell it, but then, my nose might be numb after last night.
Mr. and Mrs. Starr sit at the breakfast table. They both have newspapers open and coffee mugs with the Navy insignia on them held in mid-air. Mr. Starr wears his khaki uniform, and his hat sits on the table beside the ashtray, where twin curls of smoke drift upward.
“Good morning, Mr. and Mrs. Starr,” I say.
Mr. Starr grunts back at me. Stephanie’s mom swivels around and the red leatherette chair squeaks. “Hi, Mellie. Excited about your first day? Where is Stephanie? Stephanie! You’re going to be late!”
“I’m going, Mom. Don’t blow a fuse.” Steph grabs my arm and steers me out the door. She’s wearing a new white blouse, a full blue skirt over a stiff crinoline, and a wide, black patent belt at her waist. She looks like a picture in a magazine.
I tug on my blouse. It’s a little big across my breasts, and I can see the little pink rose on my bra when I look down at the neckline. Suddenly I feel like the emperor with the new clothes when he realizes he’s been tricked. But I do have new loafers with shiny pennies in the slots. Maybe those pennies will bring me good luck.
“What’s that smell?” Steph sniffs and curls her upper lip. “That tom cat must have been hanging around last night. Pee-yoo.”
The Toni home permanent. Thanks a lot, Mama. Gosh, I hope I don’t smell like this all day. Steph hasn’t even noticed my new hairstyle. I must look like my old, plain self. All that trouble and stink for nothing. I speed up a little and pray she won’t get another good whiff of my hair.
“Come on,” I say. “We don’t want to be late.”
The bus rolls to a screeching stop at the corner just as we get there. The other kids had already lined up, so we’re the last ones on.
Steph pokes me in the back with her finger, prodding me to hurry down the aisle. “Last seat, Mellie.”
The driver hits the gas just as I slide onto the seat. My head bumps against the back window. “Wow, a thrill ride every morning. Just like being at the Grand Prix.”
Stephanie takes out a lipstick along with an empty powder compact. “Cherie’s. Nice to have a make-up counter in the bathroom.” With a sly grin, she carefully fills in her lips, smacks them together, and then offers the lipstick to me.
I shake my head. “I don’t like the way that pasty stuff feels on my mouth. Did Cherie say you could have that lipstick?”
“Well, she didn’t say I couldn’t have it.” She shrugs and drops the gold tube and compact back in her purse.
The bus is still cool, though the sun is strong in the windows on our side. The bench seat feels stiff and hard. At the next stop, a column of boys with crew cuts comes marching down the bus aisle. “Looks like we might have to move.”
“Let me handle this, okay?” Steph folds her hands on top of the notebook in her lap like she’s sitting in church, holding a hymnal.
“Sorry, little girls, but you’re in the wrong seat.” Buzz, the bully from elementary school, props his elbow on the seatback in front of us. The short sleeves of his shirt are rolled twice, and he flexes his stringy bicep for us before leveling an evil grin at Stephanie. The other boys take that as their cue to sneer.
I nudge Steph and gather my purse and notebook, ready to head for higher ground. I don’t want any trouble from these hoodlums.
She elbows me back, harder. Tossing her blonde hair over her shoulder, she says, “Shut up, Buzz. We’re not going anywhere.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, who’s gonna keep me from making you move?”
Stephanie flips open her notebook and points to a name and telephone number written in red ink. “This is my sister’s new boyfriend. He told me to let him know if anybody gave me any trouble.”
I didn’t even know Cherie had a new boyfriend. Over Steph’s shoulder, I read, Clint, EV5-4367. Clint who?
Obviously, Buzz knows Clint. Buzz’s evil grin fades and he studies Steph’s notebook for a few seconds. Then he backs away, motioning for his friends to move up the aisle to take another seat. Buzz flops in the seat right in front of us. “Tell Clint I said hey, okay?”
Stephanie smiles like she has a buttery after-dinner mint in her mouth. “Sure, Buzz, I’ll tell him.” She winks at me.
I’m dying to know what’s going on, but can’t ask with Buzz sitting right in front of us.
I don’t get a chance all day. Of all the rotten luck, Steph and I don’t have any of the same classes. Not even the same lunch. I never did get my locker open in the morning and ended up lugging all of my books around the whole day.
Now I stop at my locker to try one last time to ditch my books. I sure don’t want to carry them home when I don’t need them for homework. I fumble with the combination lock again, and tug on it.
It doesn’t budge. “Damn.” I bang my head against the blue metal locker. At least it’s cool against my skin.
Stephanie swishes up beside me. Her new crinoline hasn’t lost any of its bounce since the morning. “Hi, Mellie. Wasn’t today just the best day ever?”
I stare at her. “Good grief, Steph. Did we live through the same day?”
“Yeah, it was great! I’ve been asked to join the Beta Club, and Marianne wants to sponsor me for the junior varsity cheerleaders.” She pauses to adjust her notebook. “What about you?”
“Okay, I guess. I’ve got to collect current events from the newspaper for Social Studies. My teacher says,” I pause and imitate her voice, “We are witnessing one of the most challenging, and therefore, one of the greatest, times in the history of our nation.”
“Yeah. I have to get current events, too. I hate that.”
“And my English teacher wants me to work on the yearbook.”
“Oh, that’s good.”
Steph keeps turning her head, like she’s looking for someone. “By the way, I’ve decided that we have to have our first kiss by the end of the Sadie Hawkins Day Dance in three weeks, okay?” She waves at two older girls in straight skirts. “Well, let’s go get our seat on the bus.”
I slam my locker and catch up with her. “You’re not serious about the kissing stuff, right?”
“Sure, I am. C’mon, Mel, you’ve gotta grow up.”
“Hey, we’re the same age, remember? Twelve. We’re as grown up as twelve. Anyway, what’s the deal with Buzz and this Clint guy?”
“Oh, Clint just told me to let him know if Buzz gave me any trouble.” She dabs a little pink lipstick on, then slips the tube back into her purse. “He’s kind of cute, don’t you think?”
“I don’t know. I’ve never seen Clint.”
“Not Clint.” Steph elbows me and motions with her head toward our bus. “Buzz. Buzz is cute.”
“Buzz? Really?”
She takes off for the bus, her skirt swishing one way and her hair swishing the other.
Buzz is already on the bus. When he sees us coming down the aisle, he motions for us to take the back seat. “Tell Clint I’m looking out for you, okay?”
“Sure thing, Buzz.” As we pass, Steph puts her hand on Buzz’s arm where it rests on the seat back. “And thanks for saving our seat.” Her hand slips off his arm real slow. I remember some blonde bombshell doing that in a movie.
Plopping into the seat first, I rest my head against the window frame and close my eyes. Having a big sister sure has helped Steph.
I feel like one of those monkeys who ride in the space ships: disoriented, out of my element. I’m definitely not in my regular jungle, and Steph seems to be swinging around with a whole new bunch of chimps.
BIRDIE
“I’m going home. I’m going home. I’m going home.” Isn’t that what Dorothy says before she clicks her heels in that scary movie with the flying monkeys? I can’t remember. But I know she wants to go home through the whole movie, even though she made some good friends, like a lion.
