1 An Unexpected Blow Ruby Hobbs came out of her room, dancing and singing, buck naked, again. "All I want is a room somewhere, far away from the cold night air," she warbled, her old body jigglin'' and wigglin''. Ruby being naked may sound funny, but it''s a sight so disturbing even Teddy C can''t take it, and that''s saying something. Teddy C ogles all the oldies. Fat ones, bony ones, doesn''t seem to matter to him. He''s ninety, but his eye is always roving. He does the whistle, too. Or at least he tries.
It''s more air than sound, but there''s no mistaking what he''s thinking. At first I thought the whistle was a joke, but Ma says it''s for real and that his old-guy eyes see what they used to know, not what''s actually there. Except, I guess, in the case of Ruby Hobbs. "Somebody help!" Teddy C called, like he was being robbed. "She''s at it again!" "Now, now, dear," Gloria said, snatching a sheet from one of the monster-eye dryers and rushing over to wrap Ruby in it. "You can''t dance at the ball without a gown on. What would the governor think?" Gloria sure does have a way with the oldies. Maybe it''s how she can jump inside whatever fantasy or memory they''re in the middle of.
Or maybe it''s the fake flower she wears in her hair. It''s the exact same one every day, but every day it seems brand-new to the folks living at Brookside. "Oh, what a beautiful bloom!" someone''ll say, like it''s the first time they''ve seen it. "As pretty as you," Gloria''ll reply, which makes them blush. Like it''s the first time they''ve been paid the compliment. It could also be the way Gloria''s voice always seems to calm things down. Her now, nows and there, theres work like she''s castin'' a spell. Whatever it is about Gloria, her magic doesn''t only work on the oldies.
It works on me, too. Ma tells me, "Focus," but all I can think about is how dumb it is that I have to spend my afterschools here, in an old-folks'' home. Gloria, though, will give me a little smile and whisper, "Now, now, Lincoln. Remember, the more schoolwork you get done here, the less you''ll have to do when you get home," and just like that, I buckle down. But back to Ruby. I''d been coming to Brookside every school day since September, and even though we were in the middle of November, it was still a surprise to see Ruby bust out her dance moves. Aside from her being naked, which I guess anyone can figure out how to get, the big shock is always seeing her move. Normally she shuffles.
Shuff, shuff, shuff, her slippers go. Shuff, shuff, shuff, slow and tired. All the oldies shuffle. Usually with walkers, or while hanging on the arm of one of the nurses. Or, I guess, "caregivers." The word seems so stiff, but Ma says I need to use it, seeing how caregivers are not actually nurses. At Brookside, nurses are the ones in white shirts, and caregivers are the ones in purple shirts. Nurses do the pills and the blood pressure and call the ambulance.
Caregivers do the meals and the clothes and all the nasties. Like mopping up accidents. And changing diapers. And dressing corpses. But back to shufflin''. It''s what all the oldies do. Going to the Clubhouse at mealtimes, to the Activities Room for entertainment hour, to the patio for a little afternoon sun . they shuffle and they look straight down at the floor.
It''s easy to get lulled into how slow everything goes. Which is why Ruby coming out of her room naked with her arms out and twirling is always such a shock. This time, though, it was different. This time, the flower and the sunny sounds from Gloria didn''t help. Ruby cried when Gloria wrapped her up, and she whimpered, "Let me dance. Please. Let me dance." This time, seeing Ruby Hobbs was more than just surprising or disturbing or funny.
It was sad. And sad on top of everything else that had happened was an unexpected blow. One that knocked the wind right out of me. 2 Spinnin'' Lies into Truth The trouble at my new school began the very first day, during the very first recess. It''s bad enough starting a new school when everybody else acts like they''ve known each other since diapers. And it''s bad enough when your new teacher makes everyone read a passage aloud from a story and then fusses over your "darling Southern accent." Ms. Miller thought she was payin'' me a compliment, but no boy, sixth-grade or otherwise, wants to be put in the same sentence as "darling.
" But worse is recess, when you''ve got nowhere to go. It''s time-tickin'' torture. Ms. Miller had instructed us to "stay within the confines of the blacktop area for today." I had no interest in making a further fool of myself by handling a ball, so I went to go sit in the shade of a tree off the edge of the blacktop. And I was just fixin'' to sit down when I noticed a stream of miniature black ants windin'' around the tree''s trunk. I stayed standing, studying them. They were nothing like the ants back home--those ants could haul a house away.
These were small as fleas, scurryin'' up and down in a thin, winding line. "Hey!" a kid on the playground called. "We use bathrooms in these here parts!" The voice seemed off in the distance, barely reaching my mind ''cause I was concentrating on ants. "Hey!" he called again. "Quit whizzin'' on the tree!" What he was sayin''--and that his fake Southern accent was aimed right at me--hit like a bolt of lightning. I whipped around quick. I didn''t know him, but he was standin'' near the edge of the playground with a boy I recognized from my class. "I was just lookin'' at ants!" I hollered, but it was too late.
They ran off, hee-hawin'' like donkeys. Back in class, Hee-Haw #2 spread it around to the guys on his side of the room. I could see them grinnin'' and whisperin'', spinnin'' lies into truth. It was the first day of school and already the beginning, middle, and end of any hope I had for making new friends. After that I took to hiding out. It was a whole lot safer than opening myself up to the hazards of a new school full of old friends. If they could make such a fuss over me watching ants, I didn''t want to find out what they''d do if they knew where I went after school. 3 The Fling Zone It didn''t take long to settle into the new routine.
I ride the school bus to Thornhill School in the mornings and the city bus home from Brookside after Ma''s shift is done at night. To get from school to Brookside, I walk. It''s only about twelve blocks, but it''s a long twelve blocks when you''re tired from school and luggin'' a backpack and you''re on your way to a home for oldies. It''s not exactly a destination to look forward to when you''re eleven. Or even when you''re ninety, now that I think about it. If I dawdle, I hear about it from Ma. "What took you?" she whispers, giving a worried look at the wall clock. "You''re not getting mixed up in anything, are you?" "Ma-ah," I groan, ''cause I''ve never been mixed up in anything.
Her asking me that came on after we moved. Maybe ''cause we''re living in a "rough zone," as she calls it, but our apartment is a long ways from the route I walk from school to Brookside, so her frettin'' like she does makes no sense to me. Finally, she''ll see that I''m just tired and hungry and say, "Let''s get you a snack." Snacks at Brookside are okay. Not great, but okay. They''re for old folks, so they''re low in fat and sugar and salt, which adds up to them being low in flavor, too. They''re still better than the snacks marked D, which are for the diabetics and made with fake sugar, since real sugar could send them into a diabetic coma. But the snacks are free and the juice is usually cold, which is mostly what matters.
And after I''m parked at my regular table with my snack, Ma can quit worrying about me and what I might have been doing on the walk over and get back to work. I don''t tell her this, but it''s not the walk she should be worrying about. It''s the bus. I don''t mean the city bus, either. She''s with me on that one, so she knows what I see there. She always has advice for me when we''re on it, too. "Don''t stare, Lincoln," she''ll whisper. "He''s drunk.
" Like I haven''t seen drunk enough to recognize it? Like I haven''t figured out it''s the whole reason she dragged me halfway across the country? I know drunk, and I can usually ditch drunks. Ma . well, that''s a different story. But back to the bus. On the city bus, we''re allowed to sit anywhere. We can move away from trouble if it starts up, and that makes the city bus a safe zone compared to the school bus. The rule on the school bus is little kids up front, big kids in back. And the first couple of weeks I followed that rule because it made sense to me.
Besides, what sixth grader wants to sit with first graders? Before we moved, I used to walk to school, so I never knew how rough the back of a school.