I clutch her and dream about the Arcadia then, and it’s a good dream. We’re all together again, and the day is so sweet, it’s like the drops of syrup from a honeysuckle vine. I stick out my tongue and taste and taste.
I lose myself in the smell of woodsmoke and morning fog so thick it cloaks the opposite bank and turns the river into a sea. I run along the sandbars with my sisters, and hide in the grass, and wait for them to come find me. Their voices weave soft through the mist, so that I can’t tell how close or far they are.
On the Arcadia, Queenie sings a song. I sit stone still in the grass and listen to my mama’s voice.
When the blackbird in the spring,
On the willow tree,
Sat and rocked, I heard him sing,
Singing, Aura Lee,
Aura Lee, Aura Lee,
Maid with golden hair,
Sunshine came along with thee….
I’m so lost in her song, I don’t even hear the basement door unlocking until the knob’s turning. I jump up and see it’s morning already. Little strings of sun squeeze through the azaleas and slant across the room.
In the corner, Fern’s getting off the slop pot and pulling up her drawers. After last night, maybe she’s too scared to wet the bed again.
“Good girl,” I whisper, and hurry to straighten the cot.
“No need in that. You’re not going anywhere today.” The voice from the doorway isn’t Miss Dodd’s. It’s Mrs. Murphy’s. It hits me like a whip, crackling all through my body. She’s never come down here before.
“How dare you!” Her mouth tightens so that her cheekbones poke out. Air hisses through her crooked front teeth. In three quick steps, she’s got me by the hair. “How dare you use my hospitality, my kindness, to tell tales against me! Did you think that little hillbilly, that little know-nothing, would really be of help to you? Oh, of course she was foolish enough to believe your lies. But all you’ve done is cost her a job, and Miss Tann will be picking up the little Dodd brothers and sisters soon enough. They’ve been reported to the Shelby County Welfare, and their paperwork is being processed even now. Is that what you wanted? Is that what you had in mind when you filled her ear with lurid tales about poor Mr. Riggs? My own cousin, no less! My cousin, who cleans the mess you bloodsucking nits leave in the yard, and fixes your toys, and sees to the boiler so the little precious ones won’t catch sniffles on cold nights!” She turns a hateful smirk toward Fern, who’s pushed herself as far as she can into the corner.
“I…I…I didn’t…” What can I do? Where can I go? I could try to get away and run out the door, but she’s got Fern trapped.
“Don’t bother denying it. Shame. Shame on you. Shame on you for your lies. I’ve provided you with so much more than river lice like you deserve. Well, let’s see how you feel after you have some time alone to consider the error of your ways.” She pushes me down hard, and I fall backward over the cot. Before I can get up, she’s grabbed Fern.
My sister screeches and tries to reach for me.
“Don’t!” I shout, scrambling to my feet. “You’re hurting her!”
“You’re lucky I don’t do worse. Perhaps we should make her pay for your crimes?” Mrs. Murphy shoves me out of the way as she passes by. “Give me any more trouble, and we will.”
I want to fight, but I don’t let myself. I know that if I do, I’ll only be hurting Fern. “Be good,” I tell my little sister. “Be a good girl.”
The last thing I see is her feet sliding across a spill of coal dust as Mrs. Murphy drags her out the door. The lock turns, and I listen to Fern’s cries getting farther and farther away. Finally, they’re gone altogether.
I fall on the cot and grab the blanket that still holds the warm spots from Fern and me and cry until there’s not a tear left and all I can do is stare at the ceiling.
I wait all day, but nobody comes back for me. I open the cellar window and hear the kids playing outside. The sun goes high, then works its way west. Eventually, there’s the dinner bell.
After a while, the ceiling timbers rattle as everyone marches upstairs for bed.
I’m hungry and thirsty, but mostly I just want Fern. They won’t make her sleep someplace else, will they? Because of what I said?
But they do.
After the house goes quiet, I lay down again. My stomach growls and hurts like a rat’s been chewing at it from the inside. My throat feels like someone’s scratched it raw.
I sleep, and wake, and sleep, and wake.
In the morning, Mrs. Pulnik comes and brings me a pail of water and a ladle. “Drink only small portions. You will be seeingk no one for some time. You will be on restrictions.”
It’s three more days before she brings food. I’m so hungry, I’ve started eating the peppermints Riggs slips under the door, even though I hate myself for it.
One day runs into the next, and the next, and the next. I read all the way through to the end of Huckleberry Finn, where Huck decides he’d rather run off to Indian Territory than be adopted.
I close my eyes and pretend I’m running off to Indian Territory too. I have a big, pretty red horse, with white socks and a blaze, like Tony the Wonder Horse and Tom Mix. My horse is faster than anything, and we just run, and run, and run.
I start the book over again, and I’m back in Missouri on the shores of the big river. I travel along on Huckleberry Finn’s raft to pass the days.
At night, when the branches blow around, I watch out the window, looking for Zede, or Silas, or Briny under the streetlamp. Once when it’s windy, I see them standing there. A woman is with them. She’s too stout to be Queenie. I think it’s Miss Dodd.
Just as quick as they’re there, they’re gone again. I wonder if maybe I’m going soft in the head.
Mrs. Pulnik comes and takes my book away and tells me I got Mrs. Murphy in trouble with the bookmobile ladies. She calls me a thief and smacks me hard across the face for not reminding her that I still had the library’s property.
I’m not sure how I’ll get by without Huckleberry Finn.
I worry about Fern and how she’s making out upstairs all on her own.
Days and days and days pass by. I lose count of how many, but it’s a long time before Mrs. Pulnik finally takes me out of the room and brings me up to Mrs. Murphy’s office. I stink almost as bad as the slop pot, and my hair’s knotted in a big, dirty wad. The light upstairs is so bright, I stumble around and bump into things and have to feel my way.
Mrs. Murphy is just a blurry shadow behind the desk. I squint to see her better, and then I realize it’s not Mrs. Murphy. It’s Miss Tann. Mrs. Murphy is standing behind her by the window.
Mrs. Pulnik shoves me forward. My legs buckle, and I fall hard on my knees. Mrs. Pulnik grabs a handful of dress and hair and holds me there.
Miss Tann stands up and leans over the desk. “I think that is exactly where you belong. On your knees, begging forgiveness for all the trouble you’ve caused. For all the lies you’ve told about poor Mrs. Murphy. You are a wretched, ungrateful little thing, aren’t you?”
“Y-yes’m,” I squeak out in a whisper. I’d say almost anything to get out of that room.
Mrs. Murphy rams her fists into her hips. “Telling lies about my cousin. Lurid, horrible little…”
“Tssst!” Miss Tann lifts a hand, and Mrs. Murphy clamps her mouth shut. “Oh, I think May knows what she’s done. I think she was just looking for attention. Is that the problem with you, May? Are you looking for attention?”
I don’t know what to say, so I kneel there with my guts trembling and my chin quivering. Mrs. Pulnik shoves me harder into the floor. Pain shoots down from the roots of my hair and up from my knees. Tears build inside me, but I can’t let them show.
“Answer me!” Miss Tann’s voice fills the room like a thunderclap. She limps around the desk and stands over me with her finger wagging in my face. Her eyes are the cold gray of a winter storm.
“Y-yes’m…n-n-no’m.”
“Well, which is it?”
I open my mouth, but nothing comes out.
Her fingers close around my chin. She stretches my neck and leans close. I smell talcum powder and sour breath. “Not so talkative now, are we? Perhaps you’ve seen the error of your ways?”