Read Online Summer of My German Soldier by Bette Greene - Free Book Online Page A

happen. I’d find her and she’d understand right away that Evol has more power spelled in reverse. And that would be the sign between us. She would be my real mother and now at last I could go home.
    A car passed. Chrome hubcaps mirrored the sun’s rays. I began collecting those gray-white stones that were within lazy reach. Improve your aim. Hit the hubcap. Win a prize.
    From some distance away, I heard a boy’s thin voice calling me. He was short-cutting across our yard, walking as though he wore springs on his feet, up-and-down Freddy Dowd.
    The last time I saw Freddy, a week ago, we were playing marbles on the sidewalk and my best agate was at stake. Suddenly he appeared from inside our house, my father. “You get yourself in this house this minute!” As soon as Iclosed the front door, he was standing there, telling me that he didn’t ever want to catch me playing with that Dowd boy, not ever again. I didn’t understand why.
    “But why can’t I? He’s very nice.”
    “Are you questioning me?” my father demanded. “Are you contradicting me?”
    I told him that I wasn’t, and after a while he cooled off and went back to the store. The crisis was over.
    But later when I looked outside my bedroom window I saw Freddy was still there waiting for me. So I called down that I couldn’t come out anymore, not today, because it was getting close to suppertime; and Freddy nodded before slowly loping away. Later, though, I thought about it, wondering if he could have heard. Feelings are fragile too.
    Freddy said, “’Lo,” and sat down next to me. “Hey, whatcha doing?”
    “Ohhhh, I’m playing Hit the Hubcap, it’s a wonderful game I just invented. I’m having a wonderful time.”
    “Hey, lemme play.”
    “O.K., but first you have to gather up the ammunition.” I held up a smooth, gray pebble. “Ten for you and ten for me.”
    Freddy wandered barefoot over assorted road gravel, searching out only the small quality stones he knew I would like. In winter Freddy wore denim overalls with a checkety shirt of faded red flannel, but now he was dressed in his summer attire—the same worn denims without the shirt.
    He counted out the stones in a one-for-you and a one-for-me fashion and then sat down on the curb to play the wonderful game. When no car came along, we played Hit the Oilcan.
    “Hey! Hey! There’s a car a-coming” shouted Freddy.
    I called out last-minute instructions: “Dead center of the hubcap is bull’s-eye. Hundred points.”
    Achoo-ey, Achoo-ey. From the sound of its motor it was a tired old thing that used sneezes as a means of power. The car moved slowly into firing range. Then small stones pinged against metal. A single stone revolved around and around the hubcap before firing upward against—crack! The Window!
    From inside the car a family of faces turned to stare vacantly, like they had all experienced sudden, violent slaps across their faces.
    I ran. Oh, God, now what have I done? I ran through our yard, behind our house, and to the field beyond. I ran until my heart warned that it was ready to explode. And then deep in the field I fell down and let the tall grass bury me.
    After a while my heart slowed down. Nobody was hurt. It wasn’t exactly the crime of the century or anything. Just an accident that I caused, but an accident I could make right. Yes, if only I could find them again. I remembered their car. The sickly sound of it. The lackluster blackness of it. And there, sitting atop the hood, a silver swan with V-spread wings. I could find that car again. At this very minute it was probably parked in front of some Main Street store.
    Ruth would loan me the money to pay those folks for a new window, I knew she would. I pictured the scene between the car’s owner and me—“I want you to know that it was an accident, and I only hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me.” The old farmer would slowly nod his head, taking it all in, before saying that I was a fine, honest