sixth grade math, and he could read some of the seventh grade books.
Cecil, on the other hand, was sort of stupid. He was supposed to be in sixth grade but had to do some of his math on the chalkboard with the third and fourth graders. He shoved Jasper again. “Why don’t you talk, huh? Is it true what they’re sayin’?”
“I don’t know,” Jasper mumbled. “What are they saying?”
“That you’re staying with Wayne Williams’s family instead of yours. That right?”
Jasper didn’t want to answer but finally shook his head. “Wayne’s my cousin.”
“Is it true your mama just up and left you there?”
Jasper studied his shoes and didn’t say a word. A couple of the other younger boys had wandered over to listen.
“My ma says she wouldn’t be surprised if she did.”
Jasper looked up at this revelation.
“She says Althea Williams was the most notorious hussy in all of Burtchville. A real hell-raiser. Ma says I ought to be nice to you ’cause you had the misfortune of bein’ the hussy’s son. So, what do you think?” He grinned. “Should I be nice to you?”
One of the older boys snickered at this, and Jasper could already see the song, Your mama’s a hussy! Your mama’s a hussy, dancing in their eyes. He didn’t know what the heck a hussy was, but he could tell from the smug smile on Cecil’s face it wasn’t good.
Jasper balled his small hands into fists. If getting beat up at school in Detroit had taught him anything, it taught him that you had to nip this sort of thing in the bud or it would haunt you all year. He was too angry to care that the boy was bigger. In fact, if he wanted to make an impression, he suspected the bigger the better. Besides, he’d been dying to hit something ever since Big Bill had left him with nothing. No answers. No hope of finding her. Just more goddamned questions.
You tell her to come see me when you find her.
Without a word, Jasper punched the boy hard in the stomach. The blow caught him by such surprise that Cecil doubled over to where Jasper could reach his big, stupid head. With a low growl, he slammed his fist into the giant boy’s nose.
Blood instantly came pouring out of it.
One of the girls at the fence screamed. The boys that had gathered took a step back. Jasper braced himself for Cecil’s retaliation, but the boy just stood there, eyes bulging, holding his bleeding nose.
“Jasper Leary!” Miss Babcock shrieked from the doorway.
He dropped his fists.
She stormed over to him and grabbed him by the ear. “What in God’s name do you think you’re doing?”
Jasper knew better than to answer. He looked out in the yard for Wayne. His cousin was staring at him slack jawed and holding up his hands as if to ask, Jasper, are you crazy?
As she dragged him back to the schoolhouse, he realized with a sinking heart that he must have been crazy indeed.
The other kids poured into the room after Miss Babcock and her hostage, taking their seats for the show. She pulled him over to her desk, grabbed the paddle off the wall, and slapped it down on her desk. “I do not tolerate fighting in this school.”
She left Jasper gaping at the paddle and walked around to her seat to pull a first aid kit from a drawer. “Cecil? Come here.”
The older boy obeyed. Blood was still running from his nose. He shot Jasper a knowing glance and took a wad of gauze from the teacher. She inspected his face and asked him a few questions. How many fingers am I holding up, that sort of thing. Jasper stood frozen at the front of the room, trying not to look out at the beady eyes of his classmates staring up at him and the paddle.
When Miss Babcock had finished with Cecil and sent him back to his seat, she turned her attention to Jasper. A breath caught in his throat. He knew better than to try to explain why he’d hit the older boy, and she didn’t ask.
“Cecil, how many lashes would be fair?”
Jasper’s jaw dropped. He couldn’t help but look at Cecil, sure
Cecil, on the other hand, was sort of stupid. He was supposed to be in sixth grade but had to do some of his math on the chalkboard with the third and fourth graders. He shoved Jasper again. “Why don’t you talk, huh? Is it true what they’re sayin’?”
“I don’t know,” Jasper mumbled. “What are they saying?”
“That you’re staying with Wayne Williams’s family instead of yours. That right?”
Jasper didn’t want to answer but finally shook his head. “Wayne’s my cousin.”
“Is it true your mama just up and left you there?”
Jasper studied his shoes and didn’t say a word. A couple of the other younger boys had wandered over to listen.
“My ma says she wouldn’t be surprised if she did.”
Jasper looked up at this revelation.
“She says Althea Williams was the most notorious hussy in all of Burtchville. A real hell-raiser. Ma says I ought to be nice to you ’cause you had the misfortune of bein’ the hussy’s son. So, what do you think?” He grinned. “Should I be nice to you?”
One of the older boys snickered at this, and Jasper could already see the song, Your mama’s a hussy! Your mama’s a hussy, dancing in their eyes. He didn’t know what the heck a hussy was, but he could tell from the smug smile on Cecil’s face it wasn’t good.
Jasper balled his small hands into fists. If getting beat up at school in Detroit had taught him anything, it taught him that you had to nip this sort of thing in the bud or it would haunt you all year. He was too angry to care that the boy was bigger. In fact, if he wanted to make an impression, he suspected the bigger the better. Besides, he’d been dying to hit something ever since Big Bill had left him with nothing. No answers. No hope of finding her. Just more goddamned questions.
You tell her to come see me when you find her.
Without a word, Jasper punched the boy hard in the stomach. The blow caught him by such surprise that Cecil doubled over to where Jasper could reach his big, stupid head. With a low growl, he slammed his fist into the giant boy’s nose.
Blood instantly came pouring out of it.
One of the girls at the fence screamed. The boys that had gathered took a step back. Jasper braced himself for Cecil’s retaliation, but the boy just stood there, eyes bulging, holding his bleeding nose.
“Jasper Leary!” Miss Babcock shrieked from the doorway.
He dropped his fists.
She stormed over to him and grabbed him by the ear. “What in God’s name do you think you’re doing?”
Jasper knew better than to answer. He looked out in the yard for Wayne. His cousin was staring at him slack jawed and holding up his hands as if to ask, Jasper, are you crazy?
As she dragged him back to the schoolhouse, he realized with a sinking heart that he must have been crazy indeed.
The other kids poured into the room after Miss Babcock and her hostage, taking their seats for the show. She pulled him over to her desk, grabbed the paddle off the wall, and slapped it down on her desk. “I do not tolerate fighting in this school.”
She left Jasper gaping at the paddle and walked around to her seat to pull a first aid kit from a drawer. “Cecil? Come here.”
The older boy obeyed. Blood was still running from his nose. He shot Jasper a knowing glance and took a wad of gauze from the teacher. She inspected his face and asked him a few questions. How many fingers am I holding up, that sort of thing. Jasper stood frozen at the front of the room, trying not to look out at the beady eyes of his classmates staring up at him and the paddle.
When Miss Babcock had finished with Cecil and sent him back to his seat, she turned her attention to Jasper. A breath caught in his throat. He knew better than to try to explain why he’d hit the older boy, and she didn’t ask.
“Cecil, how many lashes would be fair?”
Jasper’s jaw dropped. He couldn’t help but look at Cecil, sure
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