7

ON MY WAY TO SCHOOL the following day I had much on my mind, as I often do.

There was that son of a gun Mr. Lacy, horsing around with two respectable women of the community. Somebody ought to fix his hash.

There was Alexander Armsworth, who was liable to be shocked senseless by Old Man Leverette’s plan to foil the vandalism of his front porch. Unless Alexander was given a timely warning.

There was Mama, as there always is. Her sly hints that something was seriously amiss with the old abandoned Leverette farmhouse nagged at me. If I didn’t get to the bottom of that for myself, I’d begin to question my Second Sight.

There was even the freshman fund raiser for the Halloween Festival to plague me. I seemed to have no part in planning it whatsoever. A person doesn’t like being left out, especially me.

I decided to tackle Alexander first. As Daisy-Rae says, he’s standoffish and getting worse. But I figured I owed him a debt. If I hadn’t informed Old Man Leverette about what him and Bub and Champ were planning, then Alexander wouldn’t be about to get the daylights scared out of him.

Besides, after I’d saved him from making a jackass of himself, he’d be the one to owe me a debt. I liked the sound of that.

But when we all filed into homeroom that morning, his desk stood empty. Old baldy-headed Miss Blankenship was just closing her door to latecomers when Alexander slipped in.

He darted up the aisle with his head scrunched down between his shoulders and his eyes on the floor. You talk about sheepish. When he slipped into the seat ahead of me, his ears looked on fire.

He’d have looked different to me anyhow since he had his clothes on. But with so much on my mind, I couldn’t think why he was looking hangdog and embarrassed to death.

While roll was being taken, I poked him once between the shoulder blades. “Say there, Alexander,” I whispered into his red ear, “I got some real important information for you regarding Old Man—”

“Lemme alone, Blossom,” he hissed hatefully out of the side of his mouth. “You and me are not on speaking terms, and that’s permanent. Keep out of my way, or I won’t be responsible for the consequences. I could wring your scrawny neck, and you know why!”

I blinked at these cruel words. From the corner of my eye I noticed Letty Shambaugh smiling snidely from her seat.

This is no way to start a day. I drooped through till afternoon, lonely as a cloud. Without Daisy-Rae to call on, I’d have considered quitting school. During history class I drifted down to the girls’ rest room.

“It’s me, Daisy-Rae,” I said in that echoing place.

The door of her stall edged open. While I propped myself up at the sinks, she eased out of her hiding place when she was sure the coast was clear.

“If you don’t look like somethun the cat drug in,” she remarked. “Why such a long face?”

Daisy-Rae’s face is at least as long on her best day, but I let that pass. “If you’d heard how Alexander Armsworth lit into me this morning, you’d know,” I told her.

“Well, what can you expect?” Daisy-Rae said. “After he seen you was spyin’ on him bucknaked.”

“He seen—saw me?”

Daisy-Rae folded her bony arms across her front and nodded. “Wasn’t me and Roderick still hidin’ up that tree? Yore Alexander caught sight of you scattin’ away through the timber. He had no more sense than to tell that Champ and Bub.

“They both blamed Alexander for the whole thing, sayin’ you’re sweet on him and foller him wherever he goes.”

“That’s a dad-burned lie,” I said.

“I’m only tellin’ you what they said,” Daisy-Rae replied. “Say, listen, you wouldn’t have nothin’ on you to eat, would you? I brought me an apple for lunch, but it didn’t stick with me.”

As it happened, I’d brought a chicken leg, but I’d been too low in my mind to eat it at lunch. I pulled it out of my pocket and handed it over. Daisy-Rae commenced gnawing on it, lint and all. Soon she was chicken fat from ear to ear.

Watching her work over that drumstick reminded me of Old Man Leverette, so I told her all about his plan and my part in it. “Alexander will have to take his chances,” I said with some satisfaction, “now that he won’t let me warn him.”

Daisy-Rae is a good listener, particularly if you feed her. To the sound of her gnawing, I told her all about how Mr. Lacy was two-timing Miss Fuller with Miss Spaulding. Getting more off my chest, I added, “And I don’t have a Chinaman’s chance of taking part in the Halloween Festival. Seems like Alexander and Letty have got that all sewed up.”

“That ain’t all they’re up to,” Daisy-Rae said, throwing the polished bone reluctantly away. “I eavesdropped on them lollygaggin’ in the schoolyard at lunch. Yore Alexander and that Letty’s going out tonight to one of them moving picture shows.”

I bristled. “Well, if that don’t—doesn’t take the cake!” I said. “She’s set her cap for Alexander, and she’s using her position as freshman class president to win him. That snake in the weeds Mr. Lacy could take lessons from Letty!”

And Daisy-Rae agreed, which is what friends are for.

That’s how me and Daisy-Rae and Roderick happened to attend the moving picture show ourselves that very same Friday night.

If rumor had it that I followed Alexander everywhere he went, then so be it. Besides, I wanted to see for myself how that little simp Letty was playing up to him. Being a boy, Alexander is gullible. Some responsible person might have to save him from Letty’s clutches.

Moving pictures are the coming thing, and since Bluff City is a progressive place, we have the Bijou Picture Show, which is downtown on the square.

You’d think two country children such as Daisy-Rae and Roderick would be hard up for novelty. But I had to talk fast to persuade her. She swore she’d get lost in town at night and all the bright lights would strike her blind. You talk about backwoodsy.

In the end I had to meet them in the schoolyard at dusk and lead them downtown. When we got there, though, Daisy-Rae’s eyes were big as cartwheels at all the lighted-up shopwindows. When we came to Shambaugh’s Select Dry Goods Company, she threw on her brakes.

“Would you look at that?” she said, giving me a nudge. “Ladies’ housedresses at ninety-eight cents! Prices is going through the roof. And looky here, a buck and a quarter for shoes.” She hitched up her patched skirt and examined her boot, which was tied to her foot with baling wire. “Lucky for me I still got plenty wear left in this pair.”

Roderick pressed his nose against the shopwindow and took everything in, though I doubt he can read prices.

When we got to the square, we hung around in the shadow of the courthouse across from the Bijou. Soon Alexander arrived with Letty on his arm. He paid her way, and into the show they went. Us three followed unnoticed.

In former times I’ve snuck into the Bijou free at the stage door. But I had three nickels laid back for a rainy day, which this was. So I treated Daisy-Rae and Roderick. Up over the Bijou entrance was a name written in electric lights:

MISS PEARL WHITE

Daisy-Rae nudged me. “Who might she be?”

“Miss Pearl White? Shoot, Daisy-Rae, she’s the most famous moving picture star in North America.”

“Well, I ain’t never been in one of these places before.” Dragging Roderick along, she followed me inside.

The lights were dimming for the organ recital. We lingered at the back till we saw Letty and Alexander in two on the aisle up near the screen. Luck was with us, as the row behind them was empty.

“Easy does it,” I muttered to Daisy-Rae. Like two Indian scouts—three, if you count Roderick—we skulked down the aisle and settled silently into seats behind them.

Letty was twitching her little shoulders in a taffeta blouse. Alexander’s arm was snaking around her.

“Oh, Alexander, you better not,” simpers Letty, “at least till the lights go off.”

Daisy-Rae pretended to run her finger down her throat at this sickening scene.

I strained to hear their conversation but only caught snatches. The organ music was swelling up, playing variations on the popular “When You Wore a Tulip and I Wore a Big Red Rose.” Still, I heard the odd word or two.

“. . . If I do say so myself,” Letty remarked, “it is a first-rate idea that nobody but myself would have thought of.”

Alexander, who’ll agree to anything, nodded. “A Haunted House will show the whole high school there are no flies on the freshman class.”

“We can charge a dime admission fee as a fund raiser,” smug Letty said. “It will be the best event in the Halloween Festival.”

The organ music swelled up to several crescendos, so I was fighting to hear every word there for a while.

“. . . A dungeon, naturally,” said Letty, “. . . with rubber hose for snakes. A skeleton for one of the closets would be a nice touch. . . .” Et cetera.

Then while I could hear nothing but organ music, they began to elbow one another.

“. . . Absolutely not,” Letty whined. “You will have to talk her into it, Alexander. She positively turns my stomach.”

“Count me out,” said Alexander firmly. “I’ve dropped Blossom like a bad habit. I’m not speaking to her again. Ever.”

But Letty worked her little shoulder nearer Alexander. She reached up and tickled his ear, which went its reddest. “You must make the sacrifice,” she said, “in the name of freshman class unity. It’s your duty, Alexander, though heaven knows I realize how repulsive and pushy Blossom is.”

Next to me Daisy-Rae was making a nasty gesture at Letty’s back with one of her fingers. Even Roderick’s drooling mouth seemed especially turned down in disgust.

I was spared more of this insulting conversation as the lights went out and the picture began.

At first a public notice was flashed up on the screen:

IF YOU EXPECT TO RATE AS A GENTLEMAN YOU WILL NOT EXPECTORATE ON THE FLOOR

Behind us a camera began to grind. Onto the screen flickered the next message:

MISS PEARL WHITE

in the ninth episode of

THE PERILS OF PAULINE

Daisy-Rae nudged me hard. “Which is her name, Pearl or Pauline?”

“Just hush up a minute,” I whispered, “and you’ll get the hang of it.”

“Quiet behind, please,” spoke Alexander from the seat ahead.

The whole civilized world knows that in each episode of The Perils of Pauline, Pearl White as Pauline defies death and lives to tell the tale. They even flash words on the screen to explain the story, though that’s of little use to Roderick.

In Episode Nine, Pauline is fleeing from cannibals down a beach. They’re gaining on her, and poor Pauline is about winded. She looks back a lot and runs to beat the band.

Daisy-Rae’s fingers closed tight on my arm. Roderick was on the edge of his seat.

The words

PAULINE FLEES INTO THE SURF

flashed on the screen.

She’s knee-deep in ocean waves, and the cannibals’ spears are flying all around her. Daisy-Rae flinched, and Roderick bobbed and weaved. “She’s a goner for sure,” Daisy-Rae whispered. But Alexander up ahead didn’t shush her this time. Now his arm was creeping around Letty’s little shoulders.

Up on the screen Pauline is searching the sea, looking for help.

HELP IS ON THE WAY

Sure enough, out of the sky swoops a hydroplane, a double-winged job skimming the waves.

“Where’d that thing come from?” breathes Daisy-Rae.

Pauline plunges into deep water and begins swimming like a fish. Roderick seemed to be swimming in his seat, throwing his arms around.

A SAFE HAVEN, OR IS IT?

Though the cannibal spears are still whizzing around her, Pauline makes it to the hydroplane and pulls herself up on the wing.

As she staggers into the rear seat, the pilot raises his goggles and grins evilly back at her. He has a slick little mustache and mean eyes.

“I wouldn’t trust that dude for a minute,” Daisy-Rae remarks, “but I reckon Pauline don’t have much choice.”

The hydroplane soars into the air, leaving the cannibals behind. Roderick swoops in his seat, turning his arms into hydroplane wings. Alexander begins to nuzzle Letty’s neck.

Of course, the hydroplane pilot is Pauline’s worst enemy, a two-timer who has deceived her in love.

Since she has already resisted his advances in Episode Eight . . .

HE TAKES HIS REVENGE

The two-timing pilot lights up a cigarette and flicks away the match, which lands on one of the wings.

“Watch out,” Daisy-Rae warns. Roderick is all eyes.

The wing smolders and bursts into flames. Pauline sees and clutches her throat. So does Daisy-Rae. The hydroplane begins to wobble. Roderick falls out of his seat but climbs right back into it.

The cowardly pilot stands up, and lo and behold, he’s wearing a parachute. In a single bound he jumps from the blazing plane, leaving Pauline defenseless.

CAN PAULINE ESCAPE HER FATE?

“I don’t see how!” roars out Daisy-Rae, answering the screen. Roderick is up on the arm of his chair now, riding it like a horse and drooling overtime.

“What a noisy bunch of rough types behind us,” Letty remarks to Alexander. “Somebody ought to call the usher and have them thrown out.”

The hydroplane goes into a dive. Pauline is trapped in the back seat without a parachute. For some reason, she’s now wearing a chiffon scarf, which is blowing far out behind her.

The organ swells up with the sound of a screaming hydroplane, more or less. The ocean looms near as Pauline and her plane go into a spin.

It’s too much for Daisy-Rae. There’s no point in trying to tell her it’s only a show and not real. She comes up out of her seat, shrieking, “THERE AIN’T A MINUTE TO LOSE. SOMEBODY DO SOMETHUN TO HELP THAT PORE GIRL.”

Daisy-Rae’s flailing elbows accidentally clip the back of Letty’s little curly head a nasty whack. Knocked half out of her seat, Letty says, “This is too much. Alert the usher, Alexander.”

He begins to look back—my way. Things are happening so fast now I can hardly think. Besides, Daisy-Rae is hysterical beside me, which is distracting.

As it happens, Roderick, who’s brighter than he looks, goes into action.

Just before Alexander turns and sees me behind him, Roderick reaches down into the bib of his little overalls. He draws up one of his mice. A nice plump one with a long gray tail and white whiskers.

Quick as a wink, he reaches forward and drops the rodent down the back of Letty’s blouse.

“Oh, Alexander!” she says, striking out at him coyly. “Stop that this minute!”

Alexander throws up both his hands innocently. Then he notices the lump in Letty’s blouse. Trapped under that taffeta, the mouse is trying to make its way over Letty’s shoulder to freedom. Alexander’s eyes grow wide at this moving lump climbing around under Letty’s cap sleeve.

Continuing its trip, the mouse seems to lose its footing and falls forward, tumbling into Letty’s small bosom.

She looks down, but all I see are the little quivering curls on the back of her head. Then she looks up at Alexander’s two free hands. Then the mouse must have started clawing around down in her front.

Letty’s plump little fists reach for the sky and grab air. She goes off like a Roman candle.

“SOMEBODY SAVE ME,” she whoops. “I AM INFESTED.” She flies straight out of her chair, clears the row ahead of her, and lands in a heap by the movie screen.

There she does a kind of native dance on her back. Both her hands are jammed down her neckline, and the buttons on her blouse are popping like corn. The audience comes to its feet for a better view, and several applaud.

The organ swells up with variations on “Oh! You Beautiful Doll,” and on the screen it says:

RETURN TO THIS THEATER NEXT WEEK
For the THRILLING CONCLUSION

“Let’s git while we can.” I elbow Daisy-Rae into action. Us three scramble out of our seats and up the aisle.

But I chance a backward glance, and my heart sinks. There’s Alexander standing in his row with his hands on his hips in a disgusted pose, looking daggers right at me.