Read Online Dear Hank Williams by Kimberly Willis Holt - Free Book Online Page B

elsewhere as he stared ahead while we moved down Highway 112. A few times I heard him whisper under his breath, “Garnett like the jewel.”
    Here we go again.
    Your fan and public relations person,
    Tate P.

 
    December 9, 1948
    Dear Mr. Williams,
    W HEN I SAW Z ION and her mother walking up our driveway yesterday, I told Frog, “Come on! Let’s hide!” Frog, who runs faster than Superman, took off around the back of the house. I’m not so quick, so I slipped behind the barbecue smoker Uncle Jolly built. I had to squat behind it, since the smoker is only about three feet high.
    My thighs burned from squatting so long, but when I heard the screen porch door slam shut, I thought I was safe and stood.
    â€œHi!” Zion said.
    She caught me.
    Zion was wearing a blue plaid coat. It looked like she got it from the Wellan’s Department Store, but I knew she didn’t, because that would cost a lot of money. “Are you hiding from me?” she asked.
    Now, I almost said no but quickly changed my mind. Besides, how else would I explain why I was squatting behind a barbecue smoker? So I said, “Frog and me were playing hide-and-seek.”
    â€œCan I play?” she asked.
    We played for the next twenty minutes. I wish Frog hadn’t left. I think he would have liked playing too. We got hot and sweaty, playing so hard. I threw off my jacket, and Zion unbuttoned her coat. She didn’t take it off, though. I think she was proud of it, because she told me her momma made the coat from leftover fabric she had after sewing Mrs. Calhoon’s curtains. I sure would hate to match anything in Verbia’s house.
    Later, when it was time for her to go, Zion joined her momma on the driveway. She turned and cupped her hands around her mouth. “Tell your brother I said hello.”
    Mr. Williams, you wouldn’t believe what happened next. Her momma gave her a good slap on the behind. Zion rubbed at the spot all the way to the car. My momma would never have popped me for hollering out to someone. Zion was only being friendly.
    Aunt Patty Cake didn’t see what happened because she was already in the house, going on and on about how Constance placed her biggest Christmas order. I didn’t tell her what she did to Zion, but I did tell Frog. He asked, “Whatcha think her momma did that for?”
    I said I had no earthly idea but that he should have come back sooner. In a way, what happened to Zion was his fault.
    Never staying hid for long,
    Tate P.

    PS—I’ve started my New Year’s resolution early. I am now practicing my song for the talent show every single day, no matter how cold it is outside. I’m a professional like you and Momma. I show up and sing.

 
    December 15, 1948
    Dear Mr. Williams,
    C OOLIE’S PEN PAL, Keinosuke, sent him a samurai sword guard. That’s a fancy piece of metal with a slot where the sword goes through. Coolie stood in front of our class holding it up. “Now imagine,” he said, “that I’m a real samurai and I’ve got a long samurai sword that would go through this guard when I wore it.”
    Those were the most words strung together Coolie had ever said in class. He is the shortest boy in sixth grade and is usually quiet, but not today. Keinosuke had turned him into a samurai. Wallace seemed impressed too. I could tell by the way he was leaning forward over his desk and trying to take a good look at that samurai sword guard. Then he mouthed off and said, “I’ll bet one of our soldiers has the sword after he used it on Keinosuke’s dad.”
    Mr. Williams, you will not believe what happened next. Little shy Coolie charged across the room toward Wallace. He held the holder out as if it was a sword. When Coolie reached Wallace, he pushed him back. Wallace lost his balance and fell to the floor. The desk turned over, making such a clatter. Then the students closest to the action pushed their