school today due to another tummyache and a fever.
Fanny broke away from Tom and came running backto scowl and yell before she stuck out her tongue. “Yer selfish, Heaven Leigh Casteel! Mean, skinny, an ugly too! Hate yer hair! Hate yer silly name!
Hate yer everythin! I do!
Ya just wait till I tell Pa what yer doin! Pa won’t like ya fer takin charity from some strange city boy who pities ya—eatin his hamburgers an stuff, an teachin Our Jane an Keith t’beg!”
Oh, now Fanny was at her worst, jealous, spiteful, and apt to do just what she threatened, and Pa would punish me!
“Fanny,” called Tom, running to catch her. “You can have my new watercolor set if you keep yer trap shut about Logan taking all of us to lunch…”
Instantly Fanny smiled. “All right! I want that colorin book Miss Deale gave ya, too! Don’t know why she don’t give me nothin!”
“You don’t know why?” sneered Tom, giving her what she asked for even though I knew he wanted that paint set and that coloring book so much it hurt. He’d never had a box of brand-new watercolors before, or a coloring book about Robin Hood. Robin Hood, this year, was his favorite hero from a book. “When you learn to behave yerself in t’cloakroom, maybe Miss Deale will be generous with you, for a change.”
Again I could have died from embarrassment!
Crying, Fanny fell down on the mountain trail that was gradually spiraling upward through tall trees that appeared to touch the sky. She pounded her small tough fists on the grass, screamed because a stone was hidden there and it drew blood. Sucking on that, she sat up and stared at Tom with huge pleading eyes. “Don’t tell Pa, please, please.”
Tom promised.
I promised. Though I still wanted to vanish and not see Logan’s wide eyes drinking all this in, as if never in his life had he witnessed such a stupid, ill-mannered scene. I tried to avoid meeting his eyes until he smiledand I saw understanding. “You sure got one family that might age you dramatically
inside
—outside, you look younger than springtime.”
“Yer stealin words from a song!” yelled Fanny. “Ya ain’t supposed t’court a gal with song words!”
“Oh, dry up!” ordered Tom, seizing her arm again and running so she had to race with him or have her arm pulled off. This gave me my chance to be alone with Logan.
Keith was again bringing up the rear of our little parade, though he’d stopped to stare up at a robin, mesmerized and not likely to move for at least ten minutes—if the bird didn’t fly away.
“Your sister is really something else,” said Logan when finally we were as good as alone on the trail. Keith was far behind us and so quiet. I kept my thoughts to myself. Valley boys thought all hill girls were easy for any boy hoping to experiment with sex. As young as she was, Fanny had caught the hill spirit and its easy sexuality that came much earlier than it did in low places. Perhaps it was due to all the copulating we saw going on in our yards and in our one- or two-room shacks. There was no need for sex education in our hills; sex hit you in the face the moment you knew a man from a woman.
Logan cleared his throat to remind me he was there. “I’m ready to hear all your years of accumulated wisdom. I’d take notes, but I find it difficult to write while walking. But next time, I could bring along a tape recorder.”
“You’re making fun of me,” I complained before I justified myself. “We happen to live with our grandparents. Grandpa never says anything that’s not absolutely necessary, and seldom does he find words necessary. My granny rambles on and on incessantly, talking about how good all the old times were, and how rotten things are now. My stepmother fusses and fumesbecause she’s got more than she can do … and sometimes when I go home to that cabin, and face up to all the problems, I feel not two hundred and fifty but one thousand years old—only without any wisdom from living that
Fanny broke away from Tom and came running backto scowl and yell before she stuck out her tongue. “Yer selfish, Heaven Leigh Casteel! Mean, skinny, an ugly too! Hate yer hair! Hate yer silly name!
Hate yer everythin! I do!
Ya just wait till I tell Pa what yer doin! Pa won’t like ya fer takin charity from some strange city boy who pities ya—eatin his hamburgers an stuff, an teachin Our Jane an Keith t’beg!”
Oh, now Fanny was at her worst, jealous, spiteful, and apt to do just what she threatened, and Pa would punish me!
“Fanny,” called Tom, running to catch her. “You can have my new watercolor set if you keep yer trap shut about Logan taking all of us to lunch…”
Instantly Fanny smiled. “All right! I want that colorin book Miss Deale gave ya, too! Don’t know why she don’t give me nothin!”
“You don’t know why?” sneered Tom, giving her what she asked for even though I knew he wanted that paint set and that coloring book so much it hurt. He’d never had a box of brand-new watercolors before, or a coloring book about Robin Hood. Robin Hood, this year, was his favorite hero from a book. “When you learn to behave yerself in t’cloakroom, maybe Miss Deale will be generous with you, for a change.”
Again I could have died from embarrassment!
Crying, Fanny fell down on the mountain trail that was gradually spiraling upward through tall trees that appeared to touch the sky. She pounded her small tough fists on the grass, screamed because a stone was hidden there and it drew blood. Sucking on that, she sat up and stared at Tom with huge pleading eyes. “Don’t tell Pa, please, please.”
Tom promised.
I promised. Though I still wanted to vanish and not see Logan’s wide eyes drinking all this in, as if never in his life had he witnessed such a stupid, ill-mannered scene. I tried to avoid meeting his eyes until he smiledand I saw understanding. “You sure got one family that might age you dramatically
inside
—outside, you look younger than springtime.”
“Yer stealin words from a song!” yelled Fanny. “Ya ain’t supposed t’court a gal with song words!”
“Oh, dry up!” ordered Tom, seizing her arm again and running so she had to race with him or have her arm pulled off. This gave me my chance to be alone with Logan.
Keith was again bringing up the rear of our little parade, though he’d stopped to stare up at a robin, mesmerized and not likely to move for at least ten minutes—if the bird didn’t fly away.
“Your sister is really something else,” said Logan when finally we were as good as alone on the trail. Keith was far behind us and so quiet. I kept my thoughts to myself. Valley boys thought all hill girls were easy for any boy hoping to experiment with sex. As young as she was, Fanny had caught the hill spirit and its easy sexuality that came much earlier than it did in low places. Perhaps it was due to all the copulating we saw going on in our yards and in our one- or two-room shacks. There was no need for sex education in our hills; sex hit you in the face the moment you knew a man from a woman.
Logan cleared his throat to remind me he was there. “I’m ready to hear all your years of accumulated wisdom. I’d take notes, but I find it difficult to write while walking. But next time, I could bring along a tape recorder.”
“You’re making fun of me,” I complained before I justified myself. “We happen to live with our grandparents. Grandpa never says anything that’s not absolutely necessary, and seldom does he find words necessary. My granny rambles on and on incessantly, talking about how good all the old times were, and how rotten things are now. My stepmother fusses and fumesbecause she’s got more than she can do … and sometimes when I go home to that cabin, and face up to all the problems, I feel not two hundred and fifty but one thousand years old—only without any wisdom from living that
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