CHAPTER 19

“So. How you two dudes doing anyhow?” Teddy said. “What’s happening?”

Al and I looked at each other. She was making a list of things her mother wanted her to bring to the hospital this afternoon. Al asked me to go with her. She said probably Mr. Wright would be there, and she didn’t want to go alone. “Maybe you’ll make him less cheerful,” she told me. I didn’t quite know how to take that, so I let it alone.

“Get him,” Al said to me.

“Don’t give me no flak,” Teddy growled. “I’m not taking no flak from nobody.”

“Ted, when you left,” Al said, “you were a sweet, lovely nine-year-old kid. Now you’re making like a Kung Fu expert. What happened?”

Teddy grinned. He was delighted at the attention. He feeds on attention. In order to keep the kid in line, it’s best to keep a foot firmly in the middle of Teddy’s back.

“You talk that way in front of Mom and Dad?” I said.

“That’s the way the kids up in Connecticut talk,” he said. “They talk tough. They say, ‘Don’t give me no flak.’ They say other stuff I can’t tell you, though.” He gave us a dark look.

“What’s ‘flak’ mean?” Al asked.

“Who cares? It’s the way you say things that counts. There’s this kid named Mike. He lives next door in Connecticut. He’s older—about fourteen, I think. He gets into a lot of trouble. The police are always coming to Mike’s house,” Teddy announced, full of pride. “He rips stuff off from the five-and-ten. Then once he put sugar in a guy’s gas tank. If you put sugar in a gas tank, the car won’t go. Bet you didn’t know that!” Teddy crowed.

“Sounds like you got home just in time, Ted,” Al said. “You might’ve landed in the pokey yourself.”

“It just so happened that when Mike was putting sugar in the gas tank,” Teddy went on, “the guy who owned the car was looking out the window and saw him. So the police car pulled up in front of Mike’s house one more time,” he ended with relish. He grinned at us as if he’d been the one who’d put the sugar in the gas tank. “There’s lots more things Mike did,” Teddy said. “Lots more I could tell you.”

Al put her hand over her heart. “Spare me,” she said. “She said to bring stationery, because she has lots of thank-you letters to write,” she told me. “Your mother and father sent her some beautiful flowers. One reason I want you to come with me today is that my mother wants to see you. To thank you.”

“For what?” Teddy said.

“For having me here,” Al said.

Teddy squinted at her. “You staying here?” he said. “You sleeping over?” His narrow face was sharp and watchful. Teddy keeps score on how many friends I have to sleep over versus how many he has. He thinks I have more. He’s right. But I’m older.

“Yes,” Al said. “I’m sleeping over.” She sounded sad.

“How long?” Teddy said.

“I don’t know. Maybe a few more nights.”

He turned to me. “I thought she was going to the farm,” he said accusingly.

“Did she say she wanted bath powder?” I said hurriedly. “Or was it face powder?”

“Aren’t you going to the farm, Al?” Teddy, once wound up, is hard to stop. “That’s what you told me. You said you were going to a barn dance and have homemade ice cream and …”

The kid can hardly remember his own name most days.

“Shut up,” I told him.

Teddy looked hurt. “She told me that. I didn’t make it up. Did I, Al? You said you were going to have a fiddler at the dance and have home …”

I beaned Teddy on the head with my tennis racket. Not hard. It’s practically brand-new. Just a little tap. The way he hollered and carried on, you’d have thought I killed him. He flopped on the floor, clutching his head and screaming. If he could’ve figured out a way to create some instant blood, he would’ve. My mother came into the room and looked at us both.

“Stop that racket,” she snapped. “I’m ashamed of you both. Can’t you get along for more than ten minutes? Get up off the floor, Teddy.”

“She hit me!” Teddy cried. “I wasn’t doing anything, and she bopped me on my head.”

After my mother had gone, I said through clenched teeth, “How come when you get home trouble starts? How come?”

“Let’s see, Ted.” Al studied his head as if she were reading a map. “You’re fine. Not even a lump. You’ll survive.”

“I was going to tell you more stuff Mike did,” Teddy said, somewhat mollified. “Now I don’t think I will.”

Al put her arm around him. She’s very good with Teddy. He likes Al. She doesn’t have to live with him. There are times when I think being an only child is a neat thing. I must remember to tell Al that.

“Don’t be a sorehead, Ted,” she said, laughing.

“Well.” Teddy considered. “We went to Compo Beach on our bikes, and Mike showed us how to find the knotholes in the bathhouses so we could look in at girls undressing.”

“Yeah?”

Teddy’s crafty little eyes darted from Al’s face to mine and back to hers.

“I’d rather put sugar in gas tanks,” he said.

“You would?”

“Sure. If you have a sister, seeing a naked girl is no big deal. Mike doesn’t have any sisters, so he thinks it is.”

I grabbed my tennis racket. “You little weasel!” I shouted, but Teddy was already gone.