2

Our bags had been checked through, and I went with Uncle George to get them. The baggage man knew him and said hello and, after Uncle George had introduced me, he said hello to me, too. We took the bags out to the car where Joey and Aunt Janet were waiting for us. The car wasn’t new, but it seemed in good condition, probably because Uncle George was a science teacher, so of course he knew all about cars.

We drove up a wide street from the station to the Green. It was quite a large Green, and it looked very much the way I had thought it would look. There was a Civil War monument at one end of it and a bandstand at the other and in between were trees with benches under them. Most of the houses were large and white with cupolas on top of them and porches either in front or on the side. Even the stores that were scattered around the Green were white and looked Colonial, though they weren’t old.

The school was at one corner of the Green; Uncle George pointed it out to us as we went past it and up a tree-lined street.

The house was a few blocks from there, on top of a hill. It wasn’t quite as large as some of the houses on the Green, but it was white and had a porch, and there was a red barn behind it that Uncle George used as a garage.

Joey and Aunt Janet went into the house, and I helped Uncle George with the bags. When we went inside, I found that the house was also very much the way I had expected it to be. There was a hooked rug on the wide plank floor at the foot of the stairs, and opposite the stairs was the parlor with the dining room and kitchen in back of it.

I went up the stairs behind Uncle George. At the top he opened a door and said, “We thought we’d give you this room, Mark.”

“What about Joey?” I asked. “Where will he be?”

“In here, right next to you.”

He opened the door between my room and the one next to it. Joey was already in there, standing in the middle of the room, looking around.

“How did you know this was your room, Joey?” Uncle George asked him.

“You told us,” said Joey.

“Did I?” He looked a little surprised. “I don’t remember. As a matter of fact, your aunt and I only talked about it for the first time this morning. Not that it matters. I’ll give you a chance to unpack. Then, if you’re hungry, I’ve an idea there may be a little something waiting for you in the kitchen.”

He went downstairs again, and I looked at Joey through the open door. Neither Uncle George nor Aunt Janet had said anything to us about our rooms, but one or the other of them must have been thinking about it, so of course Joey knew.

I glanced around as I opened my suitcase and began to put my things away. It was a good-sized room, a little larger than Joey’s, and quite sunny. There was a bed in it, a chest of drawers, a desk and, between the windows, a bookcase full of books. It suddenly occurred to me that since Dad and Uncle George had lived here when they were boys, these must have been their rooms once. I wondered which one had had which room, and discovered that Joey was thinking about that same thing. He felt that he had Dad’s room and I had Uncle George’s. Later on, when I asked about it, it turned out he was right. In the meantime it gave me a strange feeling—strange but good—to think that we were going to be living in the same rooms in the same house that Dad and Uncle George had lived in when they were our age.

I finished unpacking and went into Joey’s room. He hadn’t even started to unpack. Instead, he was over near the window, looking out. I looked out, too. There was another house close by. It was white and had a porch, and while we were standing there, the back door opened and a girl came out. She was wearing jeans and seemed to be about my age. She picked up a hoe and started to work in the vegetable garden that was in the rear of the house.

“Do you think you’re going to like it here?” I asked Joey, remembering the incident at the station.

He nodded.

“Yes, they are nice,” I said, meaning Uncle George and Aunt Janet, which was what he was thinking about. Then, “Look, Joey, you’re going to have to be careful from now on. I don’t mean what just happened about the room. I mean you’re going to have to talk more instead of just thinking things. Grandma and Grandpa were used to your not saying very much. But Aunt Janet and Uncle George aren’t used to it, and they’ll be sure and notice.”

“All right,” he said.

“I’ll help you unpack,” I said.

“All right,” he said again. But before I even had his bag open, I could feel him begin to slip away. He was starting to think about the trees and the grass and the flowers. I couldn’t quite follow it, but it had something to do with the fact that they seemed to grow more naturally in the East than they did out in New Mexico or Los Angeles, possibly because there was so much more water.

After we had finished putting his things away, we went downstairs. Aunt Janet was in the kitchen, and Joey must have remembered what I said because when she asked us if we’d like some cookies, he said, “Yes, please.”

They were ginger cookies, homemade and not too sweet. Joey didn’t say anything about them, but he didn’t have to because Aunt Janet could tell how much he liked them, and she looked pleased. I had three of them and a glass of milk, and then I said I thought I’d go outside and look around. I asked Joey if he wanted to come with me, but he said no, that he’d stay with Aunt Janet and that seemed to please her, too.

The girl next door was still working in the vegetable garden. I expected her to pretend she didn’t know I was there until I did or said something to attract her attention and then to do a take and act surprised. But she didn’t. As soon as she saw me standing at the fence, she put down her hoe and came over. She was slim and had dark hair and was quite pretty.

“You must be Mark Haynes,” she said.

“That’s right.”

“I’m Sally Martin. Your aunt and uncle have talked about you a good deal. They said that you and your brother were coming here to stay with them.”

“We just got here a little while ago.”

“I know,” she said. “I saw you drive up. Did you take the two o’clock train?”

“Yes.”

“It’s not much of a train.”

“It wasn’t bad. Not that I’m any judge. I’ve never been on a train before.”

“You haven’t?”

“No.”

“But you must have trains out in California.”

“Oh, sure. I just never happened to be on one. Except in Disneyland, and that wasn’t really traveling. It’s just kind of a ride.”

I sometimes have trouble talking to girls, especially when they either act coy or come on strong the way some of them do. But she was so easy and natural that I had no trouble talking to her.

“How did you know I was from California?” I asked. “Did Uncle George and Aunt Janet tell you that, too?”

“Yes. They said that you’ve been living out there with your grandparents, but they were going away so you were coming here to stay with them.”

“That’s right. They’ve gone to Europe. Grandma and Grandpa, I mean.”

Her face lit up. “That’s exciting. I’d love to go there sometime. I’ve never been. Have you?”

“No,” I said. “But I’ve got an aunt who’s been living there for a couple of years now.”

I told her about Aunt Helen whose husband is with the State Department and about her new baby, which was one of the reasons Grandma and Grandpa had gone to London. We talked about school, which would be starting in two days, and it turned out we were both in the same grade and I said I hoped we’d be in some classes together, and she said she hoped so, too. Then she asked me the same thing I had asked Joey.

“Do you think you’re going to like it here?”

“Of course.”

“That’s good.”

There was something a little odd about the way she said it.

“Don’t you like it?” I asked. “Living here, I mean.”

“Why, yes. I guess the trouble is I’ve been living here all my life, and every once in a while I feel as if I’d like a change, something different.”

I nodded. I could understand that. On the other hand, I’d had lots of change. More than I needed.

“Is that why you want to go to Europe?” I asked.

“Part of the reason.” She looked past me. “I guess that’s your brother, isn’t it?”

I turned, and there was Joey, standing looking at her. I said yes and introduced them and she smiled at him. Joey just looked at her for a moment, then he smiled, too, and that made me feel good. I wanted her to like Joey and Joey to like her, and it was clear that they did like each other. I decided that Joey had been wrong to feel that something bad was going to happen. In fact, I didn’t see how anything bad could happen. Joey could do a lot of things, but I didn’t think he could predict the future.

The rest of the day was very pleasant. The more I saw of Aunt Janet and Uncle George, the better I liked them. Of course, we had known them quite well before, but sometimes people are different at home, especially when you’re living with them.

We sat around talking for a while after dinner. Occasionally, in the past I had talked to Grandpa—especially when he was taking us somewhere and didn’t have other things on his mind. But somehow talking to Uncle George was even better—partly because he was younger, nearer Dad’s age, and partly because he knew a lot of things that Grandpa didn’t. Anyway, I liked it.

I was tired after all the traveling, so I went upstairs shortly after Aunt Janet sent Joey up. He had listened to us talk without saying very much, and I was anxious to see how he felt about Westfield, Uncle George, and Aunt Janet now.

I went into his room. He was in bed, but he wasn’t asleep.

“He’s worried about something,” he said.

“Uncle George?” I was pleased that he had remembered to say it instead of just thinking it even if we were alone, but I was also a little surprised. “He didn’t seem worried to me.”

“Well, he is.”

“About us?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Well, grown-ups often worry about things. Grandpa used to worry about business and Aunt Helen and Grandma’s rheumatism. And as long as it doesn’t have anything to do with us, our being here …”

“I don’t think it has,” he said. “He and Aunt Janet are both glad we’re here.”

“Well, that’s the important thing, isn’t it?”

He nodded. I said goodnight and went back into my room, but I was a little concerned. As far as I knew, Joey had never been wrong about people, and if he said Uncle George was worried, he was. And since he wasn’t absolutely sure, I couldn’t help wondering if perhaps it didn’t have something to do with us.

Joey and I both slept well. Uncle George and Aunt Janet were in the kitchen when we went downstairs the next morning, and we all had breakfast together. After breakfast Uncle George asked us if we’d like to take a drive, see something of the country, and Joey and I said yes. It was a warm, sunny day, a good day for a drive.

“I thought you had some work to do,” said Aunt Janet.

“You mean the report? I’ll do it this afternoon,” said Uncle George. “I’m not trying to get the boys off by myself. You can come along with us if you like.”

“No thanks,” said Aunt Janet, smiling. “You go ahead. But don’t get home too late, and don’t buy them anything that will spoil their appetites for lunch.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” said Uncle George, winking at us.

We drove north, away from Westfield and into the country. Uncle George told us that though they had once raised a good deal of tobacco in the area, it was mostly dairy country now. We stopped a few times to look at some farms, watch a hay-baler working and see them filling a silo. Then we circled around over some dirt roads to see a covered bridge, one of the few left around, and finally ended up back in town.

Uncle George wanted to get something at the drug store, and he parked on the Green near the school. I looked over at the building, and when he saw me looking at it, he said, “What do you think of it?”

“The school? Why, it looks all right.”

It was a four story, yellow brick building with a playground and ball field behind it.

“Yes, I suppose it does. It was quite a good school when your father and I went there.”

“You mean it’s that old?”

I looked at it again, more closely, and now I could see that the steps outside were worn and the doors cracked and peeling.

“Yes,” said Uncle George. “Not that that’s important; there are much older schools around. It could use some repair work. But what we really need is another school.”

“Another one?”

“A separate high school. Because, as things stand now, we’re getting so crowded that we’ll probably have to go into double sessions next year.”

“Hello, George,” said a voice behind us.

We both turned. A tall, thin man wearing steel-rimmed glasses was standing there.

“Oh, hello, Frank,” said Uncle George.

“Still collecting material for your report?”

“No,” said Uncle George. He smiled, but it seemed to me that his smile was a little forced. “I was just showing the school to my nephews. This is Mark, and … Where’s Joey?”

“Over there,” I said, nodding to where Joey was standing on the far side of the Green. “Shall I get him?”

“Don’t bother,” said the man. “I’ll probably be meeting him, or at least getting a look at him, during the next week or so.”

“Mr. Burton is the school principal,” explained Uncle George.

“Yes, I’m the chief ogre around these parts,” said Mr. Burton. “Or at least one of them. I hope you’re not going to be too disappointed in us. The school, I mean.”

“I’m sure I won’t be,” I said.

“Really? Maybe I ought to get that in writing. Be seeing you, George.”

Uncle George looked after him thoughtfully as he crossed the street and went into the school. Then, realizing I was watching him, “What’s Joey doing?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” I said.

We went across the Green and found that Joey was staring at a small, dark boy who was sitting on a bench under one of the big elms.

“Oh, hello,” said Uncle George. “You’re Luis Ramirez, aren’t you?”

The small, dark boy nodded.

“Your brother was in one of my science classes last year.” Then, indicating Joey, “Have you two met?”

I had a feeling that neither Joey nor Luis had said a word so far, that they’d just been looking at one another. But they both nodded.

“That’s good,” said Uncle George. “What’s your brother doing these days?”

Luis pointed toward the drug store without saying a thing.

“That’s right. I remember hearing he was working there. We were just going to go in and get some ice cream cones. Would you like to come in and have one with us?”

Luis glanced at Joey and, though it was clear he was a very shy boy, he nodded again.

“Fine. Let’s go.”

Aunt Janet was in the kitchen when we got home and she wanted to know where we’d gone, what we’d done.

“Oh, we just drove around, ended up in town.”

“Did you meet anyone?”

“Yes. We ran into Frank Burton.”

“Oh?” said Aunt Janet. “How was he?”

“Strange,” said Uncle George.

“What do you mean?”

“We met him in front of school, and he wanted to know if I was still collecting material for my report.”

“He was joking, of course.”

“Let’s say half joking.”

“I see,” said Aunt Janet.

Neither of them said any more, but from the look on both their faces, I began to think that perhaps Joey had been right when he said Uncle George was worried about something.

After lunch Uncle George disappeared into his study and Joey and I went out to do some work in the garden with Aunt Janet. First we did some weeding, and then we helped her pick tomatoes. Some of them were small cherry tomatoes, and when I asked Aunt Janet if we could eat some, she laughed and said of course. That it was no fun picking anything unless you ate some.

We were on our way back to the house when a station wagon pulled into the driveway. It was a brand new one, very big and shiny. The man driving it got out, and so did the boy who was with him—a boy about Joey’s age. The man was quite a bit older than Uncle George. He was heavy set and had a big jaw, something like a bulldog’s, and a thick shock of white hair. He looked angry, but I had a feeling that he wasn’t angry about anything in particular, that he looked that way all the time. He didn’t say hello to Aunt Janet or even nod to her. He just said, “Is George around?”

“Yes, Wally,” said Aunt Janet. “He’s in the house.”

“I want to see him,” said the man, and without asking if it was all right, without asking anything, he went clumping up the steps and into the house.

“Who’s that?” I asked.

“Wally Jordan,” said Aunt Janet. “The First Selectman.”

“What’s a First Selectman?” I asked.

“Very much the same thing as a mayor. There are three selectmen who manage the town’s affairs, and the First Selectman is the most important of the three.”

“Oh,” I said. “What do you suppose he wants to see Uncle George about?”

“I’m not sure. George is on the local PTA, and he’s been working on a report to be presented to the school board. It may have something to do with that.”

“You don’t like him, do you?”

“Who?”

“Wally Jordan.”

She glanced at me, hesitating a moment. “No, I don’t. He’s been giving your uncle a hard time.”

“About what?”

“Well, he didn’t like it much when George became the teachers’ representative on the PTA board. And he liked it even less when your uncle began working on that report. George has been very patient about it. Sometimes I think he’s been too patient. In fact …” She broke off. “I’d better go in. Do you want to take the tomatoes around and leave them at the kitchen door?”

She went into the house, but I didn’t rush to do anything about the tomatoes. The boy who had gotten out of the car with Mr. Jordan was standing there and looking at Joey. He was a little taller than Joey and huskier, and he had the same sort of bulldog face as Mr. Jordan. That may have been one of the reasons I felt the way I did about him. Because I didn’t like him before he ever opened his mouth, not that that took him very long.

“What’s your name?” he asked Joey.

Joey Haynes, thought Joey.

There he goes again, I thought. Sometimes Joey forgets that he can’t just think things when he’s with anyone besides me, that he’s got to say them.

“I asked you what your name was!” said the boy.

“I said Joey Haynes.”

“What do you mean, you said? You didn’t say anything!”

“I’m sorry,” said Joey.

He’d been studying the other boy while the other boy looked at him. Joey doesn’t take dislikes to people the way I do, but he does decide people aren’t interesting, and that was how he felt about this boy, so he turned and started to walk away. As he did, the boy shoved him. At least, he tried to shove him. But even though Joey’s back was to him, Joey knew what the boy was doing, or thinking of doing. He stepped sideways, half turning at the same time, and the boy went past him, tripping over one of Joey’s feet and falling face down on the grass next to the driveway.

He lay there for a moment, the wind knocked out of him. It served him right, but I thought I’d better do something about it so I started toward him. As I did, he caught his breath and began to cry. He went on crying even after I picked him up, and he was still crying when the door opened and Mr. Jordan came hurrying out.

“What is it, Eddie?” he asked. “What happened?”

“He did it!” said Eddie, pointing at Joey. “He knocked me down!”

Mr. Jordan stiffened, looking first at Joey who was standing there quietly, his eyes wide, then at the crying boy who was at least half a head taller than Joey.

“He knocked you down?”

“Yes,” said Eddie. “And hard, too!”

“No, he didn’t,” I said. “He tried to shove Joey, and when Joey stepped aside, he tripped and fell.”

Mr. Jordan looked at me now, and his face was red and angry.

“Are you calling Eddie a liar?”

“No,” I said. “But I was right here, and I saw what happened.”

“Who are you, anyway?”

“Mark Haynes. And this is my brother, Joey. We’re staying here with Uncle George.”

Mr. Jordan looked at Joey again. Then, “All right,” he said to Eddie. “Stop crying. I’ll take you home.”

“But, Grandpa …” said Eddie.

“I said stop crying! Come on.” And taking Eddie by the arm, he hustled him over to the station wagon, got in himself, and drove off. Aunt Janet and Uncle George had come out of the house with Mr. Jordan, and they were standing on the porch.

“That really is what happened, Uncle George,” I said.

“I’m sure it is,” said Uncle George. “I know Eddie.”

“I’m sorry about it,” I said. “I mean, I hope it’s not going to make any trouble for you with Mr. Jordan.”

Uncle George smiled crookedly. “It won’t,” he said. “At least it won’t make things any worse. Wally Jordan and I aren’t exactly friends. We haven’t been for some time.”

“Because of your school board report?”

“How did you know about that?”

“Well, Mr. Burton mentioned it this morning. And Aunt Janet just said something about it, too.”

“Oh. Yes, I guess it’s partly that and partly a matter of chemistry. Or maybe zoology. We’re not the same breed of cat.”

“Cat and dog would be more like it,” said Aunt Janet. “Though I’m normally quite fond of dogs.”

“All right, Janet,” said Uncle George. “You weren’t hurt, were you, Joey?”

Joey shook his head.

“Good. Then let’s forget it. But watch yourself with Eddie. He’s got a mean streak in him, and I’m afraid he’s not just a bully, he’s a bit of a sneak.”

“Well,” said Aunt Janet. “That’s something new.”

“What is?”

“Saying that about Eddie.”

She seemed glad he had said it, and so was I. I knew Uncle George liked kids, but that didn’t mean he had to like every single one of them, even the jerks.