Francie by Karen English Page B

me and made me thirsty. My hair was still rolled in the rags from the night before. Now it was getting all sweated out. If I didn’t get out of the sun, it wasn’t going to be pretty as I’d planned for when Daddy got home. I looked at the stand of pine ahead. I’d go on and get that watermelon, and some fern, too, while I was at it.
    Carefully, I laid my bouquet down and entered the woods, following the footpath that led to the creek. Soft pine needles felt good to my bare feet, as did the cool damp clay beneath that. I could hear Prez and Perry in the distance on their way to the pond. Light filtered through the changing pattern of leaves above, and an odd smoky scent in the air grew stronger as I neared the creek.

    Someone had made a cooking fire, I thought. I slowed and stopped, scouring the dense growth around and ahead. I listened for some shift in the air, then continued toward the creek.
    I ran into Prez and Perry sidetracked by the creek and all it had to offer. With pant legs rolled up, they shared the flattened top of a boulder. Prez was skipping pebbles over the water’s surface. Perry was hunched forward, watching. They looked over at me.
    â€œWe came to get the watermelon, but someone ate it,” Perry said.
    â€œA hobo got it,” Prez said stupidly.
    â€œOr was it you two?” I asked.
    â€œYou just put it in the creek yesterday. How we have time to eat a whole watermelon?”
    â€œWhat you think happened to it, Francie?” Perry whined.
    I didn’t bother to answer. I looked around. Everything seemed right. But there on the ground, hidden under the cover of damp leaves, were shiny black watermelon seeds and several wedges of rind. “Jesse Pruitt was here.”
    â€œWhere!” both boys said at once.
    I took a deep breath. “I smell his fire.”
    They followed suit, expanding their chests. Prez squinted. “I do smell it, too.”
    â€œAnd he didn’t hit no Bellamy,” I said.
    â€œHow you know?” Perry asked.
    â€œJesse wouldn’t be that stupid.”

    â€œHe supposedly knocked him out,” Prez said, skipping a pebble.
    â€œI don’t believe it.”
    â€œI think they gonna get Jesse,” Perry said.
    â€œShut up, fool,” I said. He was making me mad.
    â€œI’ma tell you said ‘fool,’” Prez threatened.
    â€œTell. I don’t care.” I pretended to be looking up at the branches overhead. But I held my head back to keep the tears at bay. “Anyway, I think Jesse will get to the Southern Pacific and it will take him all the way to California.
    â€œWe’ll take care of him until he can get away. I’ll give him the money I got saved, and we’ll bring him food.” Both boys looked at me with admiration, which made me feel clever.
    It was time to get back. Daddy might be there already and wondering where we were. I had to get the flowers in the Sunday pitcher and the rags out of my hair. I had to tell Mama that we didn’t have no watermelon. “You all still going fishing?”
    â€œYea,” Perry said quickly.
    â€œNaw,” Prez said, shaking his head. “I want to see if Daddy’s come.”
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    As soon as we stepped out of the woods and I looked across the open field to our house, I knew it held disappointment. Perry and Prez ran ahead. I hung back and slowly made my way over to where I’d laid down my bouquet. Mama would probably be on the porch by now,
driven there by a waiting that no longer could be contained inside the house. She’d be shelling peas or shucking corn, but her eyes would be mostly on the road. And her thoughts would be full of preparing for disappointment. We’d been disappointed enough times before, so that by now I always held back some of my happiness at good news, and I knew Mama did, too.
    Course she’d be preparing for him, too. Just in case.
    It was early afternoon. There had been no set time