Read Online Watermelon Summer by Anna Hess - Free Book Online Page B

turned out
to be even tastier than the plump orbs I'd eaten out of Arvil's basket,
and I soon discovered that the greens (like the beans) had been cooked
with bacon—what doesn't taste better with a little bacon?
     
    "Jacob tells me you've come all the way from
Seattle," Mrs. Walker said, turning to me once Davey's culinary
technique seemed to be within bounds.  "What do you think of our
mountains?"
     
    What did I think of their mountains?  The
landscape was beautiful, and the people were nothing like I'd expected
them to be from television (and from Mom's stories).  "Everyone's
so friendly," I replied.  "I already wish I could stay longer, but I
start college in the fall, so I've just got a couple more months."
     
    College seemed to be very much the right topic for
Mrs. Walker, but the wrong topic for Jacob.  "Jacob is sharp as a
tack, but he won't even consider college," his mamaw told me, while
Jacob tried to glare her into silence.  "He's got one more year of
high school—he's homeschooling himself, you know—and he says
he's going to start a business and stay right here.  But how can
you go anywhere without college?"
     
    "I don't want to go anywhere," Jacob ground out, and I
could tell it took an effort for him to stay polite in what was clearly an old
argument.  "Why should everyone who's smart leave Appalachia? 
I like it here, and I'm sure I can figure out a way to make ends
meet.  I'm already paying some of the bills."
     
    "Jacob has a paper route," Davey piped up.  "And
he cuts firewood for old Mr. Hennessy, and he mows lawns, and he drives
a taxi."
     
    I'd been afraid to say anything while Jacob and Mrs.
Walker were facing off, but Davey's words seemed to cut the tension, and
I couldn't help laughing.  "A jack of all trades," I agreed.
     
    "And master of none," Mrs. Walker harrumphed, but she
seemed willing to let the subject drop.  "I'm afraid I need the
van in an hour to go to work, but maybe Jacob would like to show you his
room and then run you home so you don't have to walk? 
Davey will help me with the dishes."
     
    The ensuing whining definitely reminded me of home,
and I was smiling when I followed Jacob down the narrow hallway to the
room at the end of the trailer.  Stepping inside, a set of bunk
beds took up most of the space, and it was clear which zone belonged to
the little brother because the area was full of action figures and
legoes.  I felt a bit odd to be in a guy's room, so I clung to
Davey's section, pattering on about how much he reminded me of my own
little brother.
     
    Jacob obligingly sat down on the lower bunk to give me space
to wander around.  "He's a good kid," he agreed.  Then, in
the manner of a proud older brother, he aimed my eye toward a clipping
taped to the wall, and I smiled to see Davey's beaming face pointed at
the camera.  It took me an extra second to realize what the
clipping portrayed—Jacob's little brother kneeling beside a
dead deer, a huge rifle in his small hands.
     
    Without thinking, I recoiled, and words I immediately
wished I could take back spurted out of my mouth.  "That's
criminal!  Who would give a kid a gun?!"
     
     
     

    Depending on where you grew up, you might think I was
being purposefully incendiary...or perhaps you'll think (like I did)
that it's absurd that an elementary-school kid should be handling
firearms.  I'd never touched a gun in my life and had always gotten
a little frisson of fear when I'd seen law-enforcement personnel with
their holstered handguns.  Rifles like the one pictured in Davey's
hands made me think of school shootings, or of kids who stumble across
Daddy's gun in the attic and accidentally wound their playmates.
     
    I'd been lulled by Mrs. Walker into feeling like I
was home, but now Mom's words came back to me in a rush.  "Mountain
men," she warned, "love guns and dogs